My Wonderland

October 16, 2014 10:00 PM

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There is something magical about cinema. The magic of cinema that is for real. It is for those who like to dream. And for those who feel. There is the unparalleled fun of buying tickets, queuing up for oversized popcorn (caramel for me, any day) and soda, locating one's seat in a semi-darkened theatre and settling down for two-three hours of celluloid entertainment. As the lights dim, voices dwindling into audible whispers, images appear on the screen and one is transported into a world of make-believe, enacted by real-life people otherwise known as actors. They play roles, living lives the stories of which are untold, taking one to a realm that is speckled with a potpourri of relationships, situations, interactive responses, mixed emotions and more action-and-reaction that one normally associates with multiple lifetimes. Movies evoke feelings of the type that one generally remains closed to, and the experience of the most mundane act of watching a motion picture becomes a highly personalized act. For movie lovers like me.

There is also something special about watching a movie in the solitude of one's room. As the day settles into that relaxed mode when the bustle of life retreats into silence, after one's kid is kissed goodnight, the few pages of the book one is currently reading are savoured, one picks up the remote...

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