December Musings & Happy 21st

Ah! these December evenings………the world shut out, and individuals wrapped in warm raiment, yet, feeling a blast of that master feeling; cold and numb, ah, how it nips and shrinks me! Dreams, perplexity, the faint moonlight, and the cold ghost of the sun, you cannot ask for a better month to be born under. I can’t thank you enough mom.

Mistake, me not, reader, for it isn’t my birthday today, I just happened to realize that I did not celebrate my 21st in this space, which is something ‘new’ that my profile has been screaming since a couple of weeks. O, yeah babes, welcome to the ‘twenty-something’ clan!


Ok, I hope I’m not advancing a paradox, when I say that, after an intervention of 21 years, one may have leave to love oneself, without the accusation of self-love? Nah, not narcissistic either; but it is very fantastical and contradictory in human nature that we should love ourselves above all the rest of the world, and yet never endure to be with ourselves! STRANGE! At 21, in a certain sense, I hope it may be said of me that I am a lover of my species. I can feel for all indifferently, but I cannot feel towards all equally. Can’t help it, 2005 has made me so! You know, at times, a trumpet does not more stun you by its loudness, than a whisper, which keeps teasing you, with its provoking inaudibility. Getting entangled in another man’s mind, even as you lose yourself in his grounds is a lot easier, but the need to get out of the frequent doses of his thoughts would reduce you to imbecility. Intimidation, the word spells horror!


Hey hi! So you are still reading this! You must be Jesus then!


Honestly, this post was intended to document my short-short trip to Delhi, and the reasons why I hate traveling so much, and why air-journeys suck big time! Gosh! Did you say claustrophobia? Sounds nice, but not nice enough for an experience, I prefer Indian Railways! Flying is only the last, and I suspect, the least interesting, of numerous methods of locomotion. O, yeah, I’m not “air-minded”………..standing on the earth, not rapt above the sky!


Well then, readers, since I’m hardly in a state of writing anything else, I better take your leave, for I need to lay hands on my midnight darlings………

Now Playing:: Do lafzon ki hai…………..Asha

p.s: what kind of a post is this?

Hum Tum

To all the people in love, this is a single woman requesting you to clap an extinguisher upon your ironical behavior, if you are unhappily blest with a vein of it! To begin with, spare me the lectures on those superior pleasures which you tell me I have lost by remaining as I am, for, if you do that again, I swear, nothing would be more disconcerting than to sit down, so to speak, before your disciple (self-proclaimed, that too), and then suddenly to receive his boot in the pit of your stomach. Boy! I so wish to do that some day!


Oh puhleeze I’m none of those jealous singles who puke at the sight of lovely couples, indeed what makes me mad is that they are, ‘too loving’. Not too loving neither: nah that does not explain my meaning. Besides, why should it offend me if they prefer one another to the rest of the world? Dear Reader, you might ask, “yaar tera problem kya hai?”, and sadly, I’ve arrived at that station in life where I can actually script an answer to that question and a hundred others which have been chasing one another for sometime now.


Nothing is to me more distasteful than the way people carry that predilection for each other, and they won’t even mind perking it up on the faces of us single people so shamelessly, that you cannot be in their company a moment without being made to feel that you are not the object of a similar predilection. And they’ll keep telling you in little speeches and looks that you are not a happy man/woman, the (lady/man)’s choice. Good god! When will these guys realize that it is enough that I know I am not, and I scarcely am in need of this perpetual reminding.


Yet another infirmity that comes into observation is the manner in which your friends treat you. It doesn’t come across in all occasions but in a tête-à-tête, there is no shuffling, and the truth is out. A few days back one of my very good friends happened to meet this guy who had a thing for me back in junior college. And boy! Didn’t he ask about me! Of course he did, and his queries were no different from the usual ones. Like, what’s she doing and whether she’s still single and blah blah blah. Readers, tell me how difficult is it to answer those questions if you know a person way too well? The first one is obvious and the second one is equally obvious, but nah my friend thought otherwise. There was no ‘yes’ or ‘no’ in my friend’s answer but a whole lot of crap like, “you know how she is”, and I bet each word in that sentence must’ve been stretched a tad too much. I wouldn’t have written this post had the reply been, “no she has none; nor wishes either.”


Anyway I don’t wish to write anymore, coz to enumerate them all would be a vain endeavor, and the world would continue to provide us with the uneasy feelings which we derive from knowing ourselves to be less the object of love and esteem with a fellow creature than some other person is!

Now Playing:: Beeti na bitaye raina………………..Parichay

p.s: hey this is what Gulzar says for this song

Pancham se ek parichay woh tha jisse main tees saal jiya hoon aur, bhar poor jiya hoon poori sargam ke saath. Sangeet ke toh sirf saat hi sur hain magar Pancham ki shaksiyat mein bepanah sur the aur saare ke saare hum ne ek saath jiye. Ab yeh ek aur parichay hai uski chup ka jo tabhi beetega jab main beet jaunga………

That Old Feeling!!

Ah! That old feeling!
Takes a flutter and then settles down again.
Comes creeping on, now halting,
Now whimpering and shivering,
Wrapped in patches of nebula
And rags of mist.
Ah! That old feeling!
At the first gasp of love’s latest breath,
The pulse failing and the eyes dancing,
Dying embers finding a new life,
And former love; dissolved.
Ah! That old feeling!
But, oh dear,
Life is such a muddle,
The will is so weak, and
The sensations fidgety…

Now Playing:: Tumne mujhe dekha…………Rafi

p.s:: No wonder, Burman is back on my playlist.

I am....

I am 21 and I have a university degree. My parents had christened me with a name when I was born but it has been a long time since it has ceased to be a part of my identity. The name no longer belongs to me. I am as cool and fashionable as any other global being. The gods, by giving the very faculty of discrimination have effectually sown the seed of envy in my bosom. I don’t need lectures on what’s good and what’s not, I carry a thinking head on my shoulders!! I don’t care what you say, I know god’s on my side, he’ll always love his lying angels better than a true man. I am a jihadi and I’ll kill till I breathe my last.


p.s. at a time when India is questioning its leaders and talking of security, I wonder how the collective forces of the world can dam the actions of people who, in spite of being capable of a healthy discrimination between good and bad, have motivated themselves to such an extent of mindless mayhem, where individuals are ‘choosing’ jihad and getting themselves trained just to kill fellow humans………..maybe the Coelhos, the Sharmas, and the Chopras of the world have an answer to this.

Foolish Impressions

We had been kids together; if not school mates then college mates (junior college I mean), and I always believed that these very early friendships seldom undergo any severe critical tests. We were bound to be dissimilar coz we did not share the same sex; while I kept chasing things foreign to my nature, he simply clung to the realities of life, yet the bond remained. Our correspondence insensibly grew sporadic but it never got lost; we would still turn up on each other’s birthdays, for an occasional movie, or just for old times sake. It was more or less an antique kinda bond that required dusting once in a while to make it look all new and shiny.


But now I find it difficult to explain, no actually its quite funny that I should be writing about it. No, no I didn’t realize all of a sudden that I’m in love with this guy; its no good trying to fool oneself about love. You cant fall into it like a soft job, without dirtying up your hands! It’s a queer mixture of awe and disgust that refuses to subside even two days after knowing the fact that my childhood buddy is no longer a virgin. Its strange that I should feel this way when I hardly have a thing for him, but its very difficult concealing or rather accepting that he’s a big man now. I wonder how parents feel when they see their kids take that huge leap towards adult hood??


I know it sounds crazy but all I now see in my friend is his manhood, he is no more that old buddy which he once used to be, or maybe he’s still the same and its just my ineptitude to look beyond, and accept that sex is indeed coeval with our lives, and at the mating age its effects are more obvious to society. Maybe its high time that I grow up, but how pleasant it is to look at the world with the open, hopeful, and astonished eyes of a child, until age begins to play its games….


And really I can think of nothing more to say, and I must bring this to an end…..but as I write, but as I write, the image of two entwined private bodies is beginning to sink deeper and deeper……


Now Playing:: Ay hairathe aashiqui………………Guru

Lights, Camera, Action

The body had gone on dressing and undressing itself, eating, drinking, holding books and floundering heavily into large chairs. The sun and the wind, the stars in their courses, had conspired together to produce a world of dirty monochrome, in which nothing could possibly happen, and I had weakly bowed to their decision with one grand exception. The Stage. I knew at once that my own moment had also arrived, but I was too much bewildered between breathless curiosity and surprise to be sure of it……but, I’ve had senses to perceive it!! The body beneath the spotlight!! The heart within the body beating against itself, a strange singing in the ears, and the body could scarcely stammer. If the time had run out, it would have left the body still at the height of its perplexities, I dare say, but it never did run out. A hundred hisses, the body thought it would hear, but lo! What, an encore? That was one time. The body has been now alone for a while, basking in the moments of private triumph, cold, and proud. It doesn’t matter if the clouds were piling up material for a Niagra, it still, was a “fine” morning!!

Now Playing:: You took my heart away............MLTR

Detached Thoughts on Books

Shall I be thought fantastical, if I confess, that I love to lose myself in other men’s minds. I cannot sit and think. Books do that for me. Period.

I should thank the Native for tearing me away from the growing fascinations of having a threesome with cough, cold, and cramp, and that my dear readers, I know, is a bad alliteration. Ahem! Ahem! So the Native and I decided to meet at the book fair, and hold your breath guys, was I walking with a Gulliver by my side, I mean my body had an additional cramp in the neck by the time I returned home. So much for ‘high-talking’!!

If you are a book lover from my city and you still haven’t visited the fair, then guys you just lost the chance of buying Shantaram for just a hundred. Yes, you heard me right, the ‘old books’ market just got better this time, the collection is absolutely seductive, and what more, it is cheap too. But, it turned out that the Native had a queer repulsion for second-hand books, and he kept buzzing in my ear, “god, how can you have something that had been in somebody else’s mouth”, (yeah, he actually said that), and he wouldn’t even let me read the blurb. “Dude, I’m not going to put these in my mouth, so it doesn’t matter, and I’ll have them anyway”, that seemed to settle things, and silence the ideologies of Mr.Native.

But how the old books speak of the thousand thumbs, that might have turned over their pages with delight!!- of the lone at hearts, whom they may have cheered, after a long day’s toil, when the person would have snatched an hour, and lost his or her mind within the front and back covers. I wouldn’t desire a book less soiled!! So much for my elitism!!

Having said that, the new ones certainly give a pleasure; of enjoying the very ‘feel’ of the paper, the smoothness or roughness of the covers, the look of the frontispiece, and the perfume of the paper drives one crazy. The fresh, white pages that no thumb has sullied, is a possible attraction and every reader is ready to take the plunge. Ah! Who wouldn’t fall for such seduction!! So much for my double standards indeed!!

In conclusion then: it doesn’t matter whether you read an old book or a new one, what matters is your magnanimity in reading and embracing all kinds of books. I bless my stars for a taste so secular, and so unexcluding.

Anyway I got The Catcher in the Rye, The Woodlanders, The Great Gatsby, and The City Of Joy, for just 275, and the Native, got only one, brand ‘new’ War and peace.

Now Playing:: Would you be happier……………..The Corrs

Phir Wohi Raat Hai

There are times when little phrases of a sonata can mean everything to a listener and there are times when it means nothing and is forgotten. Had I heard R D Burman any less, my mind might have become warped and rigid, as from want of space. Had I heard him too much, my thoughts would have exhausted upon too many points, and would thus have been so perplexed and harassed that its outcome would have hardly exceeded a negative value. My daily dosage of Burman couldn’t have been more accurate than what it has been for almost three years now.


It all began with this song, ‘phir wohi raat hai’. I remember somebody singing it, and there was something in the words and music which made me fall for it. That night there was a google search and the rest as they say is history. Over the years as I kept losing myself in some of RD’s finest compositions, the song that began it all paled into insignificance. Until today, when a chance tumbling into a long forgotten folder revealed this treasure. Harkening to it with eyes closed, brought back sensations similar to those originated a few years back. Its amazing that his compositions continue to affect me in the same degree and manner as they did on the first hearing. Maybe that is what is called as ‘magic’.


And it’s the growing power of the ‘magic’ which I fear the most. Therefore, I’ve decided to rest RD for a while, at least till I gather my scattered wits, which keep winding and turning and make me weary of following its mazy movements. Its time to give the earth little tilts and let the spotlight fall on songs which would check my imagination from sinking and floundering. Can there be a better choice than Shammi Kapoor then? Let the yahoooo begin……..


Now Playing:: Tumse acha kaun hai……………Rafi

If Tomorrow Comes

“I wish you could put me right.”

“I wish I could.”

“Why cant I make myself fall in love with you?”

“Maybe you don’t want to fall in love with me!”

“If I could only get myself to do it, that would be the thing for me…”

“But you never will…..are you drunk by the way?”

“Yeah maybe I am drunk, but tomorrow I’ll be sober…….but tomorrow you will still be you……and maybe, maybe, I’ll fall in love with you tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow? This hour seems fine to me.”

“No, lets just talk now. We’ll fall in love later.”

“I hope I’m not dreaming, but didn’t we have this conversation last night as well?”

“Life’s in a mad rush………..we can wake up later, as for now……just keep talking, we’ll fall in love tomorrow….”

“Yeah maybe…”


Now Playing:: Aaj kal paon zameen par…………….Lata

Papa Kehte Hain

As Indians we are expected to be either engineers or doctors, whichever is the entrance that we find easier to crack. It takes muscle and guts to sit for these exams, and I’ve grown old and wise and tired of these competitive exams. And, therefore, dear daddy, do not even try to invest in a lost cause; how could you even think that “I” could ever bell the CAT.


My dad has been upset ever since I refused to sit for the CAT, but what trebles his dissatisfaction is my complete lack of ambition. But, he can scarcely conceive how much two years of disappointment, study and anguish have worn me down. The constant need to live up to the expectations of a family that thrives on academic excellence has drained me of every speck of volition. Post twelfth I wasted two years of my life, running after things that I could never achieve, trying to prove things to people, and dad you probably have no clue, how many times I broke down when I couldn’t meet expectations. There couldn’t be a worse feeling than that. Maybe I am a “lost cause”.


Dad, please do not expect me to make up to the lost chances of the medical entrances by appearing for CAT, and quit drawing comparisons between me and bro. The same blood runs through both our veins, but he cannot be me and I cannot be him. You cant stop beaming about bro’s GRE scores, but did you even know that I’ve been topping every semester, and did you ever care to hear all those plaudits that wrung from a hundred hands just for me?? I suppose, I’m getting a little over-emphatic. There doesn’t seem much point in trying to explain everything, does there?


Graduating in Physics, spells suicide to you, but why is it so difficult for you to accept that I’ll still be there in the world of Newton and Einstein, where two and two make four and not five or six. When will you start respecting all professions even if they don’t get paid equally??


Dear dad, my spirit is broken and there is no way that I can raise myself from this delicious sloth. I’m too much in love with this charmed stagnation and that prohibits me from venturing into virgin lands. Maybe I’ll never do anything, and I’ll never amount to anything. I tried to give myself a personality as per your conditions and I failed and failed miserably. My ambition became confused and then faded. Still, I wont quit trying………not your way though!!


Now Playing:: Chotisi kahaani se…………Ijaazat

A Forgotten Tag

Finally, got the time to do this tag, and Native, I’ve made a few changes, hope you like them…..


1. How many posts-old blogger are you?
Well its sixty-eight on this one and four on my other blog so that makes me a seventy two posts old blogger! Woooo dat sounds like, retirement is due….

2. What’s the title of your first post? ( To be linked )
Hmm…my first post was actually quite pointless. Its called Am I a hypocrite?? *ahem ahem*

3.On a scale of 1-10, rate each of the bloggers on your blog-roll.
Oh! Puhleeze, I’m not a head mistress sitting with a cane in my hand, checking answer scripts, moreover I am a less advanced life form to even attempt to rate any one of them, so lets reduce the status of the question to “comments”.
Ok lets start with people whom I call ‘Apna City Bloggers’; indisch, Sir Charlemagne, dave, and abhishek

Indisch – the thing that holds your attention when you read his blog, is the kind of attitude that he throws in his writings, and of course the pointed brevity which scores so well with most readers. He gives an impression of a cynical individual but believe me he isn’t that morose as his writings indicate him to be.

Sir Charlemagne – honestly, I feel he should consider reviewing his blog name, for I’ve never come across, musings of a muddled mind being so irritatingly articulate. His poetry makes me envious; makes me wonder who his muse might be, and whenever he essays prose ( quite a rare phenomenon actually ), I simply go boy, kya likhta hai yaar!!

Dave – now, how do you expect a Segal fan to be? Here’s a guy who has no airs, believes that “all bloggers are good”, and honestly I haven’t seen anybody take a genuine interest in people as much as he does. The only vibe you get from his blog is positive and that’s enough to explain his popularity. Kudos to this blogger from my city!!

Abhishek – a strange guy with even stranger interests; holds on to some kind of a ‘past’, which he chooses to reveal in episodes. Hasn’t written much, but his love for this city can be very infectious!!
_________________________________

Anand – my first friend blogger, and believe me, he’s a writer in all respects. His posts never unhinge or weaken the mind, they charm and nourish it as only good books can. You have to just read his blog once to understand what I mean. But, there’s only one complaint…….he doesn’t write often!!

As far as BG and eM are concerned, well, their popularity speaks volumes, I’ve nothing to add.


4. Why do you blog?
I blog coz I do not know how to doss about on the net. It makes me sick at times, but once a blogger, you remain a blogger all your life.


5. Two reasons why one should never marry a blogger?
Hmm…..ok, coz it would be super devastating to read on your partners’s blog that he/she faked an orgasm the previous night, and that you weren’t good enough.
Moreover, passionate bloggers can leave you in the middle of the act, coz a blog-worthy thought has just made a foray into their minds, and it desperately needs to be indited.


6. Any blogging quirks?
I cant blog sans music.


7. One word that best describes the person who tagged you?
ELITE.


8. And you are tagging?
Sir Charlemagne and Dave.


Now Playing:: I breathe again……………….Adam Rickitt

One Year of Frisson

Someday around this time of the year a small virtual space was created and I became its owner, trying to puke words at some regular pace. Yet at that time I thought I was simply playing, that in the keeping of memories and writing up of experience I was expressing a non-existent side of myself. Still, I lacked the gall to speak my mind, and that thing about, “being true to oneself”, continues to elude me. FRISSON, became a product of my period in parenthesis, and how many of us actually care to read the things written in parenthesis. Well, I don’t!!

Honestly, there was never an urge to let the world know what I think; I like the warmth of the cocoon around me. However, the need to express gratitude to a person who has been the proof and touchstone of all my thoughts was immense; hence the blog and its strange attitude.

All the swindlers treading the earth are nothing when compared to the self-swindlers, and this space bubbles with such evidences. For some body who fancies fashionable phraseology, the truth remains buried in half-explained gestures and words, but the true purpose- seldom attained.

I hardly have any grand swelling theories to attract or to interest you deeply and thoroughly. This space certainly doesn’t define me and what you see here is merely a passing alter-ego. Even the fixed stars at first waver and coruscate, and require long seasons for their consummation and final settlement. I’m no different!!

Until then…..Happy Blogging!!

Now Playing:: Roz roz aankhon tale………….Asha & Amit kumar

Life Mein Kabhi Kabhi...

“ I feel I shall remember him to the last day of my life. He would haunt me perpetually. I am like a woman who has been falling in love unknown to herself, which she finds out when the man has left the lady forever.” Ah me! I thought they were high and great emotions.

Period.

Well readers, its just too difficult to document the reasons of my absence from this space and with a mind almost atrophied by the lack of use, things are getting too heavy to lift. Moreover, scattered wits do take a long time in picking up; and often, before I had got them together, they would get dispersed in all directions by some stray thoughts. You realize that a mind thus constructed is partially lame or torpid, with the sensations and infirmities all at rest. But, having said that, there’s also a queer feeling of happiness dwelling within for reasons probably known and unknown.

There were little twinges of panic too. Not the panic of being lost or lonely, but the sudden panic of being “complete”. I know, documentation of this kind is difficult to comprehend par kya karen, emotions and words do not hang together. Ah! Where can I find all those flutes and saxophones amidst the furniture of “words.”

Its strange that I should be in want of phrases to express, when “real” life doesn’t require any. Its probably those little smarting sensations in the brain which come when one has made peace with oneself ( though temporary ), and destroyed every vestige of past vanities.

Maybe, I’ve managed to return to this space as a healthier being.

Now Playing:: Deewana hua badal………..Rafi & Asha

Hard Times

Dear readers, this space will witness a quiet, lazy, and insipid existence for some weeks to come. The reasons though fully known to the owner of the space will not be stated for its sheer futility. The owner needs to settle certain scores and chances have to be taken if the owner wants to return to this space as a healthier being. Besides, too much teaching may disagree with the reader. It is apt to harden the heart, wearying the attention, and mortifying the self-love. Such disturbances of the system interfere with the digestion of the truth. In the mean time I’ve just one word for everybody connected with this space: Prosper.
Asha, chalo sing me a song now, this could be my last…


Now Playing:: Jaane kya baat hai………….Asha

p.s. the previous template did not go well with Frisson, hence its back in the old fashion.

Its Getting Vulgar!!

Its amazing how human beings have made use of “pain” to create that aura around themselves. Whatever they do gives us a slight shock- not the thrill which proceeds from a living being, but a jolt of disillusionment. Not the pain felt when the eyes have been pulled out and one is left with bleeding sockets. The pain I’m referring to is much sophisticated ( well people have made it so.) Precisely, the one following heart breaks, and the pain I’m talking about, is strictly limited to this category, not even the pain originating from the death of a loved one.


Its only human to feel pain but emotions when sufficiently repeated, become vulgar. I’ve been reading a very popular blog off late, you know, the one which attracts at least forty comments within minutes of posting. Now what makes this blogger so popular? Its obvious. Like Narayan, who once discovered his fictional town, stayed with it for life, so it is with this guy as well. Once he found his “pain”, he fell in love with it, and continues to drudge his muse to generate more of it!! Don’t even ask me to break the cherry on the URL, coz I wont. I may do that on gunpoint, however:)


The problem probably lies within me and in my curious antipathy to objects which are so pleasant to fellow beings. I wonder whether these are tendencies of a growing insensibility and a failure to respond to general impressions. Of course, its none of my business to comment on what people do in their personal spaces, but its too disheartening to see subtle things of life being converted into social habits. Slander me as a hypocrite, I wont mind, coz to a large extent I am one.


I, too have written about things which I highly despise now. Besides, facts themselves should disclose their own virtues. A person who is able to benefit by a lesson will, no doubt, discover it, under any husk or disguise, before it is stripped and laid bare-to the kernel. But does love, pain, and contentment need to be circumscribed by dress and fashion?


On a lighter note, if you wanta make it big in the virtual world, you know what to spend your thoughts on. You’ll be a magnet and people will be drawn to you like flies to a pig.

Now Playing:: Kya hua tera vaada…………..Rafi

A Few Good Men & A Mockingbird

Ever wondered what is it that makes a man fight? Fighting, not for desires selfish, but altruistic. Fighting for causes that he believes to be just, fighting for that lost order of humanity, fighting for everything else except himself!! A man, I suppose fights when he hopes, when he believes that he has a vision; a vision of order; a vision of harmony. When he feels strongly that he’s not on this earth by coincidence, and there is some connexion between himself and the earth that he treads upon.





It is a weighty matter for discussion, and one that can never end, and most will believe that it all turns upon an individual whim. Freud would’ve been able to throw some light on it but he’s dead and gone, so just settle with my interpretation. And why am I breathing this fudge of mine into your minds? I think things tend to get a bit idealistic after seeing A Few Good Men save a Mocking-bird.

Vatic in themes and men donning the black raiment to portray the loss of individual voices in the sea of human avarice and folly in its violence confused, do leave enough food for thought for both the viewers and readers respectively.



Now both the pieces are exceptionally well knitted courtroom dramas but “ To kill a Mockingbird ” does not abound with high sounding ciceronian phrases as A Few Good Men does, but both of them equally manage to strike the chord. Atticus Finch and Danielle Kaffee ( Tom Cruise ) become heroes of the legal profession; the former fighting for a colored man and the latter trying to live up to the expectations of a dead father.


Here’s a piece which was nominated by UN as the best Poem of 2006 - Written by an African Kid

When I born, I black
When I grow up, I black
When I go in Sun, I black
When I scared, I black
When I sick, I black
And when I die, I still black

And you white fellow
When you born, you pink
When you grow up, you white
When you go in sun, you red
When you cold, you blue
When you scared, you yellow
When you sick, you green
And when you die, you grey
And you calling me colored??







And do watch this.















And all the time I wanted to be among people with greater fears, but how could I negotiate about something whose value I didn’t know, and until then…



Now Playing:: Ek ajnabi haseena……………..Kishore Kumar

The Verso Beings

I gave them names and sex, even assigned them plausible gestures and made them act and behave as inconsistently as was possible. I even made them speak by the use of inverted commas and other punctuations, and I tried every possible trick in the trade to animate their existence in print. They did not come coldly to my mind. Neither were they mere products of a delirious excitement. They were clearly my alterego; a phase of life that I had left behind but occasionally re-visited for an estimate of amelioration.


We believe we can write our own stories, and every time we think “ this ” is the end, life makes us chase some of its glorious vicissitudes. In real life we cannot understand each other, except in a rough and ready way; neither complete clairvoyance nor complete confessional exists. We cannot reveal ourselves, even when we want to. Intimacy, the word spells horror. Period.


In this direction fiction is truer than reality, and homo fictus a lot better than homo sapiens. They become reflections of an inner self; offering instant indemnity to the dimness of certain moments and giving us an illusion of power over our thoughts.


This blog is largely functional because of that illusion and I prefer it that way. Believe me it feels great to pull the strings of somebody else’s life, no matter how fictional they might be. To be able to post people as babies, making them flinch, and making them find happiness amidst ruins is far better than self indulgence and it’s a known fact that there’s enough evidence beyond our experiences.


Such word masses as Stella, Maaya, Woh Chokri, and many other conversations became my verso beings!!


Now Playing:: Cloud 9…………..Bryan Adams

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

I was a component of the air,

I had never set my foot on the ground.

He pulled me down.

Revenge was inevitable.

I smiled.

A curl of sardonic humor hung on my lips.

I knew I was approaching amusement.

Into his eyes with what passion I looked!

A fleeting moment!

I lulled him into sleep.

Moments later he woke up,

And stared into my eyes.

Oh! He was looking for it!

I smirked.

And it was over.

Cold were my lips,

And even colder was my kiss.

Ask me, how it feels to look deep

Into the eyes of one who loves you,

And say, “ I don’t ”.

It feels like……..“ power. ”

Now playing:: Kahin to hogi...............Jaane Tu

Peeking Out of Our Wells

Relationships end. Stories end. The world ends. The pursuit continues. Then there’s the judgment day. Life comes a full circle, but alas it comes without any displacement. The pursuit begins again. We continue our entanglement in the gossamer ties of life; trying to give ourselves a raise out of our delicious sloth until a day when we go soggy at our knees and collapse with remorse. Crying for things “gained”. Weeping for a past that’s beyond correction and polishing our minds with the warmth of our ambitions for a future, which ironically works in installments!! And before we realize, folks around us begin to fall off like leaves fall off from trees in the first chill wind of autumn. We still cling to life; sweet and sticky on the outside, but all white, messy and disgusting on the inside. Life becomes a moment that gets extended and extended and extended.


Now Playing:: Doorie……………..Atif


p.s:: No reasons attached.
I wish to be among people with greater fears. Its always good to see like minded people peeking out of their wells and sharing their miseries in equal amounts.

The Final Soliloquy

“ You all know how enormously i bulk in your lives, in your neighborhood, in your cogitations, why, i even bulk in the books you read. I have enjoyed this quasi-divine status conferred on me for eons, but now the job’s getting monotonous, and i’m tired of being constantly occupied with human relationships. Either you people do not understand me, or i do not understand your expectations of me; and this my dear followers is no rhetoric. Ever since the time of creation, we have been badly mixing our perspectives; my endless readjustings to your ceaseless hunger, has to end at some point of time, and i fear that the crash is coming, and its coming soon. The warning signs are so clear and it is up to you to pick them up before its just too late!! ”

“ At times i pity your ignorance, because of the wide range of illusions that you attach to me, and one of them being, that i’ll be ‘ permanent ’. I can laugh out loud on that one, but unfortunately i cant laugh at myself. How can i ever be ‘ permanent ’, when all you living beings offer me is a world of shifting relationships, liable-to change; decisions, and you look at me for reassurance, and i try to balance your life, like a juggler for the sake of that illusion that you have so cleverly attached to me. But its difficult to accept that you guys have transformed me into a social habit. Probably, yet another measure on your part to ensure my permanency in your world!! ”


“ It pains me when i see most of you swooning for my cousin, instead of me. I hate the fact that we are relatives of a different order. I’ll be very brief and dry about him in the first place. Some years after you are born, certain changes take place within you and these changes lead to union with other human beings for the production of more human beings. That was supposed to be the sole function of my poor cousin and it was designed that you guys can gain an acquaintance with him only after you have satisfied ‘me’ in the first place; but over the years, tables have turned and my cousin has bullied me enough and usurped me of my high order. But i don’t care, for whatever you say or do, its me who will have the last word.”




“ I know i’m complicated, but you have made me so. When you are under my jurisdiction, you try to get something, and you also try to give something. Gosh! It is this double standards of you people that has made me selfish and altruistic at the same time. I was fated to pass slowly; creating those tingling sensations of happiness, and bringing to life that fourth dimension; the pursuit of which, has been there since creation. I hardly have the drive to provide further assistance to your pursuit and therefore i quit, and i quit in style. I’ll enjoy the spectacle of the world functioning without me.”




" Well, i’m that loser called……….Love."


Now Playing:: Is mod se jaati hai………………..Aandhi


p.s:: The side effects of reading the Love Story for the fifth time.

Bastard

“ You never talked about your dad? What does he do?”

“ I don’t have one.”

“ You mean he’s dead?”

“ No.”

“ So your parents are separated?”

“ I never had parents………..all i ever had, was, a mother….”

“ ohhh……you mean………you are a…….i mean…….god, how does it feel to be one without a father……..i mean……..you know, what the society calls people like you?”

“ How does it “feel” to be one? Just thank god that you are not like me……..my birth determined people’s attitude towards me………they’ll make sure that I die a bastard death……….”

______________________________________________--

Something for social justice, equality, and independence!!

If all the academic phraseology, and all the polite niceties of description and simile are sacrificed to plain speaking, then what does the society call a person, who does not have a father’s name? Bastard. That’s what he/she is referred to as. Nothing else matters. A person who is bastard by birth, remains a bastard through out life and even in death carries the appellation of a bastard. The word sums his/her life, rendering his condition no better than a cripple; at times even worse. He exhausts his life under the shadow of a father, who was never there; yet forms an indelible part of his personality; a name, which belongs to him, but he cannot ask for it……he isn’t legitimate enough!!


We never question our birth, coz we always had a “ father ” around us. Being born and dieing are common phenomenon for us, coz we belong to the “ legitimate ” clan of the society. But why bother to talk about bastards; we have no time for these “ misfits ”: we have other things to do, things that will please us a lot more, says the world. But we do find time, to taunt them by a mock show of sympathy, coz a legitimate can never empathize with an illegitimate. But acceptance is a feat in itself.


The world has progressed. However, our justice, after thousands of years of striving to create justice among ourselves, still remains childishly primitive. We are trained to defend and prosecute, to juggle with words and distort facts, as the conventional morality defines things in our lives.


And after all is said and done, what shall set the seal of justification on the actions, urges and lives of these “ misfits ” ? Is it lineage alone which determines our attitude towards them?


But are not bastards born out of love?


Now Playing:: Mera kuch saaman……………Ijaazat

Her Seance, His Sojourn

He: “ Nothing seems to have changed over here…………….its still the same.”


She: “ Some things and nature never change, dear.”


He: “ Yeah….it has been a long time, since my…………”


She: “ How does it matter now? You had a hunger for eternity.”


He: “ It must have been painful for you………..but, I never actually saw you cry…”


She: “ It seemed to me that you long had been on the confines of the next world. I grieved then that I could not grieve, infact…………..i seem to love the house you died at more passionately, than when you lived……..”


He: “ So it was good riddance for you?”


She: “ I had to retaliate. You were selfish enough to leave me behind……….how could i let you win the race……….you are therefore, still here………no matter how cold you seem to touch……..that was my way of having the last laugh…”


He: “ Last laugh?? Stop kidding!! That’s quite an excuse for running away from reality.”


She: “ Whatever.”


He: “ But whats the point in clinging to this relationship……….clinging to a non entity; physically and emotionally unavailable?”


She: “ You know what………at times a relationship is more marvelous than the people involved in it……..”


He: “ Oh, just cut that crap……..you think, you can pass through the world without ever colliding with it………..life is not a spectacle!!”


She: “ Well, life to me is just a spectacle, which…….thanks to you, is now more beautiful and heartening than it has ever been before………I’m fated to pass this way……”


He: “ Then why don’t you join me……….i’m already ahead of you in this race…”


She: “ I will, in due time……….”


Now Playing: Thandi hawa kaali ghata…………..Mr&Mrs 55

Maaya

It was drizzling; a drizzle where individual drops have their own stories to tell. The breeze; fresh and damp; making the drizzle dance to its tune, compelled her heart to recover itself in the interval, and rise and sound like music played to a happy tune. She smiled, coz she knew that she had finally made peace with herself; an act, that had stretched itself to an unconscionable length of time. She had learnt to forgive herself!!

There was still a leaning towards him, but the true relishing was over, the close familiar friendship; dissolved. But, oh, she wanted to cry; one last time. She tried but, couldnt. She shouted, she screamed. Nothing reached her ears; except a fresh shower of rain coming. The pain remained. Unreleased. The nameless pain from which one feels there can be no way out, other than absolute despair.


In an agony of emotion, she found her way mechanically into the adjoining room, and fell on her knees by the side of his bed. She knew she could never move on. Thinking of a thought, without an ineffectual turning and reference to him was unattainable. It was clear, she thought, that it was love for a real person, however transient it may have been.


" Acknowledgement of her own feelings ", was the only indemnity that she could offer to her grieving heart. Images of the past exceeded beyond, memories................reminding her of what they had been, and seemed to offer a surer ground for resting on..................than the things which were there today and maybe gone tomorrow...........


Now Playing:: Katra katra...................Ijaazat

In Reply...

I think we are stretching this discussion regarding the credibility of the secret a little beyond the purlieu of its resistance, but ours is a free country, and each one of us is equally free to voice his/her opinions. Now, Miss Abhu, your contribution in the previous post was highly welcome, but it would have been much better if you could pick up that unwritten corollary. It isnt your fault; my apparatus for communication was totally dis-functional over there, so this post is entirely for you. To be taken in the right spirit!!


To begin with; i have no problem with the law whatsoever; but the fact that it hoodwinks the believer or the general public for that matter cannot be ruled out. Ok, so it stresses on how badly you want your wish to come true. Lets suppose that you wished for something, you asked for it, and followed the other rules to make it come true. And Bingo!! it does come true!! So its now certified that you wanted that thing too badly; you deserved it, and therefore the whole of the universe conspired in arranging that one for you.


Now you say that all of us follow the law of attraction unconsciously. If that is true, then how would you explain the hungry stomachs with which most people sleep every night?? You cannot deny the fact that a hungry man's need for food is more intense than anything else on this earth. He keeps asking for it all the time, then why doesnt the law of attraction work for him?? Or does it work only for people who are clever enough to put their wishes in writing and go around thanking the universe even before the wish is materialized??


Then would you deny accepting this fact that, " nothing can bring happiness in you; except you. " But dnt you think that by following this law, you are actually conditioning your happiness?? The moment you start wishing, you also start that process of conditioning, not realising that happiness lies within; those wishes can just add to that happiness, however they cannot initiate the feeling.


The law then says that all you have to do is, " just make a wish ". Then its the job of the universe to bring that thing to you. Well life couldnt have been much easier, isnt it?? Doesnt it sound to be perfect chicanery? Whatever happened to the age old concept of hard work and success being directly proportional to each other?? But then who would you like to share your success with; an unseen force that granted your wish, or your own sweat?? Would you be bold enough to accept that the universe is responsible for all your success, while your effort was almost negligible, coz all you did was a mere " wish "??


Now this is where Illusions scores a perfect 10. It says

" You are never given a wish
without also the power to
make it come true.
You may have to work for it however!! ''


Life is not all about following laws, and attracting things; its all about making choices. Its about trusting that if we work hard at finding solutions to our problems, then things will turn out for the best. Wat say??

Now Playing:: Mitwa..........................KANK

Ek Packet Umeed

Read this post on Dave's blog and that got me thinking. I wont blame you if you fail to understand, coz it sure is a muddled construction, or maybe my apparatus for communication is not attuned with your apparatus for reception. Now before you start scrolling, make sure you've read his post, coz i'm too lazy to divulge details, and in the absence of details this post is total junk!!


Now, all of us have heard about the Law of Attraction; not as in between the sexes, but attraction between the animate and the inanimate, animate and animate, and the inanimate and its counterpart. Our unconscious intervention ( at times consciously as well ) with the universe attracts and creates everything thats happening in our lives. This is the pivot around which the Secret seems to revolve. The secret says that, one can pull his dreams into tangible reality, by simply asking for it...........its just a " wish " away........


Its more like offering a packet of hope. The concept says believing is everything. But believing in the concept itself brings us to the acceptance of the fact that an increasing number of people seek happiness, which is based on conditions. The concept may or may not work, depending upon the intensity of fulfillment of your said wish. You feel better if it works, but it does have the power to mess with your mind, if it doesnt. Nobody likes doubting or reviewing his/her aims and ambitions, just coz of the failure of one concept; which seems to be coincidence anyway. How can there ever be a short cut to success? But, unfortunately there are enough buyers and sellers!!



The concept looked so accessible the first time i read about it. I tried. It worked as well. But somewhere down the road i was reduced to the status of a beggar, looking towards the universe to fix things and bail me out of situations uncalled. But is it not a pleasure to make mistakes and learn from them, how else are human beings expected to evolve!


The Universe functions in a strange manner, and the human mind needs the aid of a lot of judicious practices, to stretch the ordinary into the cosmic, and pull the ethereal down to the tangible.

Maybe the concept isnt that absurd as it sounds to be, and as the saying goes, " Never deprive someone of hope. It maybe all they have. " Believe me guys all self help books swear by that formula!!

Now Playing:: Kitni narmi se.....................Dil jo bhi kahey

A Rose for Pooja

How can a young sheath, whose coleoptile is broken, even nurture the dream of blossoming again? What makes it embrace the cold and uncaring Nature; yet making enough room for the dew-drops to create a spectacle for the rustic onlookers? What makes it wait for the Spring? Why this intolerable disinclination to perishing?







I'll rest my poetic faculties for a while, lest the reader might skip it as " poetic junk ". Well, Pooja paaen phoola tiye; A Rose for Pooja; the national award winning Oriya film, is probably the classic example of a kind of transformation, that a film undergoes when, 'a poet enters the studio.' The movie is too ordinary in all aspects, yet manages to strike a visceral note; making us believe that all it takes, is little acts of love to make the world a better place to live in. Its quite paradoxical that kids, often with their quasi-understanding of the world help the adults in understanding the larger truths of life. Maybe thats why people like little children; till they grow up and acquire adult habits of thought and ability to lie, cheat and be dirty.




Pooja, a 13 year old, is compelled to learn a bit early in her life that the world has its dangerous places and barren deserts; and though the world seems to be at a loss to offer her anything substantial, she never ceases to embrace life with all its adversities; deriving all her strength from the unsullied love of her younger friend, Mickey. Though denied of an education ( courtesy the inevitable vamp character ), thoughts and images stole in from other quarters; and Pooja's mind was essentially quick and productive. Nothing lay barren in it; and much of what was planted there, grew, and spread, and became beautiful.




The movie, was a commercial disaster. Who cares to view the world from a child's eyes?


Now Playing:: Saanjh dhale...........................Utsav


p.s:: I wonder if i can ever have a beautiful and innocent daughter as Adyasha ( the girl who played the role of Pooja )?

Woh Chokri!!

Her grief was quiet. She made no show of it; yet suffered more than it could be shown by clamorous sobs or frantic words. The sorrow had subsided; the pain lived on; Life didnt exhaust itself in the usual manner. Everything seemed to be quiet and still around her. She had no defiant air, no affectation, nor too extravagant a display of sadness. She saw the thing in her hand; justified her stance to nobody; her reasoning always rose and streamed through the heart. It is said that a woman rises or falls with the arm on which she leans. The arm on which she had leaned upon, failed to keep its elevation; faithful and firm throughout life. Her thoughts turned backward; head running upon her, in her madness, as much almost as on another person, who was the more immediate cause of her frenzy. Nothing could divert her from him, for the thought of him never left her alone. The thing in her hand shone brightly. She saw her act, as she saw all other things of the past; a touching association of thoughts and feelings. The deed was past recall now, and the time of its commission had been utterly beyond her control. She had no regrets. All she could see now, was her dear old friend, with his outstretched hand, and his grave, sweet smile of welcome. That was substantially, her life. Her actions, thoughts, and sufferings were all concentered on this one important end.


Now Playing:: Aapki aankhon mein........................Lata & Kishore

Tagged!!!

Well, Dave D' Author has tagged me!! Methinks tags are a nice way of sneaking a few extra breaths for your virtual space, and boy, dnt they come quite handy when your creativity gives you a major slip!!

So here are the rules from the Rule Book:

1. Type your answer for each of the questions into Flickr search.


2. Using only the 1st page of the results, choose one random image.
   
3. Copy and paste the URLs of each of the images into Big Huge Lab's Mosaic Maker to create a mosaic of the chosen pictures.

Well these are not Physics questions, so every pappu is expected to pass:)

What is your first name?
What is your favorite food right now?
Which high school did you attend?
Which is your favorite color?
Who is your celebrity crush?
What is your favorite drink?
What is your dream vacation?
What is your favorite dessert?
What do you want to be when you grow up?
What do you love most in life?
What is one word that describes you?
What is your user name?


And here's my answer script: ( quite predictable )

And i'm re-tagging the Id ka chaand of my blog-roll, Anand.

Now Playing:: kahin na jaa............................Lata & Kishore

" Let's make hay, while the women fight." Its a Man's world

A " respectable " fifty-five year old woman kept screaming into the microphone, " prostitution should be banned ", and women engaged in the flesh trade; driven out of the society, considering the number of homes, and relationships that have gone kaput because of these " notorious creatures !! ". The peroration however, seemed to have been rehearsed for over a thousand times, for the sheer intensity with which the words, " a woman is a woman's worst enemy " were mouthed, it ended up giving me a plenty of goose bumps !!


The tiny hall errupted into a riot of applause. A few, " well said madam " and pointless congratulations hung heavily in the air. The women folk transformed her into a kind of totemic mother, and the few men who constituted the clique, were more than happy to inch closer and offer their niceties, and all the while sneaking a look at the cleavage of her over generous bosom, blazing beneath the thin drape of her black saree.


Oh no no, she wasnt a slut!! She certainly belonged to the respectable stratas of human society, who seem to have a pre-concieved notion by which they gauge the degrees of goodness and degrees of evils in the society. She showed men around her enough, to think that she had good stuff coming up, but didnt show things that would make them pounce upon her. She obviously is not a slut!! She cannot be a slut!!


Looking beyond her sartorial decollete, she appeared to be a mere representative of the Conventional Morality, who would stand on roof tops and yell, " you have done wrong, and in the larger interest of the society, we the custodians of culture, must punish you. And if we cannot then God will. "


It almost seems to be an auto-suggestive idea that God will always be there on their side. Why on earth would God risk swapping sides with a woman who sells her body every night, lets men rip off of her insides in exchange of a few spondulicks?? naah.............God isnt foolish enough to do that, after all isnt the image of God concieved to be that of a Man??


No woman is a born prostitute. But a woman who beds different men every night.................is she that bad?? Her ways may offend the unwritten corollary of the society, and the Conventional Morality, but then who the hell are these people to pass opinions and judgements, on how a woman chooses to earn money? who knows what circumstances drove her into this trade, every woman has her own reasons.


But why blame the woman? Why is she able to sell her body? The answer is quite obvious. Because there are plenty of " respectable " men, married men, fathers of families, all ready with cash in hand to buy a night with that body called " woman ". The Man doesnt seem to realise that everytime he penetrates her, he's actually making incisions on her already bruised and withered soul, but these " notorious creatures " ( according to that respectable woman ), are not meant to possess anything similar to that of a soul. She is not supposed to " feel".



Men will continue to enjoy their status of penetrators, as long as the virtuous and " respectable " women around the world make them believe that women indeed are the " notorious creatures " on earth. There's hardly any doubt that a woman is a woman's worst enemy, coz she would rehearse a thousand times to successfully cast aspersions on creatures of her own sex!!


Now Playing:: Jaane woh kaise......................Pyaasa ( 1957 )

Midnight Musings of a Poltroon!!

Its not everyday that you wake up to find folks around you packing off things in a hurry, as if the house is on fire. One of your feet is still in the droopy realms of sleep and you are convincingly playing possum, when the explosion takes place!! Your folks seem to be blabbering about the death of some kinswoman, so distant, that you kinda get lost in your own family branches. And before you even make an attempt to figure out the particular branch the kinswoman once seemed to have perched upon, your folks have already bid adieu. When you are still wondering about the celerity of time, the gravity of the whole situation incarcerates your consciousness and the tension breaks into a cold sweat!!!

...................................................................


All day long, i thought mom and dad were trying to pull my leg, with all that prossy talk about their not returning tonight. I was sure they would be home atleast by 10, till of course, mom confirmed on the phone that there aren't any trains from that god forbidden village once evening sets in. Its five minutes past midnight now, and my Self has become so wearisome, i almost wish i was dead!!


The house is drowned in a spooky silence since the past sixty minutes. Every faint sound seems to be magnified and resonated giving rise to black imagings, but i'm thankful to Edison; not a single light would be doused tonight. The doors and windows have been bolted and double checked. Even at home, i sit as if in a camp, encompassed by a hostile army of doubts, and despising myself for being such a poltroon.


I never knew i was so scared of staying alone, especially in the nights. The day time doesnt pose much of a problem, considering the intercourse that one has with creatures around him, but nights are made of a different fabric! My imagination is on an all time high tonight. Just a little while ago, i fixed myself near the window and tried to think of something cheerful. If ever you are alone, dnt even make an attempt to kill time by looking at the garden, coz the trees have a strange way of coming alive in the night. The eerie sough seemed to whisper something to me, and shadows resembling a poltergeist, was trying to tell about strange things that were on its mind but, could not make itself understood!! And the window remains closed for the rest of the night.



I tried to find some company through g-talk n Y-msngr, but none seemed to be a part of the green revolution. The cell phone ceases to be much of a company especially when you are single and books tend to become somnolents. So all you have with yourself on these strange nights, is music and your own thoughts to help you navigate through. I'm not sure if i can atleast grab a forty winks, but i trust caffeine and chocolate to keep me awake all night. I just hope i dnt succumb to some cardiac arrest, coz i'm dead scared!!

Phir milenge agar zinda rahi toh!!

Now Playing:: Broken glass............................Likin park

p.s:: wow guys this is my 50th post!!

My First Movie Review

Ok, Aamir Khan produces the movie, Rahman composes the music and the movie wins half the battle even before it hits the screens. Now enter, Imran Khan who almost looks like an angrez and makes the gals all over the country moon and swoon for him. And then there's perfect figure, perfect smile; Genelia, who every other guy wants to get naughty with!! And that is what Jaane tu ya jaane na is all about; one wonders whatever happened to the story!! For Heaven's sake give me a story, guys!! The director/writer offers a mere muddled construction of his imagination, and the poor viewer is left to discern his own conclusion, whether the movie was supposed to be a romantic one, a comic one, or a poor combination of both!!

The movie is doing good business courtesy its self-proclaimed "freshness ", but apart from that it looks as if it was made in a hurry, almost at gun-point!! The humor at most of the places looks forced, not the kind, that would induce a savage laugh but people still continued to laugh for reasons unknown to me!! Maybe i am the one who really has some problem, but i cant compel myself to laugh at an inferior humorist or wit!! The only places where i managed to laugh was when Naseer dictates the criteria, fulfilling which, a man of his family would be conferred with the status of a true mard!! Ratna Pathak Shah was superbly convincing in the role of Jai's ( Imran ) mother, but i was concentrating too much on Anuradha Patel, who plays Aditi's mother. Anybody who has seen Ijaazat and identified with the character of Maya, cant help but develop a massive all time crush on her.

Now, Jaane tu, is the story of a friendship which metamorphosizes into love. But, there's hardly a scene in the movie where the protagonists are actually found to be conversing. They seem to realise that they love each other, through interaction with other characters. One doesnt realise that he/she is in love with his/her friend all of a sudden. I waited through out the movie for Jai and Aditi to actually talk, instead Aditi ends up talking with her bro and Jai with Meghana.

A very thin line of demarcation exists between love and friendship, not complementing each other, but being relative to each other. Unfortunately the movie fails to explore this one, riveting its focus and attention to cater to the needs of the audience. The ending is hokey and way too irrational and illogical to even concieve. Imran is good but Genelia is found over acting in some of the scenes, Manjari fairs much better though.

But then, movies are meant to be watched and forgotten. All art at some point of time does divorce the logical, and its all a matter of individual tastes and preferences!!

Now Playing:: Tere bina zindagi se shikwa...............Aandhi

Midnight Confabulation

Sagar continued to play and sing ' tumse juda ho kar ', on the guitar. I was in a waking dream, thousand miles away from my surroundings. It was some ten minutes past midnight. When the rest of the world was busy dreaming dreams, me and my cousin were trying to kill time, courtesy the service provider's 'free' scheme. It was probably designed for nocturnal insomniacs like us!!


I was looking at a spot in the darkness. I was thinking something else. He was talking of everything on earth except what he really wanted to talk about. Communication between us was soon reduced to zero, like one of those odd silences which sometimes fall amidst conversations. Something seemed to disturb him, but he was making all efforts to restrain himself from opening up. As a good, ideal sister, i was supposed to sense his discomfiture, and broach the tenor of his uneasiness!! But i was too pre-occupied with my own thoughts to pay any attention to what he was trying to say at 12 in the night!! But, then there was this sudden ejaculation on his part which kinda brought me back to my senses!!


" Are you actually listening, or are you simply trying to show that you are listening?? I very well know that you arent, but atleast stop pouring your good for nothing, "yes & no's "!! Why is it so difficult for people to just "listen"?? " The call gets disconnected!!


I obviously didnt know how to react, and abreactions are better than no reactions at all. They hardly serve the purpose. Now what happened was this. During the course of our conversation ( or rather his talking ), there were moments where i was supposed to say a 'yes', but offered an indifferent 'no', and vice versa, with out fully understanding his question. It was more than enough to fan those flames of annoyance in him, and helped me review my fluid intelligence quotient, which remains an eternal negative.


Now most of us, given the hint of even a mildly sympathetic audience, will hardly leave a stone unturned, to talk about ourselves, take them into our confidence, and make all efforts to disclose our wisdom, sorrows, our follies, and never getting tired of breathing our fudge into their minds. But we seldom remain the same when we play the role of an audience!!


Of course one absent minded night, does not necessarily dis-credit me as a bad listener, but my complete ineptitude at offering words of consolation, when they are needed the most, does bring in those feelings of contrition which can hardly be fought with cold logic. Listening is an art in itself. Isnt life all about listening?? We listen to people, people listen to us. But, love grows when we listen without opinions, without judgements. Correcting them when they are wrong. Not with an intention to assert our superiority, but just coz we want them to be right. Listening helps resolve conflicts of all kind, coz all people want is somebody who could listen to them!!


Things are now settled between us, but picking up that unwritten/ unspoken corollary in conversations isnt my cup of tea. Maybe thats the reason, why i keep messing up relationships only to regret later in life!!


Now Playing:: Jaane tu ya jaane na.................title track

Signature of Time

Days were slowly beginning to gain an above average status. The Self was engaged in making itself known to strangers, whose correspondence made me rouse a little from my lethargy. But, somewhere down the road the Self got so Self-centered that, older relationships began receeding into that mist of oblivion, bearing the signature of Time as one's "past".


But does moving on in life means complete erasure of a person's memories, who seemed to be the proof and touchstone of all your cogitations?? One keeps waiting for that sporadic seance, and when it comes, we get too busy to tend to it, only to regain consciousness in those final moments, when everything looks like another vision, elusive as a gust of passing wind!!


But, then, the truest perceptions of life, have always been elusive and short lived in my case. Maybe thats becoz of my own ineptitude to deal with his absence from the world coz i still believe, " death ends a life, not a relationship ". But, acceptance is a feat in itself and to drive away from the Ego, to pay respect to the dead is a big ask. Does forgetting his birthday ensure that i've moved on in life or does remembering it a day later brings me back to the initial point??



And as opposed to the popular notion, time doesnt heal anything. It just categorises our life in to past, present, and future. Life would have been more beautiful, if Time could leave its signature only as one's "present".

Maybe i need to ask for forgiveness of the Universe for forgetting him just so soon!!

Now Playing:: Roz roz aankhon tale..............Asha & Amit Kumar

Laws of Attraction

At times i do hate Science. Yes, i'm a Science student but i hate it for its sheer anti-romantic approach for anything that happens within the periphery of its reasoning. For instance, if you say that you are attracted to this person and you are having a crush on him/her, our dear Science will make all efforts to convince you that its nothing but the work of something called hormones or in much sophisticated terms; chemical messengers!! But science cannot probably explain what it is that repels or attracts us in our dealings with other people. Why is it that we get attracted to some and remain indifferent to others? Its as if the hormones are on a vacation on most of the occasions and on returning make us go weak in the loins!!


What lies behind the initial attraction of the sexes is the principle of wonder and of arrested attention. It need not be only the sense of beauty, at times even a sense of strangeness, a sense of force ( as it was witnessed in The Fountainhead, but thats an entirely abnormal concept ), are able to fan those flames of emotions and sets our thoughts at sixes and sevens. It is with these inchoate, inexplicable, and uncategorised emotions that all attractions between the sexes assume a fairy-like delicacy and a romantic glow. The attraction need not culminate into a life-long commitment, but the momentary pleasure that it confers on us makes us cling to it for the rest of our lives, and every moment added in the encounter becomes a bonus moment.


.........................and how can i ever indite, how hard i tried to earn those bonus moments yesterday at the book store. Now, most girls wouldnt have found him attractive, but i have a kink of developing instant crushes on guys with glasses and a hint of a five o clock shadow on their faces. It was probably the manner in which he made his entry with large dollops of confidence, blue jeans, sleeves of the white shirt folded a little above his wrist, that almost made me utter a mental "wow"!! ...................and so my thoughts ran...............


" So he has given a list to the keeper it means he isnt here for his own books, probably not much of a reader himself ( 2 on a scale of 10 ). Oh no why is he inching towards me, i mean the novel section!! uh huh Satanic Verses, a Rushdie fan, so he does read after all!! ok our glances meet finally, and what firm fashion his lips are shut!! Does he fancy for girls with specs as well?? But men seldom get attracted to nerds, and Universe why the hell did you make me myopic, and with these glasses i look like a girl professor!! "


" So Rushdie didnt impress him much, and neither did Puzo, Coelho, and some others i cant see.......................he's totally within my range of vision now, but what is that book which seems to have held his attention?? Gosh!! i cant see it. The keeper is back with his listed books, and he's now moving towards the counter. I'll have to make my choice n rush to the counter to check out his choice. ok, fine, i settle with, Code Name God ( Mani Bhaumik ).........."


" omg these are psychology books, but where is the object of my curiosity?? .............noooooo, not Segal again!! Shall i start a conversation?? Acts of Faith is indeed a good book. But, what if he knows about Oliver and Jenny more than i do?? Its always good to ward off conversations about a writer whose best seller never got sullied by your hands. Deborah........i'm already beginning to envy you, go make him fall in love with you, and let him envy Timothy in return."


Maybe its high time, i get my hands on Love Story and put aside all those silly reasons for not having it read till date. But thats secondary, and who ever that guy was must be thanked for yet another un-carnal encounter of my life. Laws of Attraction huh!!


Now Playing:: Mera kuch saamaan.................Ijaazat

Intramural-ities of Life

After two months of ennui

• Its all about dead classrooms, dust clothed benches, designer cobweb walls, and dis-functional lights.

• Its all about un-inspiring lectures, pointless papers, blood sucking exams, and reluctant students.

• Its all about multi tasking, which includes, partially listening to the non-smiling and bespectacled professor expounding somebody else's theories, and partially counting the number of minutes left for the class to get over.

• Its all about springing back to attention and life with the musical intervention of the bell, and

• Its all about giving a nasty stare and silently telling one's quondam rival, " lets meet in the exam hall dear!! "

But then, its also

• All about catching up with the latest updates in each other's lives.

• All about vying with each other in the canteen for " the glutton of the day!! "

• All about discussing the theory of relativity on an afternoon of steady rainfall over a hot cuppa.

• All about enjoying the first day of the final year of graduation and looking forward for all the days to come.

And its also,

• All about welcoming our common intramural existence for a last and final time!!

Now Playing:: Tum se hi....................Jab We Met

p.s:: A third grade post. Creativity on an all time low!!

The Biryani Writer

We are Indians and we all like our ghar ki daal. But our predilection for mom-made food does not necessarily make us eschew the ocassional biryani. Infact we prefer having biryani most of the times!! Now, Chetan Bhagat enjoys a similar biryani status amidst book lovers, though most of the readers will deny accepting any such theory. These are the people who accuse his books to be way too entertaining, hokey,etc etc. Now, what else is the primary function of a book or are people too scared to get entertained?? Ironically these are the people who also figure among the first buyers of his books!! ' Reading ' first to ' criticise ' first........that sure is a deadly combination!!

At times according to our age, mood, and experience, and at times in the different hours of the same day, we prefer one writer, one book to another. And the best part about Chetan's books is that he saves the reader from the sheer pain of thinking, and the reader does not have to pay the price of losing him/her in another man's mind. Maybe thats the reason why he is so in vogue. However, one might question his writing skills which hardly match international standards, but then he caters to the needs of the domestic readers, the majority of which are not book readers anyway. Its always better to begin with Chetan than opting for say a Nabokov work.

Even the great Narayan was criticised for writing " pedestrian " work, so its not much of a surprise if Chetan generates much of flak; simplicity is never accepted easily anyways. And with the ever increasing inflation, one should be a fool to complain about the price of his books. My cousin ( another love-hate reader ) says there's nothing to learn from his books. Of course his books are not beautiful waters of learning when on plunging you emerge as a scholar. They are like watching a good movie; total paisa vasool. And no harm ever came in getting entertained. Why is it so difficult for people to understand that different people have different ways of telling stories??

This is what my cousin ( Akash ) had to say about Chetan's latest book, The 3 Mistakes of my Life:

Akash: " You know what are the three mistakes of his life?"

1. Studying at the IIT


2. Being an IIM pass out, and the most horrible one


3. Writing a book

We enjoyed a good laugh at this one, but then people will always envy them, who they wanted to be, but could not!!

My verdict on this book: a total entertainer, you wont demand your time back. We like having our biryani remember!!

Now Playing:: Aane wala pal.......................Kishore

Previously Titled Something Else

Previously titled as RANDOM THOUGHTS

• I know this is a much cliched title but it comes quite handy especially when your creativity gives you a slip. However, if creativity is directly proportional to one's leisure, then its ironical that, even if i seem to have all the time in the world, i can hardly come up with a title better than that. So my equation of creativity and leisure seems to be balancing itself in a lousy circle of reciprocal worthiness and unworthiness.

• But what exactly does being " creative " mean? For there's nothing left under the sun that can be called as "new". So all that a so called " creative " person can do is find variable forms of already existing elements by changing their basic order and arrangement. How on earth can that be called as " creative "?? Its more like " re-creation ", which tends to be facetious. Maybe "imaginative " is the word, but even that sounds vague enough to replace " creativity ".

• With the college scheduled to re-open next week, there's going to be yet another major dip in my " creativity ", and my presence in the virtual world more and more doubtful. Still measures would be taken to churn out the same number of blog posts every month, coz blogging my dear friends sure is " addictive ". Every trivial thing looks like a potential post, every little incident which on other occasions would have skipped our conscious observation now looks at us with expecting eyes all ready to be reported, explored, examined, and criticised in the form of a well embellished blog post. Gosh!! i find myself taking mental notes all the time, its like a never ending dictation of sorts. Its blogging blues yet again.

• This post is largely due to the itch which would not stop till i scratched something on the keyboard. It was intended to be a congeries of thoughts, but turned out to be YAP on creativity and blogging in general. And now that its over, ab iska title kya rakhun. Initially i did think of something like ' Random Thoughts ', hence the beginning, but the thoughts are way too concrete to be labelled as " random ". I know you have read the title by now, but i, the writer of this thing still is clueless about the title. I wonder what comes first to the mind, ' title or the post'??

Before i sign off, here's some food for thought, provided by some fellow blogger, whose URL has skipped my memory:

" Blog readership is equivalent to virginity. You know you are going to lose it sooner or later."

Now Playing:: Eternal Flame......................MLTR

p.s:: The title is due to the sheer lack of " creativity "!!! A confused construction i should say.

Love, Sex & Lies

I was in the ninth standard when one of my maternal uncles got married. It was a much talked about ceremony coz it was the first ' love ' marriage to take place in our family. Since there was nothing to cavil about, my grandmother fixed the match. Moreover by some strange stroke of fate, aunty somehow managed to score at par with our family in the departments of caste, creed, color etc etc, and all the little other things considered way too important before confering a connubial status on two loving souls. Everything was now settled and the family breathed a sigh of relief consoling themselves with the verity of the fact that, ' what is fated cannot be blotted.'


Being a closely knit family, we kept hearing about the increasing uxoriousness of uncle, and the cloud-cuckoo land that both of them seemed to have retreated into. They became an ideal couple and all the kids in the family ( including me ) mentally vowed to marry the person, with whom they would fall in love in the near future!! We were all set to begin a concatenation of love marriages in our family.


But sudden as death came down the news of the increasing distances between the hitherto ideal couple. It grew to such an extent that they started living in separate apartments. We were forced to take a renege of all our mental vows. It was horrible to watch our role models fail so miserably. The causes for the relationship going kaput were discussed in hushed tones amongst the family members, and for some strange reasons we kids never got to know, what exactly went wrong. Everytime i mustered courage to clarify my growing curiosity, i was silenced by those vacuous stares of mom abolishing all further enquiry..................till of course yesterday............


Its the festive season out here, and uncle flies down from Delhi around this time of the year to pay his visit to grandma. Since the past six years i've been trying to broach the tenor of my curiosity, and after much waiting i was atlast blessed with that opportunity ............


On being asked what went wrong, i was greeted with the most cynical smiles ever seen across the visage of a family member. Obviously, my uncle wasnt too comfortable with me questioning about his personal life, but i realised that it takes sincerity in one's words to make the other one talk...........

" I think you are grown up enough to understand. But i hope you dont end up laughing once you hear the reasons!! "
Laugh at love?? i thought........

Please excuse me for failing to quote my uncle verbatim, but the reasons stated by him were something which i thought are applicable to anybody else, but Indians. But this was happening to my own uncle and it was too much for me to digest.


Perhaps the most striking of the modern incongruities of marriages is the muddle which exists in the sexual field. The reason, which was quite bluntly stated by my uncle was that both of them were sexually incompatible!!!


Globally, sexual incompatibility is one of the most common causes of marital disasters. The wife is suffering from some nervous exhaustion, and it is a case where intercourse should be avoided pro tem. The husband listens to what the doctor says, but at night the man must enjoy his wife sexually. She does not want it, but she is his wife, he is a man, therefore it is " necessary ".


At a vigesimal age, i dnt think i stand a chance of approaching this vital intimate need of man, but this avuncular talk has left me contemplating on the futility of marriage when considered from the sexual angle. Of course most of my questions were left unanswered, coz i was too embarrassed to ask them and he was doubly embarrassed to face me.


But the point was made: Marriage as opposed to the popular belief of the " union of two minds ", in reality is contemplated only from the sexual angle; although few people will admit that fact. Its a queer way in which society seems to have evolved over the aeons; we are taught to shield ourselves with our own defensive lies. Its quite ironical that sex is the only instinct which we share with animals!!!


Now Playing:: I'm gonna be around....................MLTR

.......Becoz You Are Guilty.......

The very thought of it makes my head run all over me, driving me into pitiful states of existence. I shouldnt have read this book in the first place. Its doing more harm than good. It seems to compel my thoughts to turn backward; an act that i've been trying to avoid, for it fills me with regret and contrition. It isnt that easy living a life full of regrets and being constantly reminded of a person who is no more. A person whose rambling chat looked academically re-freshing on sleepless nights. What a pity, i cannot even utter his name!!! A person who paved the way for the evolution of an advanced life form within the existing one, only to desert you in this stage of inchoate amelioration...................leading to nothing except more and more degeneration.


" Dont assume that its too late to get involved." Thats what the book says, and the more i think about it, the more i realise, how late i actually am!! Of not getting a chance to say a final good-bye, and all the numerous little things that i always wanted to say. How can i not assume that i'm not late. Its very easy saying, " forgive yourself ", but its a hard task, when the soul keeps reminding you of all the things that you've done, things that you could have done, but you never did. It takes a lot of courage to strip down to your soul and say, " i forgive myself ".

• " Accept what you are able to do and what you are not able to do."
• " Accept the past as past, without denying it or discarding it."
• " Learn to forgive yourself and to forgive others."
• " Dont assume that it is too late to get involved."

These aphorisms would hardly affect your cogitations, and there's every possibility of you discarding them as " spiritual shit ", but for people like me, having been in similar circumstances, its almost impossible to unconnect. I wont recommend this book, if you are already surviving under a load of regrets. It has left me shedding bitter tears over my arrant helplessness.

But its so true:

" Death ends a life, not a relationship."

Anyway, the book is tuesdays with morrie.


Now playing:: Meri duniya hai.........................Vaastav

Inter alia

• After two years of incessant requests by my friend, i finally created an account in orkut, and after a week of orkuting i'm all set to delete my account from this good for nothing social networking site. For one, i do not believe in writing sweet lies about each other, and getting overwhelmed by the number of fans, profile visits, and stupid scrap book entries. You might say, ' bandar kya jaane adrak ka swaad ', but note karne waali baat yeh hai ki since i am a bandar, i've absolutely no reason, whatsoever to taste adrak in the first place. This bandar is quite happy in its kingdom of fruits and nuts, and has no need to venture in the zones of cheap rhizome material!!

• Moreover such sites are a huge mis-match for people like me, who never socialise either in the virtual or in the real world. But the initial repellant was actually a poll in our school community which savagely targets the physical incongruity of a particular teacher, and the worst part of it is that people actually responded to such a sadistic endeavour by casting their votes. My imagination has been quite active ever since, and i'm planning to drop in an anonymous mail to that stupid community creator, and threaten him by inserting certain legal terms for indulging in smearing and traducement of a person's name and reputation. But somethings wont change. People will continue their mission of making life hell for those who have the misfortune of being born slightly altered from the rest of mankind. And under no circumstances would i allow myself to be an active member of such a community. Let Friendship, socialising and other such sophisms go to hell!!

• Now moving ahead. The Mayor of Casterbridge is finally over, and here is the book review.

• I never liked watching movies, but off late, i have been spending a lot of time on the goggle-box surfing between Star movies and sony pix. I have no clue what made me cry while watching ' The Substance of Fire ', and i'm still not able to discern a connection between the movie and its title. And dude, Timothy Hutton looks soo like Antonio Banderas, but i preferred Hutton's ruffian look as Dr. Shepherd in The Iceman, than the clean shaven look in The Substance.. The movie also stars Sarah Jessica Parker, and both Hutton n Sarah were absolutely adorable as brother and sister. Its a must watch for book lovers.

• So thats it guys. There's hardly anything else to report or post-worthy, so its better i sign off. Toh main chali ( pyaar ki gali nahin oyye ), Anand ka gaana sunne. Catch ya later, bye for now.

Now Playing:: Jaane kya........................Pyaar ke Side Effects