Latest news with #MyNeighbourTotoro
Scroll.in
21-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Scroll.in
These poems by Ifaam Bashir and Zainab Ummer Farook won the inaugural Osmosis Poetry Prize
The Osmosis Poetry Prize is a newly instituted award founded by poets Yashasvi Vachhani, Kunjana Parashar and Kinjal Sethia. The aim of the prize is to celebrate contemporary Indian poets writing in English. It is awarded to two poets, each winning a cash reward of Rs 10,000 and a citation from an external judge. This year the prize has been won by poets Ifaam Bashir and Zainab Ummer Farook. Sohini Basak was the judge for the inaugural iteration of the prize. Basak said about Bashir, 'In [his] packet of poems, loss and yearning are stitched delicately along the margins of the landscapes and the architecture the poet inhabits. The ghosts who tread these atmospheric poems offer soft and warm solace. Crucially, the deft control of an even-toned yet dreamy register of images and emotions left ample gaps for me, the reader, to dwell in 'the grammar of absence': the nooks and crannies of the houses in disrepair, the frayed end of things, fading memories, the whispering moonlight, and allowed me a gentleness to grieve with/in.' 'It is not easy to write a poem about My Neighbour Totoro without going into clichés about trees or cats, but Zainab Ummer Farook's first poem homing a 'prolific irumban puli tree/beaded with red ants' is transformative. The tug of war between childhood and adulting becomes apparent and entertaining in this convincing set of coming-of-age poems. Animated with scenes of feasting and family, of moving and stagnation, lore and pop culture, these poems celebrate tedium and plotless-ness, berate the imposter syndrome, and revel in the slapdash in joyful, meandering ways,' added Basak about Farook. Here are their winning poems: Ifaam Bashir What the Tide Leaves At dawn, the shore is a ledger – pages of wet sand where the sea writes and rewrites itself. I walk the tideline, collecting what the night's waves coughed up: a starfish, stiff as a leather glove, a bottle neck, glinting with barnacle teeth, driftwood carved into bones by the wind. Once, I found a child's name etched in a plank, the letters sandblasted to ghosts. Now it sits on my windowsill, half prayer, half kindling. The sea doesn't distinguish. It returns even our grief as something useful – salt for the soil, shells to grind into mortar, a tin locket, emptied of its face. They say the ocean keeps nothing. But tonight, I press my ear to a conch and hear the static of a thousand hungers – fish bones humming in the dark, shipwrecks dissolving into mica, voices from the past, years gone, still teaching the waves the dialect of rain. I learn to read the tides by what they abandon: a frayed net, a rusted hinge, a single sapphire button. When I leave, I take only the cold weight of the horizon, that blue ache the water stitches to the sky. Let the gulls claim the rest. Even their cries are borrowed things. ghost-threading The snowmelt river stitches the valley's hem – a silver thread unravelling into silt. I am learning to weave with what remains: – the wrong side of saffron fields, burnt threads that outlast the bloom, – the silence between two strikes of a moth's wing against a lantern. Grandmother called it ghost-threading – the art of mending holes with light. Her needles, almond twigs. Her thimble, a shard of glacier. I work the way fog writes on mountains: half-erasure, half confession. Every knot, a swallowed word. Every warp, the breath before no becomes yes. The loom's teeth gnaw the yarn to dust. Still, I spin – – the ache of unripe apricots, – the bluedawn cry of a heron into something that might hold the shape of leaving. When they ask where I'm from, I hand them a spool of smoke. Some nights, even the river forgets whether it's water or the ghost of water. I knot the frayed ends. Begin again. The Museum of Shadows In the house where the clock's hands froze, dust stitches a shroud over the piano's mute keys. The walls peel back to reveal their bones – cracks like maps of roads we never took. A teacup cracks its porcelain spine, spilling decades of steeped silence. The curtains, thin as a widow's breath, still tremble when the moon whispers remember. Outside, the garden knots itself in ivy, throttling the sundial's forgotten tongue. Winter's teeth gnaw the fence to splinters, leaving only the scent of almond blooms to haunt the air – sweet and feral, a requiem for the unharvested. We buried nothing here, but the soil remembers what our hands discarded: a locket's rusted clasp, a diary's waterlogged plea, the ghost of a fire that refused to take. I pocket a single shard of cobblestone, cold as the space between two stars. The house exhales, its rooms collapsing into the grammar of absence. Tonight, even the wind hesitates to speak our names. Zainab Ummer Farook Epiphany During a Rewatch of My Neighbour Totoro Some childhood stories are best left untold. If we must, let it be a movie. The countryside gives way to a town in the garb of a city; the father is a grim garbled voice on a five-minute ISD call. Everything else stays as it is: sick mother sent away, two girls let loose, austere house reluctant to be home. Days plod into eventless days – seasons tick by. The girls do their homework and float paper boats down monsoon's short-lived rivulets. There is a cat, of course, and a prolific irumban puli tree beaded with red ants. The younger child takes a liking to the puckeringly sour fruit, bountiful clusters promising a sharp green crunch. The older one prefers to watch her little sister's face scrunch, an elfin thing unshadowed by knowledge. Blessed are we, that our memory sieves. The dregs belong to another movie: wizened neighbour banging on the front door, throng of people, firefighters, mother (a limp, wet rat) propped against a stoic uncle. You recall nothing. I retain the distinction between fell and jumped, between accident and intent. The truth lies at the bottom of an old well – a steel bucket that slipped off its rope, slumbering away on the gravelled bedrock forested with moss. In that watery grove dwells a spirit: kind and monstrous, neither rabbit nor cat nor grey owl, guardian of lost children, benevolent robber of memory. Mise-en-place Things are nowhere close to where they should be. No home, no bookshelf, no glassware, no ducks in a row. No lovers, too. But there is a tiny kitchen with a dinged steel plate. Soak two slices of bread in milk, a generous pour of honey. Then, top it off with a big mango, diced slapdash. Bliss rigged in the middle of nowhere. And you are where you are, make-do creature digging into a make-do treat. Ode to Imposter Syndrome 'I went to sleep a poet and woke up a fraud' ~Fall Out Boy, 'The Music or the Misery' Little imp on my right shoulder nattering into my ear – bless you. Bless your purple-faced bluster, your ready cudgel, talons honed to razor through letter and paper. Bless your eyes' ice-white fire, its jubilant gobbling of drafts. Bless that pudgy nose fishing for an iffy simile, bridge wrinkled in disdain. Bless the eardrums tuned to suss out discordance. Bless the tsk and ayye and chee stuffed into your cheek pouches, spat and pinged against my skull. You huffy chipmunk, you skittish rascal: bless your slingshot aim, the stone of it whistling sense. The welts are left to yellow, token of the world's largeness: you suck, this sucks, anyone can do it better. Bless you for playing two truths and a lie. You forget that l thrive in webs of lies, nettling truth for song. Bless you for picking my shoulder for a perch, you brave, brave thing – captive, all you can do now is listen. Ifaam Bashir is a student of English literature at EFLU, Hyderabad, and is originally from Jammu and Kashmir. He writes poems and short stories, often circling around memory, longing, and the quieter moments of life. Zainab Ummer Farook firmly believes that picture books are for everyone, even those who call themselves adults. She was a 2023 South Asia Speaks Fellow and won the 2024 Toto Funds the Arts Award for Creative Writing in English. Her poems have been featured in Muse India, Nether Quarterly, and The Bombay Literary Magazine. Having grown up in Kozhikode, she is now amused by Bengaluru's paltry monsoons.
Time of India
15-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Time of India
10 Anime series to watch this monsoon
There's something magical about the monsoon — the gentle patter of raindrops, the smell of wet earth, windows fogged up with stories waiting to be told. And what better way to spend a rainy day than curling up in your blanket with a hot drink and an anime that hits just right? So go on, light a candle, pour something warm, and hit play. The rain's already doing its thing. You just have to cosy up and feel it all. Here are 10 anime series to watch this monsoon, each one carrying the perfect mood for when the skies are grey and your heart wants something beautiful, sad, dreamy, or just plain comforting. Anime watchlist this rainy season Kimi no na wa (Your Name) Watch on: Netflix, Crunchyroll A love story woven through time and fate — Kimi no Na wa feels like watching the rain fall backwards and forward in time. The visuals are jaw-dropping, the soundtrack by RADWIMPS will echo in your soul, and the theme of longing fits so well with the sound of rain outside your window. Perfect for monsoon introspection. Hyouka Watch on: Crunchyroll This one is like a slow-brewed cup of tea. A school-based mystery anime that's more about vibes than action, Hyouka is calm, contemplative, and beautifully animated. Watching Oreki unravel small puzzles with Eru while the rain hums outside? Yes please. It's a soft, quiet kind of comfort. Weathering with You Watch on: Netflix How could we skip this one? It rains through the entire movie. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Conheça o Alarme com Sirene que afasta os Ladrões com 40% Off Verisure Saiba Mais Undo From the creator of Your Name, Weathering With You blends fantasy and teen emotion in a Tokyo drenched in stormy skies. It's melancholic, romantic, and feels like falling in love on a rainy afternoon. Takopi's Original Sin Source: Crunchyroll Watch on: Crunchyroll Newly adapted into a short anime series, Takopi's Original Sin brings heavy rains and even heavier emotions. Don't be fooled by the cute alien design — this is a raw, heart-wrenching story about bullying, guilt, and redemption. The moody animation paired with the monsoon gloom makes this a short but unforgettable watch. Keep some tissues close. The Garden of Words Source: Crunchyroll Watch on: Netflix If the rain were a love language, this would be it. Garden of Words is a slow, emotional film that beautifully captures the intimacy of shared silence, rainy mornings in a park, and people finding each other when they least expect it. It's just so monsoon. Your Lie in April Watch on: Netflix Watch on: Netflix, Crunchyroll Rain isn't always sad — sometimes it's where we bloom. Your Lie in April is musical, emotional, and unforgettable. Watching Arima and Kaori on gloomy days reminds you that even the stormiest moments can be full of light and colour. You'll cry, smile, and probably cry again. My Neighbour Totoro Watch on: Netflix Wholesome, warm, and oh-so-cute. My Neighbour Totoro is the perfect cosy comfort anime. The umbrella scene in the rain? ICONIC. This Ghibli gem wraps you in childhood wonder, soft giggles, and the kind of joy that's perfect for rainy afternoons with a bowl of Maggi and a fluffy blanket. Erased (Boku dake ga inai machi) Watch on: Netflix Watch on: Netflix If you love suspense and mystery with a touch of heartache, Erased is your rainy-day thriller. Time travel, childhood memories, and a race against fate — it's gripping without being loud. Best watched when the sky is stormy and your mind is craving a twisty tale. Another Source: Crunchyroll Watch on: Crunchyroll Feeling brave? Add some horror to your monsoon playlist. Another is eerie, atmospheric, and full of that quiet dread that creeps in like fog. The rain outside will amplify every creepy moment — just don't watch this one alone at night unless you like jump scares with your chai. Spirited Away Source: Crunchyroll Watch on: Netflix End your rainy day with a masterpiece. Spirited Away is dreamy, magical, and full of spirit (literally). The way it blends the mundane with the mystical feels exactly like the monsoon — a portal to somewhere else entirely. So next time the skies turn grey, let your screen light up with stories that feel like warm rain on your soul.
Time Out
08-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Time Out
The RSC has just announced its winter season at the Barbican
Like the Ross and Rachel of major British theatre institutions, the RSC and the Barbican are obviously made for each other but have a complicated relationship. The Barbican was the Stratford-upon-Avon-based theatre company's permanent London home until the RSC flounced out a couple of decades back, declaring it wanted to spend time with other theatres. In recent times, however, they've settled into a seasonal situationship with the RSC typically taking over the Barbican's theatre for the winter months - with its most memorable recent show being blockbuster Studio Ghibli adaptation My Neighbour Totoro (now in the West End). The RSC still sees other London theatres: its Ncuti Gatwa-starring newie Born w ith Teeth premieres at Wyndham's Theatre this summer and its Simon Russell-Beale-fronted Stratford production of Titus Andronicus is headed for Hampstead Theatre. But it's been announced today that its seasonal stand at the Barbican is back on with two shows – one Shakespeare, one not – taking us through the late autumn and early winter months. First up it's the London premiere of Ella Hickson's Wendy & Peter Pan (Oct 22-Nov 21), which was a big seasonal hit in Stratford in 2013 and again in 2015 but never previously made it to London. It's a fresh spin on JM Barrie's Peter Pan that firmly puts Wendy front and centre as the main character, though all yer old faves are in there – Toby Stephens will make his first stage appearance in yonks to star as Captain Hook. Next up, a newer production of a much older play: Prasanna Puwanarajah's music-heavy take on Twelfth Night (Dec 8-Jan 17 2026) got fine Stratford reviews at the start of this year and will head to the Barbican for the end of it with its lead cast of Freema Agyeman (Olivia), Sam West (Malvolio) and Michael Grady-Hall (Feste) intact.
The Hindu
28-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
40 years on: the wonderful world of Studio Ghibli
Studio Ghibli films have always had a special place in the childhoods of those who grew up watching them. Whether it was hopping on a Catbus on a rainy day (My Neighbour Totoro, 1988), soaring above the clouds on a broom to deliver freshly baked goods (Kiki's Delivery Service, 1989), or warily eyeing the pigs outside a bathhouse (Spirited Away, 2001) — these are the images that stay with you long after the screen goes dark. The animation studio, which recently turned 40, continues to be in the spotlight. Recently, Studio Ghibli's popularity has skyrocketed and, like most animated styles, it has progressed into mainstream media — with people flaunting its merchandise, available in stores and on the pavements of most Indian metros. Ghibli films are regularly screened in these cities, too. Most recently, AI can now mimic the style with unsettling accuracy. The irony — that every Studio Ghibli film takes years to bring to life, with each frame painstakingly hand-drawn, and that Hayao Miyazaki himself is famously anti-AI — seems to be lost on users as they upload their photos for a Ghibli-style render. Behind the longevity But what is it about Studio Ghibli's creations that captures public imagination? Is it the animated worlds that are simple and uncomplicated; the protagonists who are easy to empathise with; intricate depictions of sweeping mountains, mechanical castles, and lush green forests; or the unmistakable expressions of joy, sadness, anger, frustration, and disappointment etched into the expressive faces of its characters? There is no black and white in Ghibli's worlds — the villains have their reasons and are always redeemable. Maybe it's the feeling of nostalgia, the sense of familiarity, the childhood memories stored deep in the recesses of your mind, and the emotions they evoke. All of this contributes to Studio Ghibli's universal appeal. Of course, one could take a more cynical view and attribute the recent burst in popularity and interest to the aesthetic churned out by algorithms. Either way, there's something about Studio Ghibli that clings to your mind like a particularly stubborn soot sprite. Perhaps it's because beneath the deceptively simple narratives lie deeper themes that offer profound philosophical food for thought. Miyazaki and modernisation Miyazaki's disdain for technology and modernisation is evident throughout his films. He has famously stated that 'modern life is so thin and shallow and fake — I look forward to when developers go bankrupt, Japan gets poorer and wild grasses take over'. While this vision may not reflect reality, he weaves this imagery into his films, particularly in Princess Mononoke, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, and My Neighbour Totoro, where forests abound and grasslands stretch endlessly. Princess Mononoke centres on environmentalism, portraying it in a way that forces the viewer to confront the inevitability of industrialisation. As much as one may not want it to happen, it must — and finding a middle ground becomes the only viable solution. Nausicaä, meanwhile, navigates a world transformed into a toxic wasteland, as she searches for a solution. Both San (Princess Mononoke) and Nausicaä inhabit worlds scarred by war. While San, the wolf princess, fights to protect her beloved home from further deforestation and industrialisation, Nausicaä takes a more peaceful approach. In Howl's Moving Castle, themes of pacifism are more explicit, set against the constant echoes of war that linger throughout the film. Despite Howl's abhorrence of war, the wizard is forced to become a tool of destruction, even at the cost of losing his humanity. The image of Sophie, the protagonist, standing in a meadow of flowers while war rages around her highlights the stark contrast between the ugliness of war and the fragile beauty of nature. Strong, fearless women Most of Ghibli's films feature female protagonists — whether children like Satsuki and Mei (My Neighbour Totoro), Kiki (Kiki's Delivery Service), and Chihiro (Spirited Away); young women like Nausicaä and San; or even Sophie (Howl's Moving Castle), who ages and then returns to youth. Unlike Disney's princesses, they are their own knights in shining armour, facing the world head on. All of them demonstrate resilience, courage, and an unyielding hope. No matter how daunting the task or how bleak the future, they either find a silver lining or create one themselves. The younger protagonists especially show wisdom beyond their years, yet paradoxically retain their innocence and wide-eyed wonder. It is not that Ghibli lacks male protagonists, but rather that they inevitably fall short in comparison. Drawing from life Miyazaki, like many artists, often draws inspiration from real-life experiences. For instance, he travelled to Alsace, France, to study European architecture and aesthetics for Howl's Moving Castle. He also sent his animators to the vet to observe how to give medicine to a dog, which they then translated into animating a dragon in Spirited Away. There's a recurring theme of chronic illness in several of Miyazaki's films. In The Wind Rises, we meet Naoko, who suffers from tuberculosis. In My Neighbour Totoro, Satsuki and Mei's mother is hospitalised while the sisters explore Totoro's forest. This mirrors Miyazaki's own childhood experience, when his mother was hospitalised due to spinal tuberculosis. Despite theories about the underlying symbolism in his films, Miyazaki's stance is clear: 'I don't have much patience for calculating and intellectualising anymore. It has to do with the times. Nobody knows everything. Nobody knows what's going to happen. So, my conclusion is, don't try to be too smart and wise. Why does anybody feel the way they do? Why is somebody depressed? Or angry? Even if you have a therapist, you're never going to figure it out. You're not going to solve it.' Contrary to rumours of his imminent retirement after The Boy and the Heron, Miyazaki, now 84, shows no sign of slowing down. Since his films are hand-drawn, it's understandable that they take years to complete. If Clint Eastwood can continue directing films at 95, then what's stopping Miyazaki? The writer and journalist is based in Mumbai.
SoraNews24
18-06-2025
- Entertainment
- SoraNews24
Studio Ghibli adds beanbag plushies to its anime merchandise store in Japan
Beanbags with character…from My Neighbour Totoro, The Boy and the Heron, and Spirited Away. In Japan, the concept of beanbags doesn't just apply to the large varieties you see in lounge rooms, but small, palm-sized varieties known as ojami , commonly played in a traditional children's game known as Otedama. With people having grown up playing Otedama, the affection for small beanbags remains strong into adulthood, and Ghibli is now tugging on those heartstrings with a new collection of goods called the Otedama collection. Unlike the plain, round beanbags used for the children's game, though, these have a lot more character. There are 10 to collect in the lineup, starting with three from the 1988 film My Neighbour Totoro. ▼ Large Totoro (2,640 yen [US$18.20]) In Japan the titular character is officially known as the 'Large Totoro' when there's a need to distinguish it from its smaller counterparts, and that's the case here as the giant is joined by two other woodland inhabitants. ▼ The Medium Totoro (2,640 yen)… ▼ …and the Small Totoro (2,200 yen) Moving on to another Ghibli classic, we have a trio of characters from the 2001 film Spirited Away. ▼ Boh Mouse (2,750 yen) ▼ Otori-sama (2,640 yen), representing the big birds who love to soak in the baths inside the bathhouse. ▼ Pick up a few of these and you'll be able to recreate the bathhouse scene from the film. ▼ And no Spirited Away merchandise set is complete without an appearance from the mysterious No Face (2,530 yen). ▼ There must be gold about, because we've never seen No Face looking this happy. Fans of the 2023 film The Boy and the Heron will want to snatch up these three Warawara (2,200 yen each) before they disappear. With the Warawara being unborn souls without individual names, they're listed here as: ▼ Warawara A ▼ Warawara B ▼ Warawara C ▼ And finally, representing the 1989 film Kiki's Delivery Service, is black cat Jiji (2,750 yen). With each beanbag easily fitting in the palm of your hand, these won't take up a lot of space so you can stock up on a few of them, and stroke them lovingly whenever you need to de-stress from the trials and tribulations of the everyday world. Source: Donguri Kyowakoku Top Image: Donguri Kyowakoku Insert images: Donguri Kyowakoku (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10) ● Want to hear about SoraNews24's latest articles as soon as they're published? Follow us on Facebook and Twitter!
