Thursday, December 31, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
“When I was younger so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody’s help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.”
Sometime’s I need to talk.
Sometime’s I just need someone to talk to.
“Help me if you can, I'm feeling downAnd I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me?”
Friday, November 20, 2009
These are things that crossed my mind today. Just giving you a peek into the thoughts of the Lunatic, on 20th November 2009, randomly throughout the day.
As far as my knowledge of Indian mythology goes, I cannot remember any significant acts of Lord Shiva apart from the creation of Devi Durga. Sorry if I am ignorant – but I seriously don’t remember anything.
Why can’t the Sainiks do something similar?
I take back my words. I do know how to edit. It’s just the speed and efficiency and the workplace of FCP which took me off guard.
Still, FCP kicks ass. Better than Premiere any day.
But, editing, in essence remains the same, irrespective of what tools you use to edit. And we, edit like fools, even on Premiere.
What’s wrong with a Bengali commercial films? If we can watch the song-dance-fight-melodrama in Hindi films, why do we avoid Bengali commercial films? I will watch them. Why not?
The fact that Gulaal is playing on Zee Cinema. Coincidence? Orchestrated spontaneity? I refer to the Sainik attack, obviously.
Things have changed. We have grown up. We don’t think the same these days. Or react in the same way to things.
The air conditioner is a menace. If you use one which makes things too cold. Having a small room and a big A/C is a foolish thing to do. I don’t care how costly equipment you have that you want to keep cool. The air conditioner is a menace.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
So I returned here last morning. Very early morning. It wasn’t cold at all, and I was feeling pretty warm in the SIMC sweatshirt, of which the print will peel off soon.
The train was a little late. Around an hour. Well, that is nothing, compared to the ten hour torture I had to bear last time around from Kolkata to Mumbai.
Actually, the train being late gave me some sights that I had never witnessed before in this city. Travelling next to the Maidan, on the way back to home, it was foggy, very. And the sky was turning redder by the minute. The Maidan looked amazing and the Victoria Memorial against the backdrop of the red sky, more so.
Hopelessly, my camera was in the suitcase so taking a photo was out of question. But, someday, I will go back to the Maidan on a November morning just to capture the sight I saw. Till then, I have my memories to make me content, and all of you can just try to imagine, though, it won’t really help. Some things are meant to be seen, to be witnessed, and even if I were a Nobel Prize winning author, I couldn’t have really penned down the vision. (On the Nobel. I think I might just win it soon. Some guy in America did. Apparently without doing anything. Erm, apparently by just making a few promises. So, why not me? Or you, for that matter?)
Oh well, I spent very little time at home in the morning. I had to go enquire a few stuff, which I did and then headed to the 15th Kolkata International Film Festival.
It shouldn’t be called a Film Festival, you know. It could be, or should be called a carnival. Or a mela. It was films going on, with lights all around, with foodstalls all around the place – a magical event. Now, this, is a media event. SIMC, take a look. Footprints, what Footprints? Even DAM and FOC for that matter. This is how an event should be.
I saw only two films yesterday. Will see more today.
Calcutta, in spirit hasn’t changed. Kudos to the City of Joy! Even with individual hopelessness's and sorrows, the spirit of the city continues and fuels on the dreams and imaginations of everyone.
One round of drinks on me. At Oly. Cheers to Calcutta.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Date: 5th November 2009
Venue: Amphitheatre, SIU Campus, Vimannagar
And Layla got me to my feet.
Swam performed. First show ever. With Kamala, Shyam and Ship on vocals. Keegan on bass. Anand James and Akshay on keyboards. Aniket and me on guitars. And Harsh on percussions.
Everyone was great. Sang really well, all of them. Played really well, all of us.
And yes, that little boy smile.
The show was pretty good. Not completely happy with the sound system though; but, for a first show of a band, yes, it went pretty well. The audience seemed to enjoy it.
It's been the ruin of many a poor boy.
But no, not this time I suppose. My first gig in a long long time. The debut of my Ibanez also, on stage. It’s strange, but I’ve never played live with this guitar before, even though it’s almost two years old now.
Hopefully, not my or our last show. Let’s see what the future brings. But enjoyed, very much, playing live again.
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for.
Only one thing, but. I guess this is the first good show I did where she wasn’t there.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
I went to a friends blog, and then was clicking the next blog button on top. Half the blogs I went to were of a different language – but one thing was common in all of them.
All of them had a post on the 31st October.
And I mean all of them.
So, now, is it like that 31st October is a day when everyone blogs? Or is it like the people actually blog everyday, unlike me?
I guess this mystery will remain unsolved. And those who are wondering, yes, I am pretty jobless. What can you expect when college is over (for the sem) and I don’t have exams to attend to study for (TNG. Dang!).
So I guess I’ll observe more things like this and blog about them.
Oh. Yesterday was Halloween. And I was randomly in Koregaon Park and I saw people dressed up for the occasion. With red horns (some which were glowing), weird face paints, crooked hats, and what not. Well, I guess these people should have just stayed home and blogged. They looked strange. And out of place.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Images. Sounds. Reflections. They all come and go while the human mind is the most vulnerable. While the person is sleeping. Most people don’t remember what they dreamt last night. Some retain flashes of it. Some dreams make people happy, others give people a scare.
But the bottomline is, the person has to wake up – and the moment he does, the dream ends. An alternate universe, images sounds and reflections, they go, bringing you back to reality, or what we perceive as reality.
Isn’t cinema the same?
What you see on the screen for an hour or two, or maybe even for a few minutes, take you away to a different world. An alternate universe where the real is unreal, the unreal is real. Where people are portraying other people.
Doesn’t that happen in your dreams also? People you know, act differently?
And in the end, both get over. Some dreams you remember, some you forget. Same as some cinema you remember, some you do forget. Yet when you’re in a dream, or watching a movie, you are in it, in that alternate world.
Some people might have seen my last film Death of a Dream. Others might have read a recent blog post titled A School Boy's Dream. I was shooting A School Boy’s Dream today (and on that regard, it should be ready in 3-4 days). It is going to be a one-minute film.
However, two films, back to back, Death of a Dream and A School Boy’s Dream. Is there a third film coming up in the horizon? The Dreams Trilogy?
Friday, October 23, 2009
I would say that Windows 7 is my new found love. I was pretty apprehensive before installing it – remembering my experience of my upgrade from Windows XP to Windows Vista. However, now, after using it for about a week, Windows 7 is like a Windows experience like never before!
First of all, it is faster than Vista. Well, I am not one of those technical magazines who clock the times of the boot ups and shutdowns and other processes. But, from the general experience, it is a lot faster and very much noticeably so as otherwise I wouldn’t have notices. Boot up is faster. Premiere and Photoshop work like a dream. Video rendering which used to take ages now gets done in a jiffy. And, Photoshop, complex filters and effects used to take time, but now they get done in a blink of an eye.
On the softwares front, all my favourite softwares are working. CorelDRAW, Adobe, torrents, everything. No issues anywhere. Apart from a small niggling issue – DVD drive emulation is not happening from any software. Daemon Tools, Alcohol 120% – none of them are even getting installed. However, hopefully, the software makers should soon resolve this issue, and thus I am not really worried.
I read in some online post that Windows 7 experience for them has been nothing great and that it looks exactly like Vista. I would like to counter that. I would say it, till now, has the reliability that Windows XP had and has the visual attractions of Windows Vista. I specially love the new taskbar. A mixture of the original Windows taskbar and the Mac dock. It works like a charm and makes computing a lot faster and easier.
I would suggest upgrading to Windows 7 if you are not happy with Vista. But, don’t upgrade, install a fresh copy. I heard that upgrade only changes the looks and keeps the system still slow.
And the shake! I love the shaking aspect of the Windows to minimize the other background windows. It might sound corny or even feel stupid, but it’s fun. And it gives you a way to pass the time while you’re waiting for a download to finish or maybe some process to end!
Not the usual bit of post one expects from this blog I guess. But, Windows 7 deserves to be hailed!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Windows 7 got installed. And it kicks ass, contrary to popular and ignorant belief. It’s faster, better and looks good, too!
And then I found this thing called Windows Live Writer. So, whenever I feel like writing blogs, I can write and the blog posts get automatically uploaded to this!
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
"If you didn't care what happened to me,
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Well, he was too busy getting famous.
He sang. He wrote. All the world was a stage to him.
And he sang,
"We filed slowly, languidly into the hall
The auditorium was vast and silent
As we seated and were darkened, the voice continued.
The program for this evening is not new
You've seen this entertainment through and through
You've seen your birth your life and death
you might recall all of the rest
Did you have a good world when you died?
Enough to base a movie on?"
Well, you must know who I am talking about. James Douglas Morrison. The great American poet. The poet of the land of freedom of speech and expression.
But wait! The Indian constituition also has the words which are similar, don't they? Ah well. They never paid attention. And, the stage, the screen and the paper, they are supposed to aren't they? They are supposed to portray the society, aren't they? But, ah well! We the mad people living in Nagar do not have access to the outside world, do we? How do we know that this Waghmare crack is based on certain living creatures of the society? Well, we aren't supposed to know!
And, this entertainment. Yes, we have been seeing it through and through. Enough to make a movie on, to write about and learn from. All the world's a stage and we have exits and entrances.
Well, that's my cue to leave one stage and move to the other.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Well, whatever. Actually, no. You want to know the difference?
Mass Communication is the term used to describe the academic study of the various means by which individuals and entities relay information through mass media to large segments of the population at the same time. It is usually understood to relate to newspaper and magazine publishing, radio, television and film, as these are used both for disseminating news and for advertising. (From the experts of your friendly neibourhood Wikipedia).
- To receive information related to media and communication, assimilate it and then disseminate the same in an effective manner.
To inform, educate, entertain and empower the participants to meet the challenges of a competitive and evolving globalised media environment.
To educate and inspire media aspirants in social communication within a world class ambience.
To develop a unique Institute where the programmes provide training in new global media technology.
To connect, communicate and converge in building symbiotic links with the academia, industry, and community, in the context of media & communication.
Well, basically, the evolution of Mass Communication may be called Media and Communication.
But, you are still confused about the differences, aren't you? Well, let's cut out the technical jargons. Let's just say, earlier, the mass was faceless, and now each customer is the king. The new marketing mantra, this. Niche channels, thus. Even section 377, maybe.
For those still confused.
1. Of warning letters, treated as a cog in the wheel, and being expected to go through worthless exercises. Mass Communication.
2. Of being given the respect you expect as an individual, less warning letters and more freedom. Media and Communication.
That makes me wonder. Can we change the name back again, maybe?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
"Close your eyes and I'll kiss you,
Tomorrow I'll miss you;
Remember I'll always be true.
And then while I'm away,
I'll write home ev'ry day,
And I'll send all my loving to you.
I'll pretend That I'm kissing
the lips I am missing
And hope that my dreams will come true.
And then while I'm away,
I'll write home ev'ry day,
And I'll send all my loving to you."
And to Pune,
"It won't be long yeah, yeah, yeah
It won't be long yeah, yeah, yeah
It won't be long yeah
'Til I belong to you.
Ev'ry night when ev'rybody has fun,
Here am I sitting all on my own,
It won't be long yeah, yeah, yeah
It won't be long yeah, yeah, yeah
It won't be long yeah
'Til I belong to you.
Since you left me I'm so alone,
Now you're coming, you're coming on home,
I'll be good like I know I should,
You're coming home, you're coming home.
Ev'ry night the tears come down from my eyes,
Ev'ry day I've done nothing but cry.
It won't be long yeah, yeah, yeah
It won't be long yeah, yeah, yeah
It won't be long yeah
'Til I belong to you."
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
The soft jazz music crooned on. Two lovers were in each other’s arms. Slightly moving to the music to music and becoming more comfortable with each other.
“This is our song,” He whispered in her ear.
She didn’t say anything. She put her head on his shoulder and they continued to move to the beats.
“This is our song,” He repeated. “We shall never dance this song with anyone else, or even alone.”
The cigarette never seems to calm me these days. The lift journey never seems to end these days. Do you realize that I have to pass her house everyday while coming home? And the fact that now, I can no longer meet her, see here, kiss here, hold her in my arms? Do you realize how much pain it causes?
Julia, what do you dream when you turn the lights out? Do you dream about me? Do you think about me?
I guess not. You have somebody else now.
He paused like usual, while passing her house. It seemed natural for him to take out his cell phone, call her and ask if she was at home. If she was, visit her. But that time had changed, this was not allowed anymore.
He resumed his walk. And then again paused.
Something he heard made him pause. It was the forgotten melody of the soft jazz song; playing softly from her house. So lightly, it could hardly be made out from the regular noise of the street. Yet, it was definitely playing; he could recognise the notes as if they were etched in his brain.
He was debating. He knew from where he could catch a glimpse inside her room. Yet, was it the right thing to do? Was it voyeurism? It was punishable by law, of course, but how would she react if she realised?
Yet, he couldn’t resist the temptation. He moved to the vantage point and peeped. There she was, dancing, alone, moving with the beats, her eyes closed.
He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he could see a glistening path of tears on her cheeks.
“The Vodafone number you’re trying to reach is currently switched off. Please try again after some time.” He heard the mechanical voice for the fortieth time that night. He left a message, disgruntled.
The message simply said, “I called.”
The next morning, he woke up to the voice of his mother.
“Wake up!” She was saying, urgently.
“Julia,” she continued. He opened his eyes at the mention of her name.
“Julia, she committed suicide this dawn.” She finished. “The neighbourhoods in a tizzy. The reason is still not know, but it seems she had some problems with her boyfriend.”
He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think. A part of him, however, was relieved, that he wasn’t the boyfriend being discussed here.
Could he go and see her one last time? How had she died?
He felt exhausted.
He sat up on his bed and glanced at his phone. “1 new message, Julia, 3.40 am” it said.
He opened the message.
One line, one of his favourite lines, it said, “Within You, Without You.”
Monday, April 20, 2009
Well, I still got a little late. That place is where I don't usually venture to, and even when I do, I don't usually have a time to meet. So, figuring out the way and the conveyance took some time, and so did the Sector V jam. And then I got lost. I think everyone, at least once has got lost in Salt Lake. It's impossible to know the way there, every street looks the same (and not exactly in an Simon Garfunkel Homeward Bound way).
And then I found the place. I rang the bell. GC 65, Salt Lake Sector 2. The office of Prayasam.
Then I had to wait inside. There was some meeting going on. And then suddenly, this gentleman comes out and says, "You're coming with me, we're going to Baruipur where a project is going on."
I went with him. As if I had a choice!
On the way, I learnt more about this man. Amlan Ganguly, Berkley pass out, the founder of the organisation is an interesting man to know. A documentary is being made, called the Revolutionary Optimists, by the Stanford University, and among the five people, he is one. Only last week they came to interview him, and the director and the cinematographer of this documentary are the same people who made the Oscar winning Smile Pinky. Among the others, Md. Younis, Nobel Winner, features in the documentary as well.
Talking with this man was a revelation. His thought processes are a little tangential with normal people, and according to him, Prayasam has worked because, "We approach the age old problems with a different treatment." He questioned mine, and society's age old thinking about NGO's, and development.
We reached the camp at Baruipur. Me, him and two others from the NGO. I didn't have much to do, I had to just see and understand. The children were amazing! Watching them play, draw, build comradeship among each other - it was a sight which transferred me back to my childhood. The houses drawn by children are always the same - a triangle and quadrilateral roof with rectangular walls. The sky is always the same - the clouds coloured blue and the sky left blank! The innocence in the strokes is something I had not seen in a long long time mostly thanks to CorelDRAW (no offense meant to the same!).
And then to think these children are street dwellers. We see them differently because they come from a different socio-economical background than us. Yet, when you mingle with them, play with them, help them draw - it's the same. It's the same what you did when you were young. Why did we gow up and lose our innocence? And when did we grow up?
Between all this, I got to know my responsibilities as an intern. As a true Media Trainee, as our college likes to call us, I am supposed to make two short films, design their annual report and do some reporting. Well, it does seem a tall order at start, but, all of this will involve working with these wonderful children and I am sure I'll enjoy it.
These children are not deprived. We are. Of our innocence.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
“This is an effective, fun way to bring greater attention to voting. We're eager to see which municipality will have bragging rights for the next seven months.”
- Jim Morrison
What the Lizard King said decades ago seems to have some meaning now, in the Indian context. The elections are there, in three months now. And it’s not the municipality; it’s the Lok Sabha elections, which gets to decide who rules the country for the next four years.
Elections have been happening every four years. So what’s new this year?
The new fad this year seems to be, that, people have discovered that we, the youth, exist.
What started with the JaagoRe! campaign seems to have gripped everyone who wants to show their responsibility in asking the Indian Youth to vote.
CNN IBN, The Indian Express are just two of them. Many NGO’s, social sector organizations seem to be going to college after college and asking young India to vote.
So what is happening is, we are listening to the same facts over and over again, every week, from a different organisation. Most youth don’t vote. They can change the fate of India. Etc. Etc.
So, what is happening? We are getting free voter registration forms. We are being asked to go and submit them. And then, finally, vote.
Now, let me ask a question. How many have, actually, done this? I don’t think many. And I don’t think many will.
Why the pessimism, you might ask. Well, the youth aren’t idiots. They have existed since India have existed, and I do not think they don’t know what they are capable of. We don’t need constant reminders of “Go! Vote!”. Those who want to vote, they will do it, themselves, without being asked to.
We don’t need to be told what to do. We will do it, if we feel like it.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
But I say it just to reach you, Julia"
She's been fleeting in and out of my life for the past couple of years. But its only recently that I consciously noticed her presence.
I don't even know whom I met first. Which Julia I met first.
Was it the oceanchild? Was it the dreamboat queen? Or, was it the pianist?
I don't know. I can't even remember. I tried to recall, but, I can't. It's a strange thing. Earlier, I didn't even acknowledge her presence. And now I do, I can't remember which of these namesakes I met first.
Now, when I consciously feel the existence of Julia, the song of love, dream of love, or unfulfilled love - I get lost.
I wonder if the key will unlock my mind. I wonder if we will play together. I wonder if the silent cloud will touch me.
He remembered her reply.
"Come with a gift for me, then I'll think about going out with you."
He opened his wallet and knew that day, he would break it.
His purse was almost empty.
There she was. The beauty queen of college. And for her reception, there were a thousand boys waiting, with flowers and colourfully wrapped presents.
But when she came in, she ignored the throng of people waiting for her. She walked straight, yet her eyes were wandering here and there, as if looking for something or someone.
All the boys were disappointed. A glance on them and she walked past.
And then she saw him. He was sitting, alone. Apart from everyone, in a very different mood than everyone else. When everyone was apprehensive, he was looking as if he knew.
She approached him. And smiled at him.
He looked away.
"What happened?" She asked "Where's my gift?"
He gave her a rose.
"That's all?" She asked.
"Well... I do have an eclairs if you want. Fact is, I'm broke." His voice was resigned, lost.
She linked her hand with his.
"Let's go. Lunch's on me today then."
His face was unbelieving. She smiled.
"And, give me the eclairs!"
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Suddenly, his concentration broke. Somebody had come and sat down beside him. He looked up, irritated. He didn’t like people invading his personal space without permission. The retort, which he was going to utter, however, stayed unspoken.
It was her.
And she had tears in her eyes.
And that was very unlike her.
“What?” He managed to stammer out. She looked at him, turned back again and started to weep. Looking at the floor, she kept crying, her face hidden in her hands.
He didn’t know what to say. Tentatively he put his hand around her shoulder and drew her closer. She kept crying, her head, now on his shoulder.
With his other hand, he was looking for something in his pocket. He found it, and drew it out.
“You want an éclairs? Chocolate cheers up people.” He held it in his hand, looked at her.
She looked at the small toffee. Took it, and threw it down the stairs.
“You’re hopeless.” She muttered.
Almost as a reflex reaction, he withdrew his arm from around her shoulder. She hid her face again in her hands. He looked at her, and kept looking, lost for words.
The silence was heavy in the air.
Suddenly she looked up.
“Go get that éclairs!” She said.
And she smiled. Almost.