Fire! Fire!

I had always thought of what would happen if I burn my hair! (it's all a part of my paranoia for my hair) The other day I did.
I had a candle in one hand and tried to take a call on my cell phone. My front hair was up in flames. I dropped the phone. Tried to put it off with my hand and then rushed to the basin to splash some water.
I was almost in tears. I thought my almost damaged hair will finally see its end. I kept pulling out burnt strands of hair for the next 5 mins. Thankfully not much damage was done! It's something else to live your fears. It's a small example of how by facing your fears you can overcome them.
Anyway...but the bottom line is that now I'm like dying for a haircut!

WE WANT FREEDOM!

Today I felt like I was back in school. Farhana got yummy food for lunch. My colleague Ravi got a guitar to office. He played the good old college anthem- Hotel California. To top it all our "Head Mistress" left early. It felt like we were back in junior college or something. Actually, it's like a jail on other days, with the jailor to watch over. So we put up a notice on the soft board. A sign of protest (yes it does remind me of the rebellious college days!) which read "Give us back our freedom". And we all signed it. It's a great day!

For him, whoever he is

I sip
from the romance
of the evening,
a far cry
from the moment where I found you.
I know I dug into your arms
feeling your heart beat.
And you held me close
making me your own.
It's then that the aroma
from your breath
seeped into me.
And that is when I looked up
searching for me
in your earl grey eyes.
I still sip.
I sip from you.

Where do you go?

Don't know when it all started. I have been craving for a trip to Europe. It's quite wierd for someone who's never set foot outside the country to claim to love travelling. You meet so many people who say they love travelling but when you ask them which places they have been to, they don't really have a list. Sadly, I'm one of them.

I day dream about various places across the country and the world. Read about them, imagine myself in those places and feel good thinking about all the good things I could experience when I travel there.

But the way I have been hung up on Europe is not funny. I have already half-travelled to several cities there. Through books, maps, online articles, couchsurfing.com, info on rail passes, flight tickets etc. I have even started to prepare a budget. When I look at my bank account, there's nothing there to fund this huge ambitious PROJECT EUROPE. But somehow I know I'll go- 'when where and how' are not relevant here.

Love handles

“Love handles are hot,” a friend told me. Why? “They cause pain when you squeeze them. There’s pleasure in that. So the whole idea is quite sexy as bitter sweet pain is sexy. And so love handles are hot.”

“You mean they are sexy when making sex…oops making love,” I tried to say.
She laughed.

I was like, “I don’t think men find love handles hot!” So she quickly replied, “No they do.”

A guy friend was quickly called on to testify. And he said. “Yes love handles do look hot on some women.” I was zonked. I thought to myself. “I have a chance with all my bulging fat!”

But when she gave him the pain theory even he was zonked and wondered why he even became a part of this strange conversation.

Layers

There were thin,
very thin,
layers,
beneath the skin.

Layers of hues
that were shut out
by a colourblind love.

Layers invisible
to the naked eye
that wants to see
only what it believes.

Srcape them,
one by one.
They are nothing but a veil.

I know with each layer
of your skin
more blood will ooze
from within me.

But now take off that veil
and let me see the face of truth.
For each uncovering layer
reveals the real you.

Hottest Olympians of all time

Here's something I put together...

Nadia Comaneci
Age: 47 years

The Soap opera ‘the young and the restless’ became associated with her after a TV program— ABC's Wide World Of Sports— used it as background music for montages of her routines. Composer, Barry De Vorzon, renamed it to ‘Nadia's Theme’ after her.

She wrote a book called ‘letters to a young gymnast’ and launched an album.

She launched her own music album in Bucharest.

Nadia Turner, singer and actress, and American Idol Season 4 Finalist was named after Nadia Comaneci.

Lance Armstrong
Age: 37 years

He dated singer-songwriter Sheryl Crow and the couple even got engaged before a sudden split.

He also later dated fashion designer Tory Burch, Ashley Olsen and most recently Kate Hudson.

Armstrong owns a house in Austin and a ranch in the Texas Hill Country. Neighbours of his ranch property claim that Armstrong polluted a local swimming hole when he was creating a dam on his ranch.

Since retirement, Armstrong has focused his efforts on the Lance Armstrong Foundation, which provides support for people affected by cancer, and on other interests

Sebastian Coe
Age: 52 years

Coe was featured in the Brass Eye (UK television show) spoof documentary on pedophilia unwittingly accusing American blue-eyed soul singers Hall & Oates of not only being the same person but also of being child abusers.
Post-divorce a handful of glamorous women have been seen on his arm.
He is a multimillionaire, a worldwide ambassador for Nike, owns a string of health clubs with a membership of 20,000 and is a member of the East India Club in London.
He has a very large collection of jazz records.

Steffi Graff
Age: 39 years

With her father dominating her personal life until the Graf tax scandal in 1995, Graf often declined social invitations and made few friends on tour.

Graff spent much of the 1990s in a relationship with race car driver Michael Bartels.

She eventually found that she had more in common with tennis superstar Andre Agassi, whom she married in 2001.

The couple have many homes, but prefer to spend much of their time in Las Vegas.

Mark Spitz
Age: 58 years

Spitz is a motivational speaker and travels to Japan, China, Hong Kong and most of Europe since he began in 1973. “My middle name is Mileage Plus,” he says.

His iconic moustache was his hottest feature and was seen as a sign of notoriety as most competitors opt to swim without facial hair, often shaving their bodies completely.

In 1991, he appeared for a sports event sans moustache. When quizzed about the absence on TV show he simply said, “it had become too grey.”

Chemist EH Bronner maintained that Spitz was a prophet. He is mentioned in Bronner's fifth MORAL ABC which appears on each bottle of Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap. Spitz sued Dr Bronner's over this reference.

Dara Torres
Age: 41

At 41, she’s the oldest woman to participate at the Olympics.

During her retirement from swimming she has worked as a reporter and announcer for television networks, NBC, ESPN, TNT, OLN and Fox News.

She also hosts a golf show called the Clubhouse on the Resort Sports Network.

She has been a model and in 1994 she was in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue.

JAYNE TORVILL & CHRISTOPHER DEAN
Age: 50 years & 51 years

Dean's first ice partner was Sandra Elson. They began skating together when he was 14 and competed as ice dancers for a few years. However, despite becoming British Junior Dance champions, the team parted, as Dean and Elson did not get along well.

Dean was in the police force till 1974, when he decided to quit his job completely to concentrate on ice-skating, and so did Torvill.

Even after retiring the pair continued acted as coaches, choreographers and performers in ITV's Dancing on Ice.

They returned for a second series and third series after the 2007 & 2008 UK series of Dancing on Ice Torvill and Dean took the show on the road for a British tour.

Summer Sanders
Age: 35 years

Summer married Mark Henderson in 2001 and then World Cup skier Erik Schlopy in 2005.

Summer admitted to having a teenage crush on Kirk Cameron.

Summer published the book Champions Are Raised, Not Born: How My Parents Made Me A Success in 1999, which is a tribute to her parents.

A mother of a girl now, Summer launched the Similac Moms Alliance, an online community for moms which gives tips regarding important mothering issues.

Anger

When I get angry I get so dramatic. Dramatic is an understatement. Probably, melodramatic suits better. Rather, scary is more befitting. So loud, unbearably ugly and stupidly weepy! I would cringe if I saw an angry me from a distance. Recently, I got so angry I yelled. I'm sure our neighbouring building shook. But my opponent was strong. He didn't budge. I hit my cheek, hit the wall and yelled at the top of my voice. And even then when my opponent didn't give in, I walked off slamming the door behind me. I lost. I was weeping. I wept for a long time. Then the anger subsided and my breathing got back to normal.

But the point is, no matter how I expressed my anger I lost. I wish I had just let things be. I get scared of myself when I'm angry. That's why I hate anger. What overtook next morning was a calm I hadn't felt in ages. I was numb. My hand was hurting so was my cheek. And I'm sure even that wall felt some amount of pain.

I now wish I'd rather have kept calm before. Blowing off the handle doesn't help except add drama. It's all so funny to me now. I can now see myself moving in slow motion. My hand rising slowly and then coming down on the wall. Once, and again. Tidhish tidhish...in slow motion...Indian television style. I would have garnered the highest TRPs.

Accept it dear, you could have handled things better.

I smell you

Yes, I love perfumes and deodorants. I’m not faffing. I bet you can come within one metre of my radius without cringing!

Another proof is my cupboard. You open the door and at any given point there will be at least 4-5 different deodorants in there (thats how much I can affored). I feel bad when I don’t have the money because that means that I can’t have a better variety of deos in there. My room mates think that I have become a fashionista just because I have a couple more deos than them! Ask me which brands I use, and all I’ll manage is my most famous blank expression. So immediately I don't qualify. But I still maintain I love variety as far perfumes go.

While I can’t get too close to people with body odour for obvious reasons, what intrigues me more is the millions of fragrances around us. While people who stink have different stinks! People with fragrances have different fragrances too. Very often when you pass by someone in office, you get a hint of fragrance from them. I often begin to guess the fragrance. She smells like peach, he smells like lemon, while this girl smells like berries!

I love axe ads. You use axe and women will cling on to you. You use the new chocolate fragrance and all the women will want a bite of you! That’s a great concept and innovative thought process. I do feel sexy when a man asks me what perfume I’m wearing even if he doesn’t immediately want to cling on to me or bite me. Imagine walking down the street and attracting people with your smell.

Someone had once told me that when you get attracted to someone or feel positive vibrations it also means that you have caught on to that persons smell. Like dogs I guess. I don’t know if that’s true but it sounds interesting. I wish I went out and men came looking for me. Do you think I attract too many men because I often mix my deos (two deos at the same time) or use different deos every other day? I’m not complaining. Heehee…

Happy?

Watch two ladies sleeping under a shed of a high rise building. Hiding from the rains. Trying to protect themselves from the cold breeze with an old piece of bedsheet. Selling water to make a living. When you come back in the evening. They smile. Greet you. Ask you how your day went. You say just about fine and enter the building. The women share a sweet joke behind you and break into a laugh. They seem happy. As I walk up the stairs I remember my day. There is too much pressure at work. I have to deliver. I can see my boss get impatient with me. I have a lot to prove. An extra story to file. Many ideas to generate. God, I wish I was paid better for all this shit I have to go through. Even as I enter my home I think of how much money the two women earn. How they manage to smile through so many problems. Their laughter still rings in my ears. Shouldn't I be happier?

Kung Fu Panda

I loved Kung Fu Panda. But I guess more than anything else I was relieved. Panda couldn't see his toes because his huge tummy obstructed his view. At least, I can see my toes! And if Panda can be so confident about his kung fu why can't I be so confident about myself? Remember Oogway said, "You need to believe!" because "there is no secret recipe!"

Time to go home?

A traveller had travelled miles away from home. He had taken the bus, the train and even a flight to get where he was. He had acquired some wealth on his way up to this country up north. He had grown a lot, seen a lot and was really happy about all his accomplishments. He had made lovely loyal friends in this new country. One evening as he sat in his balcony staring at the sunset, he remembered the promise he had made to his parents. "I will be back soon," he had said.

But he didn't feel like going back anymore. Though he loved the country of his birth and still had a few friends there, he was very comfortable where he was now. He didn't know whether it was the right time to leave all this behind and go back to his roots. Where are a traveller's roots really? When does a travaller know or feel that its time to go back? Does a traveller never return home? Or is it his each new experience that makes him feel more at home?

Is it time to go home?

R Balki (Cheeni Kum director) on spirituality...

I don't know what spirituality is, except that when I accumulate a lot of garbage in my head, I need to shed it and be at peace with myself. I retreat to a quiet corner and am alone with myself for half an hour. Today, any job is stressful. At times, despite doing our best, bad things happen to us. I could get stressed due to my work, my wife...though she also unwinds me! I could get stressed if someone bombs my ad campaign or when nice things aren't said about a movie i have made. I learn from all of it. How you cope with stress is what matters.

I have less tolerance than most people and therefore need to introspect more often. And that's when you realise that in the end, nothing matters. Being a movie buff, I destress myself faster when I watch films or cricket. In fact, it's important to unlearn things. I believe in a supreme power which guides our destiny and who is above our control. I remember I once met a friend of mine in Delhi and she told me that on a particular day, a particular thing would happen to me. And believe me, it did. That's when i experienced God.

I am not a ritualistic person and don't go to temples or wear amulets. I remember the last time I went to Tirupati was some four-five years back and I still remember it was the special vada there that drew me. I don't believe in rituals or praying endlessly for good things to happen.

I believe that if you do good, good things should happen to you and things will work out. The truth will always prevail. For example, I believe if i have been paid for a campaign, I should do the work to the best of my ability and if I haven't, I explain to my clients that this hasn't been up to my satisfaction. And they appreciate it. Truth is the biggest con job. The solutions to most things lie within yourself.

PS: I AGREE...

The Noir

Many of Bollywood’s recent releases - and forthcoming ones - are inspired by the “noir” or “black films” genre popular in Hollywood in 1940-50. Gargi Gupta talks to some of the young directors on what is driving such cinema.

Thriller” is a much-abused term in Bollywood — a blanket genre used to describe films as varying in texture, mood and quality as Bhoot and Bhool Bhullaiya. But there’s something about recent thrillers like Johnny Gaddar and Manorama Six Feet Under that’s different.
Gritty, fast-paced, morally ambivalent and with strong characters rather than stars driving the plot, these aren’t simply thrillers but local versions of “film noir” (literally black film), a genre of “stylish crime dramas… that emphasise moral ambiguity and sexual motivation” (Wikipedia definition) that refers to the Hollywood films of the 1940s-’50s like Double Indemnity and The Postman Always Rings Twice.

And it isn’t just the critics who’re making the connection; most of the directors working in this genre are very consciously placing themselves within it. Director Navdeep Singh spoke to the media about Manorama being a “homage” to noir; and depicted protagonist Satyaveer watching Polanski’s classic Chinatown (incidentally, a film he was supposed to be “inspired” by). “I don’t think Johnny Gaddaar can be called a pure noir film,” says director Shriram Raghavan, adding, however, that, “It’s a term that helps us during the shoot. ‘Let’s do this scene in a noir fashion…’ Which means odd angles, contrast lighting, shadows, et cetera.”

You can see traces of the noir tone in many recent films — Ek Haseena Thi, Anthony Kaun Hai?, Being Cyrus, Ek Chalis Ki Last Local. In fact, Anurag Kashyap’s existential drama No Smoking too has traces of noir. It’s a trend that Hansal Mehta, whose Dil Pe Mat Le Yaar (2000) was an early sample of the genre in Bollywood, traces back to Sudhir Mishra’s 1996 film, Is Raat Ki Subah Nahin, and even further back to Vijay Anand.

“But if it’s film noir, it does not follow the conventions developed by the Americans or the French. The femme fatale figure, found in much of film noir, is absent; rather, our
Indian films explore the morality, political, social, economic, within our society and what happens when, out of greed or lust or any other motivation, the protagonist falls foul of it. In that sense, it’s a reflection of social reality rather than an aestheticised response.”

There are more coming up: Strangers, directed by debutant Anand L Rai, due for release next month, has two strangers meeting on a train and deciding to kill each other’s wives. Then, there’s Amir by another debutant director, Raj Kumar Gupta, which is the story of a young Muslim professional who flies into Mumbai and is caught up in an inexplicable plot, with only a cell phone, through which a faceless, nameless voice gives instructions, to help him through the maze.

Woodstock Villa, Hansal Mehta’s next, coming up for release early next year, is another of these neo noir films about the disappearance of a beautiful young women, the wife of a businessman, and what follows. Kashyap, who made Panch in 2003, on five angst-ridden urban youngsters who fall into crime (unreleased, since the censor made strident objections to it), says he’s working on another script called Bombay Velvet on the Bombay of the 1960s and “how it turned into a metro”.

Ashwini Malik, who won much acclaim with his 2002 film, Clever and Lonely, is working on Kill Chhabra, another of these dark thrillers with Onir and Sanjay Suri producing the film. And then, there’s Raghavan’s second in the Johnny series, of which all he’ll reveal now is the title, Johny Tokyo.

This is quite inexplicable since Manorama, JG or any of the other films that came before it did not exactly set the box office on fire. Far from it. Hiren Gada of Shemaroo Films, which produced Manorama, says that the film had a short two-week run at the multiplexes but he hopes to make up for it with the television and video rights. “It’s an intelligent film and it works on many levels.”

Mehta has an insight: “Today, a producer doesn’t really have to rely on the theatrical response to a film. He can make his money from all the other avenues for projection that new technologies are throwing up almost every day.

But the one important thing here, and this is something young filmmakers have to learn, is how to budget it right. I made Chhal (2002) on only Rs 1 crore. If you keep costs down, the producer has more of a chance to get back a part of the money, and then he will be more receptive to experimental ideas that you may have.”

Clearly, it is a reasoning that has found takers with many production companies— Spotboy, the UTV production house that concentrates on small-budget experimental films: Sanjay and Onir’s Fore Front Films, White Feather Films and many others. And note how they’re all putting their money on first-time directors. Clearly, it is the greenhorns today in the industry who’ve the right ideas.

Courtesy: www. nachgaana.com

Procession

It's a procession of clouds
led by the furious winds.
Carrying the blazing torch of the setting sun rays,
the march is orchestrated by the evening.
And watched on by a simple soul
from the stadium on the mountain edge,
waiting for this revolution
to lead into a silent night.

Interesting

Here's an excerpt from Ram Gopal Verma's blog

Question to Ram Gopal Varma: In one shot in Bhoot after the car leaves the basement the shot changes with the sound of a dolby click.

RGV's Answer: That was not a dolby click. It is the igniter sound which Urmila uses on the gas stove. Anyway as long as you felt the impact it does not matter. The psychology of that shot is that the audience would be used to the fact that the shot will be cut after the car left the frame. But the fact that it lingers on automatically puts them into a heightened tension thereby making them anticipate something terrible will happen and that’s why even an ordinary click sound will scare them. Similarly one more example of this is when Urmila comes down into the hall to go into the kitchen for a glass of water. In a wide-angle shot I show the audience that there is no one in the living room. If the camera follows behind her they will be half expecting something to jump on her from of the frame. But the fact they can see the whole room their eyes will be darting all over to see if anyone is hiding somewhere. Meanwhile Urmila takes her time to drink water and comes back. As she goes up the stairs I cut to top angle where the audience can see behind her.

Now as the audience can’t see anything in the back and from Urmila’s expression they can see that there is nothing in the front, they slowly relax as she comes close to the camera into out focus distance thereby expecting the shot to be cut. But as she crosses the camera we reveal Manjeet under the stairs making them jump out of the seat.

Strange

How does it feel to be haunted by the constant memory of something you really felt amazing when you were experiencing it?

Some people don't understand the importance of a circumstance. My state of mind. There's a bigger plan. It's all happening for a reason. I need to take my lessons and move on to teh next one. But why do I have to explain? I don't want to do what is right. I want to do what I want to do.

Reckless? Yes. Careless? Yes. Carefree. Yes? I am all these but so what? Could be dangerous, risky and even harmful. But why should I tread the safe path all the time?

Change

We yearn for it when we don't get it. And when we finally get it, we wish things were more settled. Life's full of contradictions. But isn't that what makes it more challenging?

I'm enjoying this though- not having time or the way I see it- not having the time to waste. I have never pre-planned so much. For the last one month, I have been extremely busy; work appointments, pending commitments, excerising, meeting friends, organising parties, spending time with family, extended family and family friends, going out of town and planning each weekend in advance and also getting the time to sit at the edge of the moutain looking at the clouds with chilled beer in my hand. I'm happy I don't have to think 'damn what do I do with so much free time'. At least for now I'm enjoying this.

Last days are always a little difficult though. You got to think you are moving on to better things and not about the people you are leaving behind. They will move on too. You got to take the whole picture in- let it sink in. My drawer, my PC, my display board, my calender, my chair etc. It happened the last time and it happened again. It's a sweet feeling. I know I will smile when I look back.

Yes, I am excited about tommorow but I'm more excited about today. For today is always a moment of transition. If you live in today, you will always be in transit. At least it's better than living in a frozen image or a farfetched fantasy. At least what I have now is real; something I can feel for real. And yet it's surreal. Everything. Everything that has ever happened to me seems surreal when I come to think of it. Probably because there were some things I always knew will happen to me, that I had seen in my mind even before they transformed into the real world. And when they did, they were almost like a dream. And then there were parts that were formed out of eventuality.

All I know is, I am uncomfortable around comfort. And restless around complacency. When unchallenged I can wither away.

Probably

She sat there cross-legged, dropping her head on his shoulder from time to time. Then gathering herself. She could smell him and she tried guessing what he smelled like. 'Wet wood? Mint? Berries?' she thought. Probably it was all in her mind.

He put his arm around her, trying to steady her. She was high. She felt his breath on her forehead. He was too close. She wanted to move away. If she didn't, she might regret it for the rest of her life. He sensed her hesitancy and moved back. He suddenly stood up and walked away. She could finally breath normally. Suddenly all the loud music was back in focus. The DJ was playing 'I just died in your arms tonight.' She mulled over the words, over what she was feeling. It had felt nice to have his arm around her. He had been there for her. But the thought of feeling him so close to her, hadn't occured to her before. They had their share of moments though. Like the night when he came over to her apartment for the party. He sat across the room and sent her an sms saying she was looking kind of cute. And when they cooked the Sunday lunch together, he had held her hand to pull the knife out of her hand. There had been an elongated pause. Also, she had held him close the last time they went dancing together.

Her chain of thoughts broke and she got up to look for him. He was standing in the lobby, talking to someone on the phone. She thought of pretending to call someone too but he turned. A tiny tear rolled down her cheek. He saw it and hugged her.

The hug was longer than it should have been. "I know you are still hurting. But I want to tell you, you are an amazing girl and deserve much better," he whispered in her ear. Someone entered the lobby and she pushed him away and said, "Thanks. Let's go." He took a step forward and kissed her. She gave in. She didn't know if that was the right thing to do, but she felt something she couldn't explain. Probably, it was just good for her ego. The next few times she went out with her friends it was difficult to resist him but she would try. Sometimes she gave in...perhaps whenever she needed to feel better about herself.

Technicolor

I guess life becomes easier if you look at it in black and white. Confusions reduce, emotions become more defined and we can make a judgement. Probably that's exactly what I can't do! that's why I end up getting confused, find myself not judging people or end up feeling mixed emotions. I would not say that this happens because I can see the grey areas. I think I can see various colours!

Life is made of so many colours and I feel like exploring them, understanding them and recognising them through people and relationships. What is life without an odd relationship? A wrong decision? An act to regret? A conversation on the tabooed subjects? These are things that add so much hue to our life and make it so colourful. There are more colours in this world, in our life and people than we probably have imagined.

There are some things that are wrong at the surface but there is a certain challenge and a certain amount of empathy involved when you try to understand what went beyond the very act that seems or probably just is wrong. It's an education in itself. I am not saying that one can justify their acts by saying 'hey I went through so much and so I decided to do the wrong thing'. I just feel that we should look at life with different colours and make it rich with experience. And I believe that with experience we do begin to discover more and more colours. Look at life the technicolor way! I love my Rangeela philosophy!

Zahir

Something that once touched or seen, can never be forgotten, and something that gradually so fills our thoughts that we are driven to madness.
What is that something in my life? There must be something or someone that stays with me, within me. Probably, I need to know that.
Zahir has several meanings. But what is my Zahir? Someone I'm looking for. Am I seraching because I feel it will complete me. But then, am I not complete in myself? But apart from that, there's so much I'm searching. What am I looking for? Must be something that I'm secretly working towards. Unknowingly. Something that's leading me into this specific journey. I want more every day. More of all that can make me happy. I'm asking from the universe becasue I deserve it. Love.

The blinds are down

In the dim yellow light
with a sunshine drink in your glass,
you search my face.
The blinds are down.
And a burning intensity
floats in this tiny place.

I spot the shadows on your forehead,
trying to find the missing piece in the puzzle.
But you just don’t give away.
You almost forget your words
in an air of awkwardness.
And you smile all the way.

You half-hear things,
half-say things.
And your eyes turn all shy.
I can sense you don’t want to leave.
But you do.
Almost forgetting to say good bye.

Aashayein

Just got a glimpse of Nagesh Kukunoor's Aashayein and it at once reminded me of Iqbal and its hit song Aashayein. Yes, this film is reminiscent of Iqbal but there is certain freshness about it. A certain sincerity and warmth. John's looking refreshingly cute and sincere. It could turn out to be his best performance to date. I agree he is not the best actor we have but he definitely has become the commercial face for the not-so-commercial directors and their off-beat themes.

Promo: http://youtube.com/watch?v=UCq9h4QC1wA

random thoughts

Come slow
come steady
come only when you think you're ready;
ready for love, ready to give,
ready to lose yourself to me.


It's more hurtful when the other person moves on, is happy and genuinely in love! Once you stop deluding yourself that the person still loves you, or that your love was the purest thing in the world or that life has been unfair, you'll get over it.
Love, pain and life always endure but there's always something more to experience. Something more to explore with the renewed enthusiasm and with that experience you have gained from your hurts and your past.


Complicated or simple? Eccentric or just curious? Steady or uncertain? Love or hate? I want to figure you out. Really, how difficult can it be?

Yes. I like the idea of endless possibilities. When something turns reality, something else becomes a possibility.

What’s the curiousity about the world? About things unseen and unknown? Does it come from knowing too much or thinking too much? From insatiable thirst for newer horizons? When I explore places, do I learn more about myself? And what do I want to learn about myself that I don’t already know? Guess, I need to travel.

Conversations

He: I'm drunk but may I fall in love with you?
She: Only if you are going to remember being in love with me when you are sober!

'Incident' by Norman MacCaig

I look across the table and think
(fiery with love)
Ask me, go on, ask me
to do something impossible,
something freakishly useless,
something unimaginable and inimitable

Like making a finger break into blossom
or walking for half an hour in twenty minutes
or remembering tomorrow.

I will you to ask it.
But all you say is
Will you give me a cigarette?
And I smile and,
returning to the marvelous world
of possibility
I give you one
with a hand that trembles
with a human trembling.

kashmir

I have always dreamt of you. And the dream was always so real that I almost believed I had extended my hand and held you in between my fingers, that I had sunk my feet in you and that I filled my eyes with your image. You who look like you have just been awakened by a morning sprinkle of virgin white, you soft crisp milky flakes. And with the sun deflecting from you and piercing the gusts of cold, I have no doubt why they call you paradise on earth.

shir chai
kawah
dum-aloo
chaman
Sheermal & Bakherkhani
shikharas
Doongas
Amira Kadal
Jhelum
Old brick buildings
pagoda-like mosques and shrines
Jama Masjid
Hazratbal
Khanqah of Shah Hamadan
rows of poplar trees
fir-covered hillsides
snow-covered mountains
Sindh valley
rice fields,
pine forests.
Here I come!

Current status

state of mind...energitic, positive and rearing to go
my body...is happy that i am giving it some respect. i just checked my weight and was horrified!
hooked to...Fifa '08
now reading...Khalid Hosseini's The Kite Runner
learning...to exercise self control
yearning to learn...the guitar (i'm still dying to lay my hands on one)
missing...going to totos
on a humming spree…with Rehab by Amy Winehouse
hate humming...O Jane Jaan by Aatif from Race (because I keep repeating the same lines)
latest favourite...movie- Lives Of the Others
high on...swimming
hung over...my conversation with Kajol yesterday
Hung over again...with the 10 movie DVDS i bought. Yay! And it includes Makhmalbaf's The Cyclist which I have been dying to watch. Yay!
I'm off...booze
favourite food right now...Veggie delite sub
enjoying drinking...orange juice & coffee sans sugar
accessory for the week...my cell phone for its new song list
thinking...how good I can make my life.
dreaming of...my trip to europe
waiting...for April 11 when I take off for the Himalayas
drooling...over the yummy chat I'm going to eat in Solapur at my favourite chatwala
excited about...my kashmir trip
waiting to meet...my cousins in Solapur (going to see them tomorow!)
tired of...the loud music our neighbouring chawl has been playing.
proud of...myself for maintaining strict health discipline for the past 5 days.
enlightenment quotient..."Ask and you shall recieve." "Knock and the door shall be opened."

The ride

I was taking in the cool waves flowing from the desert cooler on a hot summer afternoon. Aaji had retired into her room. Everyone else was taking a short nap. My mind though was wandering. There was a grey bicycle parked under the tin roof of the garage. I had been dying to ride it and I knew this was my chance. I hurried out, grabbing the key from the keyholder on the wall. I softly closed the door behind me. Even as I unlocked the cycle, there was one thought going on in my head. How will I shut this noisy main gate without making a sound? I had to try. I had to ride. I had just learned how to ride a bicycle and there was a whole new world waiting to be explored in this tiny town.
Every summer I was just cacooned in this place. I knew there was more to this town apart from Vidyanagar. Apart from the garden outside the house, the big ground located in the centre of the colony, maushai's house which was two blocks away, the sugarcane shop where we often went to cool ourselves in the killing heat and Baloo's shop. I never ever asked who Baloo really was? Or why his shop had no other name? But I had to ride beyond his shop now. And there were a lot more things I would love to find out, I thought. I somehow managed to keep the sound of the creeking gate down. Locked it behind me and before anyone could spot me sneeking out I rode out. The breeze was hot and I wished I hadn't got out in such heat. Nani always stopped us from playing outdoors in the afternoon. I used find it very annoying. If I didn't mind the heat, why did she? But now I wished I had listened to her. But soon the thought disappered from my head. I was riding the bike. The very same bike I had first learnt cycling on.
With all those thoughts in my head, I didn't even realise I was crossing Baloo's shop. I had ventured out of the familiar area now. I was free. The feeling was so good that I urged myself to paddle faster. Soon I approached the main road. I could see big vehicles driving down the road which was exactly at a right angle with the small road I was riding on. I was slightly apprehensive about whether I would be able to handle the traffic and the big highway. But somehow there was no fear. I was free after all- an explorer. Riding, feeling the breeze on my face. I took the highway and continued riding with zest. The sun was going down now and the breeze was stronger and cooler. I was smiling and going on and on. I don't remember how long I was riding, when suddenly it struck me that I had come too far. How will I get back home? I braked immediately. I took a right turn thinking that if I had taken a right turn earlier, taking another right could become a full circle and I could reach where I had started. But as I began riding, I became more and more scared as the place felt completly alien to me. Almost like a new town. And before I knew I had tears in my eyes. For the first time I had felt the fear of being lost. Something that was absent when I started my exploration. I had forgotten that explorers too need go back home at some point. The realisation has stayed with me. But that was exactly the point where I realised I knew the name of Nani's colony and I could easily ask around and find my way back. But my sense of direction was good and my instincts were taking me in the right direction. I realised that an explorer apart from a love from adventure, also needs to be careful and rely on his instincts. Before I could think further I was back in familiar territory. I was relieved to be back home. I thanked god a hundred times for being there with me when I needed him. I softly parked the bike in its place and entered the house.
But everything is transitory they say. I had been so glad when Nani had gifted me that very bicycle once I went in my seventh grade. Since the day I had set my eyes on it, I had this strange feeling that it belonged to me. It was the first bike I sat on and the one that taught me how it feels to be a rider. When I grew up a bit we had gone around the city promoting cycling too! But there was someone out there who needed it more than me- so much so that they could steal it from me. Last I had seen it leaning against the pillar in the parking of my building. A little rusted, a little less grey but still the same bike I first sat on.

Times

You wrap your hands around the steering wheel. Those thick short fingers with those bulging veins running down your sturdy hands. They take me to the black and white time. Your hands often shivered. As the light creeped in from the tall glass windows of your room, you picked up that audio cassette and shivered it into the music system. It's your favourite Yanni. I didn't know him then. But I always thought I knew you. You were so gentle, so shy and so scared of hurting me. The moments were so full yet empty. They are heavier to me now as I travel back from that black and white time. Young and restless were we. Now you drive and your hands don't shiver. Something's changed. But I talk and I listen. You remember so much. There was so much you didn't see and so much I didn't see. I know circumstances can blind us. The air is tender again but nowhere close to the time when you showed me your tiny pet turtle. You placed him on your palm and asked me to touch it. Today you send me a messages. Then there was just the old-fashioned phone but you picked it up too late. Saxophone was romance and you gave Kenny G to me. All actions run smoothly through my head but it's the conversations that are muted. Through all the years there were letters, rides in the rain, there was touch, music and play. But just tiny thin threads of muted conversations. As I caress your hands with my eyes, you ask me if you can hold my hand. I allow. I guess I am just making up for the broken conversations.

Me

At 15,
God: Always was and always has been, never can be created or destroyed, all that ever was, always will be, always moving into form, through form and out of form.

At 25,
Energy: Always was and always has been, never can be created or destroyed, all that ever was, always will be, always moving into form, through form and out of form.

I am an energy field just like this universe.

Lives of the Others

How much can a nation's political scenario affect anyone's personal life? if you think it hardly does, you need to catch this one.

and all one requires is one good man to be able to fight an interfering and almost dictatorial establishment. how much can creativity be curbed? How much can a painter or a writer or anyone else be stopped from making a political statement or doing his or her own thing? How much can an individual be stopped from voicing his opinion? If we don't stand up for what we believe in, on a public platform, our government can even monitor us in your own house! It's scary, but it drives you to think how important it is to do what you believe in. Who is the government to decide what you are supposed to believe in, stand for or talk about?

Most touching thing about Lives of the Others is the goodness of a disillusioned man. How far can you go to support what you think is right? Think. Thats what the film makes you do.

"It's for me."- is the last sentence. It deserves an applause.

One of the best films of our times, it is as relevant in our times as it was in the 1980s East Germany.

enigma

There is something about mystery. The knowledge that there is something out there undiscovered and unexplored, can lead you to unexpected places. The beauty of somethings is best when unexplained and unknown. Enigma is sensuous.

Each time she went to the station to bid him goodbye, she thought it could be the last time for a long long time to come. It could very well be the last time. But she hoped, against all odds that they would meet again, and that she would never have to say goodbye at the Railway station. She cried each time she saw him waving out to her from the window. This time too, there were tears in her eyes. She sent him a message but he didn't reply. Did he feel the way she did? Everything ended. And her worst fears came true. She knew, this time was the strongest she felt. She would never have to see him off again, because he would never come to meet her again. In that moment of pain she thought- he never did feel for me the way I did. And wiped a tear flowing down her cheek. There is no love anymore.

Am I two?

Do I know something more than I consciously know? Is there a doppelganger of sorts, from whose mistakes I learn? Are my decisions mine or are they formulated by someone else—a possible destiny or higher power? There is more than what meets the eye. Am I two?

The Double Life of Veronica or La double vie de Véronique is intriguing. It’s supernatural and mysterious. Music and cinematography, in fact, are the two strongest characters of the film apart from the two Veronicas.

It’s strange.

Your words caress the threads of my imagination in a way that almost everything that has touched it before seems to have dissolved into that one caress.
And it’s so overwhelming that you make me breathless.

Smooth as my breath.

Winter's meeting summer

Winter’s meeting summer now.
Cold winds cross the blazing sun.
An impending storm or an approaching calm?
You come like the coming of an unknown season.
Is this what they call fantasy?
Or is this the real love I’ve been waiting for?

Why is it so difficult?

I asked myself last night why it was so difficult to move on in life.

Why was it difficult to kill a moment...a date...a time...a letter....a photograph...a conversation...a video...a feeling...the touch...the pain...the joy...Yes, it is difficult to kill a memory.

Yes, it is difficult to kill something you gave birth to, nurtured for years, gave so much of yourself to- including a huge chunk of your thoughts, feelings and emotions and something that had become a part of you.

It is difficult to kill something inside you.

It is difficult but it has to be done because if you don't kill it, it will kill you- slowly but surely.