A Blogger's Dilemma- An Individual's Solution

Yesterday I wrote three posts, at three different times, about three different things, and I deleted all of them. As soon as I wrote them. Because the posts were too raw. I don't mean raw as in undone.. but raw as in naked emotion.. raw as in too much of what I was feeling.

In the night, finally, I wondered, why I deleted all those posts. I started this blog to be able to say what I wanted to. Is it wrong if its too much of emotion?? Its not like I was weeping over anything, or that I was cribbing or whining in any of the posts. I was just home all day, because of another bout of sickness, and was again thinking a lot. In terms of the world around me and my thoughts to it.

I spoke to the person who pushed me to start this blog, and he too thought that I was defeating the entire purpose of this blog.

A few posts ago, I wrote about being rejected from SCAD. I had actually written a different post then what is not up, but I was advised by a friend that I needed to mask my emotions a little. I thought so too. And so I wrote a different post and deleted the earlier one.

Now I am thinking if I should do this. I blog because I want to write. Because I love writing and I want to be a professional writer someday. When and If I am good enough. I don't want to commercialize this blog. Don't get me wrong, like all bloggers, I love my readers, and my commenters. I love the comments I get, and the different perspectives, or arguments, or encouragements or criticisms even that I get. But I don't want to stop writing the way I normally do because someone might not like it. That would be cheating myself right?

If I am not liked because of my individual style of writing then how am I being me, and how will my readers like it.

I even debated over this post. Should I post this, or not??? Will those who read my blog be disgusted with my thought process? But I decided that I take my call here. I either make my blog an original place, or I customize it to what might be expected of me. Either I let you guys know what has been going on in my mind, or I don't, and then never do that again.

I wonder when and why this started.. It's quite possible that this started after my first Blog meet. I met a lot of people from the blog world but I dint know a lot of them, and as expected fewer knew me. But these people, famous bloggers, wrote about intelligent issues. They wrote about politics and witty posts about Indian Media and stuff like that. And that made me think that maybe I wrote about silly things. So I dint stop writing about what I normally do write about, I just began to tone it down. I seriously don't know what is liked more, but it doesn't feel me. Not to me at least. And if there is one thing I have never done and will never do, it is losing my own Identity.

Desi Dabba Ahoy!!

Starting yesterday, I am posting on Desi Dabba too. My posts there will mostly be cross posted here, like my first post was too (the previous post: Mumbai's very own National Theatre Festival) but I would urge anyone and everyone interested in news, views and opinions regarding the Indian Entertainment Industry to drop in there.

Desi Dabba is a colourful and intelligent mix of bloggers (ahem!!) and posts. Do check it out!!

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On a more serious note, does anyone at all know how I can add bloggerhacks to my blog. Till now I had been fighting the tag Baby Blogger heaped on me from the bloggers meet, but it seems like yesterday I resigned myself to it.

Although I did succeed in putting up a cluster map yesterday, I have been highly unsuccessful at putting up hacks. I keep linking to... (shudder!!)uhmm.. not very favourable sites.

My department would be shocked to hear me say this, but I am beginning to realize that I am technologically very very challenged, so if anyone, at all, has the time and patience to teach me about a few basic things about add-ons to my blog, then please do drop me a note.

Thankoo in advance!!

Mumbai University's very own National Theatre Fest

On the occassion of the 'World Theatre Day' , the Academy of Theatre Arts, University of Mumbai , brings for Mumbaikars a bouquet of India's finest plays, in an 11-day 'National Vasant Natya Mahotsav'.

The Mahotsav, to be staged between March 22 and April 1, 2007 at the Kalina Campus of the University of Mumbai , will present plays by renowned directors like Ratan Thiyam, Ramesh Verma and Ranjit Kapoor.

Famous Indian theatre groups like the Chorus Repertoire Company from Manipur, The National School of Drama Repertoire Company and the Mysore Rangayan will be performing in Mumbai after a long time. "This is the speciality of the festival. There will be plays in various Indian languages by some of the prominent directors this country has produced," says Mr Waman Kendre, Director of the Academy. Along with this, several theatre luminaries like Anupam Kher and Naserrudin Shah too might grace the festival. Professor Waman Kendre himself is a very famous Marathi Theatre artist.

Some of the outstanding plays that Mumbaikars will have the pleasure of watching are:

Chakravyuha directed by Ratan Thiyam. This Manipuri play has been staged over a 100 times around the globe by the Chorus Repertoire Company.

Maya Sita Prasanga directed by Ramesh Verma from Kerala. This Kannada play is one of the more famous works of Mr Verma.

The NSD Repertoire Company will bring its famous plays Ram Nam Satya Hai and Shortcut.

Shri. Ratan Thiyam's equally important play Ritusamharam will also be presented in this festival.

Mr Kendre will present his famous play Janeman, which is based on the life of Hijras or Eunuchs. The adaption of the Greek Tragedy Oedipus too will be presented twice. This play is called Vedhapashya.

The entry for this festival is free. But the catch being that interested people need to pick up the Free Entry Card at the Kalina Campus of Mumbai University. The passes will be available from 20th March,2007 between 11 a.m. to 5 a.m. at Academy ofTheatre Arts, Dr.Babasaheb Ambedkar Bhawan, 2nd floor, Vidyanagari Campus, Kalina, Santacruz(E), University of Mumbai. The organizers of this festival are available on these numbers for any other detailed inquiry: 022-26508200, 9869115199, 9820686506. The festival will take place at Marathai Bhasha Bhawan as well as at Muktakkash Rangamanch, Lecture Hall Complex,Vidyanagari, Kalina Campus.

Cross-posted on Mumbai Metblogs

Hidden sobs

"Sunny go study" said Chachaji.

Rajo clasped her brother’s hand tight. She dint want him to go. She dint want to stay. Sunny looked at her, perplexed, not understanding her behaviour.

He loved her, and sometimes when he heard her sobbing in her room, he realized that living with Chachaji wasn’t enough, she needed her dead mother.

Sand, Sea, Gola and Peace..

A tantrum, a yearning from a longgg time and the need to placate my craving had me at the beach late last night. After a long long long longgg time.

I felt the sand stick to me calves, and the wind and the sea mist make the air shimmer. I felt the sweetness of a Gola on my lips and the grainy sand enveloping every exposed inch of skin. While I sat peacefully, yes, I had made peace with myself, on the cool sand, the long towers of lights looked down on us. The beach was not crowded, of course it wouldn't be, middle of the night. And surprisingly the shops were all open and thriving from the looks of it.

I was hoping for a stark, isolated look, but that would be a little more further on. Where I sat, the lights played with the sand. An old man still cajoled us to buy a balloon and another still came to sell chana chor garam. A lot of married couples, a lot of young boys and a few rare families. But still the beach was not crowded. The sea was lovely, inviting, beckoning. But I was stopped with a dire warning. It seems the sea has been pulling in a lot of people these days, and especially in the nights. The night is a dark sultry inky blue-black. But the sand has a golden hue to it.

The light plays with the sand. The music playing gently(?) from the back, its a lovely lilting song, Maula mere, from Anwar, plays with my mind. I'm relaxing, slowly, I can feel it.

The sea has always done wonders for me. And the wind. And something sweet. A small plop of Rose Gola falls on my leg. My pajamas and my calves are sticky and sweet and pink. My glasses are crooked and falling of my nose, and red shirt is stained. My feet and hands are covered with grains of gold dust. The air smells fascinating. Not a sea-fish smell and not a dank, damp smell. It smells magical.

SCAD was in a beach town. One of the main reason why I wanted it. But SCAD doesn't matter anymore.

UPDATE: SCAD emailed me again. Now they say that I'm eligible, but I just need to send them one more thing!! And somehow I care two hoots now. I guess I'll visit Savannah someday when I'm in USA. To go to the beach.

Rejection

I'm throwing a terrible tantrum right now. All in my mind. It can't be. I fought for this. I bloody wanted it. Even if it was not the best among all my choices, I wanted it.

I got a reject. And as if evident I don't take rejection well. I can't be practical and say,

"Oh it's just one school out of the eight very good ones I have applied. And its not even the best. And I already have two accepts from some of the best, this and this."

I can't be sentimental and say,

"Oh hark my love, I fought for applying to you, even though my brother, and your arch enemy was against you. I stood for you and... Et Tu Brutus"

I can't be funny and say,

"Maybe now my now-deceased dream of not really going to USA will come true."

Like my good friend Tag Heuer says it.

And I can't be angry and say,

"@#$$# @$#% @%%%@#$ IF YOU WANT TO REJECT ME, ATLEAST GIVE ME A REAL REASON. BE A MAN, A REAL MAN.. (or be a real university atleast)

I can't be the murti (statue dint sound good) of calm and peace and say

"It's a part of life, my child. Bade bade desho mein, aisi stupid idiotic unreasonable cheeze hoti rehti hai."

I can't be grateful and say

"Mum had predicted that I'd get two rejects. Its good its this university, since my brother had already black-tongued it. (Kaali Zubaan and all..)"

I can't be any. I want a tub of ice cream, and I want a bar of chocolate. Several. I want misery and I want to get into SCAD.

I #$%&*!! WANT TO GET INTO SCAD.

So I'm throwing a tantrum. Stomping my feet and cursing. In my mind...

Losing a catch or stepping back from it..

Life can be weird. It throws up the best things possible. But you will most probably step back to avoid the hit. The hit of good things in your life.

There are people who will enter your life, make an impact in those few moments of interaction. Imapct enough for you to start caring about them. And never turn around and tell them that you care. Is that being inexpressive or expression-phobia??

And then when those very people are in a soup, you'd like to go upto them and tell them,

"'Hey hang in there. I might not matter a lot to you, but I'm right here. If you need anything."

But you are still smarting from that blow you took of the good things, or the throw that you missed, so you'll prefer to just keep quiet. Or you'd prefer to let them think that you are not the clingy types.

Do unto others what you would want others to do unto you.

In life, there will always be very few people who will realize what is happening inside you. And even then, you might not have answer to their concerns about you. You might not have answers to your own questions!!

Someone wise I know says, moods are supposed to be mastered.

Someone shrewd I know says, you cant decide or shape other's future.

I say, eat a chocolate!!

P.S. : Someone I know, recently gave me some very very good news, and included me in it!! You know I'm talking about you.. so I'd like to tell you that I was thrilled by your news, and by the fact that I was the first to know it. I dunno why!! Thanks!!And congrats.. lets bring out the chocolates!! I mean champagne...

The Oval Maidan- looking across from the sides..

Walking across the Oval Maidan, the wind tugs my hair out from behind my ears and lightly plonks it on my face, the pleasant woodsy smell of its wafts up to me.

The stoned path across the Maidan is always windy. And it always has at least 20 people crossing at any given point. In the morning, people can be seen hurrying along, noisily, in pairs, groups or alone. On the phone, listening to music or just sauntering along. If you look up while crossing the Oval, as it is fondly known, you'll see a huge expanse of the sky. With cottony white clouds tinged with blue floating across lazily. Or on an overcast day you'll be able to spot an sulking grey sky, with dark hued clouds gobbling it up. And observing the sky while walking on the path feels like you are crossing the sky and not the Maidan.

On the greens around the path, there's always some activity happening. Even in the sweltering sun of the afternoon, little children struggle with footballs in one corner. A group of mothers sit in a corner, waiting for their children's class to get over, with duppattas pulled down on their heads to protect them from the sun. In another corner, young men in whites are practising their batting swings and bowling arms. Setting up teams for a cricket match. Near the High court end, their is a group of girls and a few boys in jeans and tee-shirts. Huddled in a small circle, playing a match of under-arm Box Cricket.



While one end of Oval Maidan, faces the street opening out to Oxford, the book shop, and K.C College, the other end opens out to the campus of Mumbai University, adjacent to the High Court. The Rajabhai Tower inside the University Campus can be seen from any corner of the Maidan. Palm trees, Gulmohars and lots of other shrubberies line the sides of the Maidan. They shed their browned leaves in March, but still don't look bare. "Its autumn", the trees seem to be saying, "but we are not gonna leave you without any shade."


But the best time to walk across that path is in the evening. After Seven. The path is not lit and nor is the vast Maidan. Its just the sides of the Oval that are lit by street lights. Every evening, in the bleak darkness, numerous shaded figures can be spotted lounging in the darkness of the maidan. And another few, crossing the windy path in a hushed silence and beautiful navy blue inkiness.

Walking across the Maidan, in the windy lifts and lulls of the breeze, its a pleasure. A pleasure, which I wonder if I'll get when I leave this city of mine. I don't love Mumbai, I had once said, but now its time to back-track. I do. I don't love it enough to live here forever, that's true. But I love it enough to have loved all the 22 years I have lived here.


And I love every new part of it that these years have shown me.

Finishing.. but getting finished too..

"So why did you do it??" she asked him.
"I know, I know. It was the wrong thing. I just realized it too late."

She sat ramrod straight as he looked everywhere except into her eyes. This from the person who loved looking into her eyes. She knew that he still loved her. That Seven years of distance hadn't dimmed his desire or feelings. But seven years had dimmed her innocence and naivete.

"I shouldn't have lied to you. I know. You were the most important person in my life."

Painfully she noted the were. Past tense. The first slap.
"So you realize it now."

"I got angry when you dint call me on my birthday. It was always so important for you. And when I called you made the pretext of not being available."
"I was sitting right there. I did not want to talk to you" she clarified.
"I knew it. But I dint know why you did that."
"You dint know why? You dint know when i cried the entire week 7 months before that day."
"Seven months before?? Why then?"

Great. He dint even remember the day she found out all the truth. The day she sat waiting for him at the café. Looking at the door, waiting for him to swing in, armed with the truth and not lies. He dint even know now, after seven years, that that was when her soul died and her heart broke. That was when she stopped believing she had a heart.

"What was seven months before??"
"Nothing important"
"Don't say that to me. I remember all the significant dates. And I remembered you on all those days. You dint."

But that doesn't even matter. Her mind yelled. Those silly days, dint matter, this did. But her mouth remained shut. The second slap.

"I am my own man now. I am standing on my own feet. My own business. My own empire. My hard-earned money."
"So? You think money every mattered to me? I was a kid then, barely 17, I dint care if you earned just 7000 bucks."
"But now no one can tell me that I cant dare look at you."
"Maybe not. But tell me. Why did you do all that?? What did you want to achieve through me?"
"Achieve?? How could I achieve anything of you. You are the one. That's all you ever were"

He's confused about what he's saying. She thought. He doesn't even understand me anymore.

"I wont marry anyone. Don't worry" He said out of the blue.
"How would that matter to me?" she said.
"I wont let your dream come true. Even then, you used to tell me that if things don't work out between us you wanted me to get married elsewhere."
"I don't care either ways", she muttered. But he dint quite catch it.

After a pause she said, "Yea right. You are gonna get married soon buster"

"Well my parents might get me married. But you will be the first one to get an invite" The third slap.
"You wont know where I'll be from tomorrow. You wont be able to see me ever again."
"Oh that's good. Else I would have hunted you down, if I knew where to find you." Slap four.
You dint do that all these years. Her mind screamed again.

"You were my past. And you will not be my future" Slap number Five. And Touchdown.
"You were my nothing. And will never be anything for me." She retorted back and pushed her chair away. She walked out of the café. She felt small. Very small. Petty. And naive. All over again.

But for the rest of the day, she had only one thought in her mind.

Well even if I dint come to know what I wanted to know. At least it's out of my mind. I can start living again. She rushed home to him, and said, "Darling, its over. I met him today and.."

That's when she realized that even he had shut the door on her face. The Final Slap.

And this one hurt. But a lifetime of hurts had numbed her too much to be able to cry.

No answers to comments because...

Sorry guys, but I have no other way to inform you people about this...

I cannot post comments on my blog or any other blog on blogspot for some reason. I do recieve comments, but when I post comments the blog just goes blank and does not register it.. :(

Which is why I haven't replied to any comments on my film and on the other posts. I have replied to the comments on my film on youtube coz that was the only option I had..

please bear with my laptop (I'm convinced its my lappie's locha) coz its still learning the ways of the world!!

P.S - I haven't even commented on the blogs I regualrly do comment on. I'm sure that the people I'm talking about are getting my point. Sorry.. As an alternative you can drop me your email ID and I will reply back personally!! If you have my email id, then email me, so I can reply back there, because my gmail is not recognizing stored emaial ids too.

PLEASE dont ask me what is wrong.. I just can't seem to figure it out.. and I am ashamed about it..Maybe my laptop os sufferening form food poisoning too..

Mumbai Metblogs and me..

I lost my soul somewhere on Blogstreet..

When I began blogging for Mumbai MetBlogs, I was this enthusiastic baby. I would blog about all things which made sense, I would rejoicce when I got a comment or a feedback or a message. I would appreciate those mails that I recieved from readers. I was a happy kid.

Everytime something happened in any part of Mumbai, which i was witness too. I would nod my head emphatically and think, "I have the power of Blogging. I will post this on Metblogs." And maybe I even thought that it would make a difference in people's life..

I never wanted to be a Journalist, but I fancied myself as something akin to that. Almost there. In my admission interview at my Journalism Department, I very proudly said that I was an author at Metblogs. I was sure the people interviewing me dint know about it. So I even informed them about it!! I might not have been a regular blogger on metblogs. But I was a proud one. Then the Mumbai Blasts happened. All the bloggers on Metblogs were in full swing. Everyone churned out atleast 3 posts each. But surprisingly I dint. A fellow blogger frantically tried to contact me to find out if I was unharmed. When I wondered why such a frantic search to track me down, I was told, "you generally blog about anything as soon as it happens on Metblogs. This time you haven't so.."

Yes I hadn't. After that I posted once about the Blasts. Half-heartedly. And then my blogging there dwindled. After that, even my laptop denied me access into the site. When that was sorted out, I got a new Laptop, and now since the new lappie is in competition with the old one, it refuses me access into the site unless the old one shuts me out(I think).

But here I am, fresh after my last post on Metblogs, wondering why I dont post there so frequently anymore. Is it that I have matured, and the feedback and all dont matter to me anymore (hardly, my mind smirks) or is it because I'm having trouble all over again logging into the site from this laptop. Or is it simply because, I dont connect there anymore??

P.S Have you noticed?? A lot of my posts end in questions these days.. I wonder if its another of those things which mean that I am seriously muddled in the head right now. If the typhoon's coming, let it come I say!! ;-)

The smaller part of why I haven't been blogging regularly

Its somehow that weird time of my life. When my insides are in some kind of a turmoil which I cant identify with.


I have nothing to say. I have nothing to feel apparently. When a major load of work passes over, I realize I have nothing to do. I can't express this to the physical people in my life, and I know the rest can do nothing about it.

There are always people who are just a phone call away, but I dont call them. The phone might travel the distance but I dont. Not anymore. I cant handle distances any longer.

Between my busy week, people came online and kept silent. I, as usual, did the same. I dint feel anything then. Suddenly the entire week's feelings are rushing into my senses now. Those people were never meant to be silent. They were supposed to always speak. Always try.

My mother says that she never lets her moods rule her life, I respond back saying that My moods always rule my life.

Then why doesn't it make me happy. It feels like everything wrong that has to happen will happen. My blog refuses me entry, my comments are not stored on my blog (which is why my replies to all the comments on my last post are not recorded) and my mind refuses to speak.

Speak. SPEAK. SPEAK. SPEAK.

I know I need to relax. But I dunno how. I know I need to unwind. But I dunno how.

I know I'll get around to it. But I dunno HOW.

Headaches have become my constant companions. The rest of my companions all seem to be going away anyways.

I haven't been reading the blogs I regularly read up. I have nt been writing.. and I have nt been blogging. It does feel like a vital part is missing. But I still can't get around to it.

I'v been shutting out people who mean a lot, coz I feel I dont respect them anymore. But I miss there original presence in my life. That face of theirs which I respected. Why do people change so, that you stop respecting them.

Life is restrictive. It doesn't allow you the chance to go beyond its restrictions. It's true.

Who Am I?? - My Second Film

The bigger part of why I have not posted since the last 9 odd days..

The love of my life right now, my obsession..

Something I am completely besotted with..

Somethign that makes me burst with pride and joy...

Something worth remembering for the rest of my life...



HTML link- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1EjQV_tx4XA

Again, the entire film has been done by me, directed, edited and the Voiceover too.

I know that I was besotted with the last film I made, which was also my first, but it had a lot of glaring mistakes. This film, in comparision, is definitely an improvement. Except for the shots where I'm in the frame most of the rest have been shot by me too. I'm somehow absolutely thrilled with this film, with the shots, the light, the inference, the thoughts and the music too..
I know that this can also turn out to be a similar honeymoon period where everything looks rosy and the mistakes might surface in due time.. but till then..

Am I gonna join a Cult soon??

A wise man today told me :

"A woman is just a distortion of muscles..."

Lol.. I just cant stop laughing over this, because it is so true. It is equality at the very grass-root level and it is Discrimination at the same time too. Well actually I believe that was not the meaning of this pearl of wisdom dropped by the wise man. But somewhere this strikes true to me.

He also said :

"If you can objectify women to be equal to everything else around you, you will be free of desire and cravings. "

This wise man is someone to watch out for. I dont believe in religion and following a guru to the path of God or anything, but if such pearls of wisdom keep coming my way, I might be tempted to go to the sea bed, where the oysters creating the pearls are being manufactured.

Oh, to part with, here is another of his quotes,

"To not want anything at all is true satisfaction"

(I'm still not very convinced on this one. I want something, I get it, and thus I get satisfaction)

A lost chance..

"

Risk a turn back and see,
You've missed a sea of beauty..

"

The Fried Souls of bloggers

When we entered the classroom, Melody Teacher greeted us. She then took our attendance, introduced us to all and placed us in our seats. After a while Melody Teacher thought that friends should not sit together. So she separated all 'supposed' friends and replaced the naughty ones under her nose. Melody teacher also made some girls, including me, and one boy stand outside the class for sometime. But Melody Teacher made that into an experience too, because she taught us how to stand still while moments were captured while we all naughty girls stood outside.

When it was time to leave, melody teacher bid us good-bye and also instructed the latecomers to reach on time next time like the good kids.

That's from the student. Now from the Blogger..

The blog meet happened. We (Puneet and me) entered the venue with Melody greeting us with, "Hi Bloggers??" and we left with her saying, "Let the kids go!!"

The two hosts, Sakshi and Melody introduced everyone around, pulled multiple legs, laughed and were generally great. The attendance sheet is with Melody, with all the links and the names but rattling off my top of the mind recall there was Melody, Sakshi, Vulturo, Bombay Addict, Vinu, My Pajamas, Peeyush, Amit and Shiju.
These are the bloggers. I had no conversation actually with last five.

My Pyjama had a first day blogger with him, while Shiju too had two more bloggers. Sorry dont have their names or links!! UPDATE: My Pyjama's friend and me spsoke about a common..uh.. friend.. but it is later that it dawned on me, that it was her mischief that had introduced me to the common friend.

Plizz to notice that I have not mentioned the two gems I was suppoed to look out for. One did not come as it turns out. And the other, turns up but when I was about to leave. I was pretty eager to meet IdeaSmith, so much so, that I even asked Sakshi when I sat next to her if she was IdeaSmith!! Sorry!!

IdeaSmith did come and I did meet her, but unfortunately it was just that. A brief encounter. Thankfully we did take a lot of pictures. Selma you were missed a lot!!

A lot of people asked me if I knew Selma!! And I kept wishing I did!! Personally that is. I am glad she convinced me about this meet.

Conclusion:

This meet was not to become bosom, chuddi-buddies with each other, but more to step out of the virtual world we live in, and see each other in reality. I am really glad I met a lot of people there. I realized that there really are more people who read my blog apart from the ones who comment.

Surprises:
I was surprised to see Amit, the shahrukh of blogosphere as Sakshi called him, but well I did just that, see him because he seemed to be busy with the people around him.I was more surprised to see Vulturo..

I was surprised when Bombay Addict discussed a recent post of mine. He was very nice, and it was fun talking to him. Though again it was a brief talk. He gave me insightful tippanis on how very few people blog about riots and such. Surprised again!!

I was surprised when someone told me randomly... "hmm I've heard ur name somewhere" Yeah?? Wow!!

I was surprised to hear the name of a blog, Twisted Indifference. No surprised is not right, I was impressed. Somehow the name sounds..just perfect to me. Makes a lot of sense. But I dont think I told him that.

Sadly, I missed a lot of interesting people because I had to leave. And from the other posts here, here and here, it sure looks like the party had just begun when I left it...

PS. : Selma, you were right, about everything you told me to expect from the meet..the good and the bad!!

More posts here, here and here.

Blogger's meet.. my first..

There are very few things that one can't predict. This is not to say that these predictions come true, but you now, when there is an up and coming event, incident or occasion, one can exactly predict how it will turn out. Even when you know your mom is going to scold you when you talk to her, you know what she is going to say. When you are going to meet your friends for dinner, you know how they will pull your leg, how you will have awesome amounts of fun and how you are going to have a good time after all. Even something as important as my going abroad to study can be seen pretty lucidly by me. But if there is one thing that has stumped me, its the fast-approaching Open Blogger's Meet.
Yes there is a bloggers meet coming up. And I have never attended one, but will be attending this one. In the past, due to some reason or the other, I have not attended any such meets. Those reasons also include my just not wanting to step out of chasm which identifies me by my blogs. For this meet, I was pretty much in doubt. To go or to not go. I put up a tentative thought of attending on IdeaSmith's post, which was picked up in Gauravonomics as an assumed 'attending'. IdeaSmith warmly asked me to come. But I was still deciding. A chat with Selma, finally convinced me. Orkut Zindabad!!

She had a point, I'll get to meet smoe interesting people before I leave, and she also asked me to watch out for a couple of people coz they were the gems. I already knew of one, the other I will explore. To tell the trust, I have absolutely no clue about how to take this meet. Blogging and the world of blogging or blogosphere as we call it are important enough for me to wonder and worry about this meet. I have tried initiating quite a couple of people into blogging. But I think that was more coz I wanted to share my love for blogging.

When one falls in love, they often wonder what was their existence like before they were in love. Its that way with blogging. I often wonder what my existence was like before it. Where did i write down those little things that I'd love to share. Where did my opinions go?? I hardly ever sincerely wrote a diary, coz I never needed to write down things I felt. I was happy enough having them firmly placed in my mind. But what about my opinions and those small incidents of life??
Maybe blogging happened just when I matured enough to start having opinions and intelligent thoughts. Quite possible.

Along with blogging, the bloggers have also become very important in my life. When I first started out it was in MSN Spaces. Just to write down my Shayaris. Then when I started writing down articles, it got a little personal. Reading those posts there, someone asked me to start writing for Mumbai Metblogs. I joined Metblogs, and for that I made this blog, not too personal kinds but still my personal space. On Mumbai Metblogs, I came across Selma and Sakshi Juneja, my co-authors. While I got hooked to Selma's blog, I visited Sakshi's periodically. Then I started visiting the blogs of my commentators on metblogs. The silsila started then. From one blog to another, I formed my favorites, chanced upon some USA blogs which awed me and some Indian bloggers who awed me even more.

And now this bloggers meet will bring me face-to-face with the very same bloggers. While some of my favorite bloggers wont be there (Selma, Ani), the meet still promises to have some of my favorites (IdeaSmith, Sakshi). I'm not sure about the other bloggers who are coming yet. Also another person I am pulling along with me will be an aspiring blogger, so I am glad to have that company with me.

I wish I could predict how this meet will go. Will I enjoy, dislike, unwind or be tensed in the meet. I''m sure people will tlel me now that I'm sure to enjoy, but considering the fact that I am not the partying kinds of people... Also I'll have to leave pretty early, 9 or so.. maybe I wont get to meet them properly at all, or worst maybe I wont meet them at all coz people might arrive after the decided time.

I will be taking pictures (If everyone doesn't mind that is) and I will surely post about the meet. But I can't even predict that... I sound idiotic don't I??

*****************************

On another note, my professor called today to tell me that thebig.tv, a video site, has featured my first film, Mumbai-Fire and Blood on it's site. The site requires a password to get in, so I cant see it :( but I sure am thrilled. Although I grew to dislike that film because of its glitches, I was pleasantly surprised to know that someone thought it good enough to feature on the site, a more happier thing was that my Professor appreciated the film and left back a comment too!! Maybe my application will be more powerful with that film on it..

The ' 92 riots

On Moharram today, my cable-wala decided to show one of the most poignant movie of all times, "Bombay".

The movie starts with a love story peppered by communal tension. Both the protagonists are from different castes, Hindu and Muslim. Their family takes time to accept their love and keep showering each other's families with religious insults. Then the riots in Mumbai break out, in which the couple's twin boys get separated from them. One of the little moys asks innocently,

"Hindu ya ni kya?
Muslim ya ni kya??"

My mother asked me if I remembered anything from those times. And I have some very vague memories. My father and all the uncles in our building gathering in our flat above, with thalis and katoris, and maybe even glass bottles. Everyone stayed indoors and all the lights were shut off. My mother said that all the people in the entire society surrounding ours had decided to keep vigil in each building form the roofs and if any violence was seen near our buildings they would start clattering the vessels, the noise form one building would activate all the others and the cacophany would drive the trouble-makers away. When a procession of naked swords bearing men entered our lane, this plan was put in action which drew the violence away.

Around these days, I remember going for my dancing lessons to the building next to ours on the first floor at that time. Suddenly we heard shrieks from behind my teacher's home. When we ran to her back balcony, we saw that the house in the opposite building on the same floor, occupied by Muslims was being ransacked by some Hindus. They seemed to be in a daze, glassy eyed and faces twisted into a horrible knot of anger. The buildings were close enough for us to understand exactly what was happening there. And my teacher was too stunned by the violence to realize that a seven year old was witness to it too. But suddenly a larger man entered the house. He looked Hindu from his garb, and he took the frenzied men away with him.

Today my mother told me what had happened that day. She did not know till now that I had seen that scene, so she explained it today to me. The place I live in is a fairly gujarati area, and the society exactly behind us, adjacently so, is a totally Muslim populated area. Gujarati Muslims, or Boras. When the '92 riots broke out, the Muslim head and the Hindu head of both these socities had a meeting where they decided to abstain from violence. They would control each other's men and not let anything detoriate here. They would protect their own against outside violence. The Hindu's who were attacking those Muslims were from an outside area, Jogeshwari most probably, and were convinced by the Hindu head of this area to leave, since they had no part in the riots.

When those Muslim, sword bearing men had entered our society, even the Muslim society behind had joined in the thali and katori clattering routine to scare the men away. That's how we had survived unscathed. While my mother assures me that our suburb, Andheri, had relatively less violence, there were some horrifying storIes too. There was a Muslim pregnant woman who was turned away from a Hindu hospital. She had to give birth on the street. There was a major store on S.V. Road which was burnt to nothingness.

My professor of Journalism, had covered these riots and she told me that while the city burned outside, there was a hoarde of reporters at Bal Thackeray's residence. They clamoured to know when this would stop, and what the casualties were. He had a stoic reply,

"Everything is fine. There is peace in the city."

"But", they all stuttered collectively, "we can show you footage showing violence. Children are getting orphaned every hour. "

"Those reports are rubbish" he retorted back with indignance, "I know my city"

The film also potrays Bal Thackeray and his politicking ways. But I have heard that it went through a lot of cuts. The most revealing of his comments had to be edited. But still, the film does its work. It reduces the viewer to tears. It did that to me, and rarely can a film do that. The twin boys have acted beautifully.

Riots and violence move everybody I guess, but somehow its a topic I have always pondered about. Everytime I try to write a script or a story, it always has some riots in the backdrop. Whether its the Partition Riots, Khalistan Riots in Punjab, The'92 riots of Mumbai. The godhra Riots or anyother.. But the kind of justice Mani Ratnam has done to this film, leaves me spell bound.

After the movie finished, I suddenly heard the Bombay tune playing. I jumped, it was my phone. It is then that I realized that my phone's ringtone is the Bombay tone, the haunting flute which plays while the violence unleashes. And the ringtone had never moved me as much..

Aankhon mein ummedo ke kuch ho sapne

Aanchal ho man ka toh tan man mein aapne..

Raatein ho gehri toh kya, aata hai aakhir ek din naya

-Bombay theme tune

A face from the past

She saw a face from her past today.
Flowing with the crowd on the station's overbridge..
She spotted him walking towards her.. right next to her..

Before the first time anyone ever held her hand..
Before she ever fell in love..
Before she was ever touched with love..

This face had become the friend she was searching for in a crowd
This face had enjoyed her tomboyishnes, her innocent ways,
He said he would always look out for her..

She was a tender sixteen but strong inspite of that,
He was an older 26 and seemed soft inspite of that,
He looked down at her through his thick glasses
His thin face giving an experienced kind of a smile

She she accepted his friendship guilelessly
He came closer to her, artfully
He cried about his problems and asked for a shoulder
She complied, they were friends after all

Younger though she was, she heard his worries through
She patted his hands and told him all would come true
He grasped her hands in his and clung to her for life..
She thought he needed support and he needed strength

She noticed his hands growing firmer and thought all would be fine
But he refused to let go of her hand instead held on tighter
He held her by her shoulders and demnded to be comforted..
He sneaked up behind her and forced a kiss on her..

She pushed him away and said a firm no,
They were friends and friends is all
He laughed on her innocence and pulled her even closer
His face dint look thin anymore, his touch dint seem friendly

He told her he dreamt of kissing her, and he wanted to see reality
Terrified, she turned away from him,
She had nowhere to go, she was stuck with him in a car
A car full of all their friends, each busy with another

He put a hand on her shoulder and said,"Gimme a kiss babe"
No, she screamed in hr head, let me go far away
She pushed her face into the glassed window, as far from him as she could
He put a hand on her shoulder and moved it back and forth..

She shrugged the hand off, it came back again
A little rougher this time..
She shrugged it off again
and it came back again

Before she could shrug it off this time,
his fingers caught on to the elastic at her shoulder
He tweaked the little strap and whispered,
"you are mine sweetiepie, dont run now"

She rammed her elbow into his stomach
"NO.. STAY OFF YOU DIRTY BASTARD
I DONT WANT TO BE YOUR PLAYTHING.."
But the yelling was only in her mind...

The car screeched to a halt,
the door was opened and he was thrown out

Before the first time anyone ever held her hand..
Before she ever fell in love..
Before she was ever touched with love..
This face had violated her trust..

He had pressed her to a corner
And demanded payment for his friendship
This face had breached her innocence
This face polluted her thoughts.. thrown her into a shell..

She dint see him again till today
Walking past her at the station..
Their eyes collided and recognized the other
She dint falter, she dint stop.

She walked down the stairs, out of the station,
Up her street into her lane..
She entered her building and shut the door
She dint look back, not even once..

Salaam-E-Ishq...Deserves no Salaam's

Dialogue pre-Salaam-e-Ishq between Nikhil Advani (Director) and Suresh Nair ( Producer)

Nikhil Advani (NA) - Hmm, after Kal Ho Na Ho, I wil have to prove my mettle as a stand alone director without Karan Johar's Backing..

Suresh Nair(SN)- So how do you plan to do that?? you will need a solid script and a solid casting for that if you want to do it without Johar or Chopra backing..

NA- Hey!! How about we take six scripts instead of one, and instead of just a lead hero and heroine, we take a dozen. Dozen ka bhaav sasta padta hai na??...

SN- Hmm, its an idea.. If we take six different kinds of scripts then we can even take six or seven differnt songs. And looking at so much will occupy enough braincells of the Audience hence the technical nitty gritties like directing and editing will not matter to them.

NA- We'll try to rope in a couple of actors who have crossed their hey days, and if we can we'll even put in a pardeshi mem.. we'll put in one middle aged couple, one married struggling couple, one to be married couple and one in love couple. The sixth one can be the just married today kind of a couple. Hmm, I think we also put in a mix of locales. One location will be London or paris, one will be Mumbai ofcourse, then we have Delhi, Udaipur/Rajasthaan, and ofcourse a U.P type setting for the rural crowd.

SN- And we'll put in one Item number type of song, one or two marriage and sangeet wala song, one romantic number, one sad number, one will be proper dhinchak bollywood number and one can be a soft making love number. Oh for the oldies we'll even throw in a old song but remixed ofcourse.

NA- That sounds perfect for me. But I think we can take liberty with the film's duration when we have such an amazingly solid starcast, script, locale and even songs. Let's make the movie some four hours long?? Afterall, boring movies like Mohobbatein and Border too were that long and people were entertained.

SN- What about the characters Nikhil Bhai??

NA- See, we'll take one hot and happening pair, say Priyanka and maybe Salman?? Another pair should be very romantic..

SN- John Abraham and Bipasha Basu??

NA- No no, romantic and unlikely. How about John and a very gharelu homely kind of actress..

SN-(Doubtfully) VIdya Balan??

NA- Bingo!! OK, then we should have one middle aged couple. Lets take Juhi Chawla, Yash Chopra sir will be happy. And with her we can take Anil Kapoor. They can be this comfortable predictable NRI couple.

SN- Let's give a break to an actor past his hey days too Nikhil Bhai. Lets try and fit in Govinda in any role if you can..

NA- Suresh you are right. We can have the role of a coolie or maybe a taxi driver?? that sounds like a good idea.. and make him tht. With the typical accent and all. Hmm, we now have the working class puller. If we put in a U.P type couple, crude, vulgur noises et al. How about Isha Koppikar for that?? She was crude enough in Kya Kool Hai Hum right??

SN- Yes boss.. And we'll put in Ayesha Takia, she'll bring in all those FYJC & SYJC students in hoardes.

NA- And we'll put her hero as the most eligible bachelor in Mumbai.. or maybe Delhi.. Hmmm.. and he'll be absolutely vella, with mounds and mounds of money to throw around...

SN- that forms all our couples.. uh.. sir.. umm.. what about the.. you know.. the dates??

NA- Oh they'll give it. We'll float a rumour that Karan Johar is gonna ghost direct the movie... Now thinking logically we'll need good music.. lets use Shankar Ehsaan Loy

SN- Oh that should account for some brilliant music then. Even if the settings of the songs are cliched, the music will bring the visuals alive.
*Pauses*
But sir what if the audience dont sit thru the four hours...

NA- hmm.. I think, that they ll keep waiting for the movie to reach some milestone till the end of the four hours.. so even if they think about leaving, they'll keep hoping that something will turn the tide and make the movie good...

SN- Sir will we make the couples, all of them, meet sometimes or somewhere atleast once??

NA- Hmm.. we'll see.. if all turns well.. maybe Karan can get Kajol or ShahRukh to do a cameo.. hmm maybe Karan can himself do a maeo in the film.. I;ll tell him that that would be my homage to him.. hmm.. free cameo..

And hence an absolutely well publicised, well advertised, well rhymed movie got ruined. The editor, the cinematographer, the actors have all done their two bit in ruining the film. In all, from the entire 3 hours and 45 minutes of the film, only ten minutes were worth remembering.. Those were the times when Vidya Balan was grappling with her memories and Govinda was grappling with his vocab. The only time I really laughed was when in the end Shannon Esra, the pardesi mem goes up to her rejected in-laws and spurts hindi expletives. Priyanka just looks good, goes on random ego trips and screams. Salman has a new wig (??) or hair transplant. Sorry, that was the only thing noticeable about him. Sohail Khan and Isha Koppikar were downright vulgar. Although Vidya Balan and John Abraham has scenes showing more physical proximity, it was done aesthetically. The absolutely lovely Ayesha Takia had no scope for performing, and Akhshaye Khanna blew his top on the role. The new face, Anjana, shows a lot of skin but also a lot of promise. Juhi was just satisfactory. Nothing spectacular.

Despite the fact that it was a special premier show, people were audibly pissed, bored and absolutely disgusted with the movie. Meeting the stars too did not compensate enough for the absolute torture this film is.

The only ones who tried to not be bad were Vidya Balan and Govinda.
Imagine if I'm saying that Govinda is good in the film.. what happened to the rest!!!!

Lesson Learnt: Never ever try to copy American hit films thinking that the Hindi counterpart will be even better. Even a mix of Love, Actually's stories and Crash's technique cannot CANNOT turn out good..

Word of Advice: PLEASE please dont see this movie. Even if you are paid to see it dont. Even if anything.. Dont.

Five years later...

Do you wonder how lives move on??
Do you miss those times we spent together??


Its a dusk I'll never forget..
I questioned, You dint answer
I provoked you to reveal your intentions,
You dint let go till the end..

I abused, you agreed,
I kept enticing you, maybe you'd say what I wanted to hear
You kept quiet, took the blames.

It could have meant that you pleaded guilty
It could have meant that you were defenseless
It could have meant that you did not need to give excuses
It could have meant that I was senseless


Its a ride I will never forget..
I knew I'd never see you again
You were already etched in my mind,
Yet I etched you all over again

You knew you would never touch me again
You had already touched my life,
You touched it all over again..

It could have meant that I finally knew the truth
It could have meant that you were sorry
It could have meant that I was still giving you a chance
It could have meant that it was the real end of the story


Its a night I will never forget..
Alone in the wide expanse of my house
Alone devoid of the love I'd known so long
Alone, rid of the farce that I had known as truth

It meant that what had changed my life,
had itself been an illusion
It meant that what had become my truth,
had never been the true.


Do you wonder if I still dream on??
Do you remember our sacred five year promise for a forever??

Stubborn ignorance

Its taken me more than I had expected to start writing this post. Evrytime I would just open the new post window and stare at it. I knew what I wanted to write, it was inside me, but it wouldn't come out for some reason.

A few months ago, the farmer's suicides in Vidarbha District of Maharashtra got some media footage. As time wore off, the media, as usual and expectedly, forgot about it. My department, as I have always known is the pro-activist sorts. Hence this year, for our study tour we were packed off to Waifad, a village there. In Waifad, we were broken into groups and asked to study and make films on different but significant aspects of the village. I was assigned in the School and Education Group. Our work began the day we arrived. Two days after we had been there and seen some of a lot that we had to see, I suddenly found myself introspecting. Standing on one a roof (which is the only place we got network) I looked around at the sun washing all the farms with its brightness. I saw the school a few minutes away, where we had spent gruelling hours working and getting shocked by what conspires there.

I looked over the small houses, some like shanties and some big, palatial homes with an angna, jhulas, TV and the works. I looked over the small trees, neem, cotton and other trees associated with barren lands. And I thought, " Will this change my life?? Will these experiences, whatever we have seen here, the desoluteness, the helplessness and the lost cause effect my character in anyway?? will it mature me, make me more receptive to human problems and open the doors to the world to me??" It seemed likely then.

The next day, we visited Dorli.

Wardha is one of the main towns of Vidharbha andWaifad, is a thirty minute ride away. Another 20 or so kms away is this village called Dorli.

As soon as one enters the village, there is a banner which wishes a local politician happy birthday and then says below it, Hamara gaon baech do, please!!



Dorli, has been in local news recently because of a very surprising reason. Sick with debts and financial problems faced by the people there, the entire village has put itself up for sale. The village along with all its farms, houses, animals and everything. This was the main destination of our trip. As soon as we get down our Minibus, an Old man comes ambling around, pats the pockets of my professors bomber jacket and says in Marathi, "Give us money"

My professor is a Visual-hungry man. He looks at every scene as a shot of life in a film. He puts his camera on, and speaks to the man. He tries to find out why they are so deperate. The man keeps repeating that he needs money, he asks for a lakh, five hundred or even just hundred rupees.

Somehow, there's no pity or empaathy for these people. I dont think any of us, were sorry for them, or felt like pulling them out of this situation. This lack of understand could not be explained then. But somehow, seeing the old man begging for money, in the foreground of a huge hut, which had a dish antenna sticking out, refused to stir any emotions in us. When we questioned him abt the dish antenna, he said that the man who owns that hut is very rich. Huh?? But I thought that the entire village was so poverty stricken that they wanted to sell their homes out. We asked him if that man too was a part of the entire scheme of selling the village. He said, well I guess the man need not sell but since the entire village is collectively doing it then he cant back out alone can he.

Alright, so the one man, who has enough self-esteem to not beg and has enough sense to make money too has to bend in front of these men. As the Deputy Sarpanch took us through the village, he put up a great show about the poverty surrounding them. The extreme mendicancy they were reduced to. We reached a clearing and took a break. I was busy taking Cutaways with the camera and my prof went and planted himself among a group of villagers. He asked them what their problem was, one of them replied, "we have nothing sir, government gives ur packages which finish immediately, the rates we are given arelow, and the rainfall is unpredictable" So why dont you leave farming?? "we dont want to menial jobs.."why not?? Do you have an option now?? "No we will not do any work, government must give us money"

For a minute before this interlude, me aand my friends had been discussing that giving whatever money we had in our pockets would make no difference to these people. Not only would they beg for more, they would even curse us. Plus giving them money was equivalent to giving them fish to eat, tomorrow if they need more, they wont know how to fish.

And here was my prof, teaching them that if they just came over to Mumbai once, get some kind of a job,. come back to the village in the farming season, and once it finishes resume your job in town. This way you are earning a solid income to feed and clothe your children. But no. These men refused. They did not want to get up on their lazy ass, get out of their cocoon and approach the world outside. If moer money was required, the farmer would suicide. His family would get one lakh from the government out of this wont they??

These people I call farmers, are actually farm labourers. They majorly dont own farms, or if they do they are very small, hence they work on the farms of the other "rich"people in the village. Their yound children visit (please note the use of the word) the school at Waifad apparently to study. The school is a private one, hence the government gives them grants on the basis of their students' performance in standard 10. From first to ninth standard the students are passed through with exams which are just namesake. In standard ten, the exams that are held are university exams, hence the classrooms are locked from outside, and the teachers pass around guide books with marked answers. Those students who are intelligent to passs on their own, do just that, pass, on their own. And the rest, pass with flying artificial colors. The honest students are disillusioned. They get lower marks then the duffers of the class. Once all these students graduate to a junior college in town, the honest ones stick through till twelfth and the artificially colorful ones drop out in the first month itself. Those who dropout, convieneniently forget to mention it at home, and keep visiting the town daily with money to spend on frivolous or negative activities. These dropouts dont learn farming because their parents think they are educating themselves and they are not even literate enough for the lowest of desk jobs anywhere. What we are left with is a generation of misplaced and useless youth. Youth who need money. When out of frustration and need, their fathers commit suicides, these youngsters start evaluating life in terms of money. When my father killed himself, the government gave us a lakh, if my mother will also kill herself after a few months when she is established as the bread winner the government will give us one more lakh. They count death and money on the same fingers. These youths.

No this experience will not enlighten my life ahead. No this desoluteness, helplessness and poverty will not open the door of the world's problems to me. I will just move on, thinking that there are people in this world who have lost their self esteem and their strenght to money. Their are people in this world who are best studied and then forgotten..

Being immune to feelings..

" There were times when you used to take out time for
the people in your life, no matter how busy you were"

"I dont have people in my life for whom I'd need
to take out the time, which I dont have anyway."

"So dont you have time to miss someone now?? ok then, cant
you remove a minute to remember the good times spent"

"I'd rather not..I dont want to think about
times that have gone, good or bad"

"So you are going to go your way.. you will never consider being a human"

It is possible to not be human, right?? not human enough to have the most vital sensory perceptions.. feel.."

Its Birthday time!!

Some noticed.. some dint..

Along with it being the new day of the new year, it happens to be this blogs First Birthday!!

(Drums roll, and confetti floats all around)

Since it is, I decided to gift my blog something. Its pretty noticeable and pretty obvious and maybe garish. Funny, for someone who does not think that birthdays require huge fanfare, my blog's birthday has seen me grinning like a fool the entire day. I have assiduously hunted up a stat counter, which many people had been asking me to put up and had promised to help me with, tried and understood how it works, and have inserted it in. I even put the little break between I Power blogger and the counter myself, with the help of my limited knowledge of HTML.

Technically, this is not the birthday of my blogging habits but of this blog, because this blog, as few know, has been transported from my earlier MS spaces blog. And since I have no definite idea about when I started blogging then, and since this blog has, for some reason unknown to me, taken on an absolutely different meaning for me, it's my celebrated blog. I would like to thank the people who got me start this blog and they know who I'm talking about. And I would like to thank my friends, family, fellow bloggers... oh enough of that.. :)

If I would have seen this post on someone unknown's blog, I would have smirked at the immaturity, but for once, I just cant help or stop myself. It feels wonderful to do something new to my blog. And yes, I will change the background soon with the help of a knowledgeable blogfriend.

Oh and I dint post this in my earlier post today because I was still hunting for the perfect gift!! You know how difficult that can be!!

A solidified beginning..

It was a peaceful goodbye to the year gone. Spent at home with most of my family sleeping around me, and then watching the sky burst with colors from my terrace. I welcomed the New Year first at Metblogs. And then I did the thing I am most comfortable doing. I spoke to the few people who matter most to me and then drifted off to sleep reading my current obsession in my choice of books, Scruples Two.

Perfectly normal, and perfectly peaceful.

But when I woke up today morning, something has solidified in me. I couldn't put a figure on it, until I was at the breakfast table with my entire family. And it suddenly dawned on me. All the confusion so rampant in me from the past month cleared. It was not a thing to dawn on the first day of a new year. But..

Suddenly I realized that I would go to USA and study. I would come back within 3 years at the max, but I would go.
I will live that life. I will go, far from those I dont want to leave behind me. I will go, see the other kind of life. I will go, and struggle, because I know its more difficult there than here. I will go, and I will hunt for a new life there. I will go, and I will adjust to the change. I will go, and I will still try and remain who I am, a non-conformist.

I will go.

Tears..

I looked at my laptop screen in front of me and willed it as far away from me as possible. It dint go. I looked again and finally clicked on the words,

View Scores

And my eyes filled with tears.


Some people are plain cranky.. some people are plain hard hearted. I call myself a convert.

I used to be a real cry baby when I was a kid, but hey, who isn't?? Then, experiences and sad loves of teenage years made me hard hearted. I remember one time my best friend, the doc, came up to me and said,

"Pragni, please cry. For once. Cry out of your pain,
your sadness, or anything at all. But cry."

Ofcourse, hearts heal, or you learn to move on. And then you start smiling again. More importantly you start laughing and crying again. But there is still a guard on the emotions. And this is how people are shaped. Moulded and set into a cast which fits them for a lifetime, except for some chips.

But there have been very very few times that I have cried out of happiness. One was when a dance I had choreographed had been executed to absolute perfection. It was the perfect performance all performers, choreographers and guru's vie for. When the dance was in action, my eyes were full of tears.

That one was unexpected. So was this one.

The second time. My orkut scrapbook told me that my results were out. My TOEFL results. The score card said that I got 118. On 120.

I expected 100, I wanted 115, I got 118. I also did not want 115. 'Coz now I don't want to go to US. I want to go out and study but for some reason, not USA. As soon as I told everyone about it, EVERYONE said, "Now you are set to leave." I don't want to.


Doc had also told me once,

"Daarling, you always say you wont get good marks on this exam or you wont get thru this entrance. But you always do. You'll get good scores in GRE and TOEFL both. Just you see."

This one is for you daarling. And your absolute trust in me. Even I don't trust myself that much.

The 118 filled my eyes with tears. I'm still trying to figure out if they were happy tears or sad. I don't know. I think I don't know.

My first film..

So I'v been away. Not away as in out of town, but away from my blog. Coz another baby occupied my time up entirely. I was sitting on the computer day in and day out, but I forgot to log on to the internet all those times. I was still straining my eyes while I poured over the comp screen, but I forgot my blog address and my inbox altogether.

I was too busy making my first film. It's a raw kind of film, made from still picture clippings, and mixed with my voice over and a sound piece which i had to search and search for. But it's the first film I have made from start to finish, meaning editing, sounds, directing (if you can call it that) and voice over. Its not fiction.. but I dont think its non-fiction too. My prof believes that it's not a very good film yet, he says I can do better than this if I want to present the film to anyone. Hmm.. so here is the link and the embedded window too. Whichever works..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmSpHdmyZhs

Application horrors..

For some reason, I still believe that I will not go to USA finally. For some reason, my mind believes that I will not get admission into any of the universities I apply to, and that will be the end of it all. And oh! I will also not get good TOEFL scores that means that no USA at all. And because I am subconciously ready for this, I am consciously also waiting for it. Which mean that now, I actually dont want to go to US anymore.

I checked the website of a very famous media school in India, which has a 6 months creative communications course which is perfect for me. Only it is a certificate course. But I am almost ready to compromise with my want for a masters degree and my desire to stay here, in India.

I have been calling my department at college continuously from the last week trying to fix an appointment with a particularly elusive professor who has agreed to sign a recommendation. Finally today I just dropped my reco with the co-ordinator and begged him to read it out to the prof while she's smoking her usual 3 ciggs before the lecture. He has agreed, but I need to call him again on Monday morning to remind him about this.
I was finally given the letterheads I have been running behind from the last 2 weeks. The female makes me wait for half an hour coz its her lunch time (at 2:30 goddamit) and then she says, "Oh sirf letterhead chahiye tha toh pehle bolna tha na..". The transcripts have still not arrived. The guy at the counter showed them to me but said, "yeh raat ke file se madam ke paas jayega, woh sign karegi aur fir tayaar hoga". Then he realizes that I gave my application on 20th november and he says he will hurry it up and as a special effort for me, I will not have to produce my reciept to collect them. Can I start pulling out my hair now??

Meanwhile, I have decided to reject the recommendation that was to be signed by my present HOD. He insulted me, and after that there is no need for him to write me a reco. I mean, a professor who shows no conviction in me especially need not write me a reco. Its not about being egoistic, its about wanting the best. And I have realized that he is not the best so I have no need for him. I will most probably use his reco for another professors.

This state of limbo is putting me through awful mood swings. The creative genuis arrives this monday night and I am so happy about it. But the next moment something else strikes me and pulls me down. I must be torture to put up with right now. Have a million assignments to finish, SOP to write, online applications to begin and a movie to make.

And here I am.. blogging..

Life from a consumer's perspective

I woke up with a very profound thought today...

Take whatever you get from life, if you try to take more than what you want.. more than what you have.. then it will be a waste anyway. Not only will the extra stuff rot, you will have no need for it anyway..

Its like studying consumer behavior.. If you buy more than what you need, and more than what can fit in your shopping basket and shelf at home, the extra products will have no use and will hence rot. Hence it is best to understand your needs and not fake them to reach for more.

I guess this is my tribute to "The greatest Philosopher with Golden words", Ayn Rand and it is my way of asserting that the only religion or philosophy I follow is Objectivism.

One blogger to another.. a missed chance..

The convocation was today. We (Pri and me) reached around half an hour later but of course, it had still not started. We were handed our gowns and caps. I helloed everyone and Pri air kissed and hugged everyone. While she hobnobbed with her friends, hers not mine, I stood in a distance, looking out at only a few people who I thought were worth calling friends.

After seating my parents in the Audi, I came out to the foyer again to notice a classmate walk in. Now this classmate, lets call her Sm, requires special mention. When I joined BMM, as I have mention before I used to stay as aloof as possible. I had noticed another girl who had the same attitude. She was really pretty, had the perfect figure and this twang to her speech and this o-hell look on her face. I turned up late for a lecture one day, and so did she. We had some 80 minutes to spend outside the class in the corridor. After sitting at a distance for sometime, she noticed the book I was reading, and asked me which one it was. She told me that she too loved Ayn Rand. I said

Who doesn't? Unless brainless...

She smiled and started telling me about herself. She said she wanted to live alone, in the same city but as an independent woman. She had ideas which seemed between radical and western. She spoke as if she was really confident of herself, but there was a slight hitch in her voice, like looking for acceptance. The lecture ended sooner and we went back to class. Both apart in our aloof, indifferent worlds. Both forgot about the other's existence.

We dint ever talk again. She slowly gained a group, four guys, and another girl. She was then steady with one of those guys and they all hardly attended college but were always very very chummy. Like soul friends. Another guy in that group, hated me for some reason and we had a showdown in the last semester. So all interaction after that first semester's missed lecture was either extinct or indirect.

Around the fifth semester, the class realized that I wrote a blog on msn spaces. Lots of them read it, it was the class grouch writing about her personal life which they were interested in. The blog was spotted by an interfering aunty from our class and she spread the word. I blocked the blog to the public and gave access to a very few people. Now that blog has become like my personal online diary, but anyway. By the beginning of this year, 2006, I was into blogging, totally into it. I used to read a lot of blogs and like a very few. I dint leave comments coz I dint think my comments mattered. (I know it is blasphemous to even think of that now. Comments are sacred to all bloggers)

One day I came upon a blog which was written by someone called "Color-changing Chameleon". The writer was writing for her friends to read. Her style of writing was very personal and her posts were about her life more and the rest was about her immediate life. It didn't take me long to figure out that the blog was Sm's. I read through the blog. It was a refreshingly well written blog. Without any self consciousness. I visited the blog often. After a lot of visits, I saved the address in my favorites.

I still haven't added her blog on my blog list.

When Sm walken in today and smiled a hi at me, it was with a thoroughly disinterested look. The way I was looking at everyone else too. The convocation started. At the end of the function, there was a movie made by our batch which had everyones pictures and some video clippings. Sm and me both were not present through out the film. Not a single picture, mention or video clipping in a 30 minute long film. My mom dad were flabbergasted. They never really thought I meant it when I said that I have nothing to do with college. Sm dint look like she minded terribly too.

After the ceremony got over, I kept wondering if I should go up to her and tell her I read her blog. I thought that she had a right to know it. I would have wanted to know if she or anyone else read my blog. I explained my situation to mom and she said I dint need to go, but I could if I wanted to. Pri thought that I should not be seen 10 inches near "That kind of a girl", and the battle raged within me.

I headed towards her twice and turned away. I noticed the new Thai haircut she had blogged about. I wanted to congratulate her on not granting favours for the dream job that she wanted. I wanted to congratulate her on the new job that she got and sounded so excited about in her blog. I wanted to tell her that well, guys do forget important things sometimes but hers was truly intelligent. I wanted to tell her that I too had a crushingly huge attachment to my school, but somehow felt nothing for my junior college as well BMM. I wanted to blurt out all my suppressed comments. I wanted to tell her that I know I'm not a friend. I never even wanted to be one. But her Blog makes me feel like I know some bits about her. Some bits which were important enough to write about.

I wanted to talk to her, one blogger to another. Surprisingly, I know no one in the real life who has a virtual life of a blogger. Everyday in the train, I look at a stylishly dressed woman, and try to look for signs which would point to the fact that she blogs. I would try to observe if she observes people a lot, if she thinks a lot, if she smiles those small half smiles to herself. And here I had another blogger in front of me, and I had no idea if I should approach her or not.

I left my college without talking to her. I went to her blog after I came home, and I dint leave a comment. Someday I will tell her, Sm, I read your blog, and I read it coz I think you write real well. Not the novel kind of writings, but the natural, inherent kinds, where it feels like the author is actually just talking to you, not writing something down.

Down an embittered memory lane

Times change things so fast..

I started my application process today. My first Reco is packed and done. Sealed, signed and just waiting to be delivered now. Hopefully next reco will be done by thursday and another tomorrow. Transcripts application will be done on thursday too. They will be completed next thursday.

My first finished Reco is the most unexpected one. It was written by the HOD of BMM. I remember her as a dragon lady. She was this new inductee in our department in our second year, and she hardly knew us. Being the recluse that I was in college, she just knew me by name and face because BMM has only 55 students in each year. No one knew me and I dint let anyone know me. I dint participate in any college activites (yea, it IS true) and I genuinely dint care so I was pretty happy with the status quo. I was known to a few select professors who I thought had enough sense, rest I kept away from. To sum the story up, my legacy was obviously not passed on. Hence when I seeked leave to go US, she put as many impedements as she could.
After that, when I was caught in an imbroglio, she tried her best to not rescue me out but to implicate me further to make an example out of me. Although my profs stood up for me and got me the off with the least they could manage, she saw to it that even that least was heavy enought for me.

Well, she made a few noises but after running around for more than two hours, I got the work done. To my satisfaction. After the work was done, I looked around. I was back in the place I had spent three years in. Three years wanting out. I looked aorund and felt no nostalgia. No emotions choking me. I was glad. I had never been attached to my college, and it had remained that way even after I left the college. I noticed the smallest of changes dispassionately.

There was a cooler instead of the tap we filled water from coz we were too lazy to go to the main cooler on the other side of the corridor. The first year, Second Year and Third Year rooms had new curtains. There was a colorful mike box in the Third Year room. The window of the office cabin had been done up in some intricate hand painted design. The co-ordinator had changed. The LCR had a speaker with "Jalwa" playing through.

But somethings were still the same.

The students were all dolled up. I still looked down on the BA/BCOM/BSC students. They still leered at every BMM girl. And they still ooohed over most BMM guys. Cellphones were still used stealthily. Frankie was still popular in the college canteen. Most Basketball players were still BMM guys and girls. Pramod still flashed his hundred watt smile and helped me with everything. Some Junior still found respite from her situation by bitching about another student to Pramod and calling the other student all kinds of names. Pramod stilled rightfully examined my phone and asked me, "Naya model hai kya market mein??"

I left college knowing that I would be back this thursday and Saturday. But I think this was the only time I left College with a truly happy heart.

I got a lot of pics too.. in sepia tones.. of empy class rooms.. I was absolutely delighted with them.. will post them soon.

Deepening the blue..

Since my GRE scores have come, my once firm mind has turned soft, un-firm, whatever. My plans were concrete earlier, study copy-writing and creative writing abroad. Now all of a sudden they have turned to mush, as mushy and un-concrete as a rainwater puddle.

This metamorphosis happened because, by the time my GRE drew close I was sure I would score a not-very-good score, since my best friend, who is super intelligent scored a 1320 that too on his second attempt. I was prepared to pack up my dreams and not go to USA. I had decided MICA's creative arts course was perfect for me, so what if it was a little too expensive. And so what if it was in that god forsaken place it was in.

Whenever anyone asked me why I seemed not so hunky-dory about the idea of studying abroad now I just shrugged it off. Somehow when someone I consider a very good friend asked me with utter and due shock about why I don't wanna go to USA, I just broke the barrier and listed my reasons..


1. I wanna study in MICA coz that seems like an easy entry.

2. I don't think I can make it into a good US university

3. I am unhappy here... how will I be happy there

4. I like routine.. I don't want to be uprooted from here and smashed in between nowhere

5. Even if I do make it into a University what if I am not competent enough for copy-writing

6. I am too scared to face the fact that the career I wanna go on, might not be the one I am go


To which he replied:

is tag heur rightly spelled?

I mean.... what is the world coming too??

Flailing to grasp a slippery bond

You've gone and left an empty space,
a void, a scoop right in the center of my being.
Life doesn't halt
Why, its going great actually
'cept there's nothing, no one at all now anywhere
I don't know why I'm writing this anyway
I dunno if you've gone or have I pushed away.

After you've given up on me as your right,
I'm more yours than I ever was then.
My last chance at joy, my last real smile,
you are the silliness and you are the beauty.
It was your presence that brought it all out
the incoherent ramblings and unspoken mumblings
I don't know why I'm writing this anyway
Its not like it matters anymore anyway.

My eyes open to those tunes you named after me,
I heard them then, and I see them now
They play in my dreams, faraway from the grasp of wakefulness
When dreams and realities crash, its often reality that emerges victorious
But, the fallacy is of the mind,
it can't even live without the very same dreams.
Have you ever noticed that fears grow stronger when spoken or written about
I don't know why I'm writing this anyway
Its not like you are going to notice the change.

I thought pain came only once in a lifetime
you kept saying that I was being immature.
You said you want things, its either all or nothing
I said you were not being pragmatic.
You said life always gives a second chance,
I said once, is all you get
You hoped for all
I accepted nothing.
We never realized when we both fell apart
And when we finally did, it hurt you too much.
Once you've been with the wrong person in life,
I'm sorry, but everything seems wrong after that.
I don't know why I'm writing this anyway
Its like purgatory, only if you accept it that way.

Demeaning the Value of Education

I have a friend who is doing her Ph D. From US, University of Illinois in Bio Chemistry. She came to India this June, after finishing a year and was nearly in tears. Her roomie was harassing her, her guide was exploiting her, her work schedule was too much and she had lost more than 10 kgs in less than one year ( She had been under-weight when she had gone anyway). Valiantly for the first few weeks here, she said she was happy there, and had a lot of fun, but her body disclosed it all. When everyone came to know of her hardships, concerned, they asked her to not return. Everyone consoled her saying that no one would think less of her, and she could just get on with a plum job that she had. She did not answer. When the time to leave came, she was happily waving goodbye from the airport and was going back to her life there. My dear friend is still there, getting her Ph D. and again is not complaining at all.

Another friend, is pursuing his PhD. from Mumbai University. He says, he has to break heads with his guide day in and day out, has to put in enormous amounts of effort and time into research and basic gadha-majuri but is still raring for it.

My Head Of Department, is 40 years old, and is in the process of obtaining a PhD. from Monash University, Australia, through correspondence. He is doing so because handling the department of Communication and Journalism of Mumbai University is no small feat. But he wants a PhD., even at this later phase in life (not very late if you ask me) because there are chances that Mumbai University will plant a OBC Category PhD. in his place who is a bloody dimwit and thinks that "Philadelphia is a big country outside of USA".

All these people I know are slogging for their doctorates. Not just coz they want the decorative type in front of their name claiming them Doctors, but because they have the knowledge, passion and zest to get the degree. I want a Doctorate degree sometime in my future. And I want the toil and effort that goes with it. And the goddamn respect. Because it is no child's play to get one.

How then, can a supposedly prestigious university of India easily applaud a few people honorary PhD.'s and get away with it?? Oh to add to that, University of Jhansi had done the same deed some months ago too.

Amitabh Bachchan asked, "Do I deserve this Honour?" and the media clicked on. I will answer you Mr. Bachchan, NO, you don't deserve this honour. Give him Padam Shrees and Padam Bhushans but don't give him Doctorates for heavens sake.

I admire Amitabh Bachchan. I still do. I have always judged actors on their acting and nothing else, not even their looks, coz according to me, an actors skill lies in acting. And Mr. Amitabh Bachchan is a very dexterous actor to say the least. But he is not, definately not, an academician. And he has done nothing to warrant the honorary doctorate lauded on him.

I had always respected Delhi University. It is one of the oldest Universities of India and one of the most respected one world-wide. Not anymore. DU wanted to imitate a certain foreign University since it awarded honorary doctorates to Indian luminaries and hence it followed suit. Not done. The rest of the bandwagon who have been awarded these degrees has politicians too.

These luminaries have been given these doctorates for the outstanding performance in their respective fields. Please tell me, are these fields not their career paths?? Don't they get money out of whatever work they do?? Then what purpose does this doctorate serve to them??

If this is all that is the value of a PhD. how many people will still want to get it?? If you demean the value of education what is left of your economy?? Education is the highest judging level which is tangible, if you muddy that yardstick too, what more is left??

One more question, how come no one, absolutely no one thinks this is the stupidest thing to do?? I mean, media has come out with shining articles about how good a move this is, people are smiling and happy, and someone even wrote a letter to the editor of times and Mumbai Mirror saying that such a step is truly great and praise-worthy. Am I mad or is the world mad??

The current love of my life..

Introducing ladies and gentlemen... the new and true love of my life.. (*wild applause follows*).




Yes yes yes yes yes.... this is my new phone. Its ultra chic, ultra sexy and again very unlike a phone. Its not as weird, well yes unique too, as my old phone but I m sure even this one will not have a wild fan following and lots of people madly clamoring to buy it.

Anyhow, this phone does not have a dial pad, does not have a alphabet pad but instead it has a stylus!! It is extremelyyyy complicated, has 2 megapixel camera, business card reader, and touchscreen with handwriting recognition.

Thankfully, as usual people are surprised when they see it, and as usual everyone doesn't like it, precisely the reason why I like it. I do miss my old love my 7600, but well I keep it in my bag all the time so its not too far from me!!

To end it all, I love it. I dont want to part with it if I have to go...