The Diaries

Einstein had precisely defined relativity: when you are sitting with a charming lady, hours seem like a minute. And when you are sitting on a hot stove, a minute seems like hours. This is exactly what I feel during the lectures. I feel I’m in an oven, and I impatiently glance at my watch to know when the eternal hour will pass. And here I am in my room. I just watched this movie (Motorcycle Diaries) and didn’t know when it was time for dinner. The movie is captivating! It’s a biographical of Che Guevera, the famous Argentine doctor who became the icon of revolution in South America. The movie is not so much about the life he led as a revolutionary. Rather it is about the road that led him there, and is based on the diary he kept during his journey through South America with a friend on a motorcycle (he called his notes ‘the motorcycle diaries’).

The movie has brilliantly portrayed the life of Che. But more importantly, it is beautiful even as a stand alone. I had watched a part of it with my mum (had to leave half way against my will as I was getting late for my train). My mum didn’t know who Che was. Nor did she know Spanish (we had to rely on subtitles), yet she appreciated it. This is a proof enough of how impressive the movie was! Be it the frozen roads through which they dragged their broken down Norton, or the fling Che had with the mechanic’s wife; the poverty of the common folks and the coolness with which the rich pick out a handful of miners out of hundreds of aspirants; Che’s asthma attacks and their treks through the Andes; or their conduct at the missionary where they cured the lepers – every incident is an art piece. It was a pleasant change from a Hollywood thrash. Then again, I have taken to liking foreign movies. Of course art knows no language. Of course I rely on subtitles.