Skip to main content

The Batman Trilogy : A Tribute to the Unsung Heroes


It's time to sing a song for the unsung heroes.The batman trilogy of Nolan has a lot more to say than just saving Gotham because in a way it's a tribute to all nameless heroes.Yes,and what I see in the movie is not Batman but Bruce Wayne, the unsung hero of Gotham. Wayne's extraordinary journey started with an intention to save Gotham from the corrupted and criminals, a dream that his father could not accomplish.Even though Wayne became an orphan, there were people who really cared for him. And that's why he chose to fight the evil with a mask,not to hurt his dear ones.Butler Alfred, Commissioner Gordon, Fox and Rachel were the major people who always cared for Wayne. And in the third part there was Blake too. But Wayne never wanted his identity revealed, which made him the real hero. By terming himself as an eccentric billionaire, Wayne hid his truth before Gotham.At the end of trilogy,no one is aware that the billionaire who burnt his house and who acted weird at parties and brought down the Wayne enterprises legacy was actually a hero who fought his own fear, who loved his city selflessly,who cared for his dear ones and a Phoenix who rose every time from the ashes when the city and its people failed him.Except the five people and the villains, no one acknowledges the true Wayne.And Wayne is a representative of all unsung heroes out there who fights and fails and rises without expecting anything. And in this current scenario, we see a lot of Waynes working,not to harm their dear ones,for the people who suffer by putting their lives at stake.They continue their legacy through many others like Blake by being an inspiration.They turn out as the powerful symbol that strengthens and assures people to fight just like the spirit of Gotham was awakened when they saw batman's return.So the heroes among us need to be acknowledged at least once.Their songs should never decay in the grave,unsung.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Reminders

I want you to remember The photograph, you loved On the wall, That reminds me Of the last spring Where the potted sunflowers At our home smiled And the hanging creepers Mumbled, Of the girl who was looking For someone. You saw a thousand figures Dancing in her pupils A Mexican woman in Her huipil, A drunken man with his Lyre; Looking for the right Strings,And A peahen waiting to mate. You admired the Vine stems heading North In the picture, The cheap beads that The girl wore And the broken bridge Behind her, From which a fish Jumped for a self introduction. And when you remember Your dear picture, I want to remind You of the Coffee cup that tasted Your lips, The laundry drugged By your smell And the mirrors that Reflected your images. And you should know that The sunflowers no longer smiled And the creepers were silent Till yesterday. But today when The rain sprinkled its drops I see clearly the pupil Of the girl, Dark and intense,...
Post a Comment
Read more

Madeline’s Mirror

  Madeline’s mirror told her she’s fat, It appalled at her shapeless dress, Covering a chunk of flesh. She looked at her broad shoulders  And big breasts,  which reminded her of a pile of  clothes that no longer fits her. But Madeline smiled and applied her eyeliner effortlessly. Her mirror sneered at her  chafing thighs kissing each  other when she moves. Madeline’s mirror found her  plush lips contradicting  the pair of flesh  on either side of it. It spotted the two chins fighting for space like contestants in the combat zone. Madeline admired her freckleless skin, and applied her favourite lipstick. The mirror reflected  her flabby arms  complementing her  saggy belly. Madeline moved closer  to her mirror,  which still in oblivion,  started to produce sympathetic smiles at her legs. It mirrored how her legs carry all the weight, hiding under her flowy dress. Appreciating her silky hair and perfectly manicured...
Post a Comment
Read more

Murmurings of Married Women

  I hear murmurings from the graveyard In the West of the town,  Of married women,  Dead and disappeared years ago.  I wonder what a time they had,  What a life they lived.  Their husbands weep and weep and forget them,  They praise how they looked after their women,  Covering in glittery gold,  Buying them silly silks,  Giving makeup for a make-over.  But still, the women murmur,  Their voices seem to break the edges of tombs.  They force the sun to dry out the flowers on them quickly.  I lowered my face and listened to the tombs,  It seems their lipstick was revolting,  Their eyelashes lifted to show the desperation.  They talk about the lies they had to live through,  In fear of strangers' pointing fingers on getting a hint on their unhappy marriages.  They call out their abusive partners,  Told me to look for the broken bangles behind the kitchen for proof,  The blood-stained clo...
Post a Comment
Read more