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...

The Class System in Local Trains

Chronicles of a train traveller Part four

15 Differences between:

"A First Class Ladies Compartment"

1. When someone steps on your feet, they look at you apologetically.
2. You wont hear anyone creating a ruckus in joy
3. When its crowded to the hilt, people will realign their bodies, fit them in grooves and niches to fit like one proper well-moving fabric.
4. When everyone's seated except one, the one will remain standing if she's unaware of an empty seat in the far corner.
5. If you cry, you cry alone and ignored.
6. If you get a place to sit, which you normally always do, you'll be able to study undisturbed for the entire journey.
7. If an interesting conversation is taking place anywhere in the compartment, everyone eavesdropping will maintain an absolute poker face.
8. As soon as the final station draws near, almost everyone in the compartment will pull out their compacts and brushes and eye liners and will get busy applying it.
9. Most women chatting on the phone do so in low tones or they cup their hands around their mouthpieces.
10. No one sits on the floor of the compartment, anywhere.
11. The groups in the compartments are fixed and they genuinely participate in each other's life and are concerned for one another.
12. The samosa and wada wala, and the paper wala frequent this compartment. The sandwich wala does not come(Why??)
13. The Ticket Checker (TC) comes every other day to check tickets inside the compartment.
14. Cat fights, train fights, hardly happen. Pretty rare :( no entertainment!!
15. There are people from all strata's of the society here, rich, poor, middle class and sometimes even very rich.

"secund c-lass leddies comparatment"

1. Its common to step on someone's feet, otherwise how will you ever get to wherever in hell that you want to go.
2. You wont not hear everyone creating a ruckus in joy
3. When its crowded to the hilt, you'll hear and feel the squelch of bodies and the squeeze of flesh.
4. If a seat is empty in any corner, and anyone at all is standing, it will become everyones business to see to it that the standing passenger does finally occupy that seat.
5. If your eyes even become watery, all the women around you will ask you if everything's ok. Sab Barr aahe na??
6. If you get a place to sit, and you normally don't, you will definitely not be able to study. The aunty next to you will want to know what you are doing and will peep her nose into your big book, the kid in front of you will want to play with your pants and there will just be general pandemonium.
7. If an interesting conversation is taking place anywhere in the compartment, everyone eavesdropping will have their own tidbit to add and subtract. Even if its a conversation about someone's sex life!!
8. If you so much as comb your hair, or check your face in a mirror, the aunty in front of you will either comment on your looks or say. "ho gaya?? powder showder??"
9. Most women who make or receive calls will do it on full volume. They will even discuss their company details, pending work, boss's affair, husband's work in a tone loud enough for the entire compartment to hear.
10. Everyone sits on the floor of the compartment, especially near the exit.
11. There are very few specific groups coz other than that, everyone talks to everyone about everything.
12. The samosa, wada, sandwich wala come to this compartment. The paper wala does not come (Why??)
13. The TC never comes. Not inside the compartment ever.
14. The famous trains fights, cat fights at that, happen almost everyday.
15. There is no differentiation between any strata's of society here. But predominantly, it is contained of the lower middle class and below.

Utter joy, gone forever..

A capsule of joy, an infallible time of bliss.

When you've experienced such things, is it possible to explain to your mind that it was just meant for that much time, and that time will not return. Is it possible to move on with life, just as normal and not expect life to ever give you that capsule again. Is it possible to accept just that much bliss and contentment and live your entire life out in that. Is it possible to be thankful for that little time, leave it untouched in your memory, and not compare every other time with that capsule.

Is it possible to become pragmatic again, to reason with yourself and anyone else affected that, that time has passed, and that time wont ever return. That, that time was given to you just coz it was obvious that there will be no other time like that. Id it possible to be very very realistic in one part of your brain, but let the other small part dream and hope of a future ingrained in fantasy. Is it possible to abandon everything you live for right now, everything you love now, everything you want now just to relive that capsule over and over and over again.

Is it possible to be human, make mistakes, be selfish, be greedy, want more and still care more for that capsule than anything else at all.

There are two kinds of contentment in life. Love, true love and joy, utter bliss.
And everyone gets only one shot at both. What happens if you fail at both. Coz if you even get one, you can live on the buttress of that for your entire life, those who get both, they are goddamn lucky, but if you get neither.. then what happens of your life.

Wont you start living a shallow, selfish life, coz life dint dish out both to you. Wont you start hating idealism, romanticism, perfection in a system or society co life denied you both. And in that selfishness, you'll lash out to those who still live under the shadow of idealism and hope. Coz you are devoid of emotions, you'll call everyone else an emotional fool. Rightly so.

But how long will you hide the enviousness you feel when other feel and you don't. How long will you hide the twist of pain you feel when other love and you don't. How long will you hide the jab of hurt when other are happy and you are not. How long will you hate the fact that you have started loving the life of a loner, loving being lonesome.

No wonder you reject love, hope, friendship, pain, obsession and emotion too. No wonder you can't spin rhymes the way you could once. No wonder you live alone in your ivory tower, locked from inside, not outside. No wonder your life is real while your thoughts are stuck in your dreams..

Echoes in the night and utter joy..

There's something weird about my system. I spend the entire day seriously studying for GRE (I have long abandoned the three hour plan, its more like an entire day thing now what with my GRE 10 days away..OMG)and even then I don't sleep at night. I mean I just don't understand what I m doing up at 3 in the night. If Majnunath hears of this he will kill me. That's my GRE prof, who has taken it on as a personal responsibility for me to score well, although I keep advising him that its not such a good idea to hope for so much. He;s planned out an actual schedule for me.

Anyway, Yesterday was Diwali. Even now, I can hear the echoes of fire-crackers bursting somewhere far away. Thankfully people on my locality are fast asleep, tired no doubt after continuously bursting crackers from the last 6 hours or more.

When I was speaking to my Brother early in the morning, he told me a very astonishing thing. His company, an American one has announced that they will feed lunch to all employees on Monday, on the occasion of Diwali and New year. Now my bro's firm is basically an international conglomerate, a very famous company dealing in Electronic gadgets, mobile phones et all. This missive came as a surprise to all the employees, Americans and Indians.
The Americans in his project group, asked the Indians in it, what Diwali exactly was, and why it was such a big festival that they were being given a company lunch. The Indians went on to explain about Ram, Sita, Ravan and Laxman as succincently as they could. half way through the yankies stopped them and requested, "Could you please explain all this in terms of Dick, Jane and Robert. We'd understand it better then!!" ROFL

My suggestion: Tell them, that Diwali is, if not more, the equivalent of Christmas. Its the same kind of good-will, festivity, shopping, gifting, feasting, crackers and fun!!

I have been brought up in a very minimalistic household. My parents don't believe in celebration of any kind, so no birthday celebrations (once you are mature that is), no festivals that are celebrated and no nothing. We normally eat out once a week, so eating out on any celebratory days is banal. I have never been fascinated my fire-crackers too, although fire is my personality type, the loud noise kinds crackers turn me off completely. So i just love watching others burst the noiseless fiery kind of crackers. No bursting for me. My parents are Jains, so no Pooja for them too. So the point I m trying to drive across is that, Diwali for me, is now just an occasion when I see Mumbai decked up in its best, bright with lights and people wishing each other all the time. Alas, my mom dad give everyone Diwali Bonus except me, so that's another joy discounted.

So when you see Diwali, understand Diwali and yet remain detached from it, experiencing it is another joy all together. People long-forgotten will message you and wish you, everyone will force mithais, chaklis or some good thing or the other down your throat. You can eat chocolates without being stopped, and everyone is generally in a very happy, forgive and forget mood. All homes are decked with bright colourful lights, and small glints of fire coming from the well decorated diyas. Rangolis everywhere, lots of colour.. vibrancy and feeling of good-will.

Its the festival of joy. Truly is.

P.S: A friend gifted me a white sari as a Diwali gift, (I had wanted it from a long time). I'm damn excited coz Iv never had a Diwali Gift before!!

Lost home..

There is something called a deep-rooted, deep-seated fear. People fear huge things, gigantically, scary and really truly mortifying things. I just read Shantaram and I realized that there are a lot of fears which I haven't seen, which I haven't experienced.

Yet after last December, some kind of a fear has taken root in me, deep within me. It was just a robbery, just an encounter with the pilferist, but it has settled in me. And I hate it.

Now everytime, I hear a knock, some movement unwarranted, something amiss, it feels like something has clutched my belly with deep sharp claws. It's bloody scary and irritating. Because, I hate being intimidated by anything, especially by something that is done and over with. I hate looking up the stairs, everytime I insert my key in the lock, and I hate feeling scared when I hear that my mom is alone at home. I hate double checking every lock, every door, every sound and everything in the house when I am alone. I hate not feeling safe in my own cocoon, the only home I have ever known in my life. Its frustrating.

I love this house, even though I know that I wont live here my entire life, I love this place. Understandable. And from this same love arises this hate. And want. I want to be able to feel safe and secure again. To stride nonchanantly into my home and feel at ease. I want my home back.