At the risk of generalizing everything, i firmly believe everybody needs an escape. Some do the needful by leading somebody else’s life because theirs is unbearable while others remain true to themselves but plunge into addiction. It could be anything from alcohol to cigarettes to kissing the sky at night. I’m not particularly proud of myself for staying away from stuff that’s supposed to distinguish a child from an adult but i have my own key to escapism. People call it cinema. I call it reality. The reason being, whatever we witness on the big screen is real. The process is real and so are the intentions. I don’t see any difference between a movie and a life that’s led by norms. If you think waking up and going to office although every single cell in your body refuses to is a reality—not a movie—think again. Aren’t you following a script there? If not, what exactly are you doing? Aren’t you a puppet too without the privilege of seeing the director? There was a time when i was warming up to world cinema, watching everything came my way, worrying very little about subtitles—or the lack of them—because everything was so fucking new. And amazing! This was about a decade ago. Today, i’ve watched quite a bit and Kubrick knows i’ve much more left in my dull eyesight to absorb. However, this journey filled with a series of memorable as well as forgettable pieces of cinema has brought me closer to the realization that perhaps what’s happening on the 70mm celluloid is far more real than what’s happening on the opposite end. Maybe the crunching noise of popcorn or the slurping hiss of coke or the frisking fingers of your lover is not letting you notice it.