September 7th, 2004

Went to see Vanity Fair yesterday, and it reminded me (not that I ever forget) of how much I love all things Indian… Eastern Indian, that is. Although I’ve never traveled physically to India, my imagination has wandered there often.

It started as a child, when I chose my first chapter book – A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Its pink cover so enticing, the story of a girl, not unlike myself, who coped with life’s cruelty by transporting her thoughts to a better place.

Sara Crewe’s tales of her earlier life in India… The delicious smell of spices in the air, the fantastic mythology, yards of brightly-colored flowing silk… They made my Miss Minchin (aka Mom) seem more bearable, too – helping me retain hope for a better future.

And today I find the seeds planted in my heart then have flowered into a real love of Indian culture. Everything from Mehandi to Ravi Shankar. I enjoy the music, the artwork, even the proliferation of really bad movies.

As for this movie, it wasn’t bad… But it’s tough to buy Reese Witherspoon as anything other than Elle Woods …Even though she was legally auburn this time.

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