Hitch-hiker's dreamz

Entry 5 - A little more or less

2011-09-05T12:18:00.000+05:30

And exactly how much more is less, or how less is more?
Somewhere it struck me over a random dinner conversation with a couple friends. Sometimes it so happens,that we miss out on or maybe never get to know little details of closest of people in our lives.
Just thinking of a string of fictional incidents
The drunken calls after spicy soup
The fish on the footwear
Or the retaining the symmetry behind upside down

Feels weird to start with but true, we do take things for granted and not know favourite colors or films or whatever. Takes me back to college when the quantity of sugar for that cup of coffee still remains intact in memory but not the persons existence, or the Lebanese non veg platter with Kalhua shots at Pebble Street, or brunch menu at 32 milestone or chicken cartilage at 26 AG or Keema Ghotala at Mocha has people associated with it. I know the kind of coffee that’s Sedas alarm or the yummy eggs and sausages roger cooks on a wasted day or the cold coffee at manis jus when u are ready to storm out for conquer another long day or the crabs that light up Irenes eyes.

What does it mean? Knowing these details definitely means you care, but is the perfect judge for setting the chart-topper. Don’t know,but ya, with some people it makes all the difference,like the little princess knows everything I like or don’t like and vice-versa. Thank god for some people like that….knowing that you are sharing them with other people but what you share with them is copyrights reserved, and is an extremely limited edition.

2nd Sept 2011

Entry 4 - Chor Baazari

2011-09-05T12:16:00.000+05:30

One of those monsoon mornings where u sulk to have woken up at 5 in the morning but still have the butterfly in the stomach to go explore, first of its kind in this stint of Bombay and the agenda was to experience it. Google came handy in trying to discover the feel of it, and then it happened…the Friday clothes bazaar,midst small galis and hundreds of people in motion. They all looked focused about their destination though it was the human sea that kept them moving through spaces.

The architecture was tactile, old mossy houses…dented walls and broken window panes. And one could also get a peek into some houses, rusty grills and old, greasy ceiling fans…blue or dead yellow walls adorned with tacky wall hangings and bright frames. And some of them like almost all Bombay houses, did have a string of clothes desperately trying to dry themselves. But one frame that remains in my head after all these days, is that freshly painted Mughal archetype building on both sides if the little lane and they are joining hands with the help of the tin sheet roof and tattered tarpaulin, its so old that that there are fully grown plants on it. It feels like a living time travel static on your face.

Since it was a Friday the other artifact shops remains closed but what one could see through the glass openings and making efforts to catch a glimpse was old lamp shades and wooden chairs and it did smell of antique stuff one could afford  I am very hopeful about the chest. There was this shop called Bollywood bazaar, can’t wait to lay my hands on it.

However the paya was disappointing to the extent I wanted to throw up, and knowing that I can eat anything, please imagine how bad!! And there was the chai stop, in the butcher hall, and the kid with the tattered t-shirt smeared with meat blood. Something stung me, its not always by choice…..often by compulsion. Not so nice,but true. Did we ever know there was second hand, fourth hand spare parts of Bentleys and Mercs . This country in the most familiar spaces doesn’t fail to surprise me.
Oh before I sign off, was there for a friends quest to find miniature insects, but we came back empty handed but hearts hankering for more, just that someone zoomed into work at 8 am in the morning while the other bindass, didn’t get to work till 2 in the afternoon.

30th August 2011

ENTRY 3....Subtitle

2011-08-14T20:13:00.000+05:30

Yes I felt I enjoy titling posts, like its almost like the kickstart
The rains here have started getting under control.
But the buzz in the head is more of Test 1, Test 2, Test Signal,This is test Signal
Its a good high, and madness. My threshold of patience has gone up,its almost like after a point of being crazy you say to yourself.....let it flow.

And currently its almost a mad house, the inhabitants here are all basking in the mad-test disease. Varying degrees, so its a very at home feeling. But personally would have preferred a nicer,defined cliche as creative madness over random-ness.
Yes random is a quirky,but not whimsical,n not often fueled by negative emotions.

Lost teh zeal,basically got bored trying to recreate emotions!

ENTRY 2

2011-07-29T23:05:00.000+05:30

I am hoping to carry on with Bombay dairies for a while...
Damn I can whine right now,but honestly,I am not worked up...and that tactic feels good :), one guru taught me so.....
What else....rains practically drained the city and then what happened....one random encounter,like do what you want to do phase,hoping across to some good conversations and colored liquid

The rush gets higher....touch,feel,believe ;)

BOMBAY DAIRY

2011-07-28T17:43:00.000+05:30

ENTRY 1

It feels great to be back, specially that day when I was waiting for r for roger by the sea and the long drive to nariman point, serene…..if I could change anything, subject of conversations. The sea looks amazing and so does the salty taste in the mouth but then the mundane took over, battling freaking daily lives and people with inability to find happiness in the smaller nuisances, like flowers or rain clad kali-peeli taxis or just waltzing across roads. Found an antidote to that – smoke, and not coloured smoke!

What’s with the attitude?
I mean this is not what/where I left. Yet another blast, and taking it as if it’s the way of life, being numb about it and saying back with a vengeance.

Chaos is the way of life, but what happened to the rhythm to madness

Tantrums has a new meaning, like the Bollywood dream is full of it, is that survival or sheer boredom?. How fast are we running that the whole deal of waiting to smile has disappeared? Haven’t stopped to say hello to the rains or say hi to the sudden sun burst, or just being temperamental because it frees the captured soul

However textures feel nice…something that was so tactile was created on a big canvas.
And then the lights and the sound and the camera angles
The best part however was of the zillion characters on which one could write a story, and make films on them or the thesis about the disorganized labor in the industry.

Its buzzing,and whatever is negative is just fad,and not real except for spaces
And it just takes an imagination to bungee jump from the top of the sea-link straight into the sea

Till next time

Product Benefit

2011-06-29T16:15:00.000+05:30

Walked in through that door
Feeling vague
Its one term that could be the middle name
Trash all around
Along with the scattered brain,mind and heart

One part of the deal is a blank sheet
The other jumbled
Normal,it looks from a distance
Detached it feels from within
And starts the 3 month trial period

Is it convenience or has it gone numb
or is it one of those things called
This too shall pass
In the city of dreams
Wanna be in love
With r for roger
And in here, forever
(If there is one)

Yet Again over juvenile discrepencies

2011-06-29T16:01:00.001+05:30

For Judas and the mood she is in :)
By the Selfish Giant

Love on the rocks
Ain't no surprise
Pour me a drink
And I'll tell you some lies
Got nothing to lose
So you just sing the blues all the time

Gave you my heart
Gave you my soul
You left me alone here
With nothing to hold
Yesterday's gone
Now all I want is a smile

First, they say they want you
How they really need you
Suddenly you find you're out there
Walking in the storm
When they know they have you
Then they really have you
Nothing you can do or say
You've got to leave, just get away
We all know the song

You need what you need
You can say what you want
Not much you can do
When the feeling is gone
May be blue skies above
But it's cold when you're love's on the rocks

First, they say they want you
How they really need you
Suddenly you find you're out there
Walking in the storm
When they know they have you
Then they really have you
Nothing you can do or say
You've got to leave, just get away
We all know the song

Love on the rocks
Ain't no surprise
Pour me a drink
And I'll tell you some lies
Yesterday's gone
And now all I want is a smile

Martini

2011-06-22T16:27:00.000+05:30

Tiny small olives
Three,actually one of three
Two sleepless nights
One edgy couple
Thin crust pizzas

And this is just the prelude

The alcohol is hand made
But not the wit
The paws on the neck are too on the face
So is the bling of "I play car race"

Eyes drowning in sleep
But not the mind
Text-pectations to be set or surprise has a better shock value
Is not really the question

The question is
what was I talking about again?
Oh yes,
Three,Tiny small olives
Three? Actually one of three

Means Everything

2011-06-12T23:25:00.000+05:30

It doesnt mean a thing
Highly over-rated
And picking up pieces is not met under deadlines,not even without deadlines
Television makes no sense,nor does meat
Not even cigarettes....
I think I am suffering from caffeine and alien deficiency
I need to be abducted by aliens or meet Captain Hook or exchange lives with Peter Pan
But Peter Pan is stubborn and he hates grown ups, so maybe he will understand.
And together we will banish Captain Hook and I will keep his red hat and the tool box.
I need to dirty my hands with turpentine and lightners, but the black buck needs to fly in before that.

Of Cowards and Emotional Gibber.....

2011-06-02T10:04:00.001+05:30

Something that was left as a draft way back in 2009...left it like tht,couldn't remember state of affairs,though the state hasn't changed too much,except that I am writing :)

Whenever someone asks me what I think he should do with his life, I always say, First, leave home. Get out there, where if you care to listen, you will find many other people dreaming of making connections and changing the world, just like you. The only mistake is in thinking that you will make an important difference in the lives of the people you're among. The profound difference will be in you.

I read this and it seemed the question I was pondering with is headed somewhere.
I try and do care to listen, I don't have a home for a while now, and after I thought I knew a little about who and what I am,they said intensity was a problem,emotions are a problem,and to top it all,the buck has turned to me.
I don't care about losing anything anymore, atleast conceptually.
I need to think more, a lot more than I do, and yes get so deep into the thought that I can't find myself anymore.

The sky last night was way too dark. The bright stars also seemed afraid to shine,but it still wanted to be seen,wanted to be somebody....
Sometimes I can scream my lungs at pretentions,but then as I take that one step back and think, I feel like a coward.
I want to do what I want to do. I mean go bagpack,hike across continents,live anywhere,love everything.....not think about money.
But the rebel seems to be dying a death,quicker than I thought and I feel perturbed that I have not explored enough. I do not have the guts to do so.
Read madly,watch rentlessly,create a cinema paradiso everytime with anything around.
I don't want this state of existence, where measurement is a way of life.....
Saw Kate,she inspired me.
Theres so much to do and I am not doing it....blaming it on things that I despise.
Just being an escapist.

My Speech over the Kings Speech

2011-06-02T09:58:00.000+05:30

So this was intended to be the review of the two films that I saw back to back yesterday ie Sunday however, a lot more has happened in between for this to be only the reviews. And it scares me that to get back to the discipline to write reviews I would need dedicated time...by the way found a new inspiration,a friend,named Uddhav Ghosh...his zeal was something to look upto. I don't know why I am not consistent about things.

Anyways so The Kings speech...hero of the film Geoffrey Rush...and it tells me have to have to watch Mad Men,yes that doesn't take away the great performance of Colin Firth, specially in the crass brit humour and sense of disgust when he initially meets Lionel, or thinks about giving speeches and most definitely in the final speech to the nation when its out to go for a war, but must say all said the writer of the film,actually the screenwriter did a great job....some of the lines that stayed on -

Lionel Logue: Do you know any jokes?
King George VI: ...Timing isn't my strong suit.

Queen Elizabeth: [Using the name "Mrs. Johnson"] My husband's work involves a great deal of public speaking.
Lionel Logue: Then he should change jobs.
Queen Elizabeth: He can't.
Lionel Logue: What is he, an indentured servant?
Queen Elizabeth: Something like that.

King George VI: In this grave hour fuck fuck fuck perhaps the most fateful in our history bugger shit shit.
[singing]
King George VI: I send to every household of my p-p-peoples... The letter'P' is always difficult.

The storytelling is classic. Getting into technicalities,it was classic editing,cinematography, the art direction takes the trophy away along with lighting....and the Tim Burton-ish touch Helena Carter brings in....the slight quirk of a so called conservative dutchess of England. But the best part is the humane bit of the stiff uplipped brit shit....the rhythm of the curse...the fucks,the shits.

There was more but need a calmer mind to write it....and ofcourse not keep drafts for months. The date at the end of the post must say when I started it
And then there was No Strings Attached... Rom-Coms make me go weak in the knees,yes it does. But as the film it was nothing extraordinary except for performance of Lucy,Lake Bell,I liked the character, of a director and different as a woman, a pyscho perfectionist. I loved the script,some smart one liners and tons of mush at times, to an extent you wanna go aawwwhh. But somehow the lead pair's (Aston Kutcher and Natalia Portman) talent hasnt been exploited well.
As far as the story goes,the problem is that it reinforces my belief that 'friends with benefits' deal always leaves someone hurt; the joy was to see how all this lust did make so called not emotionally vulnerable people fall in love.

I came back home happy, with both the films,cinematic-ally quenched and thoroughly entertained.

April 3rd 2011

I dunno How it sounds,but I know How it feels

2011-06-02T09:14:00.000+05:30

To and From the Selfish Giant
With SOMETHING called love n hate,like n dislike,milds n goldflake lights,rain n moon, cigarettes and caffeine

You ask me if I love you
And I choke on my reply
I d'rather hurt you honestly
Than mislead you with a lie
And who m I to judge you
On what you say or do
I am only beginning to see the real you

And sometimes when we touch
The honesty is too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you til I die
Till we both break down and die
I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides

Romance and all its strategy
Leaves me battling with my pride
But through the insecurity
Some tenderness survives
I m just another writer
Still trapped within my truth
A hesitant prize fighter
Still trapped within my youth

And sometimes when we touch
The honesty is too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you til I die
Till we both break down and die
I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides

The Tragic Hero

2011-06-01T20:45:00.000+05:30

Why the Tragic hero suddenly? It’s been in my head for a while but haven’t been able to nail down why is it moving me to write. Anyways, the scope arose when a fellow human, with whom I played alter ego sometime in life, brought this up.
His take was how the Greek civilization defined things in life for us. And one of the most amazing of them is the tragic hero. And the evening was spent talking about traits of the tragic hero and contextualizing the aspect of the character in our lives.

I went back to basics, before the Greek, my tragic heroes emerged from English Literature, the one and only Shakespeare. Hamlet rules the roost and each of his plays have the main characters that are tragic heroes or have elements of the character. The quest however is to unearth how so called mundane characters like me and the alter ego and a few people I know are modern day tragic heroes. (And here I would want to keep away from the gender aspect of it).

The typical traits of a tragic hero – from some ref when I googled it
1) Goodness, (2) appropriateness, (3) likeness, and (4) consistency. Moreover, (5) though the tragic hero intends good, (6) because of his or her tragic flaw, (7) he or she experiences a reversal of fortune, (8) which leads to his or her downfall, (9) an experience that causes him or her to have some kind of enlightenment, or to gain some kind of new wisdom or self-knowledge. And overall, (10) the experiences and suffering of the tragic hero are cathartic for the audience.

So when I am analyzing the modern day tragic hero, though one would like to romanticize about it, but gone are the days when we could be selfless, for the larger objective, well being of an empire, a race, or of loved ones. All of this hardly would be reasons to navigate the modern hero’s tragic flaw.
The tragic flaw is often rationalized in the minds of modern day tragic hero. But the catharsis leads to self pity. And that often comes out to be epitome of realization. They say tragic heroes are faced with serious decision, in retrospect personally the decision and dilemma is self inflicted. At the same time one would also realize that for some people the everlasting dilemma is a way of life. If that gets lost the quest seems to have gotten lost. Some struggle is necessary for tragic heroes!

Unlike the classic tragic hero, such as Odysseus from Homer's The Odyssey, the modern tragic hero is usually an ordinary man who possesses qualities that elevates him above the ordinary masses as he fights courageously against the overwhelming odds of the society. Accordingly, Atticus Finch, of Harper Lee’s work of To Kill a Mockingbird, are examples of such tragic heroes.

Today I was being the tragic hero when I was trying to conclude on the debate of Harry Potter being the tragic hero or would it be Snape. The checklist had its own set of answers of how the characters are set for the novels to develop a certain feel and storyline, however Harry was not a tragic hero, he was trapped in circumstances and then emerged a hero, almost every time in Hogwarts however Snape was the real tragic hero, not because the catharsis hits him at the end but how he for the intent, reverses his own fortune and for the larger good of lives of promises of tomorrow, and that takes his life. So is Jack Dawson from Titanic, his giving away of his life was for his love, a fit to the t example, his struggle wasn’t that intense however.

And now my most favorite, The Dark Knight. The Dark Knight is, structurally speaking, a dramatically different sort of story. It's not simply that the characters themselves are more complex. Christopher Nolan goes deeper and brings out the stark difference, the nature of the conflict itself. Now, at the beginning of the film, Batman is all out to get Harvey Dent, as a DA, and accomplish what Batman cannot—to ultimately reconcile justice and law in Gotham City. If this could be made possible then Bruce Wayne could stop being Batman. The relationship therefore is something Wayne clearly wants, that clarifies his intent—he thinks if he is able to give up Batman, he 'gets the girl', a "normal life". When Rachel dies, Bruce loses everything, the woman he loves and his hope for Gotham. When Dent becomes Two-Face, he gives up both justice and law for the sake of revenge. Thus the reversal of fortune. Thus the way Batman begins as a superhero, in Dark Knight the way it ends, Batman is no longer a symbol of hope. Inspector Gordon's statement that "The Joker won" has a double meaning. Batman takes the blame because he wants the reconciliation of justice and law, hope, and he realizes that Batman cannot be that hope. Batman operates outside of the law for the sake of justice, but at the same time needs the law to avoid being out for revenge. In this way, Batman's task is shown to be an impossible one. Batman must fight but can never win. He is thus a tragic hero, a "dark knight" as rightly as the film is names.

As far as people in reality are concerned and they exist in flesh and blood Many characters of National Geographic Channels celebrated tv show Jailed Abroad have been tragic heroes and oofh what heroes! Revolutions have had the ability to create modern day tragic hero, right from unsung heroes of wars remembered in history to modern day struggles of arms movement and the politics around it.
A thinking individual who questions his situation, society, environment and falls into its complex mesh of weird calculations, sometimes succeeds in providing solutions or atleast attempts to fight it are modern day tragic heroes, lets says a Martha Stewart or a Michael Vick or right at home our soldiers who fought several battles at the LOC, though as I write here I feel the lines are blurring between a tragic hero and a martyr.

Coming down to what prompted me to write this was to draw references of real life characters. I think we all become tragic heroes, sometime or the other however some of us naturally have the tragic flaw, and some since they have been educated to the phenomenon of philosophy and literature grab their attempt of self pity as being the tragic hero and the victim of all wrongs, right from time to sex to drunken driving to sheer stupid behavior or social conduct. They are friends so beyond a point the crudest thing one does is abandon them.

But ya Hamlet still stirs my heart and The Dark Knight kisses the soul. The Tragic hero is kinda romantic

Grrrr...Angrryyy

2011-03-03T18:39:00.003+05:30

Grrrr
Angry I am feeling now....maybe self pity but whatever....
There are people who whine all the time over a lot of things,why cant someone hear sometimes thats its also their job to fucking hold on to somethings, if you cant handle pressure why is it fucking email and escalate....seriously it suck, its not freaking trickle dwn effect for everything,really man it sucks!

There are people who walk in and out whenever they want to, I also want to do the same,I also want to chill during sometime,atleast when its notice period, I want to do some shanti wala edits etc!
Mereko sunneko milta hai...dude thats nt for u to sunao me....

M damn irritated!

Wishlist

2011-02-23T21:19:00.003+05:30

So whts been happening....kickass stuff....something like I am braindead! to the core.
I feel like running to mother and hiding in her stomach
The world amuses me, maybe everything else also does....but I miss the humor, I only get a state-of-art kinda feeling these days and often oblivious to it.

I saw this lil pup the other day,in the morning all dusty and ruffled.
In the evening on my way back he was still there, in aftershower look and playing in the puddle.
But the irony is it wasnt dirtying itself to make something out of it, it was just happy playing in the mud n dirt. Why cant we have lives like that.

Currently my wish list includes -
1. Get the fuck outa hre
2. Backpack to Pondi or Northeast
3. Learn Pottery and Power Yoga
4. Sleep, and Laze
5. Watch Films
6. Write
7. Walk on the beach with Sam
8. Get pampered at Home
9. Procrastinate some life changing events
10. Start on my mixed media project
11. Have a magic wand to read a few peoples mind
12. Stop Whining and feeling the need for it
13. Fall in love with life all over again

A comeback with Just another story

2011-02-19T15:31:00.004+05:30

Was looking at old times through the myriad glasses, sometimes it takes forever to realize that life has another meaning if you get to write what you want to write, its like being in love with someone and everything else ceases to exist, its jus a walk in the rains where tears can hide but the clothes are dry and you have the warmth of the sky.

So life has been as usual a fanatic....it took the shape of a shapeless crystal throughout 2010.
Shapeless crystal was my discovery of the decade. But what remained consistent is the thought that no matter what, over time the moments u sit back in despair and think its the pits, something more crazy comes our way....life is actually a live event of 70 MM,where the team is the best in the world, where there is no boundaries of a script, screentime, budget or anything!

How does this happen still remains a question but ya it just does.

2010 ended with a life changing note, but it was bitter, ripped me of my soul, but gave me experiences that brought me closer to my dark sides, and thus took birth of pandoras box of secrets, and they will also maybe find their space through some printed musings.

2011 has just begun and my best friend, life ya, has been on a run, I find it quite difficult to keep pace with it, m growing old that ways,but someone random suggested, its all in the mind, like they say in Rang De Basanti - abhi sanson mein hai dum,abhi chalne de sitam. But the best part of it till now has been in a promo last week I figured my soul is still alive. Tunes still make sense to me....and the little pleasures of life still excite me, like sending the sunshine V day flowers, I did that to someone for the first time. The flowers all over Delhi felt very good.
I got my cam out last evening to capture some random moments, so the instinct tells me my instincts are coming back.
So everything put together, its back on the roads without a map

Just have to keep the spirit going

Have to check in here often now

The insight behind i dun have time.....

2009-06-22T19:50:00.003+05:30

As from the last post the idea was to grow but as I can see I have not....
Not travelled or evolved to a level that I do not get mundane but do exciting things.....I dun wana plan,jus go ahead n do stuff.....I want to activate twitter and blogspot on my phone....seriously.Then maybe the thots will not die an untimely death while they have the potential to brightly light my life but eventually get lost since I am @ wrk, or jus too fucking tired to switch on the laptop.Or get caught up with mundane stuff.....the environment is also not conducive but the fear of probing for solutions does kill the way ahead to a large extent.
Pills today fwded me pics of Barrack Obama chilling in the White House,his life looks so contented.And a life accomplished.
What m hating about myself for a while now is the whole bit about...ambitions and aspects getting ruled by the norms laid out. What is wrong? Is it age or m i turning out to be a coward since I dun wanna risk it?

What is it all about?
Answers.....as someone once said is myb in the question itself

Losing the Plot

2009-05-21T14:48:00.002+05:30

I seem not to find no time to do some thing that I used to really enjoy - I don't blog, I hardly listen to music, I don't read books at the same pace and definitely without the same excitement levels, and worst of all, I think about work all the time.
Also the not nice things that come with it clutter my brain.... Damn it, I am turning to a nasty workaholic. Stop Stop....I wanna get down....

Thursday,@ 15:00 Hrs,when I am at work....

Angel on the way

2009-05-04T09:29:00.003+05:30

Mondays mostly come adorned with a shade of grey.
Thankfully the sun was nice and warm, and as I started towards work, the flash of the
image jus left an impression that still keeps the smile lingering on the lips.
A lil girl, sleepy sitting on a cycle thela between tins and scraps.....
Our eyes met and she took a while to return my smile.
But what she returned was priceless, a smile that keeps one going through all not so nice moments.
Shabby,Sleepy,Lost but sweetheart you are an angel!
And Delhi for the first time since August seemed humane to me.
A nice week awaiting :)

When I was thinking.....

2009-04-02T12:02:00.003+05:30

Have been thinking a lot
The patterns of thought have different textures and feel
As much I am getting illusive about human beings,my headspace is getting crammed by them. I dont want to talk or even listen to blabbers.
It sickens me,makes me feel stagnated to the extent I only crib and cry.
Even then it does not feel great,its like waiting for a getaway.

And then it happened.
Finding the dark side of the moon, nooo,not Floyd,jus like that
And then the inability to hide my disjointedness
And then the inability to disassociate
I wonder where will it all take me.....
Maybe to a deserted hill top, find a quaint cottage,and smoke up and read n write
and think not to come up with something,but generally think like that.

This colleague of mine said the other day - our economy is emotional.
Wish he writes on that, there was spark in the phrase!
Till then lemme mull over all the funny things I do for a living.

Romancing on the Silver Screen

2009-03-09T00:11:00.001+05:30

I was intending to write on this, and trust myself this is not the Oscars.
The Indian film industry brings back all possible enthusiasm of creating ripples on the silver screen.

Life looks astounding and promises of Ghatak, Adoor, Raj Kapoor, Ray, Hrishikesh Mukherjee, Mrinal Sen is not dead. The sheer joy of cinema in the seventies is coming back for good.

Managed to see Slumdog long before the release and fell in love instantly.
The first love was definitely for Bombay but what I loved most was Dharavi, the thousand stories that bred in the lanes, in the lives of people, the ghettoisation that’s stark yet subtle. But yet there were perspectives that were missed considering at the end of the day it was a white skin with the help of talented bunch of Indian crew was making the film. Therefore the zoomed out frame of Dharavi was captured in the right essence. There were moments of reality which a few of us know considering the work space we have been into. Definitely it gets worse….. and of course one was creating a film and hence there was a need to filmicize it. The music mostly was typical AR Rehman, and honestly not the best of his scores. But it grows on one, it grows with the film. The sound design was honestly great and now it feels wonderful to have it recognized in the International forum.

The entire debate about Oscars and its authenticity! But at the end of the day what then decides your calibre as a film maker or a creator? Commercial success would not mean anything to those one of us who thinks film as a medium plays too many roles. So how else tangibly does one decipher success of a film? Ghatak by our sensibilities today was a director of a cadre that not people have reached. But what did he get when he was alive? In that reference the film Ek Doctor Ki Maut by Tapan Sinha rightly depicts a man hard work ostracized by the society because of convenience. Any day Mira Nair’s Salaam Bombay is a better film maybe if we take this league into consideration. It got a nomination but did not make it. Like if one Dan Boyle wants to win a Filmfare, he will be nominated for a foreign film. That’s something we cannot choose. Why is it so unsettling to accept it? Why does it hurt to accept that somebody from a different region captured some nuances of our walks of life? Things we have turned away from, things we walk pass every other day? If reality is what cinema is, why does it hurt to come in terms of acute poverty that came into the international platform?

Technically the feel of the film thrilled me, right from cinematography to the sheer joy of story telling in its editing. Rest as they say is history!
Gone are the days when Subarnarekha or Ajantrik would remain unnoticed till ages later one discovers the romance of cinema in it. It’s the new age, maybe its yet another neo-liberal trap of the west to capture Indian talent and let it flourish because its cheap labour.

I am happy with the Slumdog Millionaire, its never too late to dream and watch them come true in one lifetime.

Delhi,9th March 2009

Disconnected Journey with Kari

2009-03-08T18:52:00.001+05:30

I do not know where you came from
You seemed to be my dying angel
Unreal reality you appear to be
You brought out my fears alive
Kari, do you live in me?

I know you did once upon a time
And then I lost you in the crowd of life
But somewhere deep inside you create the ripples of lonesome delight

My memory of the absentee other is deep embedded
But the images of the same are getting blurred
Tell me Kari, is it really a race towards death where you fight to be the first?
My cityscape had tall buildings, and bunch of bright lights when I lived there last
Since then every time I crawled to go back, I realized I have not reached far.
Home that is, was or will be the place that I will never look for solace,
I love my free fall,
The maximum city has also altered since I left
But its still has my secrets safe inside

Unseen faces, a sip of the poisonous kiss
Unseen eyes, a peek into the barren hearth
Most often there are logical beginnings, ends and consolidations
To my relationships, be with people, spaces, moments or words
But often I wonder what if somebody gave me the constitution without the preamble?
These are not my words, if they discover they will say its yours
But Kari they were hidden in my heart
Till you graphized them on several other minds
In between the smoky, stingy lanes
I played with pretty boys till the other side said, space is not alive
The rains make me happy and sad
They set me free and chain me down
Coherent words loses itself midst the gusty wind
Never knew if there were laws in love
Was it ever love if it was not free? Time and incidents as you say, just comes by…
I am half baked in the half cooked truth
That nobody would ever own me
Since the time I have wrenched my umbilical cord
I loved silence but sometimes homosapiens analyze it
And my over analytical self gets moving into the trespasser forbidden zone
Of Foucault’s psychoanalysis and interpretation of dreams
Where often known souls become strangers, which tells me every morning of the time for which I think I need to prepare.
At twenty one I knew my teen celeb dream was dead
Five years later I see I do not have awards or creations invaluable to my name

I walk up stairs, see glitzy dreams, and churn severe ambitions but nowhere it leads
Me to the a destination where I can smile and fall from a cliff
I want to have an epitaph reading Been There, Done that
But I also want to be the boatman to ferry across those few rats!
Sometimes I feel, other times I know that when people want to kick the bucket
Come and get stuck to me and I forget whose the leach
They think of me like a morbid shit
But Kari you know the death of an urge
To jump into the sea
Can never be as vast as floating in the dark blue sky
Where clouds cover the sun
And life takes yet another turn.
Before I continue walking on the unseen path
Jus wanted to thank you Kari, thank you for our lives crossed.

For Basic love of Things

2008-12-28T11:37:00.008+05:30

The year is drawing to an end and I am on a high, about the basic love of things. Originated amongst a few Delhi youngsters, this artform appeals to all four senses, they keep the taste buds out, unless one decides to give into some good addiction for the complete feel. For the experience one must go for a gig before turning to the next signal.

Calling themselves BLOT, honestly the music and the visual medium makes an impact that made me travel through time and the roller coaster ride did not need alcohol or stuff to accompany.

But Basic love of things does not begin or end there. It was all over in December. The winter shivers, the craving for a drink of warmth, the excavation of minds, the fact that letting go becomes easier each day, yet leaves a tinkle of sigh. Life cannot seem to encompass itself in a few words, the textures were varied and dear to heart. Going back to Bombay made me grow up in folds. But the raving battle with the old estranged lover seems to be never ending. So much so that everything else seems to be illusionary. Maybe they still are, maybe they will be but it’s the grey I love. It’s the forever changing colour palette that feels the orchids fresh and right on the skin, tickling old emotions, only making one realize it’s not all dead, it’s still simmering somewhere and that is hope for tomorrow.

Amongst people, its amazing to see different worlds collide and still come together over music and life. Aren’t we all trying to create masterpieces all the time? Aren’t we all striving for excellence that will make us immortal? I therefore like the madness of Henry the viii th . Sometimes respecting nothing and loving everything does hold good. It gives you a feeling a completion thats very personal, very signature.

I maybe invisible as me by the end of the year but I will be someone else. The role reversals with people you meet and get intimate with in most inane ways, over shots, over smoke, over chokerblock traffic or tears and most importantly over the promise that we will walk alone with each other . The quirky sunshine is not hiding behind the clouds. Its somewhere in the sky, as I count days for the days to end, I pin my hope to see and hide in the sunshine forever.

Lofty ambitions, hope of an impossible?
What if it crashes? Speculation has never led us anywhere. So let the Obama effect take shape, let my country wake up to reasons and determine its future and let my imagination run wilder.

Lets live for basic love of things.

Figments of a Sleeping Imagination

2008-12-15T07:44:00.007+05:30

The body lay on the bed.
From the window the moonbeam filtered in like the silver stream. It was peaceful for 15 secs and then one something that looked like the body wanted to get out of the body that laid still.

The transparent look alike moved out from the room and reached another one. There was a wheel that moved in rhythm, and had figments of marijuana in it. The more the object wanted to get hold of the green,the faster the wheel swirled.

And then something happened.
The wheel chased the object, and the object tried saving itself from the defeat,there was no way to stop either one of them. At one point it felt losing track of who was trying to over power whom and in the mayhem, the object reached a brightly lit room, it was so bright that it could blind but the swarms of people inside seemed to have some superpower symbolized by that one roll between their fingers, it was smoky and the smell could kill.
And an overdose of something you love never saves the soul. The object was stupefied, not knowing it was love or something that's a fall out of bitter love.

The object did not move and then it suddenly gasped for breathe and called out for the body that was still peacefully sleeping in reality. The body refused to wake up, unperturbed by the room where the object had reached and was dying under the inability to see or hear. All the object knew was that of a feeling that gnawed something that resembles the heart, the object though was not sure if there was something like that. It closed its eyes and wanted to transcend to a world where it could breathe for death of claustrophobia was not something that it ever imagined.

How true it is when they say whatever we want does not happen all the time. As the object desired a life afterlife, all that it could fathom was the light in the room went dim, soothing and the psychedelic phenomenon clouded the vision. It was nearing impossible to get the feet to move into a direction that could let some fresh air in. But the window in the vision had the light of the day that tantalized like a lover does after a series of passionate love making moments that drives the partner for more, even if the epitome of pleasure has defied all definitions. And probably that is why the lovers reunite for the rest of the night even if the pleasure have been sucked beyond obvious.

The black human like objects transformed themselves into choker blocks and would not let the object move beyond two inches in one direction. The phobia was spreading itself and a tarantula crossed through it everytime the object refused to submit to the smoke that led one into the bottomless desire to crawl and lick decayed blood in search of ecstasy.
There was no path to escape, and it was at that moment the body that slept opened it eyes, dashed out of the room in order to find the object, it was an insane search for now there was a body that rummaged through graphic spaces searching for its soul and the objectified soul knew it was not there anymore. It had travelled to a world where breathing spaces where locked in rooms that did not contain holes that would not let air either in or out.

The body refused to give up, it ran with the determination that it had to save the virgin in the whore house but little did it know the man the soul slept beside when in transcended into the airless realism that it was over,the virginity was lost. But the body remembered waking upto screams of despair and helplessness, but it was late. The soul was lost and like millions microcosms do in search of themselves.
And the moment came and went by, little to the body's knowledge but the soul lay there in with eyes wide shut.

The quest to nail the soul down, probably turned it into ashes which does not rise from the phoenix; like everything else trust,truth,love,friendship,absolutes are all illusions of the body.
The soul lives many lives,in many spaces, and mourns over all thats lost and rejoices much more to all that's waiting to be created. Its stoned, its drunk and passes out but its not for the body to understand.

Words do not serve any sentence
Imagination does, Ideas does and sometimes not being there does.

Hail!!!

I live here for Love

2008-12-01T12:29:00.005+05:30

The worst time for my lifeline.
The black end of Global terror has finally unleashed itself full blown that lasted over 48+ hours.
It seemed that it was a film running. I had heard it,seen it but the distant experience in real life had emotions that I cannot come to describe in words.
I am amazed, speechless and cannot get to believe it still.
Imagine the depth of hatred,imagine the strenght of nerves, imagine the mental space beyond which life ceases to matter.
This time it was the masses inclusive of the classes and how bare naked and shallow stood the intellegence and basic security of the country, of the financial capital of the country, of the biggest and oldest corporate empire of India.
There was anger,grievances,disgust,outrage but it was pushed and everybody somewhere basked in the glory that Bombay will bounce back.

When the news channels showed the spaces, I felt like own skin was being scathed. It hurts but its hurts so much that its numb.
I am tired of blame games, tired of political gang wars, gimmicks,bytes,reality TV and using Pakistan always for a purpose thats convinient.
I cant even drag myself to sign petitions,send emails,join groups,write protest mails.
Thats not how much I can do for love.
The maximum city has given me maximum experiences in the last almost five years. I am supposed to do much more,more than what meets the eye.
In return I dont want to depend on systems that are dying of incurable diseases - corruption, inefficiency,non-chalance and blah blah blah.
One might think everyone doing little is a lot. But a lot is already lost.
What do I do? I wanted to change the world when I graduated in 2006. And now I want to change my eyes. I dont want to live under the shadow of An Andalusian Dog.
Its difficult to live out of ones set of beliefs.
I screamed out loud when Combating Terror was thought of as strategic programming. Sam says my space has changed and my voice has to be silent. Professional (mis)fortune. Like you cant have a mind that has thoughts beyond the normal stream. I debate over niche and crass, and I decide for those million sensibilties.
So why cant my sensibility make the choice to protest in what is apparently my space?
Anyways, thats not really the point.
The point is mis-interpretation of a community, a faith and a book which is probably much ahead of its times. Its misrepresentation of concepts that were meant to empower and engage and not dissect people furthur into deeper depression from where there seems to be no return.

The vision as of now seems unexplicable and clouded with emotions of betrayal and loss of faith and lives and humanity.
There will be light at the end of tunnel.
Its my belief and its here to stay.
I Live wherever I live, but there I lived and live for Love.

Matter Mastering!

2008-12-01T11:30:00.005+05:30

Ya have been away from this space for a while.
Not a good thing,for my health too as I realize, too many thots spoils the head
How has life changed? Wondering......
Well it definitely does not give me time to brood, but panic attacks occur and I feel desperate, distressed and willing to hit the door and bang till it drops dead.

National Geographic Channel high has settled in, the cool quotient with the launch of Fox History and Entertainment too feels old now.
Boy!!!!! everything in life is coming to be shortlived.
Why am I even beginning to think of it? Didnt I know from 35 mm I was moving to a life that began and end in precisely 30 secs. If you are thinking its too little time,on air it costs huge.
And ya in the first week the biggest lesson learning in progress are -
1. Thinking time = Money, and if I do it right, or I only knew the trick I could be a billionaire :)
2. One has to learn to be nasty, and not regret it. Everybody out there needs a reason to get on to nerves, so stay calm but edgy.....and nobody tells you the irony beneath it.

Got choaked over a period of time, over nuptial conversations. I am getting numb over convinience, if at all that is convinience till I rediscovered myself over Fellini's 8 and a 1/2.
The struggle has not even hit the high. It is still in the womb, beyond these random words and emotions they have not seen the light of the day.
So girlie,get going.....it takes an insane toll to get to the level of being a legend who creates breathtaking 24 frames per second.
Dostana was an exciting venture! Somewhere homosexuality is inside the Indian bedrooms. Yes, the community can complain of stereotypes, and sudden unwelcome gestures but people its out in the open. Lets celebrate the first step....the bollywood way!
Presi bonding happened and it felt weird about changing spaces, but I never wanted roots,or lets say do not know how to live with them. But as ace friend and confidante Divz would put it, dont try to hard on yourself,everything would sink in.
The first fight with R gave me an insight of getting edgy over inability to fill in absence. But in the mind, I knew I was there as a silent spectator.
Lifes good, spaces get smoky,thots wriggle inside my head as if its waiting to scream and few words out I am already feeling better. Like the Zoya Factor, all s fair in Love and Cricket, naah alls fair in a life for love,live for love.
Random never had one shape,one emotion,one color. Thats why it beautiful.
All the best to survival spirits and life in 30 seconds.

Dun have an answer :(

2008-11-09T21:20:00.002+05:30

Dear Rijz,
Whr do I begin? Not randomly when I met you in the greens of Shantiniketan or when I was trying to unravel the socio economics of Dhokra artisans with you?
But everything went grey @ the JNU bus stop! My jaws dropped.....I didn know how to react, lost my voice and my ability to introspect.....the beer @ the stadium didn do good.
How did I do this? I of all people, to you of all people.
I behaved like a jerk and quoted our experience as mine,your exprience as my verbatim!
What the fuck was I thinking? Was I getting too full of myself? I was losing my mind!
Hope you understand the no answer situation but I am sorry,seriously sorry.
Would try n make sure I get over this aspect in life, of ensuring thots get converted into reality and the thots that belong to whoever gets across rightly.
Thanks darling for bringing it across and being a friend.....beyond boundaries and living in and out of scripts.

Love
A

Whiney Minie Miney Moe

2008-10-09T20:33:00.007+05:30

Ya I want to whine a while, I was wondering if I should use this space,but thanks to our lifestyles and slavery to the keyboard and my almost left blank yearly dairies finally made me get myself to whine here. And play the favourite game as a child,of choosing who shall be slaughtered...Ini,mini,minie,moe.
Enuf, I have too much been talking about the world.
Ya fine,its been threatening my basics and made me addictive to have been reeling under the spell of terrorism,communal violence and wall street crisis but I did keep the regular stuff, that I live with, off the radar.

So whats new? Saw Kidnap-long and short of it...lotz but this Khan is promising.
Did not even take a look at the pujas and seems I didn miss much,of course till my celebrity anjoli pal turned me nostalgic. A lovelorn friend was in town with whom I did revisit my state of affairs too much and still have not reached a conclusion. And then I gave into the regular stuff,and picked up this chick-book called You are here. While I was reading it I was looking into those million times gone by. I have lived them but never thought it could go down to become a book because there was nothing extraordinary about it.

But as chickbook also tells you stories that you had almost forgotten.
And on the eve of 2nd October after almost three months I heard myself engaged into genuine exchange, of ideas,experiences and was listening to people without my mind flying into forbidden areas. Am I coming in terms with my breakup finally? Maybe but the question that now is disturbingly nudging me and not anymore working as the possibility of 'things will be fine' is - have I really broken up? And as always,amongst those few good men and women I have in life,one of them told me a way out,and till that happens I will live through the interim like I have always lived life. Probably thats why cartoon films like spirited away makes one feel so special :)
And at this point, well soulmate,missed you like one of those realllly wanna speak to you times

Met these really interesting bunch of people who are in their quest of life. Happily living moments like its one of those precious times for engaging in a dialogue. And ofcourse the warm hearted prejudiced friend who was all out to work out options for freshly out of break ups. It was embarrasing till I realized its all in good faith.
While I write this however I am taken back to all the memories and I still do not know what went wrong.Why are all our lives so perplexing-ly mundanely screwed? Is it realllllyy true that all my aspirations of being able to break free of what is most obvious will really not see the light of the day? Will I get entwined in the regular whatevers.....I mean its a choice that I have to make. And I do not think it would be that difficult to hang onto the fact that I will not follow rules.

Anyways I have gotten addicted to Leonard Cohen. I cant think of a day in the last three months when I havent read or heard him and as I was hearing tonight will be fine on the comp,on television I saw sex and the city-the movie on Oprah. And that was yet another time I realized what a sucker for chick stuff have I become. Hehhehaahee. Boy it felt so good to see these girls again and of course hearing about all that. As dear Charlotte says 'twenties are the most miserable' I nodded vehemently saying...yes I still do not know what is there to me. Gone are those days when people would be all sorted by 25. Boy I am just 25 and there are 25000000000 things I have to do. How can I ever get sorted to save my life? So dear friends and fellow men,thirties are the new twenties. So much for my convenience.
And most importantly I do not see Mr.Big anywhere in the circumference,forget him in the circle. The guy who plays Mr.Big,Chris Noth is a father of a three and a half year old child. And I cannot begin to get smiling as to how adorable he looked. So in real life he did not have a cold feet . And that leads me to question the real avatar of Mr.Big. Is he all only fiction? Hope not,there must be someone as incompletely complete like him. Or maybe in real life an amalgamation of many nice-ness about men around shapes upto Mr.Big. So therefore keep floating. Dunno if that is a good feeling. Maybe not at the moment,but it excited me till this Quirky delightful disaster happened.

I need to go back to Bombay for a while and get over this bit, I dun want to give up on that special warm hearth because of alleys where I lost myself.
Gosh I can almost start a love story memory museum in sometime.
But honestly doesn't all of this almost make me feel miserable that the hopeless romance like Roman Holiday kinds does not exist anymore.
Well honestly it does.
But with a fairly good number of failed relationships I am beginning to question the concept itself. One can always choose to be a hopeless romantic at heart and not compromise. But then it is important to realize that humans are susceptible to change of kinds unheard of.
For some I am surely the crazy romantic kinds and for others I am the brutal honest demon sucking out all romance.
Ya,as I write this I also realize I know what I do not want but at the same time I dont really know the inner calling. What does it take to be the right man or be the right partner? There is no formula and thats nothing new I am telling you but what about those couples you come by and say,they are just so perfect!

I do not know how is life gonna shape up,I mean I never wanted to know,but I think the times are changing and as of today I am feeling better to be able to look up and chase my dreams again,the half written scripts,the dead dear laptop,the disengagement with the world,not paying attention to whats happening inside me, all of that needs to change.
It has to blossom to a fresh autumn morning.
Maybe I will smash myself over alcohol and stuff and have these really irritating conversations over how I found and lost the perfect man but at the same time I am looking forward to the whole exercise again.
So as this interesting explorer I came by talked about Shamanic dreams and Ayuvaska also mentioned, lemme end it on that note, ya so ....if at all there is something called love.

Hoping the weekend trip planned instinctively will get me better. Over horses and ridges, and deserts and trenches, will there be a Mr. Big waiting?
Well well, if they could be there in a class full or people...amongst hundreds in a rock show,or midst a crowded pub,one must not lose hope.
It happens afterall out of nowhere.

Browsing Delight

2008-10-07T13:13:00.001+05:30

I’m a Modern Man

GEORGE CARLIN
on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno on 15nov2005

I'm a modern man, digital and smoke-free; a man for the millennium.

A diversified, multi-cultural, post-modern deconstructionist; politically, anatomically and ecologically incorrect.

I've been uplinked and downloaded, I've been inputted and outsourced. I know the upside of downsizing, I know the downside of upgrading.

I'm a high-tech low-life. A cutting-edge, state-of-the-art, bi-coastal multi-tasker, and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.

I'm new-wave, but I'm old-school; and my inner child is outward-bound.

I'm a hot-wired, heat-seeking, warm-hearted cool customer; voice-activated and bio-degradable.

I interface with my database; my database is in cyberspace; so I'm interactive, I'm hyperactive, and from time to time I'm radioactive.

Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, ridin' the wave, dodgin' the bullet, pushin' the envelope.

I'm on point, on task, on message, and off drugs.

I've got no need for coke and speed; I've got no urge to binge and purge.

I'm in the moment, on the edge, over the top, but under the radar.

A high-concept, low-profile, medium-range ballistic missionary.

A street-wise smart bomb. A top-gun bottom-feeder.

I wear power ties, I tell power lies, I take power naps, I run victory laps.

I'm a totally ongoing, big-foot, slam-dunk rainmaker with a pro-active outreach.

A raging workaholic, a working rageaholic; out of rehab and in denial.

I've got a personal trainer, a personal shopper, a personal assistant, and a personal agenda.

You can't shut me up; you can't dumb me down. 'Cause I'm tireless, and I'm wireless. I'm an alpha-male on beta-blockers.

I'm a non-believer, I'm an over-achiever; Laid-back and fashion-forward. Up-front, down-home; low-rent, high-maintenance.

I'm super-sized, long-lasting, high-definition, fast-acting, oven-ready and built to last.

A hands-on, footloose, knee-jerk head case; prematurely post-traumatic, and I have a love child who sends me hate-mail.

But I'm feeling, I'm caring, I'm healing, I'm sharing. A supportive, bonding, nurturing primary-care giver.

My output is down, but my income is up. I take a short position on the long bond, and my revenue stream has its own cash flow.

I read junk mail, I eat junk food, I buy junk bonds, I watch trash sports.

I'm gender-specific, capital-intensive, user-friendly and lactose-intolerant.

I like rough sex; I like tough love. I use the F-word in my e-mail. And the software on my hard drive is hard-core—no soft porn.

I bought a microwave at a mini-mall. I bought a mini-van at a mega-store. I eat fast food in the slow lane. I'm toll-free, bite-size, ready-to-wear, and I come in all sizes.

A fully equipped, factory-authorized, hospital-tested, clinically-proven, scientifically-formulated medical miracle.

I've been pre-washed, pre-cooked, pre-heated, pre-screened, pre-approved, pre-packaged, post-dated, freeze-dried, double-wrapped and vacuum-packed.

And . . . I have unlimited broadband capacity.

I'm a rude dude, but I'm the real deal. Lean and mean. Cocked, locked and ready to rock; rough, tough and hard to bluff.

I take it slow, I go with the flow; I ride with the tide, I've got glide in my stride.

Drivin' and movin', sailin' and spinnin'; jivin' and groovin', wailin' and winnin'.

I don't snooze, so I don't lose. I keep the pedal to the metal and the rubber on the road. I party hearty, and lunchtime is crunch time.

I'm hangin' in, there ain't no doubt; and I'm hangin' tough.

Over and out.

From my neighbourhood to Wall Street

2008-09-24T15:12:00.028+05:30

A lazy day when the phone rang and concerned family and friends told me of the series of bomb blasts in Delhi. My first reaction was, whats new, yet again, lives don’t matter anymore. It has been a series of 11 blasts since 2001 and nothing concrete ever came out of it. And now blasts in the capital in all the major hotspots and all we will see are media channels giving breaking news with funny dummy stories and visuals. And the ever hungry Indian consumer will watch that raising the channels TRPs. There will be blame games amongst political parties and increased allocation to the Intelligence and security systems of the country that anyways have not made headways in the last 7 years.

Thinking deeper I realized there was unrest in the country in almost all parts and we have become so immune to it. Life seems to be going fine for me, so how does it matter?

But the red alarm reels inside the head some thousand times when even I am flipping through the newspaper or television channels all that is there to the country today is reports of death of innocent human beings, be it as victims of some blasts, pro-freedom movement, police encounters or torching down of minority establishments.

At this level when I turn my attention to rage against the governance in this country, thanks to friends in the financial sector that I delved to read news on the global economic crisis. An establishment as revered as Lehman Brothers, one of the oldest investment banks of the world files for bankruptcy on September 14^th. It was a blow to the global capital market. When PWC was brought on board as administrators they reported there was no cash in the company post the fall. The shock had not been absorbed and Merrill Lynch was bought by Bank of America. Finally they became bank holding companies and the US government paid $700bn to tackle the worst economic crisis in decades. With the developed north crashing there is not much hope anyways for the developing south. Anyways the Indian aping of neo-liberal economy without much deliberation has brought us at the edge of the blackhole.

The economic crisis as the base of the Marxian base-superstructure theory, now poses a severe challenge to the already dwindling food and fuel crisis in India. As if the governments failure to generate employment for the exploding population of the country was not enough that now there will be major cut down on human resources by the MNCs. The shift of focus though doesn’t change the fact that inflation had reached 12.9%.

I had all of this reeling in my head when I went to attend the National Convention on Union Budget 2009-10. I was left flabbergasted with the numbers. Each sector thrashing out inadequacy in allocation, implementation, even conceptually the sectoral understandings seemed to be unclear and that having high levels of ramifications. I wondered about the complexity in the naivety. If experts even cannot develop a macro perspective, sincerely there is threat, of collapsing without even an alarm. The review of the MDGs at several parts of South Asia does portray a grim picture for India. But panelists here except for two did not give me holistic sense of the economic paradigm shift and its implications.

Though as I write this I realize the grassroots experiences are complex and there are several layers before we reach the policy level. How much can one embrace and how much can one choose to keep at the threshold? But can it be the dead end? Is there no solution to it? Or atleast the promise of respite somewhere?

The blow to Wall Street will have deep impact in India, and here people were advocating against remaining bystanders and fighting for marginalized factions of the society. Do they not know the overall implications? Do they not know that factionalizing at this point will only reap indefinable complexities? As much as it remains a serious concern, it frightens me to not see any able leadership developing in this country to be able to address these multilayered issues and crisis the largest democracy of the world is grappling with.

Coming back home, the encounter where the police apparently nabbed the masterminds of the Delhi blasts, the incident took place two blocks away from the place I live in. In the month of Ramzan when the whole community is fasting, this encounter took place in the bylanes of a crowded locality near Jamia Millia resulting in the death of a police inspector of the Special Cell and established the presence of terrorist cells in minority pockets. When I was on my way back home the eerie feeling in the lanes shook me from the roots. I felt scared of being an Indian, felt scared for the people who are family are Muslims and the majority wrath would not spare them, felt scared because every other young guy in that space resembles the faces which appear on the wanted lists. Scared for the age group thats the promise of the dawn tomorrow,the mighty young brains between 22-25 are taking up arms against global socio-economic discrepancies,I was scared because the area was prone to a communal clash in the batter of an eyelid.

The reports doing rounds of all the convoluted claims of nabbing terrorists comes later to me. What comes out first is the Muslim community is under severe crisis. Though I cannot not accept that communities at their levels have not thrashed one another and that is a blessing in disguise but the Muslim community who were anyways the point of attack by majority extremists is today questioning identities at all levels. With the blasts taking a national character, the global war to curb terrorism going full swing, India today is hiding from the danger that has no face. The communal violence inflicted in eastern, western and southern parts of the country by the Sena has not even received a strong reaction from the centre. I am deeply troubled by the complacent attitude. The backlash against the Home Minister definitely needs to be heard by the people in command. Have the Gandhis forgotten the trauma the country went through post the 1984 riots? Have they forgotten the series of assassinations in their family? So why is there no strong resolution to combat the communal tension in the country?

On the onset it might sound like those several blame games that every one is up against another, I understand this is far more complex than the words actually puts forth, but this calls for action, this calls for concrete ways in which the country can look at violation of human rights and not treat the present situation as a political game of ideology. Lets rise beyond creating opportunities from conflicts for human lives are not frivolous.

The array of natural disasters in the country already is sign of nature backlashing against the human civilization, lets not create spaces for the ugly head of man-made disaster to breathe into us the venom of intolerance and hatred.

24th Sept.New Delhi

Chemical Imagination heard the musical nitrate junk

2008-09-08T12:35:00.024+05:30

A series of earthly happenings and a mixed bag of emotions, resurfacing from the hollow cylinders to severing guilt loaded associations,to keeping ego at some far away highland to losing father figures like lightening on a scorching summer day.
I am almost coming to believe the equation of life can never be for a moment be balanced, and I remember in the ninth standard I would take a lot of pride in the balancing the chemical equations and score a 10 on 10. And then life said,no we cannot let this happen. A lunatic was born and have been on the streets since then,looking for the right space where the sets for the dream production could be constructed.
But it was after dribbling with the ball for a while the quest seemed to suddenly have colours of grey and brown.

Who said it was easy to find the right creative space in a country were natural disasters are results of faulty constructions,where more then half the population lives under Rs.55 a day. There having the means to construct ideas which are more often than not mainstream is a difficult proposition. It is almost an impossible to compromise on work qualities and methods in terms of form,content,ethics and aesthetics. It is a better idea to keep trying to breathe fresh air than to breathe carbon monoxide to survive. If survival was in question, guess one would not have ventured into the pool of uncertainty. If the conviction is compromised the 25 year old journey would be meaningless.
The fact that the only resource called confidence dies under the utmost pressure of personal ramblings is an alarm that one is giving into the vacuum of self pity. The superpower somewhere has blessed some lunatics with support systems that rarely comes by. A family to be there through times of trouble,A soulmate with open arms through basics of life, and Friends who know you for whatever colour you are washed with. And strangers to fill up gaps of crisis.
It takes a lot to let go but it takes a little more to keep it all together,sometimes time heals it for us and sometimes the hope puts the puzzles together to create a new picture than how it looked like years ago.
Rock on reiterated it for me.

The film was an average film but it seemed to have stories that I was born with,characters I have lived with and would always fondly remember the magic they still create in my life.

But it strengthened my believe in the passion and madness,to go wrong,be abandoned and then come back.I hope my friend on the highway manages to hit the roads soon.

This is what he most recently showed the world-Ya Allah
Dearest You,excuse me but you have to kiss the sky!

I hope dreams also come alive as my dear lil miss muffet paws es for a thought.

I felt speechless to hear about the demise of my best friend's dad,it was too unexpected to withhold any reaction. I do not know what it takes to believe in deaths,maybe it helps to become numb to it. However much we say it was better than suffering,I wonder if it is as easy as that. My losses has been deep,the losses I see around are deeper,but if that vacuum can be lived with as if you have that person in the next room;it is often a source of inspiration and strength. Easier said than done but somewhere it does mean living with the hope that forever is not just a concept. But at the same time forever does pain at times. I do not remember right now how is it said or who said it but if it does not pain enough,there was never enough passion or dedication.And as per Silent emotions bond with me for the last twelve years,Anjan Dutt's priyo bondhu describes it the best......'Bhalo lage sopner mayajaal bunte,bhalo lage oi akasher tara gunte',(Love weaving the magic mesh of dreams, Love counting stars far away in the sky) that's how we started and we are still travelling through our paths,often converging,often getting lost in smoky December nights.Dear Silent Emotion,may you have all the strength to overcome when things are getting tough, I know this too shall pass.

The Dark Knight has left an indelible impression,it is difficult to believe that till date actors like Heath Ledger lives on. For a lot of people his overdose was a sign of weakness. I do not know what it was,I just know he defined dedication for me in a different gamut altogether.

As Joker says 'The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules', I go back to my chemistry test and realize the mystical line between reality and illusion.
To live through this conflict is a way of life.

Untilted Framed

2008-08-25T17:35:00.007+05:30

Field Musings 2

A few moments captured,and stories unearthed.
The journey continues

Untitled as Untilted ---the wasted sequel

2008-08-13T17:31:00.003+05:30

Swecha is a youth movement, or lets say it started as one and then they decided to take shape and become this registered organization that primarily works on Environment and building responsible citizen movement around it.
Wasted was the first film the organization produced.
It is more of a personal voice of the organization and the creators of the film who tracked the journey of waste from homes of a neighborhood in Vasant Vihar in New Delhi to the landfill where the waste is segregated,sold and recycled. It is a peek into the existence of hundreds of waste pickers who live a faceless live but contribute almost rupees 20 crore per annum to the Indian economy. But that is also wasted.
What follows is anecdotes of the field visits in the form of a field diary

Field Musings

My shift to Delhi found a space to walk when I decided to work for the next film Swecha was conceptualizing to make.
This is going to trace the lives of the waste-pickers and the life analysis of the waste that fills the Lands in the space called Jahangirpuri,8 kms from Delhi University. The area is a resettlement colony for the waste pickers who migrated to this space since they seem to not remember.

With almost no concept of waste management except for books and articles,and the glimpse of landfills in Mumbai, I had to go to the field if I wanted to feel connected to the film and thus began my journey to Jahangirpuri. A non-Delhiite's first travelogue with all good intentions of not intruding into the community with a camera was dampened by the random rains right in the morning of 8th August.
The rain washed Delhi streets would make one feel like it exchanged roads with Mumbai. It was monotonous and heavy drizzles.
The trip to Central Secretariat was like any other metro traffic laden roads.
From there to Delhi University in the underground train which often seems like a replica of the subway trains of Europe. I was to take a bus to the Azadpur New Subzi Mandi. Unable to create space amongst the hard core aggressive bus commuters and feeling like a wet crow the next option was the auto. The auto drops me there and refuses to move an inch ahead.
Dismissed by the auto, I tried the cycle rickshaws. I explained resettlement colonies of kabariwalas (ragpickers) and the destination was explained to me as Bangali Bastis (settlements of Bengalis,Bengalis synonymous to Bangladeshis) and finally I was there.

Jahangirpuri, about three kilometres from Azadpur in North West Delhi looks at Delhi through different lenses. It seems to be a world by itself. One one side of the road there were apartments and shops like any urban-semi/urban spaces. On the other hand there were stacks of waste in polythene bags organized as if they were the guardians of the space I was about to enter.
The first walk through the alley was uneventful. The concentration was more on the shots that could have been captured, and trying to find the story within it, till I realized the two kids were following me curiously. Befriending Saajan and Deepak I walked back to where I began. Here I met Khalid, a scorpio driver whose live has begun in this space. In almost no time did the conversation had many people joining in and with all kinds of question, who what,where,why,and most importantly what is our benefit from the film. As a development professional it is perhaps easy to answer the question but as a film maker when the medium is being used to explain, to take ahead an issue (here more as an organization mandate than the subject) it is difficult. But the creative journey is probably the responsibility towards the subject, the issue and the film, hopefully, would do justice to the same.

From one Khalid,came one Sheikh Mumtaz, a fifteen year old ragpicker who is a professional. He knows the tricks of the trade and speaks his mind. While I was surrounded by curious onlookers and interviewers I noticed one teenager dressed rather in the Bollywood gear of a well fitted shirt and denim and a bandana which is made of net material in red and has a golden border. From the conversation of what I was there for,it divulged to how it is a bane to live in Jahangirpuri. Irrespective of enough education,just the reference that one comes from this place is a reason for the person to be treated with no respect and almost like a criminal.
My first item number character, the same bandana boy is called Azizul reflects on why the people of the area are criminalized.
He almost replies like a politician whose byte one would not want to miss.
“ Hum kachra utthate hai apne haathon se, aur haath gande hai, aur policewalon ke hissab se har gande kaam ke peeche,gande haathon ka dhanda hai. Woh yeh bhool jate hai ke yehi gande haath estamal hota hai to khana banta hai,aur hum khana khate hai” (We pick waste and get our hands dirty and behind every crime there are dirty hands. Therefore the law keepers say that we are the law breakers. What they forget is these very hands make food,and these dirty hands feed moths).
Shaken by the idea, I got driven into a conversation with the Maulana. According to him,the media has always exploited the community. But he is sure we have noble intentions (and I wondered what made him feel so!). He promised cooperation from all ends.
Hijacked to Sadam ki chai ki dukaan (Sadam's chai shop) we talked about old memories of the place. The neighbourhood is a concern for all the young adults,more so for their offspring. The greed to earn money by waste picking and segregation and selling it cannot be substituted. Secondly the presence of the alcohol den near the school which irrespective of age and students adorning uniform would sell them alcohol is a menace forever. So the students would rather bunk school,pick waste,sell it,earn money,drink and go to nearby video stalls and watch blue films. Education is of least importance and quick money is all that everyone is interested in. The elders are worried and amazed how the several other business run thats detrimental to the society there. The law-keepers turn a deaf ear at this, on the other hand according to their records criminals inhabit the wasted land.

The quest continues in search of the story teller or maybe story tellers, the heroes of real life who are getting wasted amongst the waste.

....to be continued

After Dark

2008-07-29T12:07:00.003+05:30

I wondered why I would write about Murakami’s After Dark when I did not write about either Norwegian Wood or Kafka by the shore but the 12th work of fiction of this novelist-Haruki Murakami.
The answer is the real time of the book was living through it over a night, from a little before midnight, this dark novel was spread over eight hours in Tokyo. The intercuts in the novel were sublime yet profound and as some reviewer said it had the Murakami's signature magical-realist absurd coincidences. And most importantly I felt the immediate urge to pen down thoughts.

After Dark concentrates on themes of loneliness and alienation through characters crafted beautifully, the tit bits of moving away from East Asia and having western references (all-night Deny's where Hall & Oates plays in the background kept the worldly appeal at bay.) The Murakami specialty of story telling as if it is a film did reach a level where I felt like a captive audience looking into the rough cut of an institute film. The chapters where Eri was sleeping and an invisible eye was watching, the way it was framed to the reader who felt guilty in the void of claustrophobia was an aspect that made the chill run down the spine. My google secondary research says that the Los Angeles Times felt that Eri's dreamlike scenes were…"For the unfamiliar, it's the perfect appetizer. For the established fan, it's a quick work that is over far too soon" and that is something I agree to completely, it was like a buffet that was over even before it began.

Now for the story - Mari Asai, 19, in an plain attire,hardly noticable was sitting by herself when trombonist and soon-to-be law student Tetsuya Takahashi walks into a late-night Denny's,and proceeds to talk himself back into her acquaintance. Tetsuya was once interested in plain Mari's gorgeous older sister, Eri, whom he courted,once upon a time. Murakami then cuts to Eri in the next chapter, Eri is asleep in what turns out to be some sort of menacing netherworld. Tetsuya leaves for his practice when soon a large, 30ish woman, Kaoru, comes into Denny's asking for Mari; Mari speaks Chinese, and Kaoru needs to speak to the Chinese prostitute who has just been badly beaten up in the nearby "love hotel-Alphaville" Kaoru manages. Then one after the other the author looks at the lives of the sleeping Eri and the prostitute's assailant, a salaryman named Shirakawa, who has a wife waiting back home.Mari is sketched as a vague yet a character with lots of depth and that is reflected in her interaction with has with Tetsuya, Kaoru and a hotel worker named Korogi. Later when she almost assimilates with Eri in the bed the ambiguity takes a new dimension and the book ends.
The immediate feeling when the book ended was that of a hushed ensemble piece built on the notion that very late at night, after the logic lights have been snuffed and rationality has been blinded, life on earth becomes blurred. Individuals who have separate identities during the day lose uniqueness and melt into an uniquely common psychic collective.

The book does live upto Murakami's creation of not just geographical space uniqueness but the wavering space of realism,surrealism and often hyper-realism.
In this context the simplicity with which Mari is introduced implies the deatiled dissection of characterization Murakami believes in.... “On her table is a coffee cup. And an ashtray. Next to the ashtray, a navy blue baseball cap with a Boston Red Sox ‘B.’ It might be a little too large for her head. A brown leather shoulder bag rests on the seat next to her. It bulges as if its contents had been thrown in on the spur of the moment. She reaches out at regular intervals and brings the coffee cup to her mouth, but she doesn’t appear to be enjoying the flavor. She drinks because she has a coffee cup in front of her: that is her role as a customer.” or when it cuts to Eri the smoothness of the transition. The 19-year-old female coffee drinker, Mari, whose attachment to the Red Sox goes unexplained and probably doesn’t bear explaining — no more than do the lyrics of the pop songs that sprinkle down out of the ceiling of the diner — is killing time with an unnamed book. It’s a bit of a mystery why she’s up so late but it may have to do with her lovely sister, Eri, who’s at home in the suburbs, mired in a slumber that has been going on, unbroken, for months. Mari is awake because Eri is asleep — some sort of twinned homeostasis is at work, perhaps.

The book’s short chapters swaps back and forth between Mari’s ramblings with her new acquaintances and a prolonged, poetic yet thrilling setting of a bedroom (and that is caught between frames) her sleeping-beauty sister, who lies in bed in a bare room next to a wormhole of a TV screen on which her image occasionally appears and into which her soul is being absorbed. One wonders what shall be the mood but then the onset of a passive collection of interesting identities after dark sets one at peace. However I am still wondering how did Murakami design the book so novice,seeming almost caught up in the glocal politics,and struggling to find ones identity. Maybe thats why it was safer to title it after dark.

Though I cannot deny that inconspicuous is Murakami's widening perimeters of a nocturnal urban habitat. In the hours when colours vanish,women fall prey for the most part particularly the poor and the unmarried.(even if it is by choice the rights of a human being are violated. Men venture forth more boldly.
The interesting bit that remains irrespective of the sense of un-fulfillment is how Murakami detects the light without the appreciable heat everywhere in the urban space of Tokya and withing the soul of the characters,even if they are asleep. The light,he infers, glow brightest at night,and once light embarks on the face of earth,this phosphoric light fades, when we go our separate way in search of our own niche.

Awaiting

2008-07-21T14:13:00.002+05:30

I landed in the land of seven cities....
I walk by architectures....
I walk in and out of History.....
And I miss somethings,that is not my history but somethings...
There is no end to memories,but it is not memories
I walk with you all the time
I sit beside you in Breathe
I shiver at the sheer touch of ur hand
I talk with you in my mind
I hear your voice in my head
I see you with eyes wide shut
I sleep with you in my soul.

2008-07-11T08:38:00.001+05:30

And sometimes you should be broken
So that you can be whole again....

The raindrops did not talk to me

2008-07-06T02:28:00.004+05:30

The raindrops did not talk to me.....
The rain drenched shimmering road did not look at me
The asymmetrical array of the yellow cabs did not wait for me
They all stood together and I stood in my frame.....alone

From the seventh floor the cityscape was different today,
very different than what it used to be in the last twenty five years
From the seventh floor the sky was different
very different than what it was a few minutes back
As I pan the vision is blurred
But still the vision does not talk to me

I have lost love midst a soul
I have gained love midst nothingness souls
I have been choked but I refuse to breathe,I refuse to set my liberation free
I have been hanged down the reverence shelf,I am shamelessly waiting for none at all

The puzzle is not a puzzle anymore
Its an ocean of confusion
Where my emotions do not converse
My feelings have lost articulation

I am longing for a past I do not remember
The expansion of grief is gnawing the heart
There is a tightness in the throat
I am wondering if I am lost in the loneliness of memories

I am living in a paradise whose owner is dead
I am not sure if this is the right address
Every night is a lonely musing
I do not know from where the mild tears come and where do they go....

And then suddenly I lose all my thought and....
start thinking again....what if?
But my leprechaun is sleeping
I can't wake him up
I will fight with them tomorrow
The raindrops did not talk to me.....

If I....

2008-06-29T16:33:00.005+05:30

Would you still love me if insanity takes over me?
Would you still believe in me if I walked thru my convictions like I was a beggar?
Would you want to look into my eyes if I defied vision?
Would you recognize me if I disappeared in the mist of nothing?

If I walked through reality as if I was invisible…
If I turned neon into grey
Would you still love me if the naïve was dead and I was naked?
Would you still want to catch hold of me if I would float, and leave no trace behind?

Would you still recognize me if I am not black, white or grey?
Would you remember me if I was would never ever say
If I lost my voice, or my mind and my soul was only alive
Would you ever embrace me if my wings want to take a lusty flight?

If I spiraled through my hole into a fools paradise
If I crumbled under the red light on the high-rise
Would you still want to walk with me in the rains if the sky does not promise moonlight?
Would you still believe I can create if my negatives are bleached by the shimmer of the sky?

I am getting ready for the big funeral,
If I drill a tunnel in my heart, would you collect pieces of my mind?
Would you love me for all the incoherence and infinite pain I have caused
Would you take me to my grave if the blood freezes before time?

Hmmm

2008-05-17T08:57:00.003+05:30

Bc to Dementia....cud barely sleep till the clock struck six and then the Mayhem over man's fatal attraction to woman and repercussions of the law guardians.
The excitement seems to be very bleak
Not hearing from someone even more bleak
Something that I fear is desertion....not to be has ceased to be a choice.

Wonder how life is gonna change,if at all
Mumbai,cant wait to meet you,my solace of the soul,my irrelevant logic,my cuppa beside
salt water reservoir,and the aimless walk perspectiva.

To say it all together,kinda anxious,dunno if that is called the fear,the fear of denying fear but isnt denial reality?

09.09 hrs
17th May,Kolkata

Random Thoughts of a Demented Mind

2008-05-17T00:47:00.006+05:30

Why Demented?

The Knight Riders had the most dismal loss of the IPL series! Damn how on earth could they lose....so badly?????
I thought it would be a no pretentious trip over the weekend,where I could just be,but thts not happening,I dunno where the fifth element is coming from!
While speaking to a friend I realized there are so many of moments that I wish I could live again.
Lilight would not handle the going away too well,but I dont think I can nuture the distance even being virtual. I just do not have roots,as much as I still do not know if I ever had them,I also know I cannot handle them too well. The whole time and distance phenomenon and nuances of wired communication
After I am done with the course @ Pune I am going to have to look for another Job!

But random stuff is the one which emerges the winner for the day....out of the blue I decided to call this junior from college who as I figured is an Investment Banker now!!!!(I still cant believe such a soft sweetheart guy can be in such a tough career!)
Its been three god damn years but as it is said and I have been blessed with a lot of friends with whom I can get back as if we never parted this story took a similar turn.From drizzles in the lovers lane over complicated relationship issues to getting back in touch over Anjan Datta and Clint Eastwood. It is a happiness thats like the surprise rain on a scorching mayhem of May.
To add to the happy state of being Dumbhead and Myself ended our curfew of two months last evening. And as astonishing as it might be it was just yesterday I wrote to him saying I kinda now beginning to not handle his absence too well.

So as I can conclude and move over to research over the Hongkong Riots in 1966-67 (intrigued by Wai's rather phenomenal mindf***king creation 2046)I guess the dementia has been put to rest.
I guess I had to stop expecting what it will look like and and look at it to find out what it exactly looks like.
Cheers to being random.
Cheers to Gay couples in California being given the right to marriage and the promise that sexual preferences can be as personal and as obvious as ones right in a democratic country (here I mean the ideal democracy)and on second thoughts I presume if its California,India cannot be far behind.....

And how exactly dangerous can be an open heart? :)

01.56 hrs
May 17th 2008,Kolkata

And is not afraid to Ask!

2008-05-08T21:14:00.003+05:30

Yes this post is very reactionary in nature,like a pressure cooker being pressurized to the point that its almost bursting. What I see myself writing is directly proportional to three seasons of watching Sex and the city for two nights and one day;like I was starving for approval about emotional, sexual and intellectual confusions. And by the end of it I feel a lot better about myself and the idiosyncrasies that I have. And yes, I am not a dying species. There are people out there who struggle with the same questions as I do and maybe they are way forward than I am because the show started somewhere in the 90s.
The show deals with lives of four independent women living in New York and their relationship tales. And trust me, I am not the only sucker for deconstructing every relationship at every possible opportunity. Also to add, I have come in terms with the fact that all that’s beautiful is not supposed to stay forever, and one does not have to forget to forgive! It is absolutely normal not wanting to get married and at the same time craving for it when the whole world is heading to the isle. It is ok to be judgmental but it is important to know when to let go of ones boundaries.
I guess over the past few days it was quite marvelous to have come in face to face to my secrets and getting all the skeletons out of the closet. As it is important for me to have the good professional impression, I have never cared about what the world thought of me and that’s ok. Most importantly I am/have been cheap and shallow at times. So what….I am human.

Every other moment I find grappling with my logical self, intellectual self, sexual self and emotional self and that is ok. The fact that they are raging against one another is ok. It is not important to know when it is right and when is it not right in a relationship all the time. Its ok to make mistakes, and maybe repeat them but I am glad I am not denying it to myself anymore.
I must confess with most of the friends around getting married and having babies it is quite difficult to not be a part of and ask myself what’s wrong with them but at the same time loving every minute of the wedding bells and pregnant buddies! Of course the question also is pointed at me and mostly people think I would be the late marriage kinds (btw if one is getting married post 30-for a woman it is late as per Indian Junta standards!!!) but the fact that I am still trying to accept marriage as an institution I better start telling the world that it is a mammoth task!
As much as life is what happens to you when you are 15 and trying to learn watching stars and this perfect guy tells you that your eyes speak even when its dark and you never acknowledging the relationship coz you are never supposed to have an affair (that’s coz it’s a girly thing to do) and life happens when you ransack a rockstar’s folder to find obscure lyrics and plunge into a passionate romance and then life also happens to you when you are trying to find space in a pub and a sweet guy tells you his wine secrets and you discover that maybe a lifetime together is not such a bad idea, maybe you could live together with someone and not feel claustrophobic 90% of the time…..but all of this need not be constants. As seasons keep changing, so do people and emotions.
Maybe there are no right guys, right answers, right moments and all you have to do is to speak your heart and have no fear even if it is echoing the most illogical thing.

The 25th year of my life has been rather very interesting considering I have learnt so much about myself and have finally kinda made up my mind. I am ok with the fact now that I cannot do a routine 9-5 job and consider that to be settled, I am not the kind who understands money, I am not the kind who can stop desperately hoping that there is something interesting happening in everyones life and they need to realize it, I am not the kind who has the speech prepared for the red carpet. But as of now I am happy to have taken this break where I did nothing but read, write and watch films. I was happy to be home, doing patchwork on the quilt. I am trying to overcome the fear of being alone, I mean not having activity to do all the time! I am getting comfortable with the fact that I can be very unpredictable to myself that I can also survive without a support system (But that I need to know my support system is there!). And that all of us have secrets to ourselves and even if they are bloody painful it is an experience of a lifetime.
I am happy to have decided to study a little more and comfortable to have come to terms with the fact that I am not financially independent yet.

I was quite disturbed with illicit affair between friends and they cheating on other things in life but then over a coupla months I realized that there are too many roads, too many detours and a lot of people may not have had the opportunity to not do it coz it was not right. Now when they are faced with so many choices it is perfectly normal to have made mistakes, or maybe they are not mistakes at all. It is an expression of liberation, of letting go of the Right! There are perhaps no shoulds, woulds, coulds. In real life when you fall down, you get up, buckle the shoes and walk again.

In my little world, the few people I live with, I have had a transformation in relationships with them because of priorities, family, marriage, relationships…blahblahblah. But now I am not scared to lose them. Though around me I obviously could not think of more than two guy friends who would remain single when I would be 35, and it could lead to serious crisis then but that’s too far away. I am just twenty-five. I falter between wearing the heart on my sleeves and letting the same heart beat to the rhythm of this one special guy, I often get a funny feeling about being with someone for like 2 years and at the same time enjoying the seemingly single status. Not to mention the few tears shed over how pathetic it can feel if someone x,y,z tries to push me through the wall coz I sometimes also enjoy being seemingly single! But one has to realize that there are walls one can push and some you just cannot.
Just yesterday me and this special friend were discussing as to how well we have done this time in the long distance mode, we have had tiffs but no serious fights! But I know that those end of the deal kinda fights with everyone has brought me very close to people. As of what I have experienced there is lotz to cherish even if in some love-hate relationships you end up expressing your adulation to that slightly special and yet not special person through these passionate fights.
But unlike an IPL (Indian Premier League) series where you fight against your own mate, fighting in relationships does not have the umpire and that often leads to fouls and hitting below the belt. Consequently one of the two is usually hurt much more. But as I look back just to my fights with x,y,xy I cant help but wonder what were we fighting for?
As of now I want to bask in the path traveled towards self actualization.
At the end of the day I am glad that I can still come back to my family after months of raging war and not even tell them how special it feels to have them in my life.
It brings a smile on my face to think of a few friends who just make me feel secure in my world just by giving me the warmth that they know me.
I can’t expect to get everything from one man as much as I cannot give it all myself but be comfortable with getting different things from different people because that’s what is called being Alive!

8th May 2008, Kolkata
12:07 hrs

Italiano

2008-04-15T13:04:00.005+05:30

I am back to Kolkata for reasons known to devils in paradise but I am.
Was outmost been bored, when out of the blue the Italian Consul decided to save my afternoons and evenings. I guess the angels of hell where being nice to their future companion.

A basket of six films in an interesting variation was screened in Nandan from the 1st to the 3rd of April.
The first in the basket was Roberto Benigni’s Pinocchio.

The experimental theatre director and actor’s work had a Benigni’s signature to the film. This 2002 film is apparently one of the expensive of Italian films and bombed badly midst his audience and critics. That kept me wondering why must the festival start with a film like that?
Based on the original story developed by Collidi there was nothing much to look for in the film. It was more of a Sunday afternoon DVD viewing type of a film. And at several points Benigni overplayed the character, his remorse did not even feel or make believe as comedy. Thank god for the story has a nice memory of kindergarten for most of us.
Back home on google I was not too surprised to discover on Rotten Tomatoes it had a 0% collection!
The next film was Fellini’s La Sceicco Bianco -The White Sheikh. The 1952 flick was played by Alberto Sordi in the title role. And to me is one of the funniest works of Fellini that I have been witness to on the silver screen.

It is a comedy dramatized on a true Fellini style. And it was sheer delight since I was watching Fellini’s directorial debut!
The story starts when Ivan Cavalli, a punctilious clerk comes to Rome with his virgin pretty wife Wanda for their honeymoon. He has set appointments wit the Pope and meetings of the couple with Ivan’s uncle and aunt. While Ivan is set to take a nap, Wanda takes off to meet The White Sheikh, the hero of a soap opera comic strip of a romantic magazine that Wanda lives on. In the process she lands up 26 kms away from Rome at the shoot of the opera and is thrilled to meet her White Sheikh, here Ivan cannot believe that Wanda has vanished and lies to his relatives saying Wanda is ill. Wanda discovers the web of deception that the Sheikh has portrayed to her and loses track of her path back to Rome. That night she wanders in the streets attempting to suicide while Ivan is tempted by whores. However the next day at 11 the couple is to meet the Pope and the aroma of Fellini is spread in the film when the starstruck Wanda and sordidly cautious Ivan are led to the Pope as the ‘innocent and Pure’ newly weds.
The comic timing of the film and the typical English mannerisms along with portrayal of the ‘will be by you till death do us apart’ kinda feel to both Ivan and Wanda at several points of time. A typical of its time Albert Sordi perfectly slipped into the role of a white sheikh. And what makes it interesting is throughout the pandemonium one knows that all will be well but the curiosity of how is what kept me glued.
The camera work is indeed good, the vision of the director and experimenting with such angles was a delight as an audience.
And everytime I am thinking about the film I am just getting humble about the vision the man had back in 1950s. The entire shoot on the beach saw him using very interesting angles. The light through shaft is a Fellini trademark, and now I know the White Sheikh is where it was born. Overall I would rate the film 3.75 out of 5 and definitely recommend one to watch it for the 50s comic drama is definitely not a miss!

The second day we saw Callas Forever and Once upon a time in the West.
Callas Forever is a biographical film on the legendary Maria Callas.

Directed by Franco Zeffirelli the film released in 2002. The story is that of the legendary opera diva Maria Callas whose friends (and her former manager) Larry and confidante Sarah convince her to revive her career by lip syncing to her old recording and creating a musical around it. Callas’s passion for music and trust in her friends and herself helps the unit to finish Carmen. However she insisted that she would sing for Tosca on her own voice. When Larry presented this to the investors they backed out. Callas then asks Larry to destroy Carmen for it would be dishonesty to her profession and passion, and to her fans who would find this dispassionate and would feel cheated. She felt the lip sync and recreating Carmen is no price to pay to revive her ending career. One who is an opera literate would be able to comment more on the content but as a musical drama one expected more of colors and dramatization. But one would definitely have to find Fanny Ardant carrying off the role with as much might as the production allowed her. Larry played by Jeremy Irons ….also played his part to the skin. Overall as one learns it is a tribute to the friend Maria Callas, I would agree the Zeffirelli successfully portrayed the sacred thread of the artist integrity with the art and the audience, and that’s what Callas stood for as experts tell me.

The last sequence can definitely boast of a good set of dialogues, true to the diva’s spirit.
Once upon a time in the West is a typical western cowboy film by the legendary Sergio Leone that released in Italy way back in the1968 and then in United States in 1969.

For me it was Sergio Leone and a complete delight and definitely lucky to have caught on to the undeniable classic of our times. The fun was to watch Henry Fonda play Frank and the irresistible Claudia Cardinale’s sensuality as Mrs.Mcbain. The woman on the screen was hot. Pardon my PDA in words but I enjoyed the almost three hour flick to my hearts content!
All set this out and out action flick was cinema that had its own charm. Considering Leone came into my life much later, it gave me the same thrill that a Sholay did!
The story goes like the McBain family is killed by Frank and Mrs.McBain comes home for the first time to nothing. Harmonica is introduced in style time and again till one realizes that avenging Frank is his objective. After several twists and turns he avenges Frank with help from Cheyyene (played by …..) the most vibrant character in the film and helps Jill alias Mrs.McBain have her fortune of Sweet water.
The location (Italy and Spain) was captured with its spirit intact. Though Charles Bronson did the best but the true hero was the cinematography of the film. It was like remembrance of the cowboy fairy tales. The scene of waiting at the train station with credits rolling accompanied by the perfect synthesis of natural sounds of water, windmill, fly, footsteps and Directed by Sergio Leone as the train pulls into the station was just sensational.
The use of minimum dialogue adds the spice to the film. The flow of beautiful images looked like it was being effortlessly weaving itself into a story with several others embedded in them but they linked perfectly with one another. It was brutal and bloody but was picturesque and poetic and sensual. And I felt I watched a flawless film with an original soundtrack still ringing in my ears.
Leone celebrates West and from that a Classic was born!
The final film was I am not scared directed by Gabriele Salvatores.

The film is based in Southern Italy 1978 and is set in an Italian countryside. It opens with children playing games in a deserted fort and the protagonist Michelle goes back to find his sisters glasses only to discover a mysterious creature in a hole in the ground.
The character of Michele was interesting.Played by Giuseppe Cristiano,the boy was a inquisitive youngster who lived with his parents and kid sister in a rural rundown village. his daily life was simple;roaming around the gorgeous arid fields with his friends, and then rushing home to eat dinner and arm-wrestle with his father.As Michele discovers the mystery was a pale creature kept captive.He makes a bond with this ghost, who turns out to be a boy his own age named Fillipino, feeding him and taking him out for air. At the same time, Michele tries to understand the mysterious ongoings at his house, where men including the violent and rude characters his father brings home, quarrel viciously.The fact that Cristiano develops the insight to deal with his parents as characters is quite commendable,his maturity to understand that the film pretty much is on his shoulders makes it as delightful.
I am not quite sure if Salvatores was trying to also hint at the developing north and economically downridden Italy when Fillipino's parents make announcements on news channels but looked like a pretty vague attempt if at all the socio-economic and political aspects were supposed to play an undertone.
The pace of the film was smooth but the use of sephia and several filtered lenses to get the perfect ambiance in the fields and the sky was overdone. The dreamy bit definitely undermined the struggle of the child.
Overall a pleasant experience where to begin with one gets caught in the crime and the suspense of the plot but what the filmmaker succeeds in achieving is the portrayal of an innocent child's struggle to face the real world and eventually emerging as an individual.

8th April, 11.36 hrs
Kolkata

The Kingfisher Man

2008-04-12T09:23:00.004+05:30

I am on the flight back to Calcutta, bidding adieu to Bombay has never been easy but all said and done I just have to go, I realized the pain is severe but not taking over me because of the conscious effort that roots is something I am never allowed to grow.
Almost all the good friends had come to bid farewell and I did not let that tingy teardrop fall….well the post isn’t about the love for Mumbai for the umpteenth time but it is about this Kingfisher guy who helped me with the entire luggage. He did me a great favor (considering the huge amount of luggage that I was traveling with)
from the beginning till the end. And when finally I offered him a tip, he just refused….said ‘mam, its not allowed’. Wished me a happy journey and went away.
I was humbled and at the same time taken aback. There are still people who refuse a tip! It reminded me of all the nice people I met in this regard. The old uncle at Max Mueller and one only feels revered about him; I had to coax him for such a long time to accept a token of appreciation.
The Travel agent, man u have to believe it to say yes there are people in the service industry at large who make your life easyyyyy.
In this regard, I have to mention Sharad from Vibha Offset. However much one says about him, it is not enough.
One could not imagine the kind of generosity Sharad had shown us over time, he has gone out of his way to inculcate a print run of merely 1000 postcards in no time. And I guess it is only in Mumbai that I have seen entrepreneurs with a heart! Or maybe one designer of quite a stature like Manoj who just delivered the product no sooner than one asked him to. Or maybe a Parmar who out of nowhere just decided to be a life savior!
Or maybe one Geeta who remained a constant support through the mania @ Prithvi. As for these people they are quite stalwarts in their own areas of operation. I would treat them as the honchos but trust them to behave like true spirited companions on the roads of life. I cannot remember meeting one single person in the city, be it work or otherwise who has not given me a positive vibe.
The ones that went sour or did not work definitely had the Cal connection to them, I surely have nothing against the city where I have grown up but the people, there is something in the air, something that tells me to keep away. Mostly people in the circle are also ones I would jus not be comfortable with. Its not that there is an overdose of petty gossip, and not that we did not enjoy it and therefore Bombay we never gossiped but theres fairness. I mean there is a fair deal in the process.
And I am jus wondering how miserable will life be in a couple of hours! Sad!!!
Anyways before I tend to my broken heart I cannot finish this tale without mentioning the cigarette guy near 20A Gopal Mansion! A complete delight. During those really long hours of edits and madness when I would go to his shop to get the pack of Classic Milds, the welcoming smile would make my day. Or at times when I would resolve to reduce he would just see me and hand one smoke. The chit-chats and general whats happening to world kinda anecdotes, it was refreshing and delightful. And now it is only these memories that will remain.
To all the nice memories and the strong believe that the city always will be home…..

29th March 2008
18:00 hrs, somewhere in the sky!

P.S I Love You

2008-04-11T09:37:00.004+05:30

Ya, this post is about the film and like the way I personalized the film….

Nice film, awesome locations, and mushy, cute dialogues.
One would not know until one sees it to believe that the writer thinks like that, one definitely has to feel it to some extent to be able to produce something like this….
The story is very simple, a married young couple Holly (Hillary Swank) and Gerry (Gerard Butler) dealing with the mundane, more money, bigger apartment, children-no children kinda debate until one winter this guy in the story Gerry dies of brain tumour.
Gawd one has to be creative to plan ones funeral party like that and its happy and fun though for Holly it was not so. She was miserable, like really miserable because her lifeline was gone. Holly refused to let go of her sadness and spent her life drowned in misery because she could not come in terms with the fact that someone who knew her the best, better than herself, that person no more existed. Her depression took better of her and she decided to lock herself in the apartment where Holly imagined Gerry was around, still around in their apartment and nobody else seemed to believe that.
Holly and Gerry had some good friends and Holly’s mother who never liked Gerry. However a miracle happened on Holly’s 30th Birthday, Gerry came back :) in the most amazing way, like he never died. And another life started for Holly. Every season he would write to her and guide her through life. Until in the last letter he writes to her that inspite of their love she must move on and fall in love again.

For any sucker for mushy romantic delicacy it is a perfect delight. The chemistry between the two could however been sparked a lil more. A tear jerker was the attempt but did not go ahead all that well. The character of William who is the male interest to Holly could have been avoided. At times the film seemed to be filling up gaps till the next letter but some small details have been taken care of very subtly. The letter at Ireland and the perfect match of the location was a visual delight and then the letter, my my, cant get more touchy! For the other characters, Lisa Kudrow being herself, did a great job, a complete star with the Phoebe flavor, she did stand out. The background score of the film was also the sweet romantic kinds. At the certain point when Billy comes into the picture the scene of the intimacy seemed a little forced and so did Holly vanishing from everyone’s life for the nth time!The success of the designer shoe label was typical Hollywood masala, and its time we start believing there are these formulas for the west too.
All said and done as beautiful as the letters and as desirable a man as Gerry the end of the film didn’t see Holly in someone else’s arm and her first and last letter to Gerry did allow a feel good factor to seep in.

It wasn’t an Erin Brokovich or a Horse Whisperer kinda creation from Richard LeGravenese but a film overall would be a nice cuddly afternoon film to watch with your loved ones or maybe a solace when one is lovesick.....

March 22nd 2008; 01:12 hrs
Mumbai

Grey

2008-03-05T19:14:00.004+05:30

Not feeling too good....I know the reasons and I am nowhere remotely involved, I also know for sure that it doesn't really affect my life but....
Why is it that people actually are the way they are.....Neha's and mine favorite joke-save the endangered species! That I am sure I am.
For the first time the series of incidents that has unfolded is something I cannot talk to,but there is a heavy feeling,pretty much like a stone that you have been walking with for a while now.....

I am quite stunned by behavioral changes or maybe programmatic changes for people have stopped existing just out of flesh and blood.
I want to talk,but I cant and so I am writing.
The best part of the day was Jassi and Kashmir,spoke to someone about the whole experience and the warmth filled in,this person is going there to do some research for his story.....

Feels weird but I am still feeling good,away from self doubt I guess life takes a different meaning.
I am not let down for I chose to find my own way to attain whatever they call Nirvana!

Miss you P and Miss you TB!

Us and We....Who are They?

2008-02-13T16:49:00.005+05:30

I have been quite disturbed since the Raj declared the hate for North Indians a few days ago. Filled with speculation I kept wondering about these lines of us and them and how as if religion and caste evils were not big enough for the regionalism monster had to soar its ugly head out.
Back in November last year I remember calling for chai on the phone from the guy near by and he was furious when I addressed him as 'bhaiyya',to me it is still very respectable an address like one calls for an elder brother. He refused to deliver tea and I refused to give up till he confessed that it is derogatory for him to be called a bhaiyya because thats what one calls a man from Uttar Pradesh.I gave him my logic of brother who he did not accept but we did mend the bridge.

I am surprised how we have not made any progress in the last 40 years. As far as my knowledge goes Bal Thackeray had launched a Anti South Indian inhabitants movement in Mumbai, that by 1993 till date have changed gears and have become Anti Muslim. Raj formed MNS on the basis of idealogical differences but what transpires today is no better. The new target is North Indians and to say it in so many words....any non-Maharashtrian is becoming intolerant for them.
Over the last two decades the Sena have graduated for its fangs to reach beyond local Marathi-speaking population but the unchangeable element is the Sena's constant
search for an enemy and a commitment to the politics of violence as a means to an end. Riots,mass killings,damage of property, the Sena today has blood on its hand that is a clear evidence of it being the murderer.
Raj Thackeray carries on the legacy in a rather spooky,uncannily similar manner,keeping one about the family's audacity to propagate violence openly in the world's largest democracy. But many of you must be just smirking to say, but thats politics my dear,but at the same time its a free country too.

The Maharashtra 40 years ago is something I mean the place that I have not seen.But today Mumbai is supposedly the most cosmopolitan city where every individual who is the whos who of the city/country has commendable contribution to give the city the identity of being progressive in all directions.It has politically also changed the city's fate.The UP bhaiyya and the Bihari babu are not isolated. They mingle with the flow comprising of about 15%of the population and that cannot be just ignored as migrants.The average Maharashtrian today,is probably not as insecure as the political gimmicks would make them look like. Alls peaceful,people just want to do their own bit.
The issues of urbanization,soaring price of real estate or the economic growth of the city have darker and lighter shades that cannot have one single point of reference. It needs to be looked at like mature people who would want progress of a nation state.
If the Raj Thackerays of the world are genuinely interested for a good future of the city of Mumbai lets not waste time-inclusive of air-time,energy and create panic through these kind of high-profile agitations against chat pujas.Blaming Mumbai's problems on the economic migrant to me is just not taking responsibility, for not acknowledging that the serious crisis is the crisis of governance.

The drama that unfolded last evening of an arrest and then granting of bail...it was just a loss or resources and all mediums giving into the drama.
For sanity's sake,its the 21st century,we have good things to look forward to and fight a lot of evils,lets not create several Kashmirs all over the country where one is greeted as guest from another land.
Its my country and I bloody well have the right to be wherever I want to be, as long as I am civil.
Another day where democracy put me down, as if the communists looking for their ground by conceptualizing a Third Row was not enough to deal with, as if identity politics does not have too many dimensions,as if I do not have enough issues.

Wired Communication

2008-01-31T18:32:00.001+05:30

The fact that we grow up and leave memories behind always sounded very very thrilling to me....till it struck me really hard this time when I moved out of the native land, almost alone, for I had no clue what life had in store for me. I mean I was letting go of something that is the most obvious aspect for anybody.But I guess at times it just becomes mandatory to do certain things.
And till I had this experience I had not lost something as precious.
And somewhere I am glad that now nothing remains as precious, I mean one can do without anything, it hurts for a while,at every interval maybe, but then its gone for good.
And at times if the pangs do not hit me,it does not feel I am alive.

Anyways, I was wondering how do we build these distances over time and how navigate through them. I googled distances in relationships....al I could find was tips on couples managing long distance relationships (and I have done that too much to get amused by it). Then I came across this interesting book review of teaching fractions and ratios for understanding....i mean mathematical concepts as they are,its meant to be so :)
And all this had concepts like relative thinking,absolute thinking,perspectives on change..etc etc.When I was almost about to end it all to shut down and say...chuck it,came up the time-distance relationship, all the train and car speed sums I have never been able to crack them.
But somehow I could relate the explanation, a mathematical explanation to the emotional aspect of estranged relationship.
We encounter the time and distance relationship almost at every lane but do not realize how integral it is.Children's usual understanding of the time-distance phenomenon is based on their experience,but what for someone confused, a constant seeker, never satisfied,always rebelling....almost not normal...how about their experiences? What about their constant struggle to deal with distances, when the third component called speed is never even average?

First I have struggled to establish the complex,who am I,what is my identity kinda thing,have not yet succeeded,but the critical component arises from the fact that
I have had an establishment which had a transition post my speed and displacement,
and then the struggle to fit into the ambit and create physical and mental spaces and then just an explosion to destroy everything.
The virtual and the telecommunication space is therefore the boon and the bane,it keeps some aspects of life feeling dead all over again.
So the fact Speed=Distance/Time somewhere now makes sense.
The distance has grown and time is passing by....fast and the speed towards some destination is therefore at some insane rate.
Hope I reach somewhere that helps the seeker,the thinker,the rebel.

WE.....

2008-01-31T18:25:00.002+05:30

WE.....THE THINKERS, THE SEEKERS, THE REBELS

We lost ourselves the day we were born
Since then the search began
To find those of our family

We were confused
For we were given a family of birth
We had friends from our situation
In this funny place called "society"
We traveled
And felt the semblance of the primeval sensation of life
We wondered why we felt at home on the road
We were made to believe we were a little strange
For how many stay away from "home" for so long?
How many become the rebels we did?

We wandered on empty streets in the night
Feeling the wind of the sea, the river, the mountains of wherever we lived…
We had so many questions and no answers we found
We searches, always searched
We searched even for ourselves…

We delved in unfathomable depths of the being
We rowed for months in strange alien seas
We searched for friends of the soul
Somehow no friends we had, ever
Seemed like friends enough…
How could we explain what "friends" meant to us?
Friends were beings so akin to us
They could read our minds
Walk in step with us on those roads of life
Friends were those who traveled with us
Climbed mountains, forged rivers, conquered seas…
Friends were one life breath, strangely
Such few "friends" we ever found in this world

We stayed aloof…from so much
The norms, the religions, thought processes of the world
We risked our lives, our positions, our family relations for our beliefs
We did the things we believed in
Worked for none but ourselves
We were called selfish for we cared
About our own well being…

We fought, we battled,
We ran like mad from so many, so much
We hid, we absconded, we hibernated
Some of us found our soulmates
Some of us didn't
Some of us had homes, children, love
Some of us lived lonely in far away homes
Some of us were fulfilled having found the love
The understanding we seeked, the minds akin to ours

Some of us…after a long time stopped searching having understood that in some lifetimes we were meant to be alone
Our soulmates parted from us, living another life…
May be in another world, probably another time zone…
We, the seekers, the thinkers, the rebels
We ache to get together for nowhere seems like home
We long for company of similar minds, sensibilities
We hurt, we bleed, we pain, we die…
But we live completely, every moment of our lives
Live the good and bad as same
Give all of ourselves to the world…
To nature… to art…
For there is no other way to live we know
We seek answers all the time
We question all the time

We are probably the only ones who know how deep pain carves its being into us
And how full happiness makes us feel…
We are comfortable with extremes
We are comfortable with tears, with abandonment, with aloneness…

We, the unknown ones
We, the misfits
We, the seekers, the thinkers, the rebels…

A forward from a very dear crazy friend whose belief in random-ness: the way of life keeps the glocal (global+local) sanity intact....

on a cold morning.....

2008-01-26T11:33:00.004+05:30

It was stressful week,almost those mad times.
And then I just decided to break the shackles.....and cried a little to Blue to lighten myself. After all of that I met happy people, poo n paw, poo by the way is the newest member of the happy club;met her under the random spell but completely adorable.
Then we went for a konkani dinner, walked through Carter Rd, puffed hookah and then ended up in Marriott over coffee, and chatted about old times and those existential questions. I wonder how again I can have met these two people almost accidentally and then life just has giggles.
It is not that difficult to be happy, I guess the blocks come with emptiness and expectations. Thats the only obstacle, everything else gets taken care of. Blue is very right, the problem lies within me.

But all said and done, it was a very very cold night.And then three slightly crazy people walking down the streets of Santacruz which recorded the lowest temp. in Mumbai. Heyo a cold night leading to a cold morning....the next plan of action is to explore more about life and happiness and making best use of fleeting times.....
For more moments to unfold and treasured.....

Happy Republic Day

The Excerpt that made my morning today :)

2008-01-22T09:48:00.001+05:30

I admit you are right. I myself... You see, a person I knew used to divide human beings into three categories: those who prefer having nothing to hide rather than being obliged to lie, those who prefer lying to having nothing to hide, and finally those who like both lying and the hidden. I'll let you choose which case suits me best.
But what do I care? Don't lies eventually lead to the truth? And don't all my stories, true or false, tend towards the same conclusion? Don't they all have the same meaning? So what does it matter whether they are true or false if, in both cases, they are significant of what I have been and of what I am? Sometimes it is easier to see clearly into the liar than into the man who tells the truth. Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object. Well, take it how you like, I was named Pope in a prison-camp.

The Fall

Albert Camus

SHORTS FROM NOW

2008-01-21T13:24:00.002+05:30

There was an array of incidents that led to turmoil but the sad part it, it seems to be short-lived.
The India Australia controversy….gawd I am sure Bhajji must be thinking so much for ‘teri maa ki’. When the incident was all over the media, P and me were discussing as to how much everything gets exaggerated for creating news and controversies. The opinionated me said, ‘Indians can’t be racists for god’s sake’. P said why not? The Indian today is racist because Fair and Lovely sales still top the chart.
That gave birth to my interest to understand how we become racists. Well the colonial hangover is definitely at the roots.
Our cosmopolitan attitude also shows the soft corner for the white skin. The Sunday newspapers with the matrimonial ads always have the clause for a fair skinned, convent educated…etc.etc. kind of a bride.
So definitely it shows the double standard we have about racism. At one level when I was just thinking that caste discrimination, class differentials, regionalism and communalism are the set of ills Indians will always keep fighting against and political parties will use them to their favours, racism also joined the brigade.
At this juncture my noble friend, did what he does best, drop in one line that forces me to think beyond the definitions.
He said when we have regionalism, language, state, district, dialect, status, clubs, association, beliefs, religion, education, physical look, outlook and so many reasons. Above all, the universal discrimination of the color of the skin. So how on earth are we not racists? On intent thoughts and going back to sociological understandings, I realized that racism is not stand alone; it is integrated in ethnicity, which therefore trickles down to aspects of caste, culture, region, beliefs and somewhere subconsciously also guides our social positioning!

It is now ingrained in our genes over generations.
Suffering from racist discrimination is now a “normal” human behavior. These have also softly disabled the voice of any budding evolution to human equity and being. A space where there is no walls. It generates breaking news almost every time to provoke perversions of human mind time and again. Often the provocation is forgotten in no time.

I cannot also deny such kind of acts and controversies generates money. Money is perhaps only the universal language, which is understood by all and sundry. And it’s not just the bucks per- se, but "the love of it" that has perpetuated this fundamental sin in whatever form.

Another side of the debate of racial discrimination revolves around the increasing identity crisis that we experience in our everyday lives. Globalisation compresses the world and migration booms, the successful assimilation of races and cultures happens for the sheer need of survival. They have brought forward stories that has/will make or break societies.

To explain the phenomenon we coined and stressed on terms, favourite among them is Multiculturalism, (which implies that a number of cultures live together), has already happened, but it has left communities in a ghettoized state, in Mumbai itself there is the Parsi colony or the Akar Society or Muslim mohallas. As a migrant I have heard tales of not finding a house on rent because of ones identity as a minority religious community.
The only difference is that as we evolve, the parameters of defining the identity of "us" and "them" changes depending on the benefits it affords us, for instance, nationality, class, caste, religion, sex and race and not to forget gender (which is a whole new dimension, and to keep my thoughts in line, I consciously decided to keep off the debate). Therefore as Umberto Eco points out, what is needed is a step forward towards transculturalism, whereby people from different cultures and those subscribing to different identities interact and understand each other.

This requires an atmosphere of respect for differences, tolerance and understanding. But the loophole is we, the all encompassing race that is caught amongst various identities, or lack of them, mostly do not have the patience to do so.
It then results in people discriminating against those who are different.

India for ages has more reasons for bringing up a “divided society”. Discrimination practiced at the highest order. We have perhaps the tallest list of caste, sects and subsects. There has been constant battle with purported racist remarks openly or subtly by both sides. On the other level, the unique and age-old diversity of India renders it adequately suited to adapt to these challenges.

I don’t think anyone living today can be blamed. Or maybe we can atleast acknowledge the existing mode of differentiation and at inter personal levels get more proactive. The facts suggest that a lot of work needs to be done, a touch of acceptance and a return to our founding fathers' concept of equality need to be looked at with a different lens.
It is just fair not to hurt each other in the name of any sort of discrimination? Racism included.

Should not we be a little more conscious in not rendering our support, sponsorships and practice by being conscious and aware of the enormous “space for manipulation” we create within ourselves to be influenced and engaged in differentiations and discriminations?

I am quite stuck, the opinionated me does not have the last words, however hard I may try to. There is perhaps no rights or wrongs. Its time we start living in the real sense. The human race is nobody but all of us, the race needs to run together. The marathon of generations cannot be degenerated the way it is today.
The future still holds hope for the human chain to emerge out of the global state.
But the Indian still would be proud to have won the Perth test!!!!

Before Sunrise, Before Sunset

2008-01-18T19:09:00.002+05:30

A simple story beautifully made, a familiar shot, an unknown film….

Its an American film, the first one made in 1995 and the sequel followed in 2004. Under the direction of Richard Linklater this film was a sheer delight.
Now I am wondering what to begin with, I mean the first or the second one I m quite confused…..
But let’s do it this way, let’s start with the second one because that’s where I did find the completeness, that’s where my hope of arbid stays alive, the battle between the real and the unreal seems to cease existing.
Anyways, now nine years later Julie Delphy who plays Celine and Jesse played by Ethan Hawke meet, since their last meeting in Vienna. Jesse’s novel has done very well and he is on a tour and he meets Celine in the bookstore in Paris. Jesse has very little time before his flight back, he asks Celine to be with him in that time.
They start talking and update one another about life since they met last. Jesse is married man, father to a son and a writer by profession and Celine is an advocate for environment dating a photojournalist. Both have reached thirties and then they discover each others dissatisfaction in life at different levels.
They go back to their old meeting nine years back and slowly let out reasons for not meeting one another as promised. As they had never exchanged any contact info they lost each other till this day.
They talk about their present lives, their lives that went by, about coffee in Paris, their last meeting and in the process the old flame shimmers slowly. They blame one another and regret not meeting as promised nine years ago when they parted. Jesse confesses he wrote the novel with the hope that he would met Celine.

The last scene left me quite enchanted. In Celine’s apartment as she dances to herself, she tells Jesse that he would miss his flight and Jesse answers back “I know”

As I looked through the credits the screenplay was developed by Richard along with both Hawke and Julie. All three were in praise of each other for the collaboration that created the film that was intense and meaningful and most importantly close to their hearts. There were extensive and very meaningful dialogues in the film but they were simple, and simple for one to feel that its real!

Now coming to my amazement about the film is the simplicity and the courage and conviction all these people had, how could they think a 90 minute film could work where all that happens is two people walking and talking? In both the films the hyper-real element in them probably makes the struggle between real and unreal end completely. Before Sunset I think was shot in real time, and it gave me a feeling of complete intensity where I have not missed a single moment or even like a fraction of the moment.
The regular aspects like writing a book to find someone back, might be fictional but gives me a sense of belonging, or being dissatisfied with lives and not letting that out because you know the other person anyways would understand and raising the question several times ‘What if we had met as we had planned six months later from where we left each other in Vienna?’ ‘What if we had made choices differently’? They seemed to be my questions, maybe I would consider them to be stupid in a different mind set but at this point of time, after I am getting on to the other side of life, it seems I had choices, but did not have the radar, often leading me to think of the preciousness of each choice that I have made, courses, people, places…..everything. I tend to get into these bouts of regrets at times…..but the most beautiful part of the films is, it does not end with the regrets. Somewhere that’s why I could say blue and me have an unique story, we don’t know where we crossed and where we lost way but its each moment lived and making new chanced meetings.
Its just made me feel that looking for the skyline isn’t a futile exercise, the madness of youth will always be the guiding star.

Please watch the film if you haven’t and if I haven’t spoilt all your suspense yet. And secondly please listen to the film carefully, a lot of existential questions hovers in the sky and if your partner in arms is the unreal kinds, an evening over wine and talking about sunrise and sunset can be the best romantic union.

The Unsung Hero

2008-01-17T16:55:00.002+05:30

Remember from the Excerpts the g numbered story that I was to write on…My Unsung Hero….Just spoke to him and I am feeling quite numb, that’s what he was stored in my phone at one point of time in life – Comfortably Numb. It is most bright relationship that I have had, or let’s say if I had to define extremes, this one is the milestone.
The first impression was rather nonchalant, but then through others when the proximities became closer I had already stepped into a world that I did not know existed in the human form. It was like regular strong personalities one comes across and then from there move towards closer bonds, over Harry Potter or Batman films, Kebabs, funny possessed relationships or intensive discussions on issues that students worked on during their tenure in the institute. From there we moved to the slightly complex issues of ownership, that is what broke the ice between us…..the foundation was laid and I had encountered the Passionate trust that took me to venture into a wild sea of newer emotions which would give birth to newer colors everyday.
Differences of opinions is what epitomizes our relationship, all that I am not, he is and all that he is not, I am, so I keep wondering how does this work? How did we come a long way taking disasters on our strides? I do not have answers, or maybe I do not want to have.
I have spoken a hundred times about the relationship and the turmoil etc. but I have always missed an element, an element which makes him my hero somewhere (I just hope he does not read it…for this would make him bloat and he would reach the seventh heaven, as if he is not enough obsessed with himself).
From the time I have known him, he has never been confused, he does not suffer form the ailment of what do I want to do in life….like I am still exploring issues my interest really lies in, I am exploring different mediums of communication and every fortnight I think is this enough of what I am doing? Is this all that I want to do? And of course considering the fact that in the developmental sector working on developmental communications small fish like me who has been around for a year and a half or lil more do not earn money to have a lavish lifestyle, I often question that in comparison to others….this guy has been the anchor.
His passion and commitment towards his work I outstanding. Nothing really can suppress his enthusiasm for the he has a tremendous control over the area of his work.
During my work grey days he is the one who pops up as an inspiration, and every time I hear from some juniors that how highly they think of him, I smile to myself and say, that’s what he just does, like magic!
In my black episode of life that existed from July to October last year often I would hear from him, about his work and the conviction that he started with, shimmering its way up to the point of several accolades, that made me create courage within myself and allowed me to make a comeback, and even if I go away this time I know my conviction can sail me through the final lap of the race.
The guy is just 25 years old and he has made it all by himself in no time at all. He has seen the ugly side of it but has stood strong, like a rock, and often alone without a soul believing in him. I do not know how he does it, often it seems unbelievable that he does it but ya that’s the true story.
Koshish is way beyond just an effort today, its like an institution risen from its infancy to adolescence, and now its rebelling in its own ways, and interestingly for the better.
The second child took birth in December 2007 which is a giant baby called the National Alliance and this guy has been the prefect father, it was almost an unanimous decision to give the custody of the child to him, and a proud moment for me, I so regret I could not be there. Sorry Dumbhead, I missed yet another moment but I am sure you would make it up to me for better ones. Or as he says, the best is the best! And its right here but the degree of it keeps getting higher and better.
I now suddenly feel that the several emotions attached never got communicated. We end up talking about this that and the other but I have never thanked him for being the hero he has been. For being the one man army, for being the live version of Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘I am a Rock’.
So I have a biography to write and that would be quite a Steve Jobs inspirational story kind….for now I am glad My Unsung Hero is around and an inspiration to live with and then I can be happy about royalty I would get ;)

Haven’t said it in a long time – Love you and that does not say enough.

BRAINLESS

2008-01-16T18:59:00.002+05:30

The state of mind at this point of time is not even brain dead…seems it is brain less…. Ahhhhhhhh….
Work is been very very boring today, to the extent that I feel like puking and getting it out of my system.
What do I feel like doing? Well ahhmmm….I feel like going for a drive and get drenched in the rain and have a cup of coffee, not talk or even think. Do I want to do it alone? Well I do not know seriously….. I mean the only person I think I wanna be with is TB, he is not the questioning type, off late I have been missing him; the reason is very simple, he has broken the shackles of the vicious cycle (I hope, n pray…please u have right?)
Anyways Mumbai seems scary today because at this hour everyone is working whereas what I want to do now is find people, go to some nice sea facing house and then have wine there and pass out. Maybe I am also looking for interesting company today, just to blabber or maybe just to listen to them blabber about the universe, where nothing absolutely is real. Oh just re-read what I wrote….man I am superbly ambitious I must say….I want INTERESTING, RIGHT NOW AVAILABLE,NOT FAMILIAR COMPANY who can talk UNREAL!!!!!
Is the bug of loneliness spatting on me? Quite possible but not really, I mean I think its psychological.
However much I say that the caravan set up now seems something I am immune to, I guess I am very very unhappy about it, I mean I jus want a space where I can happily go back to. Calvin I miss your space. And this damn week man….its blooooddddyyyy long. I wanted to make sure if I was the only one fooling myself but P, S, R everyone seems to agree to me, therefore I am on the right track 
I donno why I am happy about that? Its like in a seemingly small week nothing really changes and so will it be now, just that I will have to deal with all the irritation for TWO full days. I can look forward to Friday and then to the Saturday, both the days I have nice people o catch up with, part of the unreal almost you see.

So what is the crux of my problem now?
People? Not really….I have a few who like me, so I am satisfied. I am happy that most of who like me also can stand me. And I can also stand them. So am I unhappy with work? Well definitely not, its been a blessing, I guess lets just not be so mean and say it is a BAD day at work and otherwise too………

Dun even bother…life's like that…shit happens and then again shit happens….
A familiar line, just the art director changes every time.

Lets give it another shot @ the PENDING things to do on the list...........

The Potion Called Hug – the irreplaceable ingredient of a Lovestory

2008-01-15T20:29:00.002+05:30

Once upon a time there lived a Prince. He had given up his kingdom to search for his own identity. It was the winter months and bagged with several questions he sat in the corner of a beer bar in the countryside looking for tranquility in the company of few friends.

Suddenly a stranger walked in. She knew all the others except for the prince. They got talking and it ended up being a nice evening. Then they lost touch for sometime. It was a busy kingdom and the king made everyone work hard, but as fate would want it, they met again in some alley. These chanced meetings gave them a lot of comfort and created synthetic thoughts in the prince’s mind.
The stranger was strange because she got caught up in several chaos and refused to paint the town synthetic. The strange land that this stranger belonged to, the prince paid several visits there. Everybody in that land liked him, the stranger was confused. She knew that the prince was a nice soul but she was a commitment phobic and she knew she did not want to hurt herself. So she fled to the land of visual pleasure. As she basked in that beauty she also missed the prince. With all tangled thoughts her companions convinced her that the dream to become the synthetic princess was beautiful. So when the stranger returned to the hustle n bustle in the humid may mayhem she decided to give into the color of the day-purple haze.

The prince and the stranger became inseparable friends until doomsday struck. The stranger was detected with some serious disease and she returned to her cocoon. The Prince was sad and lonely and refused to associate with the stranger or any mortal. Both of them fought every day often deciding to end the synthetic paints on their walls. The days would be fierce and bitter, the nights-long and teary. The bystanders thought life was ending another story of the tinseltown.
It was this time that the stranger decided that she was too much in love with the prince to end the story midst all the distance. She decided to go back to the tinseltown and meet the prince. She summoned for her skyhorse. As she prepared for the journey she was nervous, to have thought that she was losing her prince charming. In the cocoon her mate called blue gave her the hope wand, and the stranger summoned for the sky horse. As she floated over the clouds, she wondered how would the prince be, would they have the same spark, would they still feel so effortlessly drawn towards one another? At one turn the stranger almost thought of returning to her cocoon but the next moment she gathered all her courage coz it was nearing the tinseltown.
She knew that one moment would change their lives once again.
She clutched her heart and walked towards the exit.
She saw the prince standing there.
They hugged, it was little formal. That moment was gone and left her blank.
They rode back to an abode, the little, warm corner that had all their memories. There the Prince let the doors open. The warmest hug ever happened between the two people who broke the shackles of separation and recreated another fairytale.
It is indeed the moment and the moment coupled with the potion of hug…..the best potion that restored peace in the tinseltown.
What happened next is yet to be unfolded, as of today we heard that they lived happily ever after.
6th Nov 2007 – 15.00 hrs

Excerpts

2007-10-24T00:44:00.002+05:30

Theres a string of stories.....and I am happy,ofcourse on the happier side of confusion. However much he says we will have to deal with it,I know that it means a lot to have dear friends around,who recreate the blue bright colour of the sky.
Gotta remember -for stories
a-the simple potion of a hug in a lovestory
b-my lizard buddy
c-the bong hater bong and the celebrity anjoli
d-sleeping under the sky because I finally found the courage to do it
e-before sunrise,before sunset-stories can be as real and blue n me have an unique story :)
f-the bad bald man
g-my unsung hero!

yipeeeeeeeee......the color of the day is happy lilac for all the times to come,happiness..please hold on.

Morning Manna

2007-10-19T12:37:00.001+05:30

Its Mahaaastami!
Its a BIG day somewhere.
Lets accept the fact that caravan life is nice and exciting!
Lets accept hopeless romantics never die
Lets accept theres still lotza to be done.
And all these acceptances are there because the dove wanted it that way.
The balloons are transparent but still have lots of colors.But creating newer shades have always been exciting.
The smoke is here to stay but the sky is clear,spring comes unannounced like most other things in life but a warm welcome often ends in friends in the hearth of coffee and long heartfelt conversations.

Thunderstorms

2007-10-07T11:00:00.002+05:30

The sky suddenly turned red.
The balcony smelt of the want to commit the sin of breaking free.
The wind was whispering naughty charms into the ears,it was just a saturday night!

There was some music that played within but did not reveal itself.
It was an invitation to a sudden beach party that couldn't be turned down.
At the same time there was the fear of death-eaters hovering around whose charms were
stronger as Lord Voldemort had instilled special powers;it is not his fault coz he wants to be the ultimate wizard,he wanted to own all the magic that surrounded the air,dark arts was just an excuse.

Finally it started.
One could hear the pitter patter thuds on the window panes. From there the noise grew wild. The rains finally touched the thirsty earth.
The Dementors and the Death-Eaters had vanished.
Harry,Ron and Hermione breathed a sign of relief coz it was just a dream. For 19 yrs Harry's scar had not pained,so alls well.

Soaked to the skin after a small stint into fresh air and open sky,one wonders how a small cloud burst can bring so much joy!
The call aint faint,lets start without the Invisibility Cloak,to explore what never existed.

6th October,01.20 hrs,Kolkata.

MICROSMS YELLING IN SILENCE

2007-10-02T17:01:00.001+05:30

What has gone wrong is still unknown.
Being homebound all I can say is, I do not have stories anymore. I have run out of them.
I feel inspired but they do not inspire me to make the breakthrough and the series of events has helped me to reach the point that I am jinxed.
But when I am unable to sort the causal effect I am perturbed with the smoky thought that once upon a time I loved my home, no matter how difficult it was I always ended up smoking a few puffs in the canteen or down the oly stairs and life would be back to being simple.
Have I outgrown the love? Have I lost touch with reality? Or the aspirations have taken the humane being out of me?
Never did it become a shame to admit that life is mediocre, it’s a simple living, drinking moments, staring at the sky and weaving my dreams. Often when I encountered reality I faltered but I was happy with the learning it offered.
The simple pleasures of walking from school, bunking tuitions, playing pool for hours and then be penniless. All of this was adventurous. How was I perceived never made any difference. I was happy being a little off the track; often wondering how would it be if I could be a woman like the others around; and enjoying the moments when a few special people made me feel the instincts. I fell in love with history, poetry, literature and different kind of people. It never needed to be recognized. I was happy knowing that the love was an inspiration to my own self. I grew up, fell out with friends, moved to the capital but it was my love for home that I came back (not to mention that women all around also made me chicken out) and then restarted another chapter called college. The three years just zoom passed and now it seems I was dreaming with eyes wide open!

There were these bouts of running away from home, to the mountains, to the sea, but I always cherished coming back here, to my nest where I woke up with no worries. I walked to the bus-stop and took the most crowded bus because I was always late and never needed to think about the crinkled clothes. There was no fear that time was running out, I was happy knowing I had all the time on the face of earth to create the ladder that would take me to the moon. I never had to keep the reins in hand. Could get sloshed and make a fool of myself. I could say anything and not worry about repercussions, I did what I wanted, and I rebelled but never had a heavy heart. I could lie on the Presi grass and say theres a world beyond this and I will take you there, get happy with a heartfelt ‘close dance’ with friends or sleep in the green room behind Derozio coz I was stoned outa my senses. I fell in love and out of it because my heart felt so, there was no calculation or speculation. I could say I wanted space, or wanted attention and the crime comrade ego would never seep in.

But all of this seems to be having disappeared. And to the extent that I keep hunting for them and they never seem to be coming back to me.
I am a perpetual moron and nobody seems to understand that.
I have no faith in words and nobody seems to believe that.
I am grey for months and nobody seems to acknowledge that.
Every moment I am made to feel like an absolute jerk (and these days I know I am one)
I do not have the opportunity and means to run away and complications seem to be the way out of inner turmoil.
The other day I described the phenomenon as the disease I thought I would never be infected with – Attention and Occupation seeking syndrome (read acute disorder)
I do not blame the disease. For I have never been not occupied. I always had some micro clue of how life will unfold but now I seem to have lost the enthusiasm for the same.

A geographic location was never an issue. I know I can stay anywhere where there is food for thought.
My home was always inspiring. Every where I would go when I came back, the city seemed to welcome me back with all the warmth. The Howrah bridge was a sheer delight. I never complained of the busy, polluted, roads. I saw the potential of recreation in them. The potholes seem to have stories of disabled administration. Poschimbonger Rajniti (the politics of West Bengal) was something one would look forward to. From Trinamul’s Mamata Banerjee or one DYFI calling for bandhs every fortnight seemed ok. It was a free democracy and it was a form of protest. I never thought it led to a day’s loss of revenue for the government of the state always had enough to cover up. The Bangali Adda was a sheer delight and I did not complain of the hours of human power it wasted.
I loved Tantra, I loved Someplace, I loved Park Street or the delights of Rabindra Sadan or Indrapuri Studio. I loved the hustle and bustle of either Gariahat or DumDum. I loved the solitary revelations beside Outram Ghat, I spent lifetimes with people I have not forgotten in the boats. I loved the regular rockbaji that randomly turned into long drives/rides by the Kona Express highway.
Now Tantra is disgusting, Someplace has become less of a music lovers paradise and more of a hep place to be,Peter Cat never has place, Radindra Sadan is always crowded, Garihat and DumDum seems to be more of an ordeal. Outram Ghat is frequented by all and sundry, rockbaji is not expected and the people have migrated. Even Kona Express highway is polluted!
I loved the crows and the sparrows that frequented whenever it was breakfast/lunch time, as if they were part of the family. I do not appreciate that anymore. I loved walking on my own through the lanes of the good old city but now the fear of being noticed and perceived have gotten a better of me.
The sense of never having enough is always taking its toll, right from the kitchen to INOX theres seems to be nothing exciting. The world is very small and every corner I meet people whom I do not feel like talking.

I am defying the laws of nature. (And not by choice, but by compulsion)
I do not feel attracted to anyone/thing anymore.
There’s is no gravitational pull and I am too lazy to say hello to the sunshine every morning. As much as I would hate myself but an ace critiqued friend’s words come to me more often, “I am disappointed with people, I know I have a lot of expectations from them” and when they are not met, I feel futility of existence. But here the story is more dismal.
I am 24, I am unemployed and broke and suffering from small intestinal cancer that has led me to superimpose restrictions of severe forms. I am confused about love, companionship, commitment etc. and do not know yet if I should give up satisfaction for money or money for satisfaction. Not to forget that right now I do not have either.

Of late I have realized that the only true companion in life is definitely nobody but Cigarettes. It is the only thing that does not seek long term anything. The more you inhale (u can read suck) the lesser it grows. You do not have the fear like in the case of unprotected sex, no issues about condoms, contraceptives or waking up to find you got sloshed and therefore horny and ended up in bed with the most unlikely creature of the human kind or the fact that you end up feeling that you want to be with this person for the next however number of times you have sex! Both of them are not just injurious to health but to mind, body, heart and soul.
As I write this I am atleast feeling good about the fact that sex is not the driving force as of today ;)
Coming back to cigarettes, they are very human in attitude but personality wise they predefine liberation. They die hundred deaths yet remain equally desirable. (And if not anybody else I know one Dumbhead is very disappointed to know how I feel about the lifelong companion.) But that is so true. Almost ideal, it does not expect and it does not raise expectation. How I wish the component s of the same could be transformed into something real! Wishful thinking. But atleast cigarettes make me think, I mean they try and stir something that I thought was dead for a while now.

So the synopsis of the story is there is no story anymore, and if I do not discover stories ahead I am going to rust, then will be infected by fungus, then will smell awful and then will be discarded. My dreams will die an untimely death. I do not know what can I do to keep them alive. All I know is a story has to be born out of nowhere and head to the Oscars. I will be the pathfinder and the one receiving the trophy, who said imaginations need to be real? Or who knows when reality seems like imagination.
The moron still is grey and hates making exceptions for smart ones!

2nd October 2007
16.49 hrs,Kolkata.

iNspirations

2007-09-23T16:56:00.001+05:30

Bismillah

Its a habit of yours to walk slowly.
You hold a grudge for years.
With such heaviness, how could you be modest?
With such attachments, do you expect to arrive anywhere?

Be wide as the air, to learn the secret.
Right now you are equal portions clay
and water, thick mud.

Abraham learned how the sun, the moon, the stars all set.
He said, No longer will I try to assign partners to God.

You are so weak. Give up to grace.
the ocean takes care of each wave
till it gets to the shore.

You need more help than you know.
You are trying to live your life in open scaffolding.
Say Bismillah, In the name of God,
as the priest does with a knife when he offers the animal.

Bismillah, your old self
to find your real name.

I am looking for solace midst the greyy days and soulmate sent this.
I was talking to Sen and we realized sustaining the forever available inspiration is the real challenge and Soulmate again came to help row the boat midst the stormy sea.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all !
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

the dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Rumi Lives on.

Below the Belt

2007-09-23T16:28:00.002+05:30

I love new york
Just like the t-shirt says
The streets the shops the subways
The unimaginable meld of people in constant motion
Rushrushrush
Expressions colours opulence style
Grungeandgarbage glassandsteel
Old brownstones
Parks museums fire escapes
Wailing sirens stern faced cops
Warm greetings in elevators smiles and nods
Greasyfoul smelling restaurant basements
Brightlights brighteyes
Miniskirts and motorised skateboards
Office hour energy on the 4 train
Twilightzones on the latenight shift
Greysuits and blackdresses
Drunks on sidewalks
Open forthright resilient
Ambitions and aspirations sprawled in the sun
In centralpark
Streetcorner jazz packed pubs lonely alleys
Black net stockings and lipstick gashes
Uncanny weather forecasts
Yong lust groping in the shadows
Fifthavenuefashion and fuckfoul language
Spanking new sneakers on the way to timessquare
Hi! Howyadoin….getoffmyface you m….f…..
I just love it all.

An evening spent demystifying not so good photography but perfect packaging in Seagull Resource Centre while the weather was perfect for anything and everything.
Us, the 'small fry' s in the photography world constructively criticized the photographs at our heartiest content.
But definitely one could not miss the sleek presentation. We mused over the blurbs,the very first one is the one with which the post starts.
For me the shots were absolutely random,often raising the questions of limits to intrusions into privacy. Maybe it comes from the social side that limits my perspective with certain kind of photography but the feeling of the collection not having a story meant a difference.
It was elitist which is not something that an ad photographer can really help.

The photographer goes on to say how the black humour of NY made him fall for it instantly. He is an instant sucker for black humour! While on the other hand he goes on to say that its the excitement of NY that led to such shots where the concept of frames and composition ceased to exist. And it was his homage to the city.(And not to mention my love for Mumbai was at the peak all over again :) )
The fact that he acknowledged the shots were too random but since there is a need for 'artspeak' and every artist must have a statement,was NY below the belt, born!

And thats called presentation, the perfect blend of words and look.....kudos to the strategy of marketing-obvious cliches, as random emotions and love for the city.
Who says theres nothing around? Theres an element to learn from everything...always!
The photographer is Pradeep Dasgupta.
While I go and check the rest of his work to get an understanding of the man's work,
if interested you could also check pradeep dasgupta's work.

The image is courtesy Dear Sidd!

I Bleed

2007-09-18T21:28:00.001+05:30

And I bled
I bled timelessly
You stood there, still. Far away
And stared at me with steel in your eyes……

I saw the gaze
And I saw I bled
You gnawed me with your gaze
But no one heard my silent scream
I bled
As I surrender
I barely hold my last breathe
Barely breathing
You watch me bleed
You gnaw me with your eyes

Frozen Time
Frozen thoughts
Frozen Feelings
And Frozen blood…..
I have learnt to live with it
The dark red clots, almost black
Cringed, damp, dead
I saw my old self
It has lost its voice
But it stands tall
Like the way you stand still and smirk
Like time never knew how to tick away

And I bleed; Its not red anymore
Its black, and the serpent is basking in the stream of the black, cold blood
Colours have lost their lives
But now I own the pain, n I still bleed
You will never see it
I have travelled to hell and I am still alive
Have felt how it feels to die
When you left me all broken
I have sat and watched you cry behind the sky

You hold the earth to live for a little more
But your craving is voiceless
Your soul is mindless
The love has gone deaf
And the lust has lost its way into shrouds of dormant corpses

Its my turn now
Frozen Blood
Frozen Thoughts
Frozen Time
My liberation has come with your treacherous death
My suffering has finally seen daylight!
My liberation has arrived
I lay bare
And I bleed, Beyond Time.

Somehow I know I cannot create poetry anymore….that hurts. This piece almost resembles stuff I would write in school! Sad but true, poetry is lost…..

17th September 2007

Dear Sam

2007-09-11T23:25:00.002+05:30

Dear Sam,

Was wondering how do I write to you, where do I begin?

The earliest memories that I have of you is one specky woman in Pyjamas n T-shirt walking about the campus. I always thought of you as one of those types who would get to the library and not share notes with classmates. The stick conversation seems funny when I look back. I mean why would I get sticks for you; but there was a tinge somewhere that you were weird ;) that I guess was it.
Finally the lovestory began, by the sunset point at Kanyakumari. The smoke, the air and of course of our eternal favourite TQ! And how in the train we were actually like estranged lovers and then onwards there was no looking back.

With you I saw through the most intense companionship with Passionate Trust. From SBI and how we stood bare infront of each other, to the best Diwali gift ever to the tears of another woman in our lives…..n the sweet-salt tears that is here to stay because it reminds me everytime of the journey we had begun in the strangest of circumstances.

Then the next calamity stuck of 26th July. From Nagraj to B the string of incidents flashes by and I can see myself smiling. Strange things happen over disasters. Each day I have spent with you have been special. I have learnt to look at life differently. I have built a control over the rebel child. From Daman to “our gang” to Jinx to the hours of spending seconds and they getting the senti-sam signature….I guess words were/are/will be never enough.
From one Festival to Fiery Red Flower and finally coaxing me to believe in love and creating Calvin in my psyche to educating me to Rumi, Manto or History, Architecture, Religion or being with me to raise the toast to my first job or being the radar of the boat when the sea is storm struck, I do not know how did I live without you all these years.

In the last two years I have travelled and captured the country with you. There was only Goa without you and you saw how badly I captured it; I would not say I did not enjoy the moments that you were not around but in each of those times I have smiled secretly thinking how special would it been with you around  and you know what sometimes I feel it is just not about physical proximity, there is so much more to it. The moon outstretching its arms over the snow clad mountains in Kashmir, the riot of colours in the sky in Kovalam beach or letting the mystic clouds play with thoughts from the hostel windows. I never thought that conversations through all five senses and believing in someone even with the sixth sense could have been possible had you not been in my life.

I also wouldn’t have known one Shazz or one Shadan and most importantly found another Ammi. She has been another dimension of a parent to me. For that matter I would not actually have also accepted the huge mass on which I eventually rode in my life with the advent of a new year. I wouldn’t have not been able to get over the nuisances of Shalimar Bagh; I would have never been able to deal with the never ending restlessness etc etc….gawd please I have not become so good. I am still trying. 
From late night Bawaara Mann to TP by bandstand; it seems spooky how we have lived people together. I can never imagine making sense of two years of TISS and life after that had you not been around.
You keep telling me how I have changed your life but lil princess it is you who has changed mine, from one rebel I have learned to take a deep breathe and appreciate life as if it has so much to offer.

It is a phase where role reversals cannot get more accurate and we both know how everything seems to be trapped how the highs and lows leave their impressions and we keep sailing in our aimless destination. The parallels seem uncanny but the comfort zone makes every hurdle look worthwhile. The perfect combination as we said “u, me n Bombay” or maybe Kashmir, Kerela, Delhi, Punjab, Rajasthan but I just hope and pray every day maybe it will someday be different continents but one Gayatri 702 or a Miami penthouse will be waiting for newer stories to unfold.
So the resultant factor is every time the comrade–in-arms are together every aspect of life seems to be easy to deal with.
Often when I had been reading about Calvin and Hobbes I realized each time I read it each time their relationship is evolved and that is precisely what has helped me over time to atleast give shape in my alter-ego about the relationship we share.

The more I try the more I see myself getting carried away in precision of moments lived/not lived together. It seems a neverending saga and I wish to keep it as a never ending saga, coz some stories must not have an ending, what s awaiting next is where the mystery lies, and then there is of course the element of never having enough, of dreams and reality and the eventful unwrapping of incidents, people, emotions, and silences.
I remember how the other day I told you how I wish I would have met you in school. Then I do not know what else would have changed but we would have created another epic!

Anyways, it is crazy, how you have been the single point of constant relevance in my life and how I sit by the window teary eyed and smiling lips only to wait for time to give me yet another set of experiences that cannot be captured in words yet creates ripples in minds of two souls whose happiness and serenity lies in each others beings!
Love you and it has been long when these two words were not enough.

9th Sept 2007

The Beautiful Meaning of Meaningless-ness

2007-09-11T23:09:00.001+05:30

I had been leading a flustered life and it makes me sick.
Beyond a point I also know it is not possible to talk, I mean how much can one keep saying when life has been taken over by wrong kind of restrictions and keeps me quite confined where headspace s also most sought after (beyond several other things)

On such a day I went out to meet an old friend who made lotza sense and it was good to see him expressing himself full throttle.
He imbibed a lot of enthusiasm about carving the niche and having the patience to do the same. All charged I knew there was no dearth of opportunities but at the same time the truth of stagnation and having the worst challenge in life to keep thee patience.
Then I met another friend whose life is also fairly screwed, over apparent and not so apparent reasons and then I began my journey of demystifying the beauty of meaninglessness.
We had nothing to talk about because we did know exactly each others state of mind, at the same time when we got to talking about other people we figured they were also screwed at some level whereas the tragedy lies in the fact that those ignorant ones little realized their weaknesses (please pardon if I am sounding atrociously judgemental)!
And then we started smiling, often breaking into illogical bouts of laughter. It was like overstating the obvious. And after a point it slowly started sinking into me that though we did not have anything to talk about, neither did we feel the need nor the obligation. It was not even remotely uncomfortable; it was like two souls we knew about their endangered existence as a species and inspite of that they kept wandering into nameless vistas. As time passed by we realized the meaninglessness that had created a halo around us. Gradually quite unaware of what it was we began to enjoy it.

Time passed by and in a café in Park Street we sat over almost three hours trying to unravel the meaninglessness which un-knowingly we both took a lot of solace in. When we try to argue (atleast I do) that communication is the best source to avoid confusion but often I was tongue tied because there was nothing more to communicate except for meaninglessness. In some form or the other at the highest level of frustration I often exclaim how meaningless life is! But as per all the maestros are concerned say from one Melville and Hawthorne, Nietzsche and Marx or very dear friend Kafka they all saw meaninglessness coming into their lives. The existence of this phenomenon has been described by many poets, writers, philosophers but largely there has been a morbid tone to it. It is said that meaninglessness creeps in when life is confronted with the ultimate question of about its importance, about its existence and pondering over the question leads to a no answer situation, or maybe it is very arbid to believe. Life at that point seems very pointless, cruel and a little mad! But what we do not consciously realize is the fact that it is this state of madness at different level of consciousness that inspires us to create.

While I was doing something as vague as a desk research on meaninglessness I discovered that most definitions would want to look at meaningless as lose of aim, or goals in life-over work, family, love, marriage or religion or maybe several other things.
The even more interesting part is to look at the philosophy of meaninglessness; and the way it is explained in several of the philosophical narratives; A sneak peek to the same follows –

Relative Meaninglessness

1. Disappointed expectations;failure to fulfill accepted criteria.
2. Discrepancy between established criteria and observable actualities;
based on intellectual information;existentially disclosed.
3. Temporary—lasts only until the discrepancy is corrected
4. Limited to a specific realm of meaning.
5. We know what to change to bring meaning.

Existential Meaninglessness

1. Frameworks of meaning collapse; lack of ultimate purpose in life.
2. Uncaused; discovered as a fundamental condition-of-being;
3. Permanent—no matter what we change, meaninglessness continues.
4. Pervades every dimension of life.
5. Nothing we can do will make life ultimately meaningful.

But to me the beauty of meaninglessness lies in the fact that it does not follow it a protocol, it does not have boundaries, or it has no restrictions. I therefore join the bandwagon of Satre and Camus who urge us to embrace our meaninglessness. They claim that life is better because it is meaningless and absurd. If there is no given purpose to which we must conform to gain meaning, then we can create our own meanings in the midst of meaninglessness. By rebelling against our Predicament, we create our own Authenticity.

So here I am, cheering away to the new discovery I made that meaninglessness is a very meaningful phenomenon and the fact that it challenges the logic of meanings and even probably illusions makes it another experience that has its sweet charm!
Till I walk the lanes of finding solace in meaninglessness of being occupied and enjoy such innovative evenings, Trublu, cheers once again.

31st August-11th Sept 2007

The Inspiration from the Idiot Box

2007-08-03T22:34:00.001+05:30

There have been days when I have religiously watched the Idiot Box from 11-5,just like a working day and therefore this is an ode to the Idiot Box!!!!And definitely somethings that I thought of while I was watching it.

Indian Idol,one of the classy reality shows......the nicer part of the show is-there is no melodrama, the "gurus" do not promote their fanfare and films, it is not about a war,or propagating everything else but the essence of the contestants. Indian Idol is about young talent fighting their way through to carve a niche for themselves by becoming 'Bharat ki Shaan'. The look of the show is sleek and hats off to Sony/Meditech for the packaging. Its like a Nokia/Hutch ad.....a set standard maintained. And where there is someone as revered as Javed Akhtar and as upfront comments about understanding the psyche of the public,gender discrimination,regionalism......actually however much there is entertainment, the reality shows (if they maintain to keep up the standards)is actually a reflection of lot more than what catches the eye!The TRPs speak different languages in different mediums but I guess there s a judgement that I want to pass;This show keeps up the vision of exploring a singer who has a future to look forward to the rich musical saga of India.

And then I have to talk about this film I saw today,on the Idiot Box......Sunyo-e-Booke (zero in the chest-thats the exact translation) as u watch you realize its about a complexity of physicality between a newly married couple over the woman not having perfect breasts.
The story is of two artistes who fall in love and get married and on the first physical interaction the man feels cheated about the wife not having perfectly shaped and full breasts. He thinks he deserved to make an informed choice. The woman on the other hand had severed terms with her family to get married to this guy and she feels that she never thought it would be important to the same who said that the body is just the shell and Soul is the real identity. So there is arguments,set of ideological and creative clashes. The couple separate and the other guy who was not as good an artist looks through the skin of the woman,marries her and happily has a family with her.

The last scene was rather arty.
The Digha/Sankarpur Beach;the better artiste at his work and he encounters the child borne by the woman. And eventually the family. The woman still softly speaks words of rebuke and moves on the new path of emancipation. The man apologizes that drove me almost to believe that maybe he would live forever with the perfect breasts he wanted to caress but his instincts then have now left him with his awesome artistic abilities but devoid of real love and companionship.

It opens the several chain of thoughts, of physicality,sexuality and the mirage called perfection. It is probably much more than just a man-woman phenomenon, an artistes aspiration of love making and his frustration of discovering reality. Is there an absolute? Is it just about what lies beneath clothes?
From a personal standpoint life is not as complex as human emotions and as I received and sms the other day of silicon implantations, Viagra and questing the thirst of lust....hope we do not forget that the penis and the vagina could not have communicated had there not been the first spring tale when we met, when we first held hands, when we first kissed or when we first felt butterflies in the stomach to realize that Love knocked on the door.

To the ever raging debate of Love and Lust..someday,someway.

August 5th 2007

August Axis

2007-08-02T23:58:00.001+05:30

At the onset it seems I have lived a decade, in the past two months however I have cribbed and complained, I have definitely got to understand myself better.
I am an emotional upheaval, a lot of people would say-tell me something new, and a lot of them would say-when were u emotional?
In both the cases I would not know how to react.

I remember the time when I was obsessed with Dumdhead, the day he left campus and I knew he is gone,that rage/let down/hurt still shakes me up(would remember Soulmate drilling sense and Quirk making ways to make me look at reality)and then when after a month long journey from heaven I was getting back to reality I met him again,only with the promise that we will never be mean to each other. And there after hundreds of times we have been mean, its only that his convictions have strengthened me.He had blatantly said he does not befriend the moon anymore,coz that would not stay on, n I also need to understand that as an emotional wreck!

Never paid heed to it and landed up in time and again in the vicious circle of being "used" because I was transparent, I was straight-forward, I was dumb. When I left school there was a series from friends to then turned foes;I decided I will play smarter when I get to college. Kept it up for a while and then the reins loosened and I was again taken for a ride,in between I had worked,trekked,fallen in and out of love, and therefore met more people,only to realize I am not as smart, I still fell for the pretense, for the feel good factor at the particular point of time, for I trusted.

College was over and I moved outa home.....fortunately this time I was careful but still closer proximities made use of me,very unexpectedly;I was quite shattered and felt disgusted with myself.....it made no f****ing sense to me,ever!Even till date,it does not. Midst that, old ties were still playing beach volley with my softly nurtured emotions of companionship/friendship/partnership and as I look back I kept falling,bleeding,nursing and again running after tender emotions. Its now that I realize it was like a mirage that kept attracting me to the illusion of being there for individuals whom I loved, at different points and different shades and somehow the intense the emotions and the complex the shades, the deeper the wound,the longer the pain. But call me anything but stubborn.....I refuse to learn from mistakes and take pride in being a dud!
Call it creative pursuits of understanding people or seeking inspiration from numb wounds,I was still at it till today. I make myself "at ur service" and forget about getting paid,I dont even feature on the payroll.Somebody who I know for a year actually has so much of RAM-page space that I drain myself and I am preached that I should get out of my draining habits!

And therefore I begin my August Axis! Where I refuse to be a victim of my own inane attraction to goodness, let the dark musing unleash for once I would pray they stay on,forever.I will try to dissociate with people at the valves pumping but keep it task oriented.
But on the other hand let me also not forget because of the same faith I have a bunch of glow-worms in life that warms up the nest with the glow of a connection that makes me run out of words,I am glad to have them in here. From the deepest desire to darkest potholes they have known all shades;they have given me the strength to liften me up when I cannot reach,so will never let the sun go down on truest and purest of emotions, I can only keep my guards on and even when theres beach tournaments I should remember my duty of a lifeguard for I will have to reach the surrealist goal of procreation.

Afterall - Dada n me has been seen as iconoclastic and confrontational...what say?

Snippets of the Senses.

2007-08-02T17:40:00.001+05:30

It all started one day when I was coming back from some part of remote Kolkata and as we drove our way asking people about direction there was this strange phenomenon I chanced upon that never found space enroute the travelogue.
When I ask somebody about something (mostly directions), I make assumptions about the person. It can be either marked as judgemental or as intuition. Like when I am not sure about the destination I am looking for a ride where I know the other person-the cabbie, or the auto guy knows the way…..it is mostly a right hit and at crucial times I also get into the trap of people whose sense of direction is as whopped as mine.
It is just a reading of the person’s face and is quite an interesting exercise. And a lot of times it is quite fun because they not only lead you to the wrong lane or bylane but they also confidently tell you about every other road apart from the one you are looking for. On the sunny side the right direction comes to my way bang on when I am least expecting it. I was wondering what do I call it…..the phenomenon of understanding whether people know directions to my destination by looking at their face when I myself do not have any clue of that direction. Face reading would be undermining it, largely inappropriate. May be when I manage to finish reading all vocabulary books I would have an idea. But till date it has been an interesting venture, something that I have enjoyed thoroughly, and at times it has also led me spend a few extra bucks.

That was the sensation of vision.
From there let me narrate the immense sense of smell which has never been more emancipating.
Went to Olypub the other day and the smell of alcohol, smoke and the ambience of the space made me feel ‘wooaaahhooo, this is what life is all about’. And I could not believe that as my companion ended up on beef steak and beer I chanced on Nimbu pani! Now that’s THE example of self control. So I love Oly irrespective of alcohol. That same day I watched Die Hard, and the best description is that exaggeration becomes entertaining. As I was drawing parallels with it and the illogical Bollywood films (ignore the generalization) the film partner described it as “ultralogical”. And ultralogical is also the word for explaining the fact that even when we do have all the answers heading to doomsday the attraction is very severe. As I have had these series of conversations with a friend trying to draw the logic that certain emotional investments do not lead us anywhere I ended up having reduced parallels. Difficult to explain, but ya….ultralogical. But somewhere from the series of experiences I have come to believe trusting people is a highly risk-taking venture! We all have our set of beliefs and equations and that definitely means acceptance, denial, feeling great and feeling not so great. And as my convenient self would want to prove it I would do anything that anyone asks me to do as long as it is done my way! The conclusion therefore is Power is at the epicentre of relationships! This can lead to a series of debates and give birth to several theorems and several more to prove/un-prove them.

And then old ties were renewed and what was funny was after a prolonged absence of seven years it seemed very easy to have been back to being known strangers. I guess it cannot be like die hard friends again, and that is too much to expect maybe. There was a birth of some regrets but the naval fragrance had travelled a very long way, maybe for better, hope not for worse. Often in the madness of life this was the first time in a long time I wished I had paused, taken a deep breathe and waited to hear myself. And ya it was not strong enough for any one of us to have stood up for all that we shared. Strange thing called colors of life. And it was not such a nice feeling to know that I could hurt someone too with all my might. But then let bygones be bygones. Lets see if the new roads can be walked together. But at the same time I realized that with some friends who have seen you grow, there is a comfort level beyond explanation. It was like sitting with a book on a rainy afternoon, and the happiness lies in the fact that no matter how ever much you feel it is an old tattered book, the content, the familiarity and the bitter-sweet memories are the elements of inane attraction.

Chennai was another experience, of a level beyond comprehension to my own self. The self destructive phenomenon was at its peak and I felt uncomfortable about the wreck that I had turned myself into. There is soooooo much that I have to do, but the deadening enthusiasm or the killer procrastination had taken a complete toll. Nothing helped. It is not even that the enthusiasm s all back and life is hunky dory but it is not the wreck…..it is the silent vegetative state. Certain realizations definitely have kept me at an ease; For the Nth time I feel the romantic angle in life is miserable. Gawd how so well I know a settled romance thing is not my forte; everything else can change but the core ; ) and I cannot even say it with any conviction, one never knows what turn emotions would take.
The nicer thing was Soulmediam8 is back to Mumbai and suddenly she seems to be closer by, almost like she was; like every first time. I know things would change for her and with each time life will be different but the fact of solace in thoughts would remain intact with a few good men and women is probably the almost extinct feeling of certainty. The other grand feeling was to hear Fukcr’s voice after succchhhh a long time, like I had never felt such an upheaval of affection for him.

Midst all of this mayhem Dumbhead provides me with a lot of solace. The nicest thing about him is the sense of determination that he is filled with and I get a sense of certainty from him. Ya as Jyo’s post said about the end point, with Dumbhead you know there is no end. Thanks to the almighty for one conviction where I do not see uncertainty. I miss all the times when we could just not say a word, hug each other and walk through lanes of being opaque. Missing you…..and whatever…..
People definitely can be a source of anecdotes and at the same time there are often times when the same people completely make you feel wish you hadn’t known the human kind. We all are very mundane and clichéd, beyond a point nobody has variety and everybody is stagnating-ly annoying. In my quest to find the constantly interesting and engaging persona, I end up getting disappointed about the human kind, and I lead the clan. A dead vegetation, getting caught in silly nonsense of men fighting over women, adults not knowing what are priorities, and people endlessly whiling away their time over a never-ending whole of nothing. At one level over the weekend as I was happy to see friends reuniting, on the other hand I could see the inane desire of the actors to get back to the old rut. How very shady was the feeling to know of friends who lack sense of direction. But as my dear comrades would say, we live one life and we do not know the value of each second; so if we do not know what we are losing out on….just another experiential loss. You can help someone with the direction to the treasure during the hunt, you cannot get the treasure for someone else. And I refuse to do it from the August Axis!

As I am a self proclaimed contradictory persona therefore I would come back to the aspect of people again. Old friends….My anchor for life accompanied with the man in black n white was here, its probably very very easy to just slide down time and become kids again. The whole day I just laughed, without reason, and pain, in the evening things that I would never have done in the present day ‘image’ I sat and did that….talked nonsense without thoughts or fears of being mis-read! I guess we can do that in two circumstances. When you are in the company of friends who have seen you cry because you were not selected as the sports team captain or with strangers who know too little about you.
The strange thing about the nonsense was birth of a coloured love story – The orange-green story with a known stranger!!!!!
I need to now go and finish that lovestory that will be sometime be treated as a masterpiece in the history of innovation.

P.S - Was TRYING really hard to get a common link to this piece but still have not succeeded much….too many incoherent thoughts and probably makes no sense at large.

EnRoute

2007-07-08T02:19:00.001+05:30

What a day after ages.....wasn't in an upbeat mood,thanks to the rains that seemed never ending.....after a long sleep caught up with trublu for Bong connection
The Bong Connection!
The film is the actor,singer,musician Anjan Dutta s tribute to Ray's unvanquished character Apu! Set in Houston and Kolkata, the film was upbeat and surely a nice collage of the Bong Brigade in both parts of the two countries.

Apu(Parambrata)is an IT professional who aspired for big and moved to Houston for a plush career and life,Kolkata was dead and stagnant for him. So he left behind his roots and his lady love. He discovered a whole new world,starting from Mexican goons to homosexuals to illegal immigrants to confused youngsters grappling with values.It was just in time he realized home is where the roots are,where the heart lies.Trust Parambrata to play the bhalo bangali chhele(good bengali boy!) with ease!

Andy(Shayan Munshi)is a musician from New York who comes to Kolkata to discover his roots and create music,from Someplace Else(the only pub in Kolkata i guess)to Advertising Jingles to Swabhumi to Shantiniketan, Andy explored the music he wanted to create.But as he would want it,it never worked out that way! And beyond the frustration of lazy Kolkatans he found himself caught in Family feuds and love unrequited.Chirpy,colourful,sensitive character and Shayan did a good job of it.

Rita(Pia RC)plays the probasi bangali girl,confident,bratish confused...this ex channel v veejay seemed to fit into the tee.Nothing very great about the character struck me except during her exit she was subtle and drove the point home.

Sheela(Raima Sen)is the girl from Kolkata,Apu's girlfriend who silently fell in love with Andy but did not say that. She believed in her roots very strongly and as a character Sheela was to die for! A very level headed fun loving girl who was modern and also valued commitments.And her undertone was definitely with a lot of grace.Raima needs no introduction about her acting skills.And full marks to the director for sculpting a character so good.

The cinematography of the film was good,in comparison to the earlier ones in the league,the art direction definitely had scopes of improvement and so was the light design,it was monotonous at several points. But ya the direction definitely needs kudos to the way Dutta did work around the humour element to this bongs delight!
The music of the film lacked freshness though a trilingual try for a score was a decent try.I dunno how Rabindrasangeet admirers and critiques would say about Pagla Hawa but to me it was a nice innovation!

Thats so much for the film, as a tribute to Ray's Apu trilogy it definitely had weaved in the time element.The fact that Soumitro was around did make a difference,for old times sake...it did stir the old loves! The fact that Apu returned discovering himself,mending ways and unvanquished,it made a difference.And got me thinking!
And then I met Sanjana and Aruna and it seemed I breathed again,breathed the smell of familiarity! Good old TISS days,they just seem marvellous.

Since the time I have been in Kolkata it is just plain frustration,I knew I did not love the air as much and often struggled with loyalty issues. Is it true we all return to the roots,is it true we all are so uncomfortable and lose our way midst all the green and yellow pastures in a new space? Well once again I am trying to remember old times and fall in love with homeland,adjusting,trying to crib less and be more open to the offerings as exists today!
There is so much that I have learnt from the city,school,college,friends,I mean the place you are born n brought up,there is just lotz in there.The first smoke,the first love,the first frame,the first kiss,everything.

Apu reminded me of Littlelight,we used to sit together in the ninth standard and do nonsense,thats how we became foes;we used to beat each other up and till about a couple of years back I had not realized our relationship had matured beyond the quarrels. We read and we talk the random language....I had thought none of these Science whizos from school would be remotely interested in the random-ness,which interestingly he is. Littlelight is an ardent critique.Anyways,drawing parallels between him and Apu was just because he has gone for a project to US,NY,also I fairly got an idea how homesick he also might get;but he does not think Kolkata is dying,he thinks its reviving and would always want to come back here,unbeaten!And compared to that I have not really missed Kolkata,after a point I thought and still think Mumbai is the place but thats what I had thought about Kashmir,or Dehradun.

So basically no matter how this city reminds me of the first rooftop rain or milieu and paras pathor n discovering a new chapter through that,no matter how I think I would runaway to Mumbai,its actually that I am a traveller,so I cannot have a space that I can call my own space. Or lets say I do not have roots,I was born somewhere,I grew up somewhere else,I discovered myself somewhere,I found love somewhere and then I realized there was nowhere I really belonged!I am struggling to find a niche,even where I have grown up.I hear voices often of places where I want to be,but it does not happen that way.What happens is hoping desperately for the time when one can severe all that is known,the so called social system that I am a part of and just live an alienated life,exploring,meeting people,learning and creating.I do not want to be responsible,for things that are not valued. I want to live my life where the place I am in is mine,its not a Bong connection but a connection that gives me the next clue enroute the dream I have been looking for.

Cancer Vixen’s Life in a metro!

2007-06-29T21:41:00.002+05:30

This piece of work is an emotional outburst inspired by Marissa (Cartoonist with New Yorker Times!) and Anurag Basu (Filmaker from Mumbai)

At least now I know that my autobiography will fetch me quite a lot of money! I am almost on the fast-track, soon to have some thing like motorcycle diaries!
There r some lumps in the intestine that are cancerous in nature.
Well my cool attitude did not work! As in Mumbaiiya I would say ‘Phaat gai hai meri’(I am screwed). The day I gotta know about this I was stoned. Different people had different reactions, n today I cannot handle people who love me go through the whole deal of anxiety. And it is first stage and curable. So why worry? On the second layer…..What are my panic points? What if a surgery, not coz of the surgery but the radiotherapy/radiation that will follow!!!! And the several anxieties, I am at the onset of a wonderful worklife, I haven’t lived with parents in a very long time, so haven’t been answerable. I have not earned enough money to have saved so when I get home I am broke! And I have been very active for the last three years, no lulls….l love drinking, smoking and red meat. And all of this is a complete NO! There is still no verdict to sex yet, but one never knows what is the next step in store! And Sash for giving me the brighter side of the story said, think about it, u would be completely detoxified and therefore glowing with inner radiance! Ya Right, even she knew what she was talking about!
So is there practically anything I need to worry about? Yessss! I will be jobless, sick, and may become ugly soon after the radio! Then what? All my x,y,z fashion statements are down the drains  Not that I am some chhammak chhallo but for the presentably cool quotient…. That’s worrisome. My newly done hair colour, my essentially interesting wardrobe… (sniff, sniff) and of course the whole worldview changing. Why was I the chosen one? Seems like I have not had enough!
Ya, I m feeling pathetic, when off late the panic attacks happen and then my mobility is gone for a toss it is bloody depressing!

Life in this city has been like a dream. I guess I will have to give it to Toxic Bachelor and the never ending discussion at a café in Kolkata that does not exist anymore, I had landed in Mumbai. Being in the city under the guidance of whizos like NRG n Mesho was a revelation! Mumbai was raindrained, under tulsi pipe lives were struggling to exist and I land up in the 24 n ½ floors in Marathon Heights n then the next one week I had lived the crème of the city and started my journey into Buddhism. The next living space was a friends place in Navy Nagar and my first brush with the lifeline of Mumbai, the local trains….wow! Even today I am amazed at the number of people who commute. And the trains have been the first traces of all kinds of lives breathing in the same nest, from corporate honchos to ‘apna gulli ka abdul bhai’ everyone travels together. Yes the stark inequality prevails through the first class and the second class. The difference in the full circle is in the second class it’s the smell of body odour, pure, unadulterated and in the first class it is the deodorants and perfumes!

Anyways from there I had started my journey to TISS. Wow the magical two years-people,places, experiences, learnings, lifeskills and transformations in me as a person. It weird how I saw changes and how I learnt there is nothing called right and nothing called wrong. However we might love black and white, greys rule! From outstanding people like Anshu or Rama or stories of Altaf Sir, sparks of Brilliance from Nagraj, Lobo or the engrossing classes of KPJ and the hottest faculty that turned out to be Sam’s bro its just been like a dream. If at one hand I knew Shiva on the other hand I also knew Bharath. Or suddenly in the land of Deonar I found cherry blossom in the drhrt Aj avtaar;If Sam spoke about Quran Sharif I would wonder the concoction of Jihad and the passion in Tarique would reason it out. Very caring seniors or supersweet Juniors, it seems there was nobody who was bad, if there was one Taranga in class there was also one Prakash, if Father Paul had his plethora of knowledge so was Gulrez’s convictions and fire within that made life in Room no XI so exciting. (Well I am so sure I never thought it was so interesting while I sat there). The TPC CSR or envisioning and trying to build up SAHER. The madness during Mumbai Floods or the historic relief work during tsunami…every experience has been for lifetime and I have never for a moment felt stagnated! And the literal travel around India from Kanyakumari to Kashmir life was a roller coaster ride-till the Cancer attacked!

The city is my dream, after TISS I got my first job in a microfinance consultancy firm, and breathed the first cheque! It was my ticket o complete freedom! It was an interesting learning and of course the emotional attachment of the first job. And people there, boy the variation is indeed stunning. The shade card would often go undefined for lack of words. But I had quit thinking it was not what I wanted to do when Point of View came my way, Bishakha is a super boss to work with. Rukmini and Pratiksha are amazing colleagues and u don’t even feel like its work, it seems fun at its best!
Right from the late night films to sitting by bandstand or Nariman Point, to Totos, 80s, Shack or Mondy’s or the amazing eateries in the city where few of them are like second home kitchen.
I cannot ever imagine the kind of friends I have met in that city. I met my soulmate in Mumbai, someone who has made me redefine life. She is just too special for me and I know I do not need words anymore for her. Dumbhead whose passion towards his goals have inspired me time and again, Fukcr whose zeal to live life midst greys is phenomenal. Munzu- the loyal communist buddy. Soulmediamate who has been my fighting spirit; And the several others who I will define in detail in my autobiography sometime! Someone like Satish who is friend with all the wise thoughts; sweetheart Ruchi and a very warm friend in Ashish (I still can’t believe what I had heard about him even before I met him, I can laugh my head off about that.) or one Rajeev who is an absolute darling! Rajesh, with whom I can speak tons of nonsense and still make sense. I met someone like Arjun Ray, who is a virtual stranger to me n yet it seems that we have been bumchums. There was Tiktiki with whom I did spend hours by sea discussing every lesser mortal’s existence. And also in tit bits of life meeting every single person has been a delight, absolute delight!

And of course I cannot ever even put in words meeting the quirk est feeling in a Mumbai pub. I mean I dunno how we walked by the Worli sea face or Bandstand or even from On the Platter to TISS when any distance seemed less for us. The Lint chocolates wrapped in the sweet nothings and travelling all the way to tell me today ‘u made me run around for good two months by acting busy’, swthrt I swear I was pretty busy;), synthetic thoughts was the sweetest revelation. It was also another revelation of an old relationship suddenly going out of the window, and I still have not figured out why my closest confidante vanished into oblivion.
Anyways, Quirk is the most wonderful thing that happened to me, it’s like taming the wild sea. With him I have learnt to enjoy silence and serenity. As individuals we are very different; he is the complacent, matured and level headed one, I have always been more spontaneous, wild, mad house. I still do not know how I got there; I do not know what attracted me to him. I do not know how on earth I gave up my treasured singleton status! Well however much I want to blame Sam n Dembla for it, its just the quirky charm that I fell for. And look at me today, I am actually committed, I am actually not into man-management anymore and most importantly I am much contended. Also life in the metro has been so memorable because of him. The whole aspect of some crisis would be dealt better because he would b around. At the same time I have completely smelt and absorbed freedom because of him. I never thought I could manage certain things n my own but I did, just because I took it on my ego trip and ha to prove it to him! On the other hand I have to be feeling really triumphant about the fact that this guy understands the need for space (I guess I was overjoyed when I understood that he understands the concept of space) and also that he is not an MCP or a patriarch. Its weird that he is probably the only man other than TB with whom the man-woman equation has not occurred! We have also seen our share of sunrise, flamingo sky and crescent moon at the same time we have also dealt with mundane realities of dal chawaal, no money at the end of the month and bills.
The concept of being together has reached a very matured level. We have our own issues, mostly because of other people’s precedence in life at different points (and often people we cannot ignore) but I do not know how having him around just takes care of everything. It is quite something as a revelation but the finer feminine sensibilities in me have been actualized probably for the first time with Quirk. Sunrise since the morning in December 2005 is especially beautiful. Or maybe its beauty awed me because I witnessed it after a long time. I crave to absorb beauty every moment -- completely soak up the aesthetic and have it pulsate through my veins, I want to wake up to the softer dawn forever and begin life in the arms of a dreamy reality called Quirk!

Ya now I know what it means again! While I was weaving such dreams and it was tuning into fine holistic embroidery the bacteria attacked.
So now after trying to fight the real estate boom, the terrible traffic, the awesome combination of Page 3 parties and Campaigns in Dharavi or finally finding the job that is 110% satisfying, I am now having to deal with movers and packers, biopsy reports, Tata Memorial Cabins and worried family and friends. In every practical sense being at Home is the obvious thing but I do not have a date to come back to Mumbai, I will not have things to do lists every Monday mornings and weekends will not be a complete delight!
Ok lets be fair, I am hoping to strike a fair deal ----.

I-the Cancer Vixen (cv)- Hey I will abide by all that’s prescribed and instructed

Cancer Bacterium (cb)- So? Your life do whatevr you want, dun worry we will not kill you

Cv – you dun understand I am gonna leave Mumbai, n life is gonna become very dull

Cb- so? You should have thot about this earlier and not invited us

Cv- grrr…. I ddn invite you guys, comeon

Cb- well babe lets jus accept it, you were plaintively irresistible for us

Cv- u dun understand…. I am losing out on a lot of stuff in life

Cb- (breaks into cocky laughter) poor you, lets see what can be done!

Cv- dun ya worry, I wouldn’t give you guys so much of a liberty and will throw you out of your habitat today!

Cb- ya babe, lets hope for the best.

And thus the cancer vixen left Mumbai and all that made life in this metro soooo vry special. Series of medication, strong medicines, and almost no good food to eat is gonna be what her life will be all about but I am hoping that she gets to come back. And as for me, Love you Mumbai and see you soon darling, keep the heart beating, the trains running and lives living, till we meet again,soon.

20th June 2007
19.45 hrs.

Marriage on the Cards

2007-06-29T17:22:00.001+05:30

Some 38 friends, colleagues, etc are getting married this year, yup I know it’s going to be a rather eventful year. Boy, can’t get over it!
Jyotsna got married and I saw it as closely as I could.
My darling was happy and very prepared eventually for it. I loved the way she dealt with the whole zingbang and the never ending smile was a delight.
Amma and Uncle were too nice to be true and Gayu was the wonderkid!
Now what is it that took me a few steps away more from marriage? Of course the rituals were quite something and Brahminical and after the intensive argument with Madhu and Sam however I may agree for parents and other obligations we do it at several points of time we do abide by it but at what cost. Like in Tam Brahms the father of the bride washes the feet of the groom. It is because the groom was going away for Brahmacharya and he stopped him with the bait of marrying his daughter. So before the groom enters his social life again, it is with the concept of cleansing him. Logical, but why can’’t the groom do it on his own? And the bong ritual that I know of returning all that you have taken from your family by throwing puffed rice during vidaai. I mean if u really have to return it in cash n kind.
I guess I am just letting some steam out.
If I get to write on the marriage rituals that over centuries have created the trap for the woman and her side of the family one can have a paper written on it. Or maybe a thesis.
For now I hope to have a day when marriage truly symbolizes togetherness of two individuals and not the license to dominate women and imposing patriarchy or the license to have sex when it becomes socially acceptable.
As for me I still am happy considering a life of my own! Oh the potential prospect since I am already 24 and have all the so called attributes! Booohhhhh to the takers and a big middle finger to all the match makers and contenders, I am happily committed but single!

22nd May 2007
21. 37 hrs

Abortion….whose right?

2007-06-05T15:48:00.002+05:30

A sudden call post my most sober birthday this year left me numb! I had no inhibitions about anything at large I guess till I let the news sink in. ‘I do not how it happened….I missed my periods, kinda had a hunch something was not right, aby, I am pregnant.’ With my limited knowledge and the sense of sanity the obvious thing was ‘what r u waiting for? Abort the child!’ No, I was not coming from the angle of single woman, unwed mother. As much as I knew her, she was too preoccupied sorting her own life midst various questions of transitions; so getting another life to live midst the smoky march mayhem was out of question. And the ever important question of the resources of raising the child….where is that coming from? Love, care etc. etc. I understood. But not the equation of buying baby food and getting the child a comfortable childhood that most of us have had was not in the mathematical purview.

She did not wait for these explanations, she just said, ‘I have to go for my sonography….will you come along?’ Immediate question ‘that’s ok but the Man ran away?’ The self proclaimed believer of ‘I am the captain of my soul’ replied ‘no…he is a man, and though he knows and is being there, its in me aby, the faceless life is a lil more than a week, it’s a concept but a man is created in a way that he will not understand’. Well at that moment I could intellectually debate the concept of fatherhood and its importance and the whole cycle of nine months where the woman is bestowed to bear another life and that probably made men so insecure and the cycle of oppression of women started, I decided to be there by her. We went for the sonography…. I did not know the progression of technology to that extent where a few weeks old life is also visible. All done and the date of 17th March fixed for the abortion, we returned to our nests.
Later I found out the guy had not called all day to find out how she was. He assumed he could come back home and check on her, he candidly said he just did not find time. I thought probably that is why men never have had a womb!

I cannot even imagine the concept of unprotected sex. On principle I am not comfortable reaching the stage where I have to abort baby who is a fall out of passions of youthful time; and but sometimes some things just are not ideal. She brought to the foresight the millions of questions. And I almost lived through it with her, what overrode everything else was the guilt and aspect that she never thought she would abort a baby because it was a result of lust! I kept wondering how would be the feeling to know that there is life breathing inside you that will take shape to be a complete human being. How it must feel to know you can and are procreating! Like a novice I could only tell her ‘remember our summer vacations, we used to spend the long afternoons trying to get the first poetry right, or the first painting picture perfect? And the numerous papers, ink, colours we wasted to get exactly our imagination right in reality? Maybe it is something like that….She looked into nowhere and said…’I wish I could enjoy procreation because motherhood as I have heard is an experience that is life changing’. For about a week we struggled to get emotions in place. At several points I felt as if the silent voice was within me and not outside me, she was laughing and tears rolled down, it was most precious tears, she would wake up in the middle of the night, stare at the sky talk hours about the conflicts and practical considerations. For her it was a silent killing of a concept, midst the madness this film buff continued saying ‘Ray had ET as the concept, Spilberg created it, the concept did not die aby’. ’Here the concept is just dying when it even does not know what a concept is!’ Often these interactions left me speechless and I vowed to use contraceptives. Its not about not trusting the man you are with, it is about the concept whose inevitable death under such circumstances would scar me for life!

17th March 2007, at 11.30 we reached the clinic. The concept of comfort had almost vanished for her because of some emergency her doctor had to rush back to Chennai. So it was just another doctor doing her work! The two brave souls were waiting outside when one young guy came with his partner, made her sit and said ‘this is the solution to your problem n my peace’. It shook us up but what the heck….an interesting life with new experiences none the less. Oh lest I have forgotten to mention both of us buddies are too good at acting super cool babes!
She entered the clinic….the process….that I don’t want to recall. It was as much as I wriggled in pain; and I know some of it will remain forever.
In the evening I had called her….she was stoned, it was over and she just said ‘aby, the funeral is over but they will never sentence me, they will ask me to live through it’.
She wrote to her guy….’I am sorry we lost our baby’.
I wondered does it affect men, how and if it does how do they cope with it? Is it as big a loss as it was for her?
Don’t get me wrong I am not drawing sex differentials! I am just curious.
And if there is any one of u wondering about the anonymous ‘she’,lets say she was as good as Calvin’s Hobbes, my alterego!

20th March 2007
23:37 hrs.

The Tale of the matchbox

2007-06-05T15:47:00.002+05:30

A very old friend announced her separation. The irony is she always wanted to be a homemaker, wife and mother. And she did fit the role to the T. Spoke to her only to discover she has learnt the hard way to lead a life single and rocking. I guess I will have to be upfront and say that’s the spirit of celebrating womanhood, celebrating life. I was happy with her thoughts for her future, I was happy to know she was ready to rock, to face it with all her might. You have a long way to go buddy, dun give up!

Another old relationship is in town, I guess we were friends too! This dude is set to start a new chapter of his life Post the fame of Fame-X. Meeting him was fun, the old memories of living in oblivion and never understanding the complex aspects of mundane-ity. I guess we were too occupied with each other then to lend anything else an ear. But there was a sudden discomfort in him that’s troubling me….maybe too old to be forgotten, too new to explain. In the process when I realized I was basking in the glory of my today, he seemed all the more surprised. Well often quirky things tame the wild west wind.

Mumbai is the place to be! But exactly living without a home is a funny thing! It makes you feel vulnerable though shrouds the insecurities of being homeless, these days I come back to a space that is perhaps the most comforting zone but the sense of ownership is zero. It hurts the superego but compulsion is the mother of tolerance and I guess that’s the why for the other person lending the shoulder seems ok midst the clouds of ego. The good part about it ofcourse is understanding ways of life and operations, for future reference, just in case. But patience has never been good friends with me, so I really do not know till when can I hang in there, maybe till eternity….. Lost the thought, seems very complicated!

Met two well established independent women today, meeting over wine seems to be the way of life!
One lives in with her partner for the last 12 yrs and another one is too stylish to be 40 and gives all credit to being single. They seem to be very happy about life, about their freedom. I am allured again, not that I need to decide tomorrow but ya being freeeeeee has its temptations. When 31 friends are getting married this year, the good thing seems the double income that makes life so easy in a space called Mumbai, or maybe the security of being married but trust me….being legally single is just about perfect! The physical drive is not the reason to be married for sure, long live the flings I have lived when I was wild (ok dun read it wrong, I dnt miss it, or lets just say the one man has a plethora of temptations to offer;) ) How I wish I can still pass my life as perfect as my dream, when after a pack up I am swept off my feet into a Merc and I land up in a glass house on the mountain top overriding the sea and have a cosy evening with the someone I love living with followed by barbeque, some whisky and wine and friends making merry all this while.
Crossroads…yet again. How I wish the rhetorical question of what next had an answer and the matchboxes would not die young because it ran out of match sticks.

19th February 2007
21:33 hrs.

Holiday

2007-06-05T15:45:00.001+05:30

The long awaited Alumni meet got over, and it was quite a funny ending I must say…..How the few good men and women seemed to be caught up in their web, and how I expected that if I could keep off the neverending complexities for these few moments why cannot they do it? Expectations! Never have them, never live upto them, probably that makes life simple!
I had a rather nice time with the most controversial friendship, with Dumbhead. All we did was sit beside each other all through the night and listen to other people’s words. Myself and he had never been so peacefully connected. Also was the first big hug to desire, how I wish they reach the zenith of togetherness. It will do well to people like us. On the other hand I feel disconnected with the romantic relationship I have been through, do I know the reason, I guess I do and I also know I will brush it under the carpet. That’s why it is perhaps said, so much for love! Decided yet again to find solace on celluloid and landed up with Rajeev for Holiday!
The best thing that has happened in a long time, a complete feel good film that leads you to believe in love all over again. The characters of Amanda and Irish, well to divulge further, it restores faith in love. It felt like falling in love all over again. Also how similar circumstances are, how similar feelings are, how similar life-views are, I did connect with all of it. The best thing is perhaps to outdo complications. And living up to
expectations is the easiest thing to do. Gosh, talk about being self contradictory! The perfect life is ofcourse when you smile and cry at the same breathe; its about admiring the today and aspiring for a better tomorrow. Sounds quite teeny-minny, but trust me to say it, perfection lies within us, its just about how we find it.
A holiday that I gifted myself and ofcourse Rajeev was the fellow-rider who made it better!

13th Feb 2007
01:10 hrs.

I was not allowed to Be a Nobody…..

2007-06-05T15:44:00.001+05:30

It isn’t the best of times, for some reason I am looking for something that I do not know of, only hoping I will get the clue soon. My craving for space took me to the space where the Japanese Takio drum beats filled up senses of the universe. The need to communicate reached an epitome, but somehow the reconciliation of being in constant interaction with silence and voices it seemed a distant dream. Met up with two friends and the next day being an off, like the sweet surprise in midair (! :)) it was decided that I spend it on something more concrete. And as always the inox s and the Fame s is the perfect place. Only this time the film was set in Parzan’s fairyland, Parzania! Directed by Rahul Dholakia, the film stars Nasser( an all time favourite) and Sarika(what a comeback) and the bunch of the alternative actors in mainstream Hindi cinema. Set in 2002 post the Godhra riots the film was too real to be true. In a mohalla where Hindus and Muslims coexisted happily how the fangs of ugly side of Hindutva destroyed lives, buildings, dreams and memories. The story was direct and simple-The impact of a communal riot in Ahmedebad on a Parsi family. Midst the riot how a family loses their child and has not found him back. The child by the way was named Parzan. What strikes me the most in the film is its outright message. And it’s been five years since Godhra, we all know what happened, how meticulously the riot was planned. But still the perpetrators contest elections, and run campaigns like Vibrant Gujarat. The most amazing aspect is how power strategizes itself to play with the psyche of the masses. Till then they were leading normal lives. And the bone of contention is, the system that has perfectly adapted itself to the rulers. Irrespective of the knowledge of the process, the protectorates becomes the tool for the perpetrator to literally manufacture violence.

Slightly deviating from the film, its been five years since Godhra. Some 40 citizen’s report has been prepared and presented. There have been 17 chargesheets prepared for the case. 134 people have been accused in the process without any proof of their involvement, and most of them are Muslims. Maulana Umarji, the main accused as a terrorist used to be a maulana and was a part of the Shiv-Sena! And there are evidences of how statements are being forged, how the system itself is betting against all those challenging them about authenticity. The complete absence of reconciliation is amazing. There are evidences that cannot be clearer than prosecution of the perpetrators. The complete state of denial by the political stand is astounding. And there goes Narendra Modi, the star campaigner for Gujarat who in Harsh Mander’s words ‘reinforced his masculinity through Gujarat’. If one goes back in time, Godhra did not see the establishment of relief camps. There was no involvement of international agencies who come flocking for relief otherwise. And the whooping amount of Rs.19 crore given back to the Centre is a little detail we might have forgotten. Justice is a far cry! There is no acknowledgement that Godhra was the worst form of violation of Human Rights.

Coming back to Parzania, it is a true story. Apart from the little flaws like the fluttering of eyelids of the dead it was a tight script and detailed screenplay. But the Nasser religious journey was a little overplayed! The supporting characters have given a solid grounding and small little excerpts from chapters on humanity. As usual with all biases in place Nasser was wow, more than that I guess I was surprised with Sarika. The Ash of yesteryears it was almost a discovery to see her perform so beautifully.
Coming out of the theatre had to be with a heavy heart and the three youngsters got into a passionate discussion about how and why and what can we do to change it. The film has been banned in Gujarat and the whole fraternity expect a few of them kept mum. Its being said when Yash Chopra could not get to release Faana, you must be kidding if you want Parzania up there. However I realized the film had done something deep, I hated my identity as a Hindu. Though the Gita is as intellectually stimulating as the Quran Sharif but I found the baggage very heavy to carry. The BMC elections are around the corner and there were orange flags all over the city, keeping my fingers crossed.
How I wish I was allowed to be a nobody!

27th January 2007
02:43 hrs.

The Windmill Baby

2007-06-05T15:42:00.001+05:30

It was the story of the Black and the black who was loved by and loved the white. A rather interesting theatrical expression of Australian aboriginal culture was the production called Windmill Baby! It started with the depiction of simple pleasures of Life for £3.
The bonding of a family was too tempting through the testing times; you often would want to switch roles! And the spirit of Oneman, the disabled character, whose way of life was very new, very desirable. At the end when the black and white mating resulted to the procreation that was lost under the gamut of colors….it led me thinking deeply, what is the fault of the new life? It doesn’t even know about the color of life. I woke up to realize among those millions of things that we as people are fighting against color is one; that’s racism!….oh I am an Indian, my country sells more of the fairness cream than washing powder!
And before I forget Windmill Baby was a monologue and still I know about all the characters, as if they were neighbors.

20th Jan 2007
22:24 hrs.

The POT that Talks

2007-06-05T15:38:00.001+05:30

A friend invited us over on this amazing evening to the Gateway…..after a day’s work the only reason to get there was with the hope of something new, a new revelation. By the sea the ambience was perfectly set. As a part of the Mumbai festival there were Australian Pole dancers who would perform on the poles. The festival started with the Mumbai song by Shankar of SEL. Its weird…the city is where I have been for just 3 yrs, but there is something very very attractive, something that keeps one aspiring for more, for better. The space never sleeps; survival has a new meaning every day! I was myself pretty amazed the way I related to the city.

The performance started….the artistes went up the pole and then as rightly one says…it came out of nowhwere….as if out of the air, like magic.
The 45 mins that they performed on the pole captured everything one could feel in a moment, a day, or a lifetime.
The way the script built the performance was just regular, yet so real and true….probably that’s why it is said getting used to at pattern also has its own charm! They performed from happiness in fondness to love to heartbreak to jealousy, envy and coming back to where the heart belongs. I was astounded the way they performing up there made so much sense to someone 20 feet down. Midst the performance another snippet of the other side, as it was an open air performance, there were a bunch of kids who made their entrance in the performing arena quite nonchalantly. They moved all over often distracting the space and the mood. A few times that one could not stop them Divya just took the naughtiest one and made him sit on his lap, the others followed the sign of acceptance and found spaces in the front rows with the whose-who of Mumbai. Divya, was the festival director and this ‘not trying to make a point’ gesture of his, brought the true spirit of coexistence of extremes that symbolizes the city, together. Wow! The sight got better when as the ending note these children danced with the artistes midst hundreds of people. That’s really amalgamation of culture, of hearts and not to miss, the smiles on the faces of those less fortune, of those innocent little ones whose way of life is more uncertain than existence itself.

The performance had woken a few closed doors. Thanks to Tirtho, I found myself sitting at Nariman Point trying to discover life! (And I have come to realize I am obsessed with philosophizing!!! Certainly the Bong thing) and came up with something as strong as how certain individuals I know have had a very futile existence. Talk about being critical and upfront! For all that I gathered even Tirtho was taken aback. On the contrary as I was reliving the boon of field realities that I received the quirky call narrating experiences in a jaccuzi. Contrast never got better!
I traveled back home with oodles of memories and thoughts about voids.

16th January 2007
01:24 hrs

To Heaven and Back

2006-12-20T17:41:00.001+05:30

A small phase of life has changed so much of me as a person and has given me so much training that has seeped in never to let go of it and that phase is called TISS. From water to communities every door was opened and I was received with all the warmth. And most importantly have met some wonderful people whose being there has made the otherwise tough daily living a blessing.
Fukcr was in town and so was Lil princess and Etrnl friend. The soul-media-mate and the Dumbhd were also dressed in the aura of old times!
The 36 hours were very precious. After long did I laugh at the nothings! And the laughter would not stop.
It refined and there is enough reserve to sustain till the heaven opens its door again and we live our precious sweet nothings before the crude daily life dawns!
Love you guys and thanks for being there.

18th Dec. 2006,Mumbai

SUTIRTHO

2006-12-20T17:39:00.001+05:30

Presidency days brings back old memories,very colorful ones. The first step to understand ideologies, academicia and jargons….Socialism, Democratic left, New left. The frown to Capitalists and the isms attached to that and ofcourse the carefree life filled wit flavoured smoke an the transparent and semi transparent liquid made me feel that revolution was just around the corner and all one needs is Passion.
Met Sutirtho, an old friend from College, with whom I was not really friends. All I knew of him was a nice guy whose smile had a lot of warmth. Life has changed for both of us….I mean for all of us rather. He had been in Dehradun and dedicated himself to wildlife research. And therefore life has opened another new vista, has brought him to other crossroad called inane Reality.
By the sea it was some strange connection, our hearts in the field, midst people and the several life experiences, as if we sensed it all about one another’s profession.
And yes as rightly tirtho said when dearest friends complain about changing priorities, a relook to old monk in a new space is a refreshing delight.
Long live Red….and the Blue, Green, Yellow, Black, Grey……

14th Dec 2006,Mumbai

The third eye-Sexuality

2006-12-20T17:31:00.001+05:30

This piece was long pending. One would like to write about relationships-man-woman in a different context and names. Man-woman, woman-woman, man-man as being friends, soulmates etc.etc. but how much do we want to discover the sexuality beneath that? Sex is exciting, adventurous, discovery, curiosity but how many of us really look beyond male chauvinism and female oppression? This piece is my very own journey of discovering the other concepts of sexuality.
Theoretically! Academically! And there can be endless debates and discussions, their spaces and ideas changing with geographical boundaries, political atmosphere, economic boom and depression and of course convenience.

Sex workers have not been alien. Personally never had a bias for or against them; it was a profession like any other, people into it for their set of reasons. Back in Kolkata in Sonagachhi their stories have been a source of inspiration, their spirit of life had led to the formation of a new lifeview. And this time it was unfolding a new set of realities in a different boundary of geographical space, suddenly the Community Development seminar paper on Legalization of Prostitution seemed so naive.

It was the last day at this space which is VAMP’s space, the space for Sangram,the place where 1000s of Durgas and Pandus and Bhimvas have stopped sympathizing about their lives,they take pride in their own struggle. They fight for their rights, they are aware of their importance in the circle of reason, they live in Sangli, a district in Maharashtra like the ones who live here like the one who own the air, water, land.
The first day I came in here,their closeness with Divya (Divya Bhatia- Point of View’s consultant director for the Sangram Theatre Project)instilled a faith that they connect with our world beyond professional boundaries. Landing in Sangram was like any other field trip till I met the MSMs (Men having Sex with Men-not Gay/Homosexuals because that aspect of the alternative sexuality is far more privileged according to the MSMs.) It was quite uncomfortable. Rest of them was like us, just the difference in their realities and the difference in their profession and the way the mainstream society perceives them. As I said I did not have moral stands but meeting them at such close quarters, seeing them rehearse midst all the hustle and bustle, I took a look at my own self…..the complains of life seemed to have lost its own way.
From the 17th to the 21st of November passed by only to make me realize the mainstream women who are academically qualified or socialized in a different space are probably more victims of oppression or what we term as majboori. After a point of time we look for sympathy. We only would be independent to say ‘oh I am independent’, but the spirit of being free, the real independence lies I them whom we consider lesser mortals and have huge moral issues with.
I had read about Shabana in Bish’s edited work of Unzipped. Meeting her in person did not even seem she had a storm which she did withstand. Durga was another extremely intelligent woman. Her story was an evidence of her being really humane at the core. When she discovered she was HIV+ she told her maalak (the man who is a long and loyal customer to the sex worker, whom she considers to be the husband irrespective of his marital status in his life).Her maalak stood by for sometime but it did not work out for long.Durga is now a peer educator with Sangram and has been without a man for the last ten years.
Bhimva and Kamala Mausi were like these two sweetheart people who were like the agony aunts and really affectionate. Pardon if I am playing favourites but at small issues when it would show on my face their one liners ‘tension lene ka nehi, dene ka theek hai?’ would bring the smile back on my face.
Both of them are Gharwalis (the head mother who has girls working under her, she negotiates with the clients, with the police or the local goon or other nuisances). Their stories have been wild, living upto the respect of the word. I considered doing drugs or rave parties or sneaking out of the house at wee hours or the IC-SFI politics in college wild! And I guess that’s hardly wild in comparison.

Several others but Preeti has been the friend, she left studies in the 9th standard due to some physical ailment. She is not a dhandewali….Bhimva’s never even allowed he shadow to cast its eye on Preeti. She has been also harassed, so now stays in the other home. But what is commendable is Preeti’s daily life. Her day starts at 6 and ends around 1.Apart from the household humongous work she has her surrogate child (her brother’s youngest daughter to take care of.
It is theatre that brings them together, its their space to forget the worries of life, of dhanda, familial tiffs or the ordeals of not having condoms on the best earning time-the weekends.

The other bunch was the MSMs. My first interface with this group. Very vocal about themselves; complete stars, cannot forget their talents or their tantrums though! Pandu in my opinion is the best performer, he does outdo Aishwarya or Madhuri for anything for one Dola re. Bhausaheb’s voice is angelic or Mahesh the MSM who did the mehandi on my hands. Some intricacy, that comes only with dedication. But what I have not been able to discover is their inner selves, their stories, how do they feel about their bodies, their sexuality and identity? And how do they align themselves or run parallel to the mainstream? But yes, what excites me is their exuberance, their attitudes!
My second interface with the MSMs was in PSI in Mumbai. Dressed in complete filmi garb,they live life as per their rules. Two questions whose answers has led me to the unlearning of the concept of sexuality was when we asked them if they would be born again,what would be their sexual identity…men or women. While on one hand the question itself had a conceptual error of not including the third sex, one group’s answer that I wanna execute my rights on a woman, so want to be born s a man was unnerving whereas the other saying mind of a woman now lets have a body of hers as well let me thinking about how it might feel. One of them promptly answered that she wants to be born as a eunuch citing the attention she gets in being one.
The second question of whether it is right to touch a woman’s breast on the road, tease her and make a pass at her? One group vehemently said no, explained it as izzat ka ulanghan. The other individual’s answer that its right because ‘woh to meri chahat hai’ had shook me. The thin line between love, likings, lust and izzat ka ulanghan had hit me hard.
On further discussion with Bishakha, she explained that the alternative sexual preferences often look for acceptance and therefore emphasize on the physical display of affection and fondness.
And probably that also validated all of our insecurities with regular or alternative sexual preferences and our desperate desire to be accepted.
The phenomenon of a huge ego and a very low self esteem is contextual, often individual and finally ones own choice!

10th Dec 2006,Mumbai

a few Tears of Laughter

2006-10-22T17:29:00.002+05:30

One Friday night that was and that will live forever and probably will never happen again. I woke up to all new me. As if the existence was manifested that metamorphosed my senses and redefined my being. I had experienced it once more but the senses were more matured and aesthetic. It lead on to believe in the story of never dying love stories.....and the bliss of sense of belonging. At one level as I celebrate the integration of souls and realism s on the other hand I am also scared to be broken.Somehow I feel liberation in shackles.....

FULL CIRCLE.....yet Again

2006-10-18T15:46:00.001+05:30

How life takes a U-turn and u get back to where u started from, the Kolkata trip was very eventful, even before I took the flight….the scrutiny of my education, my independence and my intentions about one of my most beloved people was threatened. I don’t know how I came out but I am glad I could withstand the storm. Somewhere I agree it still has remnants but ya too little perhaps for a spirit like Life!
Going back to good old Kolkata has always been a pleasure. All said and done, the homecoming was as secure as it could get. Mom is always such a pleasure, every time the way she reignites the dampened enthusiasm and fills u with hope of confidence of a better tomorrow. Moonchai has grown up, new avenues opening up, new spirits and emotions. I figured I am very different with her. I am so protective and possessive about her that I can actually kill. It’s a different feeling and a good one too…..All I hope now is indomitable success for her!
Pujo was special, the changing priorities and friends and landscapes…..and suddenly how dear old Kolkata has become so important and a part of my existence. So much so that I made sure friends from Hyderabad also gets a lifeview of it.

Met some interesting people, The S factor in the LSE returned bohemian capitalized Socialist was rather a revelation. And also as much as discovering a lifelong friend in someone who came so close to make me open up, all thanks to Arup Bose. I am awed by his sensibilities…..and the fact that he is a man, his intricate understandings made me restore my faith even if the other two important men did let me down. I guess that is the reason that even if we lose faith life leads us to believe in all over again. Toxic Bachelor is lost in the wilderness of performing the balancing acts. But I truly pray that life never ever goes out of focus for him. Old school pals and their set of realities have also been so special, reinforced once again. I often feel guilty about Littlelight but the sad part is that he has given up on me, thanks to my fleeting existence.

Back to Mumbai was a different experience all together, change in paradigms maybe. And finally decided to give up on the buzz of business generation, was missing the edge of love, life and something that is driven with passion, thankfully things fell into place and I m on my way to build the new point of view. It was difficult, loyalties in question, hurt emotions, and all that surrounds the sentiments of the first job.
And at that juncture the lil princess tired in the highway came to good old Mumbai. A new innings for her as well, the big good old institution of marriage! Slightly insecure, about how things can change or will change with time and people. But on second thoughts how does it matter with distance for souls, they are beyond the obvious, they transcend boundaries!

There is the air of marriage all around. Really do not know How easy or Difficult is it to get there but at the same time it is a revelation, of responsibilities and being with someone through the mysteries of life….was wondering if it costs the loss of the wild, free spirit storming all over the sky….if it means my dreams of being a true bohemian will die an early death. But the best lesson and game in life is the balancing act, sometimes across mountains, sometimes in air….and to scale success it is important to climb a new peak everyday……will make sure that Life has new peaks and I climb every mountain with might.

13th October 2006,Mumbai,02:45 hrs

FaithFully Yours

2006-10-18T15:40:00.001+05:30

Too many thoughts and I am trying hard to put them all in a sync. The Hidden pearl lost her being and she thinks it’s the end of the road for her. Faith is a very complex phenomenon, when and as I bask in the deep slumber of breaking the trust stones with her the so called judgemental, religiousity personified who otherwise never gave into the floating dreamscape of life seems to be more than real or came straight from one of characters of fairyland, who u feel secure to sleep with midst the uncertainties. The big man today seems like god(if there s someone like that). And I can’t fight for my existence infront of the larger than life entity. But it is rather human to be addicted and therefore biased and even if the lil princess kills someone,I cant stop loving her. Here I know she intended all good, it just was not the right tie and space. But life seems to be ticking because of the faith and I still have the faith in goodness of civilization.
And probably from the ills of addiction and our inane faith in life we reach certain phases where it surpasses the scarcity of basics. There was this woman sitting by the road near the Nizamabad post office in rugged clothes, the lines on her face culd count beyond her age. She was supposedly there to beg and earn her living.But lost in her world of oblivion, she was choosing from her old collection of betel leaves, cleaning them to make them retain the freshness. And finally she decided to consume one of the not so good ones. Addiction is rather strange and today I felt it also a drive to face and fight poverty and live as per the rules laid by addiction.
Could not put thoughts into sync….as usual but am wondering if love of life and faith can restore all equations, if faith in rules laid by irrational bouts can keep us prosperous all our lives. If offerings of ones self to another individual is ever possible for a rebellious thoughts; wish there was the option of UNDO in life where sex,lies and videotapes dissolved in the lightness of being.

21st Sept 2006
Nizamabad,Andhra
09.20 hrs.

SeNse and SeNsiBilities

2006-10-18T15:25:00.001+05:30

Another note on maybe nothing and yet a lot of things. The other day at Ambedkar colony in Nizamabad I just chanced upon this girl, hardly 15 years old. I have always read about the blooming sexual sensations in a woman or a girl when she is turning into a woman. Personally, never have actually experienced it, considering the ‘Boys Don’t cry’ syndrome ruled my life.
Coming back to this girl, in her school uniform, wet unkempt hair she walks out of the lane, goes up the steps. The newly discovered rhythm in her body is very prominent. The language was subtle yet spoke volumes as she kept talking to someone.
Conscious of being watched she climbed down the stairs with accentuated movements. Her pushing forth of almost non-existent breasts twirled heads, the swinging of the hips made heads turn. The prominence of the curves over-ruled the senses of the passer-bys. I could not blame the curious eyes of the adolescent boys, I was myself attracted enough to get to writing all of this. And then she vanished altogether in the unknown lanes from where she appeared.
After a long time I realized that probably it takes lot more for a man to resist a woman. To my surprise I felt a little weird of having a woman’s body,and remembered all the times when I negated all the comments about being ‘sexy’ or ‘Hot’. It is an interesting insight can think or do think like a man and have come to know the exploits that a woman entails-even unconsciously.And probably to end with Quirk’s comments of ‘irresistible’ holds ground!
The bearings of being Bi-curious holds ground!

Nizamabad,Andhra
19TH Sept 2006
21.00 hrs.

Another NeW DesTiNation

2006-09-15T18:10:00.001+05:30

When I was getting my plans fixed for Hyderabad, Priyo Bondhu(Dear Friend)- the musical album from Anjan Datta, a well known Calcutta based singer, director and actor flashed across my mind. It said, “abar notun shahor, noton manush, noton jayega,…..majhe majhe nijeke khub sekorheen mone hoi” ( again yet another new city, new people, places….at times it feels I dun have roots)
But at the same time the bohemian, fleeting mind is always thirsty for it….the age old description that encompasses the deep feeling of conflicting considerations.
The arrival to Hyd was beautiful; the sun was setting across the Hussain Sagar Lake….parallels….the advent of the hidden pearl in my life. The calmness of the city and the historical whispers were interesting.
Anyways the challenges at work place seem to be coming through. I kind of like the energy of the office and the only goal is going back to Mumbai would be optimum self motivation. Going back to the field was equally good! People!!!!! Anyways I have to thank my colleague for the best south Indian lunch since the time I came back from B’s place. Met with this really really old neighbor. Years have flown in between but he still manages to irritate me as much. But the change of the worldview was a welcome change and I did let my confusions out for a while. And to my surprise sweetheart stories also saw the light of the night; I did not even know it existed!
Beyond the materialistic challenges the quirk conversation of life and afterlife was rather interesting that set me thinking, ‘what if the edge gives in and I fall into the deep blue sea?’ but the risk, love, lust, and excavating what is beyond the horizon, all of this appetite is the biggest drive….waiting to see how the future unfolds. And thus I hit the dance floor to let loose….

14TH Sept.2006
02:45 hrs.

Memoirs

2006-09-15T18:01:00.001+05:30

Life is new, everyday, every moment. As the explorer in me is always in quest for variations on the other hand, often going back to the past gives me an inexplicable satisfaction. Today was weird, as if I relieved the two most special years of TISS in three hours. Meeting P was strange, maybe because I wanted to pick up the thorn as comfortably numb-‘ness’ has ceased to exist. But long live the intensity and the undying love for Passionate Trust. Some things never die.
Waiting at the linking road Barista for Soul-media-mate, she is to be here in a few minutes, and the wait seems suddenly never ending, dying to see her! What I adore about life is the pleasant bunch of surprises that it offers in the form of these few individuals. The conversation with Precious was so fulfilling last nite. I almost envisioned the butterfly spreading it wings to fly off the cocoon. And glimpses of my lil princess added to the completeness of life.
The quirk part of the story was passionate, ventilation of lot of pent up emotions and a firmer foothold established on the rock. Maybe I want to see the beginning of the day with you.

9TH Sept.2006
14:00 hrs.

Coming BACK to LifE!

2006-09-15T17:55:00.001+05:30

Revival is something I have always enjoyed…..the end of one day and the night with the process of promise of the dawn….a new beginning.
Life has changed a lot….Kashmir made me grow up after comfortably numb became too uncomfortable for comfort. The place was just ecstatic….like I felt like the boundless boundaries that one could fly over..
About the mundane realities….got myself to earn bread and butter and then started missing the passion and dreams that I was to chase…..and now trying to recreate them and almost ready to take off.
Each frame is embedded in the mind….waiting the world to show the picture….of life that’s best described as random strokes on the bluegrey sky.
People who mean a lot are nearby yet far away and some has lost themselves in translation!
And with this grandeur of celebration where everyday is unfolding a new set of realities….I arise, awake, and shine…….

Sept 7th 2006

01:45 hrs

Up ThRE iN the SkY....

2006-09-15T17:49:00.001+05:30

One of those mad days when I was running with the fast pace of the commercial capital of the country, trying to fit myself with the struggle for survival and by the end of it all it was the lackadaisical old Calcuttan who decided against the lifeline of Mumbai, the trains. I settled for a luxury of the auto. At one of the signals there are always kids selling something or begging…..and in their hands did I see the Indian tricolor only to realize that the Independence Day celebration was nearing. Sad how we have forgotten the national day of attaining freedom in the quest of liberating ourselves!
Anyways refused the usual ones, and then suddenly the glitter of the innocent eyes caught my attention. It added to say a lot more when I discovered the smile on this little ones face. At a distance oblivious of the difficulties and challenges of survival the little soul seemed a lost angel. Couldn’t resist the temptation, of a tête-à-tête with innocence. She came close. The soiled hands, the tattered clothes….external identity ceased to matter….i could have just been with this four year old lil girl for the smell of old me, untouched by crude reality till time stopped.
And then the sudden bustle of traffic made me realize how special those few moments were. A smile that jus restored the feeling of a beautiful life. I got a flag from her,priced rupees 5 only. And thought about the last 23 yrs of independence. Its worth every moment of celebration.
I am glad about who I am….of what I have and what I am gonna be.
Happy Independence Day.

13th August 2006
00.45 hrs

LifE-liNe

2006-09-15T17:46:00.001+05:30

It’s been raining since morning, like one of those depressing days in the city that never stops. I woke up to remember the good old days of presidency college when chiro n myself would play mind games midst the torrential rains, it would rain so hard that the nearest vision would also be blurred. And now all of this seems such a distant past…..rush to work or else it’s an unpaid leave!
Had some other work in the the part of the city that’s called real Mumbai….Churchgate. I generally return by the Borivilli Fast but alas in the rush of time midst the swarming number of human faces jumped on to a Virar fast. Came back to work. Suddenly there was a rush of people from all around with the information of the series of cities in the city of Mumbai. Unnerved tried calling everyone I knew who travel by train. Couldn’t get through anyone who I knew was to travel by train…..could give anything to hear one word from them. Colleagues dropped me home. But someone screamed from inside….what did you do to save people’s lives….hundreds are dead, hundreds missing and you like million others will switch on the television for a breaking news? I still don’t know what was the guilt all about. All I know of is it was too overpowering for me to go all the way midst the chaos to Vile Parle. The road was blocked, hundreds of harrowed faces and the lost and diffident police force and flow of news with several versions. The woman nearby only said, ‘my son must have been dead, many have I just hope I find his body’. To tis I realized I had passed the way an hour before the tragedy happened….suddenly the otherwise not so important life seemed so precious. I had lost all courage and realized that its not so easy to just stand tall for all I know. I guess TISS had made me feel too much at home. The inadequacy of not having resources and the continuous ringing of the phone made me feel dizzy in the head…..unable to think thoughts and thus I returned back to the arms of familiarity. The night was terrible. The helplessness was killing….but proactive-ity was dead.
The dreams were familiar….the fall from the cliff, deep into the blue sea.
Indian Express-12th July 2006- Terror Tuesday.

July 13th 2006
00:48 hrs.

THTS ANOTHER STRANGER WHO SHARED GLANCES……will he walk away…or will he stay?

2006-09-15T17:42:00.001+05:30

U suddenly find in a chilly night in a Mumbai pub one guy sipping on to wine…all to himself, absorbing moments with random thoughts crossing his head…he shared a special secret with another stranger. It was strange and special how just he made sense midst all the newness around. And before making way for me to vanish in the lonely streets of the cosmopolitan city he jus put a word of concern that was touching. Time passed by and met the stranger midst all the madness that life could offer. Often meeting a stranger is liberating, the anonymity is too dear to let go. And then there were sparks, of life, of randomness and eccentricity. In the wilderness of the staring truth of my country he made the best of luxury. And when I returned to begin from no man’s land meeting the different yet the known him was a pleasure! I probably was done with exploring the various interesting men in life…..no on second thoughts the random-ness in the grounded persona made it so attractive….have walked a considerable way….don’t know till when will I do that but ya it is a very unique experience of being around this quirk feeling of being loved….for being cared for who u are and who u want to be!

May 29th 2006
02:45 hrs.

In Neverland

2006-09-15T17:36:00.001+05:30

Da Hitchikers drm was not finding the answer to Life,
the Universe and Everything.
It was...
to find a Friend with whom he could share a pan-galactic gargleblaster and
ponder the ultimate question...

March 30th 2006
11:36 hrs