Uncanny resemblances to myself freak me out.
You ever had someone whom you thought were like the exact carbon copy of yourself in some or the other aspect? It is weird. I don’t claim those people are exactly like me in all the senses, but somewhere on some abstract level, they remind you so much of yourself that it does flip your mind out. Like the way they behave in a social gathering. I am never the star speaker, but heck, it always ends up like I would have to drive something around. And when I see someone do exactly the same things I would usually have done in the group meets, I just can’t help feel slightly squirmy. There can’t be two of me, Am trying to come to terms with one inside me, Dammit! (Grin...Have always been and always will be a narcissist to the core!) Someone who shares your love for Steven Erikson and Tolkien – Check. Makes me wonder! Do I sound so nerdy when I start on my favorite brand of books? Someone who goes gaga over my favorite (Oh well current!) sitcom character and tries to behave exactly like him - Check. I go, Duuude, Do I sound as goofy as he is when I get to act like that? Damn! Someone whose music collection and craze exactly mirrors yours – Check. I do not claim I’m a huge buff or the master when it comes to grunge alternate rock or bollywood music. But I like to check what’s the latest on the circuit and would always take an extra effort to go download that. But when I know now that I can second guess someone’s interests in this coz it is the friggin’ same ones, then I know it’s unnerving.
And you wonder, it always takes another one of yourselves to figure oneself out. Now that sounded confusing, the point am trying to drive home is, you never give second thoughts about you appear to others but you have someone else play it up for you, you sit up and take note. And then it is time to take that psychosomatic plunge into the stygian depth of your crazy mind to try and unravel those secrets about yourself. As Robin Scherbatsky asks, Whoooo ARE you?
Lost my mind in the morning? Check.
Friday, November 7, 2008
The Newest Fellowship.
“I make friends very fast, but not fast friends.”
Something that continues to haunt me for a lifetime, now I guess when I look back on the 25 odd years of my life.
Friday Evening, sometime in September.
So it was 10:30, well past in the night and most of the regular ‘mall-rats’ [those wannabe pretty young things wearing gravity-defying skirts and killer stilettos, hanging onto their hunky five-days-a-week-gym boy-toys flaunting their biceps in itsy-bitsy tee-shirts] had all gone home to cuddle up and whisper sweet nothings in their cell phones. The Mall outsides wore a deserted look, the wind was slowly picking up and I watched a plastic cover [that environmental time-bomb] slowly dance a tantalizing tango on the ground, buffed by the chill wind.
“Thank You!”
The voice brought me back to the world. I turned around to face the source of that ‘thank you’.
MK. [Notice how that rhymes with your Dad’s initials...grin] gave me a hesitant uncertain smile. I nodded my head and smiled back.
“You’re welcome”
She immediately flashed her regular mischievous grin and skipped along, falling into step beside me. “Okay!” and that made it sound like the most natural thing for me to be dropping her off home in the nights. I shook my head and smiled at myself, “Yeah Right!”
It has always been tough to make conversations with this group, especially her. Me, the nerd, only interested in comics, fantasy, alternate ‘Angrez’ music and she, dreamy, full of zeal and joie-de-vivre, a movie and sitcom maniac if any and a habit of exploding into maniacal bubbly peals of laughter every five nano-seconds. No way! Not even remotely compatible even in my most optimistic rose-tinted dreams.
(Hypothetical Hi-Five….Niiiiice! Grin)
So here I was, willing to drop this absolutely ‘nice’ [ I need to qualify this nice, because in spite of having spent her formative years in Delhi, gone to an Engineering college and actually stayed over in a hostel – horror of horrors-and then went on to do an MBA – no less- from – OMG- Goa (Of all the places), this girl retained that ‘nice’ tag – which trust me, Is Near-Impossible] girl back home, taking a 3-km detour away from my home at late night, with whom I had absolutely NO chances ever of hitting it off and yet, here I was, doing the very same thing! - Super fluffy-brained moron? Check.
So why was I doing that? ‘coz I realized at this point in my life, I could really use some time hanging around genuinely nice people. And that is what these guys were. Without any hang-ups or pretences. They were plain nice people, a welcome addition to my starved life! [ Ye know am conveniently forgetting all those lovely episodes of 'How I Met Your Mother' sitcoms, the countless movies that I copied from the precious HDD, the innumerable treats at CCD, the Nicknames that still continue to haunt and of course the inevitable fights that break out - but wait, Am jumping the gun here. That calls for another long post!]
And now I am drifting away again. Life’s turns has been so violent, am usually thrown off my rockers skidding uncontrollably. It so happens, I am leaving (In fact, already LEFT) this organization and jumping onto what K. (Now that’s another of the nice people I have befriended!) terms as, “as closest as it can get to a dream job break in marketing and I really hope you rock it here”. So just as I liked this bunch, I have had to call it the quits. Ironic!
There’s also Sh., who’s probably the most simplest and endearing persons I could ever have come across, and fits so effortlessly into the genuinely caring friend role with anyone he meets. Labeled by some, as the ‘bestest in the group’, he unfortunately forms the butt of all jokes. Another long one is due on this chap because there’s no dull moment with him or Mk. around in the group.
Keep your tabs on this coz am coming back to write a longer one on this topic. Peace out and don’t forget to brush those ‘kitaanu’ with the dishum-dishum toothpaste at nights. ( and No, I aint endorsing any brand for Gawd’s sake!)
Something that continues to haunt me for a lifetime, now I guess when I look back on the 25 odd years of my life.
Friday Evening, sometime in September.
So it was 10:30, well past in the night and most of the regular ‘mall-rats’ [those wannabe pretty young things wearing gravity-defying skirts and killer stilettos, hanging onto their hunky five-days-a-week-gym boy-toys flaunting their biceps in itsy-bitsy tee-shirts] had all gone home to cuddle up and whisper sweet nothings in their cell phones. The Mall outsides wore a deserted look, the wind was slowly picking up and I watched a plastic cover [that environmental time-bomb] slowly dance a tantalizing tango on the ground, buffed by the chill wind.
“Thank You!”
The voice brought me back to the world. I turned around to face the source of that ‘thank you’.
MK. [Notice how that rhymes with your Dad’s initials...grin] gave me a hesitant uncertain smile. I nodded my head and smiled back.
“You’re welcome”
She immediately flashed her regular mischievous grin and skipped along, falling into step beside me. “Okay!” and that made it sound like the most natural thing for me to be dropping her off home in the nights. I shook my head and smiled at myself, “Yeah Right!”
It has always been tough to make conversations with this group, especially her. Me, the nerd, only interested in comics, fantasy, alternate ‘Angrez’ music and she, dreamy, full of zeal and joie-de-vivre, a movie and sitcom maniac if any and a habit of exploding into maniacal bubbly peals of laughter every five nano-seconds. No way! Not even remotely compatible even in my most optimistic rose-tinted dreams.
(Hypothetical Hi-Five….Niiiiice! Grin)
So here I was, willing to drop this absolutely ‘nice’ [ I need to qualify this nice, because in spite of having spent her formative years in Delhi, gone to an Engineering college and actually stayed over in a hostel – horror of horrors-and then went on to do an MBA – no less- from – OMG- Goa (Of all the places), this girl retained that ‘nice’ tag – which trust me, Is Near-Impossible] girl back home, taking a 3-km detour away from my home at late night, with whom I had absolutely NO chances ever of hitting it off and yet, here I was, doing the very same thing! - Super fluffy-brained moron? Check.
So why was I doing that? ‘coz I realized at this point in my life, I could really use some time hanging around genuinely nice people. And that is what these guys were. Without any hang-ups or pretences. They were plain nice people, a welcome addition to my starved life! [ Ye know am conveniently forgetting all those lovely episodes of 'How I Met Your Mother' sitcoms, the countless movies that I copied from the precious HDD, the innumerable treats at CCD, the Nicknames that still continue to haunt and of course the inevitable fights that break out - but wait, Am jumping the gun here. That calls for another long post!]
And now I am drifting away again. Life’s turns has been so violent, am usually thrown off my rockers skidding uncontrollably. It so happens, I am leaving (In fact, already LEFT) this organization and jumping onto what K. (Now that’s another of the nice people I have befriended!) terms as, “as closest as it can get to a dream job break in marketing and I really hope you rock it here”. So just as I liked this bunch, I have had to call it the quits. Ironic!
There’s also Sh., who’s probably the most simplest and endearing persons I could ever have come across, and fits so effortlessly into the genuinely caring friend role with anyone he meets. Labeled by some, as the ‘bestest in the group’, he unfortunately forms the butt of all jokes. Another long one is due on this chap because there’s no dull moment with him or Mk. around in the group.
Keep your tabs on this coz am coming back to write a longer one on this topic. Peace out and don’t forget to brush those ‘kitaanu’ with the dishum-dishum toothpaste at nights. ( and No, I aint endorsing any brand for Gawd’s sake!)
Day 2. Blood Feud
Pre-script: I wrote this during those ten days of blood bath that followed at office when I announced my decision to quit. It's not quite old news but this happened a week before I could post. Any references or resemblances to persons living (or dead, how I wish!) is purely intentional with a lot of spite added. And I am not apologetic. But heck, I had a lot of fun writing this and I truly hope you guys do too. Plunge headlong - picture this, its day 2 of the amazing blood feud and am truly inspired to go more rounds.
The Consequences I live with.
It has been a bloody day at battle today. Both sides going strong, battered bloody and bruised and yet, no giving any inch of the ground. It has been an exhilarating experience to spar with someone who wields power far greater than me and yet, be winning points against them. Today is round 3, when we go at it again, hammer and tongs.
Morning has been such a whirlwind of experiences. I did not realize that in such a professional corporate environment too, people can take things personally and declare a vendetta against me. Meet R., a hugely deprived soul, hungry for attention of any kinds, a social retard of the worst order, with looks that on an average remind of you a demented marsupial kept in hunger captivity for a week. My batch-mates argue that he reminds you of an arachnid (spider) about to spring the web and looking around hungrily for the prey all the time, with a weird blue tooth device that sticks up like the antennae with funny lights. Armed with charming manners that would probably put even George of the Jungle on his first visit to civilization, to shame, he sticks out like a sore thumb in any social gathering. A person who probably still gets nightmares about his exploited childhood (“Mandir Ka Ghanta” Snigger!!) he has taken my decision to heart and nurses hatred and poison. I think, today morning, Mount Fuji kind of erupted. He makes a pretence of being cool and wants to have a ‘discussion’ with me. Enter meeting room. Close door. The mask is ripped off and out come the fangs. I was very amused for the first 5 minutes of the diatribe. How can this guy have survived EIGHT frigging years in a corporate? But then I mused. He has been the lackey for ever since and so has led a sheltered protected life. He even admitted that he is taking this personally and there is bad blood to my face. He accuses me of conspiring and planning this out for the past four months I sniggered, so much for having a ‘reasonable’ discussion and resigned myself, telling him that if he is so convinced, there is nothing in my human prowess that can convince him otherwise. (Frigging Bull Headed Mofa! I screamed inside my head) He goes on a rant about how this has been his baby and I probably am doing this to snub him (Yeah bring the fuckin baby in front of me, I shall personally chop it up, Anyways I think the baby was doomed as soon as it knew it was yours pal!) I told him to his face, that this interaction with him has been fascinating and he has really been an experience in himself, been a great learning experience and I so wish there is no more such learning experiences for ANY one else around in any organization. Fumes the color of rainbow kept passing over his face during this interaction and I loved to see him squirm. I sometimes picture him as a nasty looking huge cockroach and me pinning him down by the throat and smile watching him squirm and struggle. One day. Soon baby. Bide your time. Till then, Aragorn, son of Arathorn keeps me inspired –
“I see in your eyes, the same fear that would take the heart of me. The day may come when the courage of Man fails; When we forsake our bonds and break all bonds of friendship; but it is NOT THIS DAY.
This DAY WE FIGHT!
By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I BID YOU STAND”
There is lot I hold dear on this good earth. So stand my ground I shall. And Fight I will.
The Consequences I live with.
It has been a bloody day at battle today. Both sides going strong, battered bloody and bruised and yet, no giving any inch of the ground. It has been an exhilarating experience to spar with someone who wields power far greater than me and yet, be winning points against them. Today is round 3, when we go at it again, hammer and tongs.
Morning has been such a whirlwind of experiences. I did not realize that in such a professional corporate environment too, people can take things personally and declare a vendetta against me. Meet R., a hugely deprived soul, hungry for attention of any kinds, a social retard of the worst order, with looks that on an average remind of you a demented marsupial kept in hunger captivity for a week. My batch-mates argue that he reminds you of an arachnid (spider) about to spring the web and looking around hungrily for the prey all the time, with a weird blue tooth device that sticks up like the antennae with funny lights. Armed with charming manners that would probably put even George of the Jungle on his first visit to civilization, to shame, he sticks out like a sore thumb in any social gathering. A person who probably still gets nightmares about his exploited childhood (“Mandir Ka Ghanta” Snigger!!) he has taken my decision to heart and nurses hatred and poison. I think, today morning, Mount Fuji kind of erupted. He makes a pretence of being cool and wants to have a ‘discussion’ with me. Enter meeting room. Close door. The mask is ripped off and out come the fangs. I was very amused for the first 5 minutes of the diatribe. How can this guy have survived EIGHT frigging years in a corporate? But then I mused. He has been the lackey for ever since and so has led a sheltered protected life. He even admitted that he is taking this personally and there is bad blood to my face. He accuses me of conspiring and planning this out for the past four months I sniggered, so much for having a ‘reasonable’ discussion and resigned myself, telling him that if he is so convinced, there is nothing in my human prowess that can convince him otherwise. (Frigging Bull Headed Mofa! I screamed inside my head) He goes on a rant about how this has been his baby and I probably am doing this to snub him (Yeah bring the fuckin baby in front of me, I shall personally chop it up, Anyways I think the baby was doomed as soon as it knew it was yours pal!) I told him to his face, that this interaction with him has been fascinating and he has really been an experience in himself, been a great learning experience and I so wish there is no more such learning experiences for ANY one else around in any organization. Fumes the color of rainbow kept passing over his face during this interaction and I loved to see him squirm. I sometimes picture him as a nasty looking huge cockroach and me pinning him down by the throat and smile watching him squirm and struggle. One day. Soon baby. Bide your time. Till then, Aragorn, son of Arathorn keeps me inspired –
“I see in your eyes, the same fear that would take the heart of me. The day may come when the courage of Man fails; When we forsake our bonds and break all bonds of friendship; but it is NOT THIS DAY.
This DAY WE FIGHT!
By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I BID YOU STAND”
There is lot I hold dear on this good earth. So stand my ground I shall. And Fight I will.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Gelf Experiences
Rainy Tuesday night on a crowded train from Kerala to Bangalore. Sweltering hot. Raised voices that makes you want to take a swan-dive off the next bridge.
While I was musing on how best to spend my time, this cloud burst of an inspiration struck me: Study of human subjects. Specifically, my neighbors on the train in the next bay. Made an amazing case study – this motley crew just returned from the ‘Gelf’ J
Dig this: How do you ascertain if that chatty family is immigrant from Kerala who found their calling in the Middle East?
Lemme give you some infallible tips after my wonderful experience with this family in that ten-hour long train journey.
Point One: The first indication is the whiff of perfume. Expensive Davidoff Coolwater, fragrances of rose-water ‘attar’, mixed with a lot of exotic heady ladies cologne. And while you wonder where on earth is such heavenly fragrance wafting from, a cacophony of noises drown out any reaction that you would have wanted to make. A family of about nine (for want of not offending any body’s puritan senses, I am restricting the family size to nine which is actually quite a modest number) huffs and puffs through the narrow passage way of the sleeper-class compartment in the train. Lugging luggage (American Tourister and Samsonite no less!) the size of mini golf-carts piled sky high one on top of another.
That’s your first brush with these characters.
Point Two: Do you spot that one male, who is probably the size of a beached whale resting on the Miami Beach, hair colored a weird shade of orange and graying at the sides and definitely on the receding end of things, at the centre of everything, controlling things? He’s probably sweating bullets and sports a huge clean white kerchief, mopping his brows and now splotched dark with sweat stains. (This is like the hundredth time he is coming back to his motherland, and yet, having been used to the air-conditioning in the middle of Gobi desert, he’s yet to adjust back to the humid air of Kerala!) That’s the patriarch. The buck stops here. The rock around which others rally. Our man is leading the whole family back into their native land – Good old Kerala from Gelf.
Point three: The Patriarch is by default surrounded by at least three to four ladies, lending voice to the chaos in high pitched falsettos. Against conventional beliefs, these ladies usually are given to brazenly uncovering their hair and only have a dupatta casually draped around their shoulders, stand tall in their Jimmy Choos bought at the last Dubai Shopping Extravaganza and smell of a thousand other fragrances which would send your nose into a tizzy just trying to unravel. Mostly on the healthier side, these ladies would be cradling at least one to two toddlers who would be bawling their lungs out for attention.
Point four: The Rich Spoilt Brats. Boy: Young, Natty, clad in expensive Puma/Adidas footballer tees, and shorts, sporting very large gaudy Casio sports-watches on their wrists and always with a video-game in hand that looks like it will cost you at least 2 months salary. The older ones (mind you, when I say old, I mean like nine or ten) always have the Nokia N-series which they casually flip around in their hands.
Girl: Very young, usually looks like the DOLL. Very pretty, completely dolled up in the latest western outfit, hair cut in the latest French fringe style and wearing five-inch heels ( beat that!). Slightly older girls fare no better, with the complete doll outfits, and hair let loose without a dupatta covering it up. Always with that frosty-nosed stare, eyes made up, and nose stuck-up in a richie-rich snob look and dresses that glimmer and shine in the dark.
That makes up most of the nine-member family from Gelf who are out for a summer vacation back at the ancestral home in Kerala. You can’t go wrong with these pointers; All Gelf Returnees! Hail “Mallu-land Dufaaaii”!
While I was musing on how best to spend my time, this cloud burst of an inspiration struck me: Study of human subjects. Specifically, my neighbors on the train in the next bay. Made an amazing case study – this motley crew just returned from the ‘Gelf’ J
Dig this: How do you ascertain if that chatty family is immigrant from Kerala who found their calling in the Middle East?
Lemme give you some infallible tips after my wonderful experience with this family in that ten-hour long train journey.
Point One: The first indication is the whiff of perfume. Expensive Davidoff Coolwater, fragrances of rose-water ‘attar’, mixed with a lot of exotic heady ladies cologne. And while you wonder where on earth is such heavenly fragrance wafting from, a cacophony of noises drown out any reaction that you would have wanted to make. A family of about nine (for want of not offending any body’s puritan senses, I am restricting the family size to nine which is actually quite a modest number) huffs and puffs through the narrow passage way of the sleeper-class compartment in the train. Lugging luggage (American Tourister and Samsonite no less!) the size of mini golf-carts piled sky high one on top of another.
That’s your first brush with these characters.
Point Two: Do you spot that one male, who is probably the size of a beached whale resting on the Miami Beach, hair colored a weird shade of orange and graying at the sides and definitely on the receding end of things, at the centre of everything, controlling things? He’s probably sweating bullets and sports a huge clean white kerchief, mopping his brows and now splotched dark with sweat stains. (This is like the hundredth time he is coming back to his motherland, and yet, having been used to the air-conditioning in the middle of Gobi desert, he’s yet to adjust back to the humid air of Kerala!) That’s the patriarch. The buck stops here. The rock around which others rally. Our man is leading the whole family back into their native land – Good old Kerala from Gelf.
Point three: The Patriarch is by default surrounded by at least three to four ladies, lending voice to the chaos in high pitched falsettos. Against conventional beliefs, these ladies usually are given to brazenly uncovering their hair and only have a dupatta casually draped around their shoulders, stand tall in their Jimmy Choos bought at the last Dubai Shopping Extravaganza and smell of a thousand other fragrances which would send your nose into a tizzy just trying to unravel. Mostly on the healthier side, these ladies would be cradling at least one to two toddlers who would be bawling their lungs out for attention.
Point four: The Rich Spoilt Brats. Boy: Young, Natty, clad in expensive Puma/Adidas footballer tees, and shorts, sporting very large gaudy Casio sports-watches on their wrists and always with a video-game in hand that looks like it will cost you at least 2 months salary. The older ones (mind you, when I say old, I mean like nine or ten) always have the Nokia N-series which they casually flip around in their hands.
Girl: Very young, usually looks like the DOLL. Very pretty, completely dolled up in the latest western outfit, hair cut in the latest French fringe style and wearing five-inch heels ( beat that!). Slightly older girls fare no better, with the complete doll outfits, and hair let loose without a dupatta covering it up. Always with that frosty-nosed stare, eyes made up, and nose stuck-up in a richie-rich snob look and dresses that glimmer and shine in the dark.
That makes up most of the nine-member family from Gelf who are out for a summer vacation back at the ancestral home in Kerala. You can’t go wrong with these pointers; All Gelf Returnees! Hail “Mallu-land Dufaaaii”!
Monday, October 20, 2008
Dropping the Bomb!
I finally heard the penny drop. The sound of Click! Ah sweet mother in heaven. Finally killed those countless ghosts which had filled up the depths of my mind. Yesterday night, I was pondering how they must have felt, before they dropped the bombs little man and fat boy over Hiroshima, Nagasaki. I don’t know how they felt, but I seriously felt queasy. Sick to the stomach. But now that the deed’s done, I am feeling better. What the heck! I dropped the bomb and now it is only left how to fend off the blood feud. I don’t quite look forward to this but, what should happen, will happen. Amen.
The Eternal Questions in Life
Some days are foggy. When reason fails to cut through the clutter.
And I question the purpose of existence. For a larger picture, that someone above is languidly painting on my black and white canvas of a life. I keep wondering when He is going to dip his brush into that pot of bright poster colors (kept open and drying fast beside Him) and splash across my canvas. To bring it alive in an explosion of multi colored hues and shades. And to this day, I keep waiting.
As usual, am in the middle of a transition period in life. And as usual, faced with ponderous life-threatening decisions to make, I am indeed confused. As would any youngling in his impressionable twenties trying to tie down the loose ends of his life, would rightfully be. And Lord, lend me strength to make that right decision.
Today was yet another blotch on my existence. When the guilt that I have not been productive and not contributed to the well being of the other six-billion creatures who walk this earth with me, is slowly threatening to swallow my soul.
I pass time by trying to draft that perfect “separation” notice letter to my employer, praying this does not end in another of those blood baths. (too much blood have I been witness to) I am happy, I am gonna be doing something I love. The lure of greenbacks is hard to resist again. Which doesn’t hurt of course.
And what gnaws at the back of my mind? That I would displease someone whom I really don’t give a rat’s backside about? Somebody pin down that black shadow of a doubt and execute it for me please. I cannot bear to think straight with that hooded assassin (of reason? of logic?) lurking in the back of my mind. Help!
From flames to dust,
Lovers to Friends,
Why do all good things come to an end?
And I question the purpose of existence. For a larger picture, that someone above is languidly painting on my black and white canvas of a life. I keep wondering when He is going to dip his brush into that pot of bright poster colors (kept open and drying fast beside Him) and splash across my canvas. To bring it alive in an explosion of multi colored hues and shades. And to this day, I keep waiting.
As usual, am in the middle of a transition period in life. And as usual, faced with ponderous life-threatening decisions to make, I am indeed confused. As would any youngling in his impressionable twenties trying to tie down the loose ends of his life, would rightfully be. And Lord, lend me strength to make that right decision.
Today was yet another blotch on my existence. When the guilt that I have not been productive and not contributed to the well being of the other six-billion creatures who walk this earth with me, is slowly threatening to swallow my soul.
I pass time by trying to draft that perfect “separation” notice letter to my employer, praying this does not end in another of those blood baths. (too much blood have I been witness to) I am happy, I am gonna be doing something I love. The lure of greenbacks is hard to resist again. Which doesn’t hurt of course.
And what gnaws at the back of my mind? That I would displease someone whom I really don’t give a rat’s backside about? Somebody pin down that black shadow of a doubt and execute it for me please. I cannot bear to think straight with that hooded assassin (of reason? of logic?) lurking in the back of my mind. Help!
From flames to dust,
Lovers to Friends,
Why do all good things come to an end?
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Blues or Bliss?
Weekend Blues
I know, it’s like a misnomer! I mean, who the fuck gets blues on a weekend pal?
Sadly, I do.
Lets face it, Life Rocks – reads one of my friends’ wall on facebook. Hmmm...lets see –
Friday night-out at the movies, [in between I got a phone-call that could change my life!], Saturday lunch-out with a close friend with whom I can rant about everything that is wrong in my life, Evening spent on splurging in buying my favorite books, Night spent at home eating YUM butter chicken masala and watching ‘Black Dahlia’ [Which I rank as Josh Hartnett’s best movie ever beating Lucky Number Slevin], Sunday lazed at home watching re-runs on the telly, catching up with friends in Mumbai [this was very nice], spoke to a NYU Grad who wants to shoot a film la-RDB-ishtyle for her thesis on Indian Call-centre [Correct, am auditioning and I’m hoping she’s as nice looking as Suu aka Gulabbo], now lazing in my bean-bag typing away [ in between I got chided for having slept through the afternoon, I disappointed this really nice girl coz I did not take a huge hint for having coffee with her, Loser that I am!], with Phillip Pullman’s Golden Compass lying next to me.
Good weekend in most senses. Lazy self-indulgent, completely on my terms. I guess in that ways, I’m an extreme existentialist and hate it when someone tells me what to do with my life. I like the Blues. I like the mess. I like the hazy uncertainties that swarm around and engulf me most of the times. Because I like my life, on my own terms. And am glad.
I know, it’s like a misnomer! I mean, who the fuck gets blues on a weekend pal?
Sadly, I do.
Lets face it, Life Rocks – reads one of my friends’ wall on facebook. Hmmm...lets see –
Friday night-out at the movies, [in between I got a phone-call that could change my life!], Saturday lunch-out with a close friend with whom I can rant about everything that is wrong in my life, Evening spent on splurging in buying my favorite books, Night spent at home eating YUM butter chicken masala and watching ‘Black Dahlia’ [Which I rank as Josh Hartnett’s best movie ever beating Lucky Number Slevin], Sunday lazed at home watching re-runs on the telly, catching up with friends in Mumbai [this was very nice], spoke to a NYU Grad who wants to shoot a film la-RDB-ishtyle for her thesis on Indian Call-centre [Correct, am auditioning and I’m hoping she’s as nice looking as Suu aka Gulabbo], now lazing in my bean-bag typing away [ in between I got chided for having slept through the afternoon, I disappointed this really nice girl coz I did not take a huge hint for having coffee with her, Loser that I am!], with Phillip Pullman’s Golden Compass lying next to me.
Good weekend in most senses. Lazy self-indulgent, completely on my terms. I guess in that ways, I’m an extreme existentialist and hate it when someone tells me what to do with my life. I like the Blues. I like the mess. I like the hazy uncertainties that swarm around and engulf me most of the times. Because I like my life, on my own terms. And am glad.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Falling. Falling......
Just hold your breath.
Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you……Over again.
Don't make me change my mind
Lest I never be the same again.
Oh How I wish things weren’t so.
How I wish I were stronger.
And that incessant voice in my head which keeps telling me, I told you so!
Would just shut up for a while.
What’s wrong with me? I don’t know. I wouldn’t know.
Just hold your breath tonight. And now breathe in so deep.
So you breathe me in.
And keep me in forever.
And ever.......
Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you……Over again.
Don't make me change my mind
Lest I never be the same again.
Oh How I wish things weren’t so.
How I wish I were stronger.
And that incessant voice in my head which keeps telling me, I told you so!
Would just shut up for a while.
What’s wrong with me? I don’t know. I wouldn’t know.
Just hold your breath tonight. And now breathe in so deep.
So you breathe me in.
And keep me in forever.
And ever.......
Friday, September 5, 2008
The Happening
We were meant to live for so much more, Have we lost ourselves?
I keep asking myself this question. Especially today, in such trying times. My life is truly HAPPENING now J In all the true sense of the word, it is in such a turmoil. I have never had such a busy morning. I’m earning every breath I take in. I’m running hard to stay in one place. I’m drowning and yet, never felt so free.
You know what, you truly need a crisis to shake up your life to truly find your worth. You weight in gold. It is such an amazing feeling. To step back. Disassociate. And then let go and fall free. Am discovering myself. On a journey of self-exploration. I am connecting. To long lost friends. To important future contacts. I am bridging gaps I never knew existed in my life. I am feeling good about this journey.
I just realized I truly am a crisis-junkie. I act. I actually think. My hands are forced, and yet I enjoy this fire-fighting attitude. I get off on crisis. Bring it on, Life.
I’ve never been so underprepared and yet so yearning. Straining at the leash. Struggling and yet at peace with that inner self. Is this the beginning?
I have so many rainbows forming inside my head, and the colors starting to dazzle me blind. I have so many clouds to trip through, all white and fluffy and yet got no time to tarry and be stuck. Gawd! I think I’m well on my way to be the world’s indigenous crisis-guru.
A hard right-jab, duck, follow with a deft left-hook. Feign, swerve and then come heavily crashing down with a double-handed hammerswing! Ah Glory Sweet Man in Heaven, you cannot beat me down today! This is the time…..time of my life!
I keep asking myself this question. Especially today, in such trying times. My life is truly HAPPENING now J In all the true sense of the word, it is in such a turmoil. I have never had such a busy morning. I’m earning every breath I take in. I’m running hard to stay in one place. I’m drowning and yet, never felt so free.
You know what, you truly need a crisis to shake up your life to truly find your worth. You weight in gold. It is such an amazing feeling. To step back. Disassociate. And then let go and fall free. Am discovering myself. On a journey of self-exploration. I am connecting. To long lost friends. To important future contacts. I am bridging gaps I never knew existed in my life. I am feeling good about this journey.
I just realized I truly am a crisis-junkie. I act. I actually think. My hands are forced, and yet I enjoy this fire-fighting attitude. I get off on crisis. Bring it on, Life.
I’ve never been so underprepared and yet so yearning. Straining at the leash. Struggling and yet at peace with that inner self. Is this the beginning?
I have so many rainbows forming inside my head, and the colors starting to dazzle me blind. I have so many clouds to trip through, all white and fluffy and yet got no time to tarry and be stuck. Gawd! I think I’m well on my way to be the world’s indigenous crisis-guru.
A hard right-jab, duck, follow with a deft left-hook. Feign, swerve and then come heavily crashing down with a double-handed hammerswing! Ah Glory Sweet Man in Heaven, you cannot beat me down today! This is the time…..time of my life!
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Rant.
Misfortune when it hits you, hits you double hard. Or should I be saying a million zillion gazillion times harder that you expect – and Lo!
The night I touched down at Bangalore, Gods decided to kinda enter the play and play hard-ball with me. The skies let rip. Pour. And Man, pour it did. Cats, dogs, every feline and canine relative of them too came roaring down!
And to top it off, imagine stuck outside a Bangalore railway station in the bloody pouring rain haggling with those Bloodthirsty fiendish relatives of Dracula, otherwise called the Auto Drivers (who were charging me more than just an arm and leg to be driven to civilized parts of the city!!!)
I pity myself. (Goddammit all those screwballs oughta be hung upside down and roasted in the fires deep inside the rainforests of Brazil, I am referring to the auto-wallahs! They make your life hell in Bangalore for sure!)
Oh by the way, Chuck Palahniuk (One of my hot favorite picks) has come out with his latest book, called ...You Guessed it..RANT!
The night I touched down at Bangalore, Gods decided to kinda enter the play and play hard-ball with me. The skies let rip. Pour. And Man, pour it did. Cats, dogs, every feline and canine relative of them too came roaring down!
And to top it off, imagine stuck outside a Bangalore railway station in the bloody pouring rain haggling with those Bloodthirsty fiendish relatives of Dracula, otherwise called the Auto Drivers (who were charging me more than just an arm and leg to be driven to civilized parts of the city!!!)
I pity myself. (Goddammit all those screwballs oughta be hung upside down and roasted in the fires deep inside the rainforests of Brazil, I am referring to the auto-wallahs! They make your life hell in Bangalore for sure!)
Oh by the way, Chuck Palahniuk (One of my hot favorite picks) has come out with his latest book, called ...You Guessed it..RANT!
Woes
I am just plain bored struck by the fatal thassophobic need to express my rumblings to the world.
“Six weeks ago, I was just like you.
And then…….I met her.”
Sounds like the perfect beginning to…… Movie? Book? My Autobiography? Come to think of it, just about anything?
(Oh-kay I need to let you in on this one, this is actually the voice over of James McAvoy talking about apna Jolie-Ben – use the Marathi nasal twang when you say B’en! – for the trailer of Wanted. Re-aa-ally looking forward to this one! Jolie-Ben Kicks Ass, dodges bullets and looks sooo shmooking HOT!)
But this really happened…To me. ..But it ain’t six weeks, more like six years when it happened. Ok, here am getting ahead of myself. Rein in, strap up and listen.
Three days back, I watched my best friend get married to her sweetheart.
No, and I did not try and thwart the wedding like Julia Roberts. Nope, I watched on the sidelines, helping out the countless aunties and uncles in their chores, joking with them, jostling for space to throw the flowers on the bride and groom taking their eternal vows (wonder how that word sounds so f**king similar to woes!) I think I bored you guys enough about her and me. And the amazing history we have. Surprising, I was like an eternal favorite with all of them, the first name on their lips for most of everything, the model son whom they bragged about and yet, there I was on the sideline without a girl in my life to share the beautiful moments.
I was musing on this fact on the train back to Bangalore. It was a day express and I got the seat closest to the door and hence, I was most of the times hanging out of the doors. Straining to catch the wet scent of rain on the winds. Having the wind first caress and tease your face in a tantalizingly manner, and then without warning lash out mercilessly, leaving you gasping. I watched the Ghats whiz past in a blur, the lovely green mountains disappearing off in the distance around a bend, to suddenly come back on you, daunting and imposingly large. I would smirk and reason that out in my head, Everybody have their ego issues! And that’s Nature’s manner of making you feel like small and insignificant. But I guessed a little too soon, because the cosmos wasn’t done showing off its might yet. The skies opened up with silver lightning that cleaved the purplish dark sky into two. Dark overcast clouds that suddenly filled up the space, rumbling and crackling in the distant air. Smells of ozone. Rain. And the sudden overbearing brackish smell of sodden water as the train shot across an old decaying bridge. I hung back, a little scared of the rusting reddish-brown iron beams that shot past me accompanied by the deafening noise of the train-wheels on a bridge. The whole scene of a train rattling at above hundred miles on an iron bridge with that frighteningly explosive noise filling up your ears, is definitely a scary part of any train journey. Try sitting on the edge of the doors, watching those beams whiz past you, while your ears are ringing with that noise. It takes a brave man to do that!
Anyways with such picturesque scenes unfolding in front of me, I got into the introspective mood and that kinda spoilt most of it :-)
( And here I go back diving into the cesspools of misery cloyingly sorrounding my life!)
Have you ever felt cheated? Have you ever felt lower than the whale-shit at the bottom of the ocean? Like someone’s really pulled the rug from beneath your feet? My life unfolding in those few nano-seconds before I hit the floor made me feel all that and more!
(Oh-kay, I’m distracted here by this image of a Honk-Kong fight movie where the hero is falling, almost parallel to the ground and the whole world gets stuck in a time-warp! It is that feeling!)
“Six weeks ago, I was just like you.
And then…….I met her.”
Sounds like the perfect beginning to…… Movie? Book? My Autobiography? Come to think of it, just about anything?
(Oh-kay I need to let you in on this one, this is actually the voice over of James McAvoy talking about apna Jolie-Ben – use the Marathi nasal twang when you say B’en! – for the trailer of Wanted. Re-aa-ally looking forward to this one! Jolie-Ben Kicks Ass, dodges bullets and looks sooo shmooking HOT!)
But this really happened…To me. ..But it ain’t six weeks, more like six years when it happened. Ok, here am getting ahead of myself. Rein in, strap up and listen.
Three days back, I watched my best friend get married to her sweetheart.
No, and I did not try and thwart the wedding like Julia Roberts. Nope, I watched on the sidelines, helping out the countless aunties and uncles in their chores, joking with them, jostling for space to throw the flowers on the bride and groom taking their eternal vows (wonder how that word sounds so f**king similar to woes!) I think I bored you guys enough about her and me. And the amazing history we have. Surprising, I was like an eternal favorite with all of them, the first name on their lips for most of everything, the model son whom they bragged about and yet, there I was on the sideline without a girl in my life to share the beautiful moments.
I was musing on this fact on the train back to Bangalore. It was a day express and I got the seat closest to the door and hence, I was most of the times hanging out of the doors. Straining to catch the wet scent of rain on the winds. Having the wind first caress and tease your face in a tantalizingly manner, and then without warning lash out mercilessly, leaving you gasping. I watched the Ghats whiz past in a blur, the lovely green mountains disappearing off in the distance around a bend, to suddenly come back on you, daunting and imposingly large. I would smirk and reason that out in my head, Everybody have their ego issues! And that’s Nature’s manner of making you feel like small and insignificant. But I guessed a little too soon, because the cosmos wasn’t done showing off its might yet. The skies opened up with silver lightning that cleaved the purplish dark sky into two. Dark overcast clouds that suddenly filled up the space, rumbling and crackling in the distant air. Smells of ozone. Rain. And the sudden overbearing brackish smell of sodden water as the train shot across an old decaying bridge. I hung back, a little scared of the rusting reddish-brown iron beams that shot past me accompanied by the deafening noise of the train-wheels on a bridge. The whole scene of a train rattling at above hundred miles on an iron bridge with that frighteningly explosive noise filling up your ears, is definitely a scary part of any train journey. Try sitting on the edge of the doors, watching those beams whiz past you, while your ears are ringing with that noise. It takes a brave man to do that!
Anyways with such picturesque scenes unfolding in front of me, I got into the introspective mood and that kinda spoilt most of it :-)
( And here I go back diving into the cesspools of misery cloyingly sorrounding my life!)
Have you ever felt cheated? Have you ever felt lower than the whale-shit at the bottom of the ocean? Like someone’s really pulled the rug from beneath your feet? My life unfolding in those few nano-seconds before I hit the floor made me feel all that and more!
(Oh-kay, I’m distracted here by this image of a Honk-Kong fight movie where the hero is falling, almost parallel to the ground and the whole world gets stuck in a time-warp! It is that feeling!)
Friday, August 15, 2008
The BlackBox Called Marraige
Marriage....our last chance to grow up.
A. is getting married on the 21st of this month.
I oughta feel on top of the world for her as she’s finally marrying her sweetheart from college. I am pretty kicked about it, of course and really glad for her.
And yet, somewhere at the back of my heart, something gnaws.
Persistent and un-ignorable!
She’s in split minds with that small cloud of anxiety hovering over her all the time. I just got off the phone with her; she’s catching the evening flight home.
“Its goodbye Chennai from Ms.A now I guess. Next time I will be Mrs. A!”
Rueful and hesitant?
I just realized how big the deal about marriage is. It is such a scary decision you are taking, something that is going to shape the whole of your future. To spend the rest of your whole lives together. Of course you are in love with this person and know him/her like even he himself doesn’t know. But then again, that small wave of anxiety wastes no time in expanding to be a furious tsunami lashing your fragile mind-space. I mean, think about it, you are leaving the cozy confines of a social infrastructure you have built for years all around you and this sudden black string that’s binding you to him, uproots you from all that and you end up in an alien country all by yourself.
Well, sorry, A. sweetie pie, that would be painting the canvas black now, no? I’m just trying to step in to the shoes and checking how it feels to get married. I ought to feel really happy. But I’m not.
On two accounts –
One, I’m going to miss the wedding. Damn. Sometimes I hate my job! I’m going only on Sunday to her home.
Two, I can no longer call up my best friend at twelve in the night and speak away to glory. It’s tough, as I’m on a rebound and I really was getting used to this comfort factor in my life. Of someone to lean back on and open the floodgates. (Now you sound like a sissy, YUCK!)
But truly, A. you are a rock-star and thanks for being around for me.
You know the best kind of friendships that endure? Wherein every time you get back to your buddy, you can so easily slip into yourself and dive deep into some silly conversation or debate on profound truths in your life just as easily, forgetting the years that rolled by.
Congratulations A. and all the best for an amazing life ahead. You deserve everything you have and lots more to come, for being what you are and just being yourself. Miss You.
A. is getting married on the 21st of this month.
I oughta feel on top of the world for her as she’s finally marrying her sweetheart from college. I am pretty kicked about it, of course and really glad for her.
And yet, somewhere at the back of my heart, something gnaws.
Persistent and un-ignorable!
She’s in split minds with that small cloud of anxiety hovering over her all the time. I just got off the phone with her; she’s catching the evening flight home.
“Its goodbye Chennai from Ms.A now I guess. Next time I will be Mrs. A!”
Rueful and hesitant?
I just realized how big the deal about marriage is. It is such a scary decision you are taking, something that is going to shape the whole of your future. To spend the rest of your whole lives together. Of course you are in love with this person and know him/her like even he himself doesn’t know. But then again, that small wave of anxiety wastes no time in expanding to be a furious tsunami lashing your fragile mind-space. I mean, think about it, you are leaving the cozy confines of a social infrastructure you have built for years all around you and this sudden black string that’s binding you to him, uproots you from all that and you end up in an alien country all by yourself.
Well, sorry, A. sweetie pie, that would be painting the canvas black now, no? I’m just trying to step in to the shoes and checking how it feels to get married. I ought to feel really happy. But I’m not.
On two accounts –
One, I’m going to miss the wedding. Damn. Sometimes I hate my job! I’m going only on Sunday to her home.
Two, I can no longer call up my best friend at twelve in the night and speak away to glory. It’s tough, as I’m on a rebound and I really was getting used to this comfort factor in my life. Of someone to lean back on and open the floodgates. (Now you sound like a sissy, YUCK!)
But truly, A. you are a rock-star and thanks for being around for me.
You know the best kind of friendships that endure? Wherein every time you get back to your buddy, you can so easily slip into yourself and dive deep into some silly conversation or debate on profound truths in your life just as easily, forgetting the years that rolled by.
Congratulations A. and all the best for an amazing life ahead. You deserve everything you have and lots more to come, for being what you are and just being yourself. Miss You.
Friday, August 8, 2008
The Lookout
A Discovery.....
Have you guys heard of this sleepy Heist thriller called the Lookout? A very low profile kinda movie which has gone on to become one of the biggest cult hits on the DVD circuit. Panned by many critics as one of the best movies of 2007, it really is a brilliant effort by debut director, Scott Frank. Run of the Mill story, but the screenplay, acting and camera work really takes it to the next level. I loved it.
Stephen Gordon Levitt plays the title role. Chris Pratt, the popular high school good looking rich brat who has his ‘whole life ripped out from underneath him’ in one deathly car crash. What happens next in his life and how he struggles to cope with his inner demons, his guilt and finally manages to gain the upper hand in this duel forms the backdrop of the whole story. The part where it gets engaging (and where it starts to become that thriller), is a planned bank heist. Where he is enlisted to play the lookout during the job. The same bank where he plays a night janitor because he’s got a short term memory loss after the horrible accident. The entry of Mathew Goode, who plays the antagonist, kinda spices things up and things slowly pick up speed. How Chris stays ahead of the goons in spite of his shortcomings is engaging. But what I loved about the movie were two things –
One, there was not a single wasted sequence or shot. Very measured, all very well-knit together frames.
Two, the opening sequence. Call me a sucker, but the music of the movie which is nothing to write home about, found in me a big fan. I discovered this new band called My Morning Jacket. The opening soundtrack is mindblowing-ly awesome! Such amazing tabs and a full two minutes and eighteen seconds of the gat just jamming away to pure glory. Really nice, you should check the first five minutes of the movie when the opening credits roll on. And of course the digitally created fire-fly sequence. Damn Cute! I sure would love to drive my girl out on a such a night where the sky is lit by stars and fire-flies and nothing else in an open sports car. Sigh!
Take it from me, a big music buff, One Big Holiday by My Morning Jacket is a damn feel-good-track for you to wake up to in the mornings!
Have you guys heard of this sleepy Heist thriller called the Lookout? A very low profile kinda movie which has gone on to become one of the biggest cult hits on the DVD circuit. Panned by many critics as one of the best movies of 2007, it really is a brilliant effort by debut director, Scott Frank. Run of the Mill story, but the screenplay, acting and camera work really takes it to the next level. I loved it.
Stephen Gordon Levitt plays the title role. Chris Pratt, the popular high school good looking rich brat who has his ‘whole life ripped out from underneath him’ in one deathly car crash. What happens next in his life and how he struggles to cope with his inner demons, his guilt and finally manages to gain the upper hand in this duel forms the backdrop of the whole story. The part where it gets engaging (and where it starts to become that thriller), is a planned bank heist. Where he is enlisted to play the lookout during the job. The same bank where he plays a night janitor because he’s got a short term memory loss after the horrible accident. The entry of Mathew Goode, who plays the antagonist, kinda spices things up and things slowly pick up speed. How Chris stays ahead of the goons in spite of his shortcomings is engaging. But what I loved about the movie were two things –
One, there was not a single wasted sequence or shot. Very measured, all very well-knit together frames.
Two, the opening sequence. Call me a sucker, but the music of the movie which is nothing to write home about, found in me a big fan. I discovered this new band called My Morning Jacket. The opening soundtrack is mindblowing-ly awesome! Such amazing tabs and a full two minutes and eighteen seconds of the gat just jamming away to pure glory. Really nice, you should check the first five minutes of the movie when the opening credits roll on. And of course the digitally created fire-fly sequence. Damn Cute! I sure would love to drive my girl out on a such a night where the sky is lit by stars and fire-flies and nothing else in an open sports car. Sigh!
Take it from me, a big music buff, One Big Holiday by My Morning Jacket is a damn feel-good-track for you to wake up to in the mornings!
Circle of Life
Circle of Life…
What goes around comes around.
You throw something into the sea, be sure it’s gonna wash up right back into your front yard one fine day. (Or the back yard?) Dead, bloated and reeking wet. Of dead memories. Of times you want to bury deep in your backyard.
Today I burnt the snap. And flushed the remains down the commode. Kinda puerile, juvenile and childish. Yeah Okay I admit, I borrowed it out of the movie but hey! It works, eh!
Sigh….Amazing circle of life I’ve had – from being mere acquaintances, to friends, soul mates, to fall in love, undergo betrayal and heart-break, back to friends again, now acquaintances to probably fading away to oblivion. I walked that way. It was not worth all the sweat and tears. It’s a bitter pill I swallow but the memory now fails me here. For that part of life has been washed out with some bright white paint that hurts your eyes to even look at it. And Hence I dig no more. I buried all the skeletons in my closet. No more to haunt me now. And I’m glad to be living again.
Chasing the finer things in life.
In the hues of rainbow colors. And any bright color that helps me forget. Or well, just helping me dive deep in and don’t give a damn about it.
What goes around comes around.
You throw something into the sea, be sure it’s gonna wash up right back into your front yard one fine day. (Or the back yard?) Dead, bloated and reeking wet. Of dead memories. Of times you want to bury deep in your backyard.
Today I burnt the snap. And flushed the remains down the commode. Kinda puerile, juvenile and childish. Yeah Okay I admit, I borrowed it out of the movie but hey! It works, eh!
Sigh….Amazing circle of life I’ve had – from being mere acquaintances, to friends, soul mates, to fall in love, undergo betrayal and heart-break, back to friends again, now acquaintances to probably fading away to oblivion. I walked that way. It was not worth all the sweat and tears. It’s a bitter pill I swallow but the memory now fails me here. For that part of life has been washed out with some bright white paint that hurts your eyes to even look at it. And Hence I dig no more. I buried all the skeletons in my closet. No more to haunt me now. And I’m glad to be living again.
Chasing the finer things in life.
In the hues of rainbow colors. And any bright color that helps me forget. Or well, just helping me dive deep in and don’t give a damn about it.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Exploring the Dark Side
Dark, dark side of humanity.
Enough water has flown under the bridge about the dark knight! Everybody is raving. Ranting. Crying themselves hoarse chanting Heath Ledger’s name. A rip-roaring thundercloud that’s definitely the best in a long list of movies I’ve seen in a long time.
With fantastic performances by all, especially the indomitable Heath Ledger who overshadowed Jack Nicholson’s Joker in a reprisal of the infamous villain.
Why ssssooooo sserious? * With that hiss and the lick of lips! Seriously sent shivers down my spine!
Loved every single moment of this dark and gritty adaptation of the Gotham hero comic book, far surpassing even the first installment from Christopher Nolan (Batman Begins which was a classic again) Batman is still the same, ever in doubt, this venture takes us even deeper into the stygian depths of his dark mind and psyche as he ponders about the futility of him being the capped crusader hell-bent on being Gotham’s savior and is plagued by searing self-doubts about himself.
Katie Holmes missed out this one, but I din mind one bit. Psst...if you ask me, ‘Rachel’ was always a distraction for Bruce. I was mighty sad when the rich philanthropist came back on strongly, to reclaim Rachel’s love choosing her over his crime-riddled city and almost gave up on Batman. But then Joker took care of that, dinn he? In his own devious, ingenious manner. What of course endeared to me was the flippant attitude of Joker towards life. Scorn and contempt for any kind of rule, loves to be anarchist, someone who never ever schemes or plans.
Am like the dog who chases the car, I wouldn’t know what to do with them if I ever catch one *
With some classic gems to treasure (that still rings in my head everyday I wake up ‘If you are good at something, never do it for free!’), he easily flitted from frame to frame, gamboling in crime for fun’s sake. The classic agent of chaos, how he wrecks hell on Batman scene after scene and how this turns into almost a personal vendetta for our man forms the plot of this heady concoction of super-dark, morbid violence and psychosomatic depressive plunges into tunnels within human psyche. Christian Bale is as usual restrained, dark and pondering. With a hammered growling menacing voice like he’s been on an unrestrained diet of cigarettes and ice-cold martinis straight for weeks, newer uber-kewl gadgets, sporting a new bat-suit, and vrooming on the super-sexy bat-mobile. He fits the mask now. He’s brilliant and one of my favorite actors especially after movies like ’12:10 to Yuma’, and now this! I cannot picture anyone else as the Capped Crusader for ever enduring pain for his beloved Gotham city. Gary Oldman aka Lieutenant Gordon, the ever lovable cop now promoted to commissioner, plays a longer role, as endearing as his first time. Aaron Eckhart playing the DA, represents the transformation or rather fall of the city’s white knight in shining armor into Two-face, the embittered alter-ego, who falls for the Joker’s trap. Very measured performance, good but overshadowed by the main protagonists.
But the question that now remains, is, now that Heath Ledger is unfortunately no longer with us, after having played the role of a lifetime and left boots TOO HUGE for anyone else to play, who will reprise the enigmatic Joker?
Gawd, am I waiting for the sequel or what. Can I fast-forward into the future please?
Enough water has flown under the bridge about the dark knight! Everybody is raving. Ranting. Crying themselves hoarse chanting Heath Ledger’s name. A rip-roaring thundercloud that’s definitely the best in a long list of movies I’ve seen in a long time.
With fantastic performances by all, especially the indomitable Heath Ledger who overshadowed Jack Nicholson’s Joker in a reprisal of the infamous villain.
Why ssssooooo sserious? * With that hiss and the lick of lips! Seriously sent shivers down my spine!
Loved every single moment of this dark and gritty adaptation of the Gotham hero comic book, far surpassing even the first installment from Christopher Nolan (Batman Begins which was a classic again) Batman is still the same, ever in doubt, this venture takes us even deeper into the stygian depths of his dark mind and psyche as he ponders about the futility of him being the capped crusader hell-bent on being Gotham’s savior and is plagued by searing self-doubts about himself.
Katie Holmes missed out this one, but I din mind one bit. Psst...if you ask me, ‘Rachel’ was always a distraction for Bruce. I was mighty sad when the rich philanthropist came back on strongly, to reclaim Rachel’s love choosing her over his crime-riddled city and almost gave up on Batman. But then Joker took care of that, dinn he? In his own devious, ingenious manner. What of course endeared to me was the flippant attitude of Joker towards life. Scorn and contempt for any kind of rule, loves to be anarchist, someone who never ever schemes or plans.
Am like the dog who chases the car, I wouldn’t know what to do with them if I ever catch one *
With some classic gems to treasure (that still rings in my head everyday I wake up ‘If you are good at something, never do it for free!’), he easily flitted from frame to frame, gamboling in crime for fun’s sake. The classic agent of chaos, how he wrecks hell on Batman scene after scene and how this turns into almost a personal vendetta for our man forms the plot of this heady concoction of super-dark, morbid violence and psychosomatic depressive plunges into tunnels within human psyche. Christian Bale is as usual restrained, dark and pondering. With a hammered growling menacing voice like he’s been on an unrestrained diet of cigarettes and ice-cold martinis straight for weeks, newer uber-kewl gadgets, sporting a new bat-suit, and vrooming on the super-sexy bat-mobile. He fits the mask now. He’s brilliant and one of my favorite actors especially after movies like ’12:10 to Yuma’, and now this! I cannot picture anyone else as the Capped Crusader for ever enduring pain for his beloved Gotham city. Gary Oldman aka Lieutenant Gordon, the ever lovable cop now promoted to commissioner, plays a longer role, as endearing as his first time. Aaron Eckhart playing the DA, represents the transformation or rather fall of the city’s white knight in shining armor into Two-face, the embittered alter-ego, who falls for the Joker’s trap. Very measured performance, good but overshadowed by the main protagonists.
But the question that now remains, is, now that Heath Ledger is unfortunately no longer with us, after having played the role of a lifetime and left boots TOO HUGE for anyone else to play, who will reprise the enigmatic Joker?
Gawd, am I waiting for the sequel or what. Can I fast-forward into the future please?
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Return of the A.
My life be a rollercoaster of emotional overload and short circuits for some time now.
Yesterday I had two long conversations. First of course was with you-know-who (the past who’s now fast becoming the ‘past’ in all senses), surprising? Welcome to the insanities of my life. But the next one takes the cake.
My beshtest friend from school, from whom I had drifted apart a long time ago, makes her entry back with a bang. One of the best conversations that I’ve had with someone in a real long time. You lose some, you win some. I’m now feeling liberated, I told ye guys that right? And to be free, is like no other. And A. (we actually grew up together, doing all the possible good stuff that kids in school do, and were inseparable until of course college happened. We of course were in touch, but the old touch of magic was missing from our friendship, the one that makes it exalted and beautiful.) summed it up in the most sensible words ever.
“Enough, Sach. I think it’s about time you got girls off your head, and be a little independent and free for some time now.” My admiration for her grew by leaps and bounds, A. had really matured in the years that I never really noticed flew past.
For the first time in years since I left school, yesterday the conversation sparkled. Fizzled and bubbled over. And never stopped. And I loved every moment of it. Hail the return of the A.
As I said, you win some, you lose some. I’m glad I lost some. Because it brings back ghosts to life. And I realized I had always loved those ghosts :-)
Yesterday I had two long conversations. First of course was with you-know-who (the past who’s now fast becoming the ‘past’ in all senses), surprising? Welcome to the insanities of my life. But the next one takes the cake.
My beshtest friend from school, from whom I had drifted apart a long time ago, makes her entry back with a bang. One of the best conversations that I’ve had with someone in a real long time. You lose some, you win some. I’m now feeling liberated, I told ye guys that right? And to be free, is like no other. And A. (we actually grew up together, doing all the possible good stuff that kids in school do, and were inseparable until of course college happened. We of course were in touch, but the old touch of magic was missing from our friendship, the one that makes it exalted and beautiful.) summed it up in the most sensible words ever.
“Enough, Sach. I think it’s about time you got girls off your head, and be a little independent and free for some time now.” My admiration for her grew by leaps and bounds, A. had really matured in the years that I never really noticed flew past.
For the first time in years since I left school, yesterday the conversation sparkled. Fizzled and bubbled over. And never stopped. And I loved every moment of it. Hail the return of the A.
As I said, you win some, you lose some. I’m glad I lost some. Because it brings back ghosts to life. And I realized I had always loved those ghosts :-)
Tunak Punjabi
Say what you may, claim that you are a die-hard follower of the grunge rock or the underground pop-mania from the UK, but you all shake a leg to the good old beats of tunak-tunak Punjabi J Its downright infectious, and I have seen it so many times back in college! Play good old Metallica and angst-ridden Nirvana, you will have one section of the crowd trying hard to impress others by their junkie-rock-addict acts of trying to do manic air-guitaring, while banging their heads to non-existent rhythms. (Those honky mothafuckas get up the next morning and complain to me of severe neck pain!!)Don’t get me wrong, I pay homage to the musical greats like them too. But dude, come the beats of a phamous Punjabi song, you cannot stop those legs from shaking or the hips from doing the jhatkas. The entire sea of human bodies starts to move in an unconscious rhythm that is hard to play down. It’s so fucking unbeatable not to unconsciously twitch that hand, or at least (for the craven shy ones) move their heads, then slowly get into the act by throwing a leg and arm in the air imitating the phamous Bhangra, when you listen to the lovely rhythm of Nagada Nagada (If my limited Punjabi/Hindi ain’t wrong, the word means drums, and drums they be, beating out lovely and sonorous through the song). The body base instincts take over and you don’t really have to consciously do the slow gyrations like you do for the DJ’s best act from London School of Sound, but get into the act. Throw it all to the winds and dance like no one’s watching.
Long live ding-ding-ding-ding Ding! Nagada, Nagada, nagada bajaa! Ruk kyon gaye, Bajao!!
Long live ding-ding-ding-ding Ding! Nagada, Nagada, nagada bajaa! Ruk kyon gaye, Bajao!!
Saturday, May 3, 2008
G-TALK: Keeping in Touch
G-talk has definitely arrived. On turbo-jet engines, skidding screeching, burning rubbers, it has pervaded the lives of all us net-addicts. the latest fad to keep in touch, I know I'm perhaps a tad bit late in announcing this, especially in our present-day supercharged lives where a few minutes past becomes old news in a jiffy. Yeah, so for me, G-Talk with the SM(s) - Status Messages - measures how my life has progressed ( or retrogressed!) over past few months. Interesting to note the SM's and then reconstruct your life based on that. Take a look - how life takes the swan-dive into the depths of melancholy and my sincere G-TALK icon bears witness to all that.
Crossing the Chasm now.
I’m blind and waiting for you, God it’s good to be alive!
You’re my favorite damn disease.
Something’s in life are better off rich – Coffee, Chocolate and ME!
We cracked the top 20 in the world, whoa!
All night, Making friends with Shadows.
Lost in Lala land.
Walls will fall before we do.
Wrap me up in a dream with you.
Back from Dead.
Surviving the Holocaust.
I’m Jack’s broken heart.
I’m Jack’s elated heart on a song.
Dealing with Broken Things
Sieving through Kaleidoscope of memories.
Grey & Colorless – Rain Clouds or Heartbreak?
There, I rest my case and leave interpretations to your overly-imaginative mind fed on television and new age cinema. Peace out, shall update with more SM's as life hits the road to recovery :-)
Crossing the Chasm now.
I’m blind and waiting for you, God it’s good to be alive!
You’re my favorite damn disease.
Something’s in life are better off rich – Coffee, Chocolate and ME!
We cracked the top 20 in the world, whoa!
All night, Making friends with Shadows.
Lost in Lala land.
Walls will fall before we do.
Wrap me up in a dream with you.
Back from Dead.
Surviving the Holocaust.
I’m Jack’s broken heart.
I’m Jack’s elated heart on a song.
Dealing with Broken Things
Sieving through Kaleidoscope of memories.
Grey & Colorless – Rain Clouds or Heartbreak?
There, I rest my case and leave interpretations to your overly-imaginative mind fed on television and new age cinema. Peace out, shall update with more SM's as life hits the road to recovery :-)
The Healing Process
They say Time heals like nothing else.
Today evening, my best friend calls me up to ask me to speak with my past. I complied.
I spoke at length to my past. I actually enjoyed the line of conversations. With a free ticket to wildly hilarious sarcasms that I usually cut (ahem!) I was on a roll. Strictly one-sided opinion of course coz after having been once bitten, I’m super-fucking-twice shy about the whole thing. And closely guarded.
I felt refreshed after having confronted my past. Under glaring fog-lamps, the past admitted to having fucked up my life and being fully repentant about the same. But then again, no one beats me when it comes to talking about our favorite books, movies or music. And hence, the past craved for those glory-filled days from my previous life. The word ‘Miss’ figured quite a lot in our conversations. One sided of course and you can guess which side was that.
All said and done, now I truly believe I can live. I survived the biggest holocaust of my life and now, going by the axiom, that which does not kill me can only make me stronger, I emerge stronger. To take the bull right by the horns, Yeah Bring it On Babyee.
In spite of this, about today’s conversation, my only regret is that I couldn’t stick to the strict regime. It is widely believed and truly so, that to break out of an addiction, you needtcha refrain yourself from this drug for continuously 21 days at a stretch.
Today marked the 20th day since I last had contact with my previous life.
I miss by one fucking miserable day.
And strangely, am glad I’m missed. Coz the relief of hearing that voice from the past life, was mutual and exceedingly so on the other side. I was confused about my emotions. Having taken a vow never to face that part of my life, this was hara-kiri of my promises to myself. I think, what played the truant here, was my own narcissistic self. Listening to glowing reports of how the past got bad blessings from all her friends without exception (except Naali Ka Keeda of course! Now that is an interesting twist. How does he feel about competition? Makes for interesting read, wait up sweeties, I shall pen a longer one on that. – gleefully wicked smileJ) was like music to my own exceedingly selfish self. As I always wanted to be on the clear and hear good about me. I’m susceptible to flattery – there I said it, happy? Well yeah, so with the past being apologetic and being in exceedingly desperate needs to be speaking to me, I gave in. I hope I sounded gruff. And rough. And cruel and heartless. (A virtual impossibility, but one can hope?)
Well, I cannot really say No to anyone can I? Especially not to the beautiful past that had ruled my life for at least four years. I’m the gentle kid who’s still searching for that frame of reference on the hilly countryside. Sigh!
Today evening, my best friend calls me up to ask me to speak with my past. I complied.
I spoke at length to my past. I actually enjoyed the line of conversations. With a free ticket to wildly hilarious sarcasms that I usually cut (ahem!) I was on a roll. Strictly one-sided opinion of course coz after having been once bitten, I’m super-fucking-twice shy about the whole thing. And closely guarded.
I felt refreshed after having confronted my past. Under glaring fog-lamps, the past admitted to having fucked up my life and being fully repentant about the same. But then again, no one beats me when it comes to talking about our favorite books, movies or music. And hence, the past craved for those glory-filled days from my previous life. The word ‘Miss’ figured quite a lot in our conversations. One sided of course and you can guess which side was that.
All said and done, now I truly believe I can live. I survived the biggest holocaust of my life and now, going by the axiom, that which does not kill me can only make me stronger, I emerge stronger. To take the bull right by the horns, Yeah Bring it On Babyee.
In spite of this, about today’s conversation, my only regret is that I couldn’t stick to the strict regime. It is widely believed and truly so, that to break out of an addiction, you needtcha refrain yourself from this drug for continuously 21 days at a stretch.
Today marked the 20th day since I last had contact with my previous life.
I miss by one fucking miserable day.
And strangely, am glad I’m missed. Coz the relief of hearing that voice from the past life, was mutual and exceedingly so on the other side. I was confused about my emotions. Having taken a vow never to face that part of my life, this was hara-kiri of my promises to myself. I think, what played the truant here, was my own narcissistic self. Listening to glowing reports of how the past got bad blessings from all her friends without exception (except Naali Ka Keeda of course! Now that is an interesting twist. How does he feel about competition? Makes for interesting read, wait up sweeties, I shall pen a longer one on that. – gleefully wicked smileJ) was like music to my own exceedingly selfish self. As I always wanted to be on the clear and hear good about me. I’m susceptible to flattery – there I said it, happy? Well yeah, so with the past being apologetic and being in exceedingly desperate needs to be speaking to me, I gave in. I hope I sounded gruff. And rough. And cruel and heartless. (A virtual impossibility, but one can hope?)
Well, I cannot really say No to anyone can I? Especially not to the beautiful past that had ruled my life for at least four years. I’m the gentle kid who’s still searching for that frame of reference on the hilly countryside. Sigh!
The Quandary
You need to focus all the misguided energy in the right direction, lest you burn yourself up pining away over broken hearts and missed promises.
I plunged myself back into that beautiful imaginary world of gunslingers and phantoms and demons. I gave myself up on that road to the dark tower, to die in the company of brave Roland Deschain and his Ka-tet, in the quest for his mystic Dark Tower and to die protecting the beautiful red rose. The forlorn patch of land between 42nd and 43rd avenue in New York.
I took to writing with a passion. I finish a chapter on the pirate lords at sea, come back to my hero Jake’s days of glory at Emerald Isle. And here I’m stumped. Coz it’s all about the roaring passion between Jake and the only girl he ever loved, Alice that I needtcha pen now/ and I laugh at Ka. The cruel joke that Ka has pulled on me. Here was I, trying hard to get out from an unbelievably beautiful five years of my life, where I thought I was in love, but now have understood it all to be an imaginary phase of my previous life where I was bombed out of my skull on ‘love’ and sugar-pie nothings whispered into my ears!! And I was supposed to wax eloquent about the one emotion which I had so foolishly pursued with relentless passion, all the while chasing a ghost. L
Do you understand the depth of ironical quandary I’m in? I cannot move on. I need to face the ghosts. I need to flesh out the love story between Jake and his girl. The one who dies later on. Ah! There I shall redeem myself. In the death of Jake’s love/ but before we reach the juicy gory details of Alice’s merciless murder, I need to plough through the dreary fake lands of whispered nothings and hollow promises Jake and Alice exchange with each other. Oh Lord, lend me flight through these islands of make-believe!
I plunged myself back into that beautiful imaginary world of gunslingers and phantoms and demons. I gave myself up on that road to the dark tower, to die in the company of brave Roland Deschain and his Ka-tet, in the quest for his mystic Dark Tower and to die protecting the beautiful red rose. The forlorn patch of land between 42nd and 43rd avenue in New York.
I took to writing with a passion. I finish a chapter on the pirate lords at sea, come back to my hero Jake’s days of glory at Emerald Isle. And here I’m stumped. Coz it’s all about the roaring passion between Jake and the only girl he ever loved, Alice that I needtcha pen now/ and I laugh at Ka. The cruel joke that Ka has pulled on me. Here was I, trying hard to get out from an unbelievably beautiful five years of my life, where I thought I was in love, but now have understood it all to be an imaginary phase of my previous life where I was bombed out of my skull on ‘love’ and sugar-pie nothings whispered into my ears!! And I was supposed to wax eloquent about the one emotion which I had so foolishly pursued with relentless passion, all the while chasing a ghost. L
Do you understand the depth of ironical quandary I’m in? I cannot move on. I need to face the ghosts. I need to flesh out the love story between Jake and his girl. The one who dies later on. Ah! There I shall redeem myself. In the death of Jake’s love/ but before we reach the juicy gory details of Alice’s merciless murder, I need to plough through the dreary fake lands of whispered nothings and hollow promises Jake and Alice exchange with each other. Oh Lord, lend me flight through these islands of make-believe!
The Dreary Existence
They say pain makes you wax eloquent.
Buoyed by such confidence in the wisdom of the crowd (in MBA jargon, they would have called it the Tribal Wisdom!) I try my hands yet again at blogging.
Ah, but where’s the pain you say?
The worse ones ain’t physical, and cut deep. I’m now reminded of a metaphor I drew a long time back, before my hands were singed and burned by the disease called Love. A toddler who’s been led by hand on a steep incline uphill and now left all alone to fend for himself. Naturally, Jack came tumbling down. Jill ran away with Naali Ka Keeda.
And now I’m Jack’s broken heart.
Cheated. Hurt like never before. Vulnerable. Helpless. In anguish. An angry ugly purple welt in the place that hurts the most, a patch that rankles like hell. For being taken on the trip of my lifetime.
Yeah, I ought not stretch your sympathy too much, eh? For someone who pledged oaths for a life-time with me, all it took was one strong realization a fine blue morning. And out came the fangs. Pulled all the plugs of my life away, leaving me stumped and stupefied on the ground, without having realized what hit me. I’m still trying to find my frame of reference and decode the mangled up remains of life. 42 ain’t really very consoling an answer you know. It runs deeper yet. And I’m still digging.
I miss a lot of things in my new life. I cannot help reflect on the bitter sweet irony of almost all the songs that I listen to, because at a past point in my life, all of it held beautiful promises and were pregnant with meaning. Now they sound like gibberish and I can only smile in riposte. Oh How I hate love songs. I cannot bear to look up at the beautiful gibbous moon wreathed in smiley lines. Ridiculous, you say? Trust me; wait until you fall in love. Clichéd, and yet I cannot forgo making this dig, now I know why they call it ‘falling’ in love! J And yet, the new life comes easy to me. Probably because I’m away from where most of the action had happened. I’m actually living the good life at home now. Books, music, movies, food, love (yeah, it has multiple hues, you idiot!) I’m content being the icon of extreme self-indulgence at home before I start back on the corporate rat race. Worse news again, my joining has been postponed by a week again. Damn! Welcome to thassophobic heartbroken existence for a little while longer !
Buoyed by such confidence in the wisdom of the crowd (in MBA jargon, they would have called it the Tribal Wisdom!) I try my hands yet again at blogging.
Ah, but where’s the pain you say?
The worse ones ain’t physical, and cut deep. I’m now reminded of a metaphor I drew a long time back, before my hands were singed and burned by the disease called Love. A toddler who’s been led by hand on a steep incline uphill and now left all alone to fend for himself. Naturally, Jack came tumbling down. Jill ran away with Naali Ka Keeda.
And now I’m Jack’s broken heart.
Cheated. Hurt like never before. Vulnerable. Helpless. In anguish. An angry ugly purple welt in the place that hurts the most, a patch that rankles like hell. For being taken on the trip of my lifetime.
Yeah, I ought not stretch your sympathy too much, eh? For someone who pledged oaths for a life-time with me, all it took was one strong realization a fine blue morning. And out came the fangs. Pulled all the plugs of my life away, leaving me stumped and stupefied on the ground, without having realized what hit me. I’m still trying to find my frame of reference and decode the mangled up remains of life. 42 ain’t really very consoling an answer you know. It runs deeper yet. And I’m still digging.
I miss a lot of things in my new life. I cannot help reflect on the bitter sweet irony of almost all the songs that I listen to, because at a past point in my life, all of it held beautiful promises and were pregnant with meaning. Now they sound like gibberish and I can only smile in riposte. Oh How I hate love songs. I cannot bear to look up at the beautiful gibbous moon wreathed in smiley lines. Ridiculous, you say? Trust me; wait until you fall in love. Clichéd, and yet I cannot forgo making this dig, now I know why they call it ‘falling’ in love! J And yet, the new life comes easy to me. Probably because I’m away from where most of the action had happened. I’m actually living the good life at home now. Books, music, movies, food, love (yeah, it has multiple hues, you idiot!) I’m content being the icon of extreme self-indulgence at home before I start back on the corporate rat race. Worse news again, my joining has been postponed by a week again. Damn! Welcome to thassophobic heartbroken existence for a little while longer !
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