Sunday, August 30, 2009

How does it Feel?

The Lunatic Speaks its fiftieth mumble.

This blog has seen a lot, from love to loss, from friendship to enmity, from adoration to disgust.

And will keep doing so.

So, how does it feel?

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

An open letter.

"If you didn't care what happened to me,
and I didn't care for you,
we would zig zag our way through the boredom and pain,
occasionally glancing up through the rain
wondering which of the buggers to blame
and watching for pigs on the wing."
-Pink Floyd

So. Who doesn't care anymore? Me? Or you? I don't know about you, but I, at least am zigzaging my way through the boredom and pain. And, there is always the glance. Swine Flu in the air.

So. What changed? What happened? Me? Or you? Or us?

No. I just guess its time. Or the distance.

2020 kms. Pune. And Kolkata. Give or take a few kms, Vimannagar and South Kolkata. I left. Yes, I agree. I went off. And, had to keep coming back.

But now, after over a year, things have definately changed. I'm no more of this city anymore. An outsider who doesn't fit in anymore, am no longer welcome.

You all have your routines. Your work. Who am I but a slight disturbance and distraction to you? So. For the first couple of days, even I am fine. But, now, I give up.

Stay happy. I won't disturb.


Saturday, August 1, 2009

As you like it (or not)

So, there was this young man. Well, he's been dead for quite some time, but once upon a time, he was young. And he was in University of California, Los Angeles. Well, there exists a misconception that the young man quit UCLA, one of the best film schools in the world after his graduation film was criticized. Well, he didn't quit. But, apart from a short film and a documentary, he did not make any films in the future.


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.