The Lunatic Speaks

Android Phones: Explained

2010-10-11T00:25:00.001+05:30

Catch my latest post at TheTossedSalad on Android Phones here.

Annual Media Fest, Part I

2010-10-07T23:03:00.008+05:30

So yeah, I have been selected as part of the core team of our college to organize the first ever annual media fest.

Sounds good? Definitely sounds good.

But involves a lot of work.

But, whatever it may be.

However work there might be.

It's gonna be a lot of fun!

Check out the teaser to learn the name of the fest - not giving anything out in the post.

Haha!

Nokia X3 Preview | The Tossed Salad

2010-08-24T12:44:00.001+05:30

Clutter breaker or miserable failure?

Read the preview here.

Peepli Live: Review

2010-08-14T09:41:00.006+05:30

Review unavailable because I couldn't catch the film as the theatre was houseful last night. You've seen it? How was it?

VU TV Review | The Tossed Salad

2010-08-11T20:03:00.004+05:30

So, my first article for The Tossed Salad came out today. Do check out the review of the new series of LCD TV's from VU here.

More gadget reviews, coming soon - as soon as I get my hands on some.

(If you're willing to help me out, please do!)

Aisha. Hating her is so easy!

2010-08-08T15:34:00.005+05:30

Okay, don’t get misled by the title. It doesn’t mean that the film is to be hated. Maybe it’s a catchy phrase that’ll get you to read the post – a gimmick to seek attention. Or maybe it has some deep rooted meaning to it. Go figure!

Well, the trailer of Aisha – the first trailer of Aisha had me really interested in the movie. Specially how the colour of ‘h’ in Aisha was different. With the habit of thinking too much, I was wondering. Ais(h)a? Aisa? Aisa kya? Kyun aisa?

In cinema, nothing is done without a reason, they tell me. So, the colour of the ‘h’ being different had to mean something, didn’t it? But, in the end, did it really?

H is for Hate. Does that sound a feasible enough solution?

From the middle of the movie, just before the intermission (where the colour of one of the alphabets were different had gotten me thinking that yes, the colours are just for design and nothing more significant) I had started hating Aisha. Again, not the movie. The character Aisha. All flashy designer clothes, blowing up money, time and effort for her ‘projects’, her way of talking, her mannerism, the whole of it. She was like this girl who is the epitome of a certain group of girls in all colleges – a lot of money, belief for brands and parties every night.

Yet, probably this was the aim of the director. You hate, hate, hate the protagonist, till the very end. Till the very end when you pick up your character from the gutters and make the audience feel stupid for hating her in the first place – how could someone hate this sweet, caring, adorable girl (woman according to Abhay Deol in the movie) who just seemedto be a little weird (if I may say so) in the beginning?

But the problem is, this never happens. Till like almost the end of the movie, the director builds his character, his anti-heroine well. But, at the end, just cannot manage to pick her up onto the pedestal which throughout the movie she believes herself to be in, and why the reason we hate her.

I haven’t read Emma, so I cannot judge how true Aisha is to her. But, at the end of the night, on a cold scooter ride back from the movie theatre, Aisha, the girl still had me intrigued. If only her character could have been rescued in the end. If only I could love her as much I hated her at points, this would have been one of the gems of recent Indian cinema. Everything else was in place. A brilliant production design, VW curves (yum!), the glamour and the style, with strong people behind the camera, in the edit room and writing songs – everything was in place. Just at the end of the movie, Aisha couldn’t evolve as much we would have loved her to.

At the end of the movie, we still hate her a little more than we love her. And this, is probably where the movie fails, the only thing that keeps it back from being a masterpiece.

The Promised Post

2010-07-19T00:32:00.003+05:30

Well, last sunday I promised a post to my readers. It seems I have four of them.

So, dedicated to you faithful four is this post.

I haven't written in a long long time. A lot has happened in the meantime. The sem break took place and I got to spend four weeks in Mumbai. For work.

Yes, it was a lot of hard work. But it was a lot of fun. Thanks to all the guys at The Glitch. A humble request, please watch B4U music. Start taking it a little more seriously now. It's been glitched!

Train back to Kolkata was a nightmare. Got stuck in Tatanagar for a night because there was suspected landmines on the train track. Well, better safe than sorry I guess. And obviously, no land mines exploded. I'm still alive!

Weavers in Kolkata. Well! People who see sarees and other khadi material, have you ever wondered how they are made? Well, start wondering. You'll get to know soon, as early as next year if plans come to life!

Vague-nes. This is.

Haha.

Love you all.

Check back soon. And I'll write sooner.

For lesser vague-nes. And more me!

Hmm.

2010-07-11T20:06:00.002+05:30

This place hasn't seen a new post in ages. And I plan to change the fact.

But before I go ahead... how many people still check back to read? Doesn't make sense if no one reads.

You have a week to tell me if you come back and read this blog. Click on comments, yell a BOO and we'll be back in action!

Love Sex Aur Dhoka - Review. Exciting Times for Cinema.

2010-03-23T10:57:00.001+05:30

Dhishkyaon!

Well, yeah. Watching LSD was like being hit with a bullet at times.

This whole year, since watching Avatar, I've had one thought going around in my head. "What is the future of cinema?" I kept asking myself. And since Avatar, more films have come and gone which have just amplified this thought.

For someone studying "media" - and learning the nuances of filmmaking, it seems very odd now. Odd, because the traditional things we are "taught" in class, do not seem to hold true any longer. In the recent past, all the films that have had captured some mindspace do not conform to traditional "rules" of filmmaking at all.

From technology, the way of telling a story, promoting a film to the audience, the star system - things have changed, they are changing, and these are exciting times!

LSD would not have been possible ten, or even five years previously. Imaging lugging around a film camera in your hand to shoot the first story. Scary! The digital format has made things simpler (and complicated at times, but let's not get into that!) - and things more flexible for the director, and the crew on the whole. While there are people who still prefer the film medium, no one can deny that digital film making has made more experimentation come into film.

Act, structure, treatment - things have changed so much. And, that is acceptable. That is acceptable because the audience an accept the fact that various things are running simultaneously in their lives. It's not a linear life anymore - and thus entertainment has changed too - with a non linear, complex structure with a multitude of layers. I wouldn't really have minded if LSD was just three short films. Then during the second one was one, I realized the connection to the first. And during the third, the shootout was enough for me, I felt, okay, things have been connected. But, then came the last scene, the hospital scene, which connected all the three stories together. That deserved a clap. And clap I did! After the movie, when thinking about it, I realized that their wasn't one scene in the whole movie which was redundant. Till the last scene, the hospital scene was pretty much redundant - but, Dibakar Banerjee, take a bow, the connection between each story, very simple, yet how intriguing. We never realize how we are connected to people. Maybe the stranger who helped you out yesterday in the grocery store is murdered today?

The number of people we know, The number of connections we make. Have we ever wondered what their stories are? How without affecting their lives, we are a part of them? Brilliant!

About the promotion. I believe everyone who stepped into the hall had an idea that the film would be about sex, sex and more sex. Hah! I presume people were disappointed to not get to see anything. But, I also assume that after watching the movie, it was full paisa vasool. This is a new trend these days - not giving the plot away, or misleading the audience with the promotions of a movie. Well, I won't comment on the virtuosity of the same, but, it works, doesn't it?

And the stars are gone I think. More movies with lesser know and unknown actors have been hit films than ones with huge star casts. Brilliant performences by everyone in the film.

I tell you. These are exciting times for cinema. Cinema is evolving. And we're left to wonder what will be thrown at us next.

Dhiskyaon!

Rating 4.5/5

Dionysia!

2010-03-22T17:54:00.002+05:30

Well, Dionysia is here. And the fun times are back again!

Come, join us.

There's a blog, a facebook group, and a facebook fan page!

Three options you have!

Eenie. Meenie. Minee. Moe?

Road, Movie. An experience.

2010-03-15T17:52:00.003+05:30

A lot has been written about this movie in a lot of places. It has been loved, it has been trashed. Scenes have been discussed to such a level, that there is no need to do it any further.

However, I still wish to write. Not only about the film, but about the experience.

I was waiting for the film, ever since the trailers came out. But, when the film did come out, I somehow wasn't finding time to go and watch it. I was asking people, however, what they thought about the film. Strangely enough, there were very contrasting comments. Some said they loved it. Some said they hated it. From no one, and mind it, no one, I heard anything which was a comment which was in between all these.

And my curiosity peeked further. But still, I somehow couldn't manage time.

Then, this friend of mine, Tanay, came and told me, "This movie is going to be a flop. But I loved it!"

Finally, the plan to go for the movie was made very randomly as another friend and me just went to watch it. Leaving all work aside. Screen number 3, Gold Adlabs (or is it Big Cinemas now, I think), Pune.

As I sat down for the movie, a lot of comments were going around in my head - heard from a lot of people. One of them was, "It was more like a tel advertisement than a movie". Since then, I had wondered what he had meant, and now, I had a chance to figure out for myself whether it was truly a hair oil commercial (?!) or a movie.

And then the movie started.

I don't want to go into the movie, because it has been discussed and discussed a lot. All I want to add is that I found the movie a brilliant piece of work, and no, it wasn't a commercial for hair oil!

I on the other hand want to discuss the audience reaction by what I heard from here and there being loudly whispered.

Bang at half an hour, lo and behold, the interval! Thankfully I knew that it was such, someone had already told me, it being a one and half hour long film, it having it's interval after only half an hour - but, someone should have told that to the crowd. Whispers broke out. Like mad. Confusion, as to whether it was a technical glitch or a deliberate interval. If it were a deliberate interval, then, how long was the movie?! An hour long, that's it? And then - "Why did we pay so much if it's an hour long movie?"

The movie started.

I was half anticipating some of these people to keep a close eye on their watched and cheer when they realized that it was not an hour long movie, but a little longer. My fear was uncalled for, thankfully.

But, the crowd were still muttering. Wondering what the movie was all about, what all was happening. And whistling when the scene between Abhay Deol and Tannishhtha Chatterjee came about. And after that, whistling at almost all point when the two of them were in the frame together.

And finally when the movie got over, the audience was silent for some time - I think it took them a while to realize that the movie had gotten over. While on their way out, they were muttering, most of them.

While on my way back, I was thinking more about the audience than about the film. The film was a cinematic masterpiece, I felt - the truck, the oh so blue truck travelling all over vast desertlands. And oh, the ending titles!

Having watched a lot of films in the recent past, specially international films and having attended a few international film festivals, I felt in the Indian scenario, it was a clutter breaking film, not the usual 3 hour song-dance-drama types and, a true, what to call it, a Festival Material film?

But then, why was it so difficult for the crowd to accept something a little different? Just because the interval wasn't in the middle, just because there was no melodrama, why was it difficult to accept the film? Then, this film education that we, media students receive, and the "intellectualism" we find in films, and the things we discuss as the New Indian Film, are they all rubbish?

Does it still need to be a 3 hour tear jerker to even succeed in a multiplex crowd?

What is wrong with the general public in accepting something new? Is it the problem of just leaving their comfort zones behind, or is there some other, deep rooted problem in the society which needs to be addressed before we start expecting more movies with different ideas and treatments to come about - and then for them to succeed?

(ps. probably, 20 years down the line, this film will be screened in a premiere media college in the country and be discussed as "the New Indian or the New Wave Indian Cinema of the 2000's. Whatever!)

I moved. At least for a bit.

2010-03-11T23:57:00.002+05:30

For some reason, blogspot was seeming too cluttered. So, I moved, even if at least for a bit. To wordpress.

Maybe this blog will be there, or it might not be updated again. Or maybe, both will exist side by side, and will be used for different purposes.

Let's see!

Oh yeah, the URL would be http://ayruosblogs.wordpress.com

You Shot Me Down, Bang Bang

2010-03-09T17:49:00.005+05:30

So, who's been shot down?

Well, no one.

Are you sure?

Well, yeah.

No, you don't seem so sure.

Ahem... well...

Bang bang

You shot me down.

Killed Bill Too. Or should I say Three? 2014. That. 3D, That too.

The Lunatic is back, with his rambling!

Follow me down

Let's see how long the rabbit trail goes.

Or deep and down does it go?

And see a movie, or two, on the road?

Hah. Goli Maara. Dhoka Diya.

Solve this riddle of a post. 100 bucks to the person who can do it!

Dhishkayon!

Morning Phone Call/HNY2010

2009-12-31T20:46:00.003+05:30

I was blissfully sleeping in the morning, at around 9 or 10 when a phone call decided to wake me up. 31st December, 2009 this conversation took place.

Me: Hello?

The Caller: Happy New Year

Me: Is it 1st January already?

The Caller: No. It's the 31st. Were you sleeping?

Me: Yeah I was. So, why Happy New Year? It's still the 31st. Happy old year.

Wishing all of you readers a happy old year, hoping all went fine.

And, as soon as it is the 1st January, 2010, a very happy new year.

However, things won't change much. On the whole, life will be the same as it were this year.

Unless we learn to fly. Or you get married.

(ps. to those who believe in the 2012 theory, now you've got only two more years to live!)

AyrScope

2009-12-10T21:51:00.001+05:30

Will discuss things I see on screen in my new blog, AyrScope.

Twist (Love Aaj Kal) - Recut

2009-12-03T03:41:00.004+05:30

Disclaimer: This is for educational purposes - personal editing practice and no profit is being made on the same. Any objections by the copyright holders, video will be removed as soon as you contact me.

Do comment.

Could only do the first part as there was a shortage of footage which couldn't be helped. I wouldn't say it's great, it's just for practice. The job Aarti Bajaj did in the movie - I only hope to touch it some day.

The original song video can be found here.

Vroom!

2009-12-01T21:29:00.001+05:30

“How is it possible to feel nostalgia for a world I never knew?”

~ Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevera, The Motorcycle Diaries

result of a longing for photoshop

stocks from sxc.hu

Blah.

2009-11-29T13:04:00.003+05:30

“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 down

And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,

Won't you please, please help me?”

Excerpts.

2009-11-20T23:39:00.001+05:30

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.

November Rain

2009-11-15T23:42:00.001+05:30

It rained last evening

And the weather turned hotter,

more humid.

I want the winter chill!

(And no. It’s not meant to rhyme. Or be a poem.)

Kolkata Kolkatatei

2009-11-12T11:41:00.001+05:30

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.

…and that little boy smile

2009-11-06T15:51:00.001+05:30

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.

31st October

2009-11-01T11:15:00.001+05:30

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.

(understatement?)

Dreams, the trilogy?

2009-10-25T13:42:00.001+05:30

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?

The Lunatic Speaks about Windows 7

2009-10-23T00:24:00.001+05:30

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!

So now I am using Windows Live Writer

2009-10-21T23:27:00.001+05:30

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!

Yo!

A School Boy's Dream

2009-10-14T15:18:00.002+05:30

They met in the secluded spot. For the first time, he had a rose in his hand. She took it and smiled. They didn't talk, much. Butterflies in their stomach.

They kept meeting.

They got to talking. A lot.

They got closer.

They held hands.

He was happy. Very. A mintue he couldn't bear without her.

It was not a normal day. She was crying. He put his hands around her, and tried to comfort her. She stopped sobbing, and looked at him. For the first time in his life, he got a kiss, albeit one on the cheeks.

The next day, he was there, where they met, always. She wasn't there.

He waited and waited. But she didn't come.

It was hard enough to approach her for the first time, but it was harder to lose her after getting close.

"A school boy's dream, you act so shy

Your very first kiss was your first kiss goodbye."

Thanks to tearssweatsaliva for the illustration.

Conversations with the Fortune Teller Genius

2009-10-11T16:25:00.003+05:30

Me, the always jobless one, spied upon a post in the newsreel in my Facebook account. It was of one Shahana Yasmin who asked the Fortune Teller Genius (that's the name of an application) if she'll ever get to watch a certain movie.

So, me, the utter jobless one, clicked on that application. Well, I don't really believe in Fortune Tellers. Nonetheless the ones that are on Facebook, but it seemed a nice way to pass the time.

And here's how it goes. You are supposed to type in a question and that Fortune Teller Genius will give me an answer. I had a pretty long conversation with that application, and it reads thus.

Me: Should I sell my Ibanez and buy a Fender?

He (It?): It depends... but I don't think so.

Me: Ok, a Les Paul then?

It: It's difficult. The answer is no.

Me: So I'll stick to my Ibanez?

It: Yes, no doubts.

Me: What about the amp? Should I get mine back from Kolkata or buy a bigger one here?

It: No, first you must study.

Me: Are you for, like, real?

It: No! Are you crazzy?

Me: So, should I trust your judgement?

It: Yes, but only on day 13th of each month.

Yeah. That's how far the joblessness has reached. Talking to computer generated programs. I guess I'll come back on a 13th and talk to it (him?) again.

Dare to Dream

2009-10-05T15:44:00.005+05:30

This post is to celebrate the fact that this blog, The Lunatic Speaks got featured in Paulo Coelho's blog. You can visit the page here. A rather old post, though one of my favourites, the blog entry, for those who missed it because it's a rather old entry can be found here, and this article is a follow up of the previous article found here.

Though over the years, my thoughts about god and my beliefs about life has changed, Paulo Coelho's works continue to inspire me and make me introspect. Thank you, Mr. Coelho, for this honour.

I'll end with one of his quotes, the last line of By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept, which continue to fuel my dreams.

"Dreams mean work."

Of Shah Rukh and Shahid

2009-10-05T15:28:00.002+05:30

Samarsata Express, Howrah to Kalyan departing on 2nd October 2009 was the train I was on. I will have a longer post about the journey later, but something which caught my attention while on the train is the subject matter of this post.

On my opposite berth, there were two students of IIHM, Mumbai. Names I don't know, nor do I know anything else about them. One was a guy and one was a girl. They were talking about films, and me, being a Media Student got interested in their discussion and wanted to join in. However, before that glorious moment, this girl made a comment which made me stay out of the conversation. She said, "শাহ রুখ এর হলে দেখি না, শাহিদ এর হলে দেখি" (I don't watch films if they are by Shah Rukh, but I watch them if they are by Shahid.)

Wow! What a comment! What a pat on the back for the Ram Gopal Verma's, the Anurag Kashyap's and the thousand others who have either made a movie or are on the process of making a movie! What a tremendous amount of incentive they would have got listening to a normal everyday movie goer (or non goer, if its "by" Shah Rukh) talking about films.

What does this represent, about the Indian audience? Hanging around with my Media Trainee friends and other people, discussing Wong Kar Wai and Kurosawa to no end, I board a train and am hit by such a remark. The star system in India, according to me, was on a decline, thanks to smaller budget, independent, couragious films being made in the past few years. Thanks to production houses like UTV Spotboy, these films were getting the commercial outlook that they required, and Indian cinema, according to me, was slowly merging the commercial and the art aspects of cinema.

However, this comment made me come back to ground. In India, most of the population still go to watch films because it has either a Shahid or a Shahrukh. Maybe a Salman or a Akshay.

Oh, girl.

2009-09-30T00:43:00.003+05:30

Her eyes are dreamy with a glint of affection, yet without commitment. Passionately she feels but hides so well. She'll glance yet won't look, speak too much yet say so little. Surrounded by people yet very alone, open up she cannot. A different person to different people, she'll have your attention and not just little. She'll say and she'll run, she'll hide but she'll peek. Aloof and vague she will be, what she'll not disclose would mean more to thee. Won't fight yet won't back out, but in the end manage her way out. Peace bringer and sociable, in the heart hides some trouble. Loves the presence of both the silence and in the comfort of others around.

image created with photoshop. Brush and texture from deviantART.

Welcome To The Machine

2009-09-29T20:39:00.005+05:30

"Welcome my son,

Welcome to the machine.

Where have you been?

It's alright we know,

Where you've been."

- Pink Floyd

Welcome to the new look Lunatic Speaks. Though some minor changes will still be taking place over the next couple of days, this will, remain the main layout.

This is to celebrate the fact that this blog now has had over 1000 viewers (see the visitor count at the bottom of the page). Again, I'll ask, how does it feel?

ps. I love the Shoutbox. Feel free to shout there!

Because it wasn't supposed to be like this

2009-09-25T16:28:00.003+05:30

First of all, this picture is from last year. Last year, when I wasn't in Kolkata, when I missed all the festivities and had to worry about attendance issues stuck in Vimannagar. Then, we got this project, some of us, to go to a Durga Puja in Koregaon Park, attend all the days and I had to photograph the whole event. Finally, I ended up with close to 500 pictures from one pandal, another 3 from another one, a few Faasos rolls, some freely acquired Bengali sweets and one Dimer Devil (it's a traditional Bengali snack, where a boiled egg is fried with maida coating over it.). At the end of it, I wasn't satisifed. I missed Kolkata and its Durga Puja. I missed Durgabari, Maddox Square, Deshapriya Park, Ekdalia and a whole lot of other places. I missed a lot of people, my school friends mostly with whom I used to roam around the whole city during the time of the Durga Puja.

This year, again, I was supposed to miss the Puja's. And worry about attendance issues again. Then, the swines came to the rescue - closing down the college for a week, and the week when the Puja's was on.

However, this time, I didn't feel like coming back to Kolkata.

Coming back to the city where I have loved and lost. Where each road, each streetlamp brings back some memory. And with my last trip to the city, and my worst ever, had my feelings and ideals shattered.

But then, still I came back. Had no other option, when all decisions I can't still take on my own.

So. This is Saptami late afternoon. What have I done here, in the 4-5 days I've been here? I still haven't seen a single Durga Puja. Lost my closest friend till date, for maybe forever. And, mostly, felt down in the dumps.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Death of a Dream, the Movie

2009-09-09T22:35:00.004+05:30

Introducing Malvika Machado and Naman Saraiya. Direction, editing, sound mixing and cinematography by me, Sourya Sen. Assistant direction and choreography by Suhani Arora. Original music composed by Rabindranath Tagore, recreated by Guitar Pro. Shot in DV.

Use of headphones advised.

ps. Watch in youtube if possible. Video getting a little cropped here.

A Distant Memory (1)

2009-09-05T02:53:00.002+05:30

It was raining that day. Drizzling rather. It was a late monsoon rain - the kind that mildly reminds you about the coming winter.

He wasn't shaking with cold, however. It was a big day for him. Last night, and only last night, he had confessed his feelings - which he believed was love - to the person he was smitten with. And this person wanted to meet him after his school got over.

Could he expect a reply that day? Would he have to wait?

Will it be a 'yes' or would it be a 'no'?

He was scared. Apprehensive, rather.

And then he saw her. She was with her classmates, obviously. Looking cuter than ever. How could someone look cute in a school dress? Or after a day of long classes? If anyone asked him, he would have been able to answer that, then and there.

He was hesitating. Should he or should he not approach her? Should he just wait at the gate for her to come?

And suddenly they were walking together. Away from the prying eyes of their schoolmates, they went into the oli-golis they had never ventured into. At least, he had never ventured into. He wanted a smoke. Or was it her? Never mind. Always chivalrous, he had to go buy. And, today, he won't deny it. That was the first time he was buying a smoke wearing his school dress. And that too so near his school. Was his heart skipping a beat when he bought it? Yes. It was.

They wasted a lot of matchsticks trying to light that one cigarette, novices that they were at that time. And today, he can't remember whether they managed to light that one smoke.

They talked a lot. About her. A lot about her. Not much about him. He was content to listen. Wondering whether the conversation was heading. Towards a possible 'yes'? Or not? Was he even listening to what she was saying, or was he lost in his own world? He was listening, yes. But he wasn't comprehending. The talk wasn't going anywhere.

And suddenly it was time for her to go. Her mother would worry, she said.

They left those oli-golis near their school. Where he doesn't have the courage to go these days. They came out near the auto stand, and the footbridge and the place where the jhaal phuchka is sold.

There was no conclusive answer. Was the topic even raised? In a way, yes.

Just before she wass going to get up on her auto towards Ruby and just before he was about to leave towards golpark, he went and whispered in her year, "I love you. Just think about it."

I wasn't one of those romantic moments from any hindi movies. It wasn't that smoothly done either. It was just the spur of the moment, something he felt he had to say.

And as he walked away, he didn't even look back once.

A phone call, he knew, would come.

Birth of a Dream

2009-09-04T12:55:00.003+05:30

I touched a camera after a long, long time, yesterday when I started to shoot for Death of a Dream yesterday. And I rediscovered my love for films, all over again.

I would have finished shooting yesterday if not for the rain playing a deathly game to the weather conditions. In the process of protecting the camera from the rain, I caught a cold myself. Ah, well. Nothing to be done about that.

Hopefully, I finish shooting today. And if everything goes according to plan, the short film should be ready by sunday afternoon.

Through the process of shooting, and me going through the shots over and over again this morning, and using some symbology in the film which only one person will understand - and to whom the film will be dedicated to, I realized what I've been trying to realize over the past two-three weeks.

Maybe love is what all you need, but, it's not all what you have to live for. Love finds its way, through ways more than one. And from today onwards, with the death of a dream, there is also the birth of a dream.

Now, does this make any sense?

Oh, and, be sure to watch the film!

"When you've seen beyond yourself - then you may find, peace of mind,

Is waiting there.

And the time will come when you see

We're all one, and life flows on within you and without you."

- Within You, Without You (The Beatles)

How does it Feel?

2009-08-30T12:21:00.001+05:30

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?

An open letter.

2009-08-12T23:44:00.005+05:30

"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.

Love,

As you like it (or not)

2009-08-01T01:27:00.001+05:30

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.

Why?

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.

Mass Media Communication

2009-07-25T18:45:00.009+05:30

Mass Communication? No. Media and Communication.

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).

Media and Communication, well, I'll just copy the mission statement from the college website. Yeah, plagiarise.

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?

Of Farmers and Landowners.

2009-06-25T16:06:00.001+05:30

The Zamindari system might have stopped to exist decades ago. The feudalism and with it, all its bloodshedm, too. But the culture seems to remain.

When faced with questions, when the questions reached the threshold - the Farmer didn't know the answers anymore. While given a land in Nagar, he has to see that the Landowner agree with it.

What are we then? Lesser mortals who are not even Farmers? Is that why we get unfertile land on the bottom of the hill? Jack and Jill at least went up the hill - we are not even doing that. We might be, DAMn it, sometimes, but we don't really need a top of the hill sleeping area. We don't.

And then again, this Nagar will see more fruits. Apples mostly. Hopefully. That can't be bad. But the question remains, is when will gravitation make the Apples fall?

PR-ARAMBH

2009-06-17T11:07:00.007+05:30

And everyone trooped back. Some happy, some sad and some, even drunk. It wasn't like everyone was happy to be back. Yet, deep down inside, everyone relished that freedom, the days without restriction though which is only available if you forget morning classes and the importance of attendance.

But yes, everyone was back. Everyone who was supposed to, and even one who wasn't supposed to. No, some came in late - maybe they want to compete with the gentleman who always strolls into class late. I hear that is to get attention (not attendance, obviously). Whatever.

And so, first day, first show. (Let us leave the weekend, with the unruliness out of this. Way proper that way, yes.)

We had the Boss speaking to us. Then we had, surprise surprise, Shoe, She, Che (not Guevera, no.) and Ne speaking. Lack of faculty? Again? Well, no, not really. It's just that we are busy. Busy with the first event of this semester.

(PR)Aarambh Hai Prachand,Bole Mastako Ke Jhund

Aaj Jung Ki Ghadi Ki Tum Guhar Do.

(The starting of the word starts with PR, I just noticed. Interesting.)

So, we have flexes and flexes being designed. Lots and lots of things getting ready to be printed. Hiring walkie-talkies (to make us look important, apparently). Then we pay to hire our own auditorium! Bottomline - lot's of money are being wasted (well, lot's of people will disagree with this word. Hopefully, some won't).

And, a revealation this morning. "Jeans are not formals."

PS. You are warmly invited to get oriented.

To my love(s)

2009-06-08T23:56:00.000+05:30

As the day back to SIMC beckons, I have certain lines to speak, plagiarized from the Beatles.

To Kolkata,
"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."

Random, Very, Yet Published.

2009-06-02T11:06:00.000+05:30

The Sudden Rains.

Death of a Dream

2009-05-25T11:03:00.001+05:30

The Memory.

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 Bursting Out.

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.

***

The Revelation.

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.

***

Night

“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.”

***

Death of a dream.

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.”

NGO Internship, Chapter 1

2009-04-20T21:37:00.001+05:30

Cursing the NGO placement cell, I woke up at 7 in the morning to leave for my NGO, to start my internship. The place is at Salt Lake, pretty far (I would think it is some 200Rs distance judging by Pune auto meters, or the lack of them).

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.

iJaagoIndia!

2009-03-03T14:48:00.001+05:30

“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.

Millionaire Exploitation

2009-02-23T13:01:00.005+05:30

First, congratulation to everyone who has won an oscar. A.R. Rehman, you deserve this.

Second, fuck everyone who has lost all aim in life than to celebrate Slumdog winning oscars.

Yes. It has won a few oscars.

Big Deal.

Do you think it would have still won if it would have been directed by any Indian director? What would you have done, would you still have seen a Bollywood produced Hindi movie called Slumdog Millionaire?

What is with us, Indian's who still long for western attention, even if it portrays the nation in a bad light?

Don't get me wrong. Slumdog is a good movie, yes. But, it doesn't deserve so many oscars. Even if it does, it doesn't deserve such a hype.

Sorry all excited citizens of a country I also call my own. I am sad to see you get excited over receiving some American shit for a movie by a person whose nation ruled us for 150 years, exploited us, and by the hype over Slumdog, still doing so, unknowingly to most of us.

Sorry.

(Above views are all my own, and i mean no disrespect to India, Britain or America.)

Julia

2009-02-16T11:03:00.003+05:30

"Half of what I say is meaningless
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.

"Julia dream, dreamboat queen, queen of all my dreams

Every night I turn the light out"

The V-Day

2009-02-16T10:39:00.000+05:30

He woke up. It was the day. The big day. He could either make it, or break it.

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!"

My dusky maiden

2009-02-12T21:45:00.000+05:30

My dusky maiden
We met in a dream
And it passed
Without knowing

I never even got
The chance to ask

Do you even think
Do you ever think of me
Or us?

Untitled

2009-02-12T21:34:00.001+05:30

He was sitting on the stairs, to be alone from the known crowd of the college. He was sitting, with a book in his hand, tired, yet thirsty for the printed words on the yellowed pages of that old book.

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.

A Hard Day's Night

2009-01-22T19:47:00.005+05:30

A Hard Day's Night - my second movie in collaboration with Naman and Kannagi. Love it or hate it, or don't understand it, I had fun doing it!

For those waiting for Wake Up! (my first movie), its going to come, soon!

It's all about life

2008-10-30T21:57:00.000+05:30

Fashion is not only a movie. It's also not only a movie on the world of fashion. It's a representation of life.

Life runs in circles. And it's never perfect. You also forget to take lessons from others and hit the dead end where others have already told you to avoid that turn.

It's a good movie, good to look at, and not only for the well dressed girls!

I personally found a lot of influences from Paulo Coelho. And the scene where Priyanka Chopra is trying to remove the dark circles, it reminded me of Dorian Gray's picture, the mirror being the canvas.

But, these are not mere influences, they are lessons of life. So, purposefully or not, the movie brings forward life, its falacies, difficulties, small joys and bigger losses.
A must watch movie.

Sunset, Sunrise

2008-09-14T19:33:00.003+05:30

“Isn’t it B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L?”

He looked at her, and chose not to reply. She didn’t wait for him either. Just a glance while asking the question, and then back went her face towards the evening setting sun.

As always, she looked beautiful. The aura of the setting sun on her face, with the cloudy sky in at the east end making up a beautiful light, with cars, buses and bikes making up the busy road in the backdrop, the only thing he was noticing was her.

It wasn’t a question actually. It was a musing, as if only to herself. It didn’t need an answer.

Still, he chose to reply, maybe the reply was coming long after the question, maybe it wasn’t the answer to her question, maybe it was a musing too, this time the guys.

“Yes, it is.”

The voice was soft, gentle.

Something in the tone of the voice made her look away from the sunset.

“I’m taking about the sunset buddhu! You’re not even looking at it!”

He smiled and shook his head.

“Be right back.”

“You’re not going to get another cigarette are you? NO! I’m warning you, DON’T!”

He just smiled and shook his head again. Turned and started walking towards the paanwala.

Something in the innocent smile and the shaking of the head made her kept looking at him. The dim light, with the streetlights not on fully, the low natural light, and him walking, wearing a faded jeans and a more faded jeans jacket, he somehow just fit into the whole picture like a jigsaw piece. And she, for the first time in the evening, looked at him, something closer to her, than some phenomena that had actually taken place eight minutes earlier.

Reaching the paanwala he looked back. She was still staring, very evidently.

“What?!” his shrug seemed to convey.

And this time it was her part to smile, shake her head and toss her hair back, shift her gaze back to the sunset.

“I got you an éclairs.”

His voice made her jump. She hadn’t even noticed when he had come up to her.

“And see, I’m not smoking! At your command your highness!”

She smiled.

“Good. You do listen to me then! But just one éclairs?”

“Just one, just one for you, at 6.47 pm, IST. But, five more for you at 6.50 pm IST!”

“You’re crazy! C-R-A-Z-Y!”

He held out her hand and he placed the little golden wrapped Cadbury toffees in her hand. The two hands touched for a fraction of a second, and they looked at each other. And instinctively they looked away, at the sunset.

The sun had already set.

Down... Down... Down...

2008-09-01T20:03:00.001+05:30

I know you wont
But still I expect

Expectation
Hope
Belief

My downfalls.

and also, dreams

"Dreams mean work"

(un)certainty

2008-09-01T20:00:00.001+05:30

"Are you sure you want to
Do this, and only this?"

Yes.

"Are you completely sure?
I know you don't want to."

Yes. I am sure.

"Are you? Or do you
flinch when you reply?"

Stop bugging me.

I know what I am doing.

"Or do you?"

Enticing

2008-08-19T09:43:00.003+05:30

She's there
A half smile on her face
Enticing, inviting me

I take a step towards her
Slowly
And she's not there

Disappeared...
She has

2008-08-05T11:18:00.003+05:30

A photo show reel comprising photos I have clicked here and there, in the recent past.

The Undergrowth

2008-07-30T14:46:00.002+05:30

One of the many coming up from Pune.

Fluttering of possible pasts

2008-07-16T03:20:00.001+05:30

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eEsEDTq1NC0

A short story: A walk by the Lake

2008-06-26T01:04:00.002+05:30

"Oh god, no! This can't be happening," he moaned. Another phone call. Another argument. Probably the inevitable, a break-up. He had been trying, trying for months, to keep everything going, make things alright again between him and her. But, it wasn't working out. His fault, her fault, he did not know. His friends told him it was not worth it, not worth putting in so much effort. If it wasn't meant to last, then leave it, that's what they all said. Yet he had been so happy with her, he couldn't let it go.

It was almost evening. The sleepy roads were waking up again, his home, just off the Lake Gardens-Lake flyover was again starting to fill up with noise. Small cars, big cars, bikes, scooters, all with the same intensity of noise were boring into his brain. He wanted to scream out for peace, for silence, but he knew it would go unheeded.

The memories came crashing in. Always. Even when he wanted them to leave, they would occupy his thoughts. All the happy memories, yet, they made him cry. Together with her, hands entwined, smiling faces, tender kisses, passionate kisses, happiness... Why did everything amount to so much pain now? He had no idea. He wanted to run away from them, forget them, yet he couldn't do that. That's all he had left, the memories. With them gone, too, he would be left with nothing, nothing at all. What a scary proposition, but still a tempting one. A fresh burst of tears. He had been crying almost everyday, almost every time.

"What's wrong with me? I wasn't like this!" He asked himself, wistfully.

He reached out for a cigarette. They helped him in times like this, by keeping the mind numb. Some induced peace, but still, some peace. But his pack was empty, he had finished the whole lot in the afternoon. He swore under his breath. Now he would have to go out to buy some. It was such a pain even to go out these days. All the street corners, the dirty ali-golis, even the phuchka-walas, everything brought back some tiny little detail of his past, of his past which he shared with her.

He dressed, it was cold outside, and so a jacket was a necessity. He went out, bought the pack from the local paanwala and decided to take a walk. It was too long that he had been cooped up in his home.

And his legs carried him across the bridge to the lake. There were scores of cars on the bridge, there was a stationary train under the bridge, and amidst the noise and the chaos, he crossed the bridge and stood beside the dark water of the place called the lake.

A cold wind was blowing, yet the trees were not moving. There was a certain spooky aura around them. It was almost unnerving. He lit a cigarette. And as the smoke seemed to engulf him, so did the ghostly silence of the lake. The lake was dark, ripples created on it by the wind. And as the beauty surrounded him, so did a sense of silence. The cars seemed to lose their sound. The whistle of the train fading into a quiet oblivion. The rustle of the leaves could be felt now, among the high skeletal trees. They seemed to whisper something, but he could not quite catch what. And as the cigarette ended, and began his walk back to the place called home, he was already home, in the silence of the cold night. The blazing lights of the cars passed him, dazzled him, and he was in another world, in a place of tranquility, in the peace of his mind. A hum came to his voice, a Pink Floyd number, but he forgot the lyrics, only the first line came and went, "A silence surrounds me..."

The walk had changed something. The trees had whispered and passed on their age-old wisdom to him. What it was, or how it had been passed, he did not quite know, but he could feel his fears, his pain, ebb away.

He was so sure he would die if he had to let go of his girl. He had lost her, but he had not died. In a way though, he had, but he had again been reborn.

Not from the womb of his mother, but from the souls of understanding and wisdom. He had years to live, a lot of things to do, make a thousand faces smile, did it matter really someone he had lost? It wasn't always about being happy or sad. It was about living fully. He would have to die someday, and it was a waste of his life if he ended it soon - a thought that had passed his mind - and it was also a waste if he was always sad.

He smiled. It was his first smile in weeks. He had a lot of things to do, a lot of adventures to take part in.

And he knew where to start.

A love letter

2008-05-05T11:36:00.001+05:30

I’ll miss you. Though it’s been just a few months, I’ll still miss you. I’ve grown accustomed to you, very accustomed to you. You’re presence in my room, I’ve gotten so used to it, I don’t know how I will be able to stay without you near my viewing range.

It’s so hard to leave you, but I have no choice. I can’t take you. It will be very difficult. Very very difficult to take you where I’ll be going. And you are so dependant on me, I have to carry you all the way. It cannot be done. Just cannot be done. I’m so sorry.

Will you miss me? Of course you will. How will you pass the endless nights without me by your side? You stay alone in the afternoons, but I’m always there at night. Beside you. With you.

Remember our meeting? It was love at first sight, wasn’t it? Oh… You don’t know how I will pass my days there with no you with me.

Making love to you, running my hands down you neck, down you back, some gentle strokes, some wilder… I’ll miss these daily occurrences. We make love everyday, yet we never get bored of each other, do we? Each day we create a new melody, or perfect the melody of the previous night… Some times we even try to replicate the melody of others.

How, tell me how I will spend my days with you? How will you spend your days without me? No one to take care of you, no one to give you tender touch which you terribly need… Don’t get too lonely, please don’t.

And always remember, wherever I am, I will be missing you. Missing you lots.

I love you.

Yours always,

Sourya.

(a letter for my guitar if I have to leave without her if I leave this city)

I see them

2008-04-24T11:58:00.003+05:30

I see them
Hand in hand they walk
Smiling, talking,
Glancing at each other.

I too held their ranks
I too had a girl.
Once.

Again

2008-04-18T00:26:00.000+05:30

This city of blinding lights
Billboards glaring down
Making us dream

And we are caught
Dreaming
Dreaming big

Till the dreams crash
The lights seem to fade
Just distant blurs

The dreams have crashed
I'm alone

Again

Some thoughts on the rise of the rape/molestation cases in India.

2008-03-30T17:07:00.001+05:30

Disclaimer: This is a very sensitive topic I am writing about, this is my own views on this subject and is not meant to offend anyone, or weigh opinions on anyone. Healthy criticism will be welcome, and so will be the flaws of my theory.

Everyday you open a newspaper and reports of rapes and molestations jump out at you. What is the reason behind all this, I have often asked myself, and concluded a very disturbing theory which I will share here.

All the men involved in this heinous act must have some reason behind it. Apart from intoxication, the only thing I could come up with was sex-starvation. And I was looking for a cure of this social disease.

First of all, there is the problem with the Indian community. Acts of affection are totally disliked, and even more if they are public. Look how an issue like a kiss between Shilpa Shetty and Richard Gere got totally blown out of proportion. Or how Sania Mirza was rebuked when she spoke about pre marital sex. I won't comment on these issues, but the entire community needs to grow up. When a normal teenager, or even someone younger, switches on the television and channel surfs, visuals of affection are readily available to his eyes. And instead of proper sex education, parents forbid their children to ask questions about this subject. They just freak out at the thought of discussing matters like this with their children. What does this do? This leads the child, or teenager, seek information from other sources, and not always proper sources. They get a garbled and mangled idea rather than the proper education that is required, and also, they get more curious. They want to try things on their own. I think this is why cases of juvenile rapes are increasing. (I remember reading more than one newspaper report about how a teenager tried to/actually managed to rape a very young girl.)

So, proper education at this level is required. Everyone knows this, and implementing sex education in schools is being thought of... and sadly, being thought of for a long time now. Objections are always getting raised, and the education still hasn't been implemented in most places.

So that goes for young adults who have a curious mind which often lead to monstrous acts. They need to be taught the laws, the precautions, the side effects, the protections needed.

I even understand all the flak many had to go through for their open minded thoughts on premarital sex. Parents are afraid that their son or daughter would do something before she even matures and appreciated the gravity of the situation of what she has done. But even here, hiding things from their children is no proper option. They need to know, tell them, protect them till they are mature, but after that, understand that it is their life. They may be you're son's and daughter's, but they are not you, they have a life of their own. Your duty is to guide them so that they become proper citizens. One can only be protected for some time. Then they would despise you, lie to you, do things without telling you, and commit the mistakes which could have been prevented if only you wee more frank with them. Become their friends, not their dictators.

But what about totally grown men who commit these crimes? Why do they do it? Yes, they are sex starved, but when there can be even capital punishment against this act, why do it? What is the solution to this desperation?

A very strange idea occurred to me. Very very strange idea. You might think I'm a pervert when I reveal this, but do hear me out, and then say whatever you got to.

I believe the only way to solve this issue is to make pornography and prostitution legal. Why so? I have certain arguments for this.

If people are so sex starved and desperate that they are willing to rape and molest people, they could easily visit a prostitute and get his starvation and desperation out.

Why pornography? Well, maybe not hardcore pornography. People at a certain age group grow a curiosity towards the body of the other sex. And when available, many use the internet to douse their curiosity, others, molest known people of the opposite sex. While the internet can be a good thing, getting hooked onto pornographic sites can never be a good thing. You wreck your computer with viruses and Trojan horses (these sites contain hundreds of them), and you have to have a certain amount of secrecy to visit these sites. You hide, surf these sites, and they are illegal. Even if pornography is kept illegal, certain things have to be made readily available, and not only a textual and formal education, but one with graphics.

About the prostitution issue, prostitution is illegal, yes. But there are hundreds, if not thousands of sex workers who live a miserable life. Most, if not all, have been dragged into this trade by compulsion, and, if it were legal, they would have a better life. Legal prostitution would also mean proper protection among these sex workers, and cases of HIV/AIDS should also decline.

Many would argue that prostitution by no means can be an occupation. But if it's legal, people would have an option of coming out of it, even if compulsion forces them into it. Prostitution is legal in many countries across the world. If you think its a demeaning occupation, tell me then, why don't they? And I'm talking about countries like Canada, Germany, The Netherlands, Peru, Turkey, etc. Countries like UK have certain laws where prostitution is legal, but brothels and all are not. If they can be as liberal minded to think like this, why can't we? And they have a lot less rape molestation cases.

However, these aren't no solutions actually. The actual solution is proper education, and whatever I might have said in this article, I stress most on this. An open mind, proper communication and education might make our country just a little better. Why hang onto age old traditions? Hold onto morals which have lost their meanings long ago? Evolve. Think. Solve.

I dream

2008-03-28T21:22:00.010+05:30

“We think, sometimes, there’s not a dragon left. Not one brave knight, not a single princess gliding through secret forests, enchanting deer and butterflies with her smile. We think sometimes, that ours is an age past frontiers, past adventures. Destiny, it’s way over the horizon, glowing shadows galloped past long ago, and gone!” (Richard Bach, The Bridge Across Forever)

Life is about magic, mystery, mysticism, adventures, and a lot about love, they tell me. But magic, mystery, mysticism, adventures, love are all buried under the ‘tower of obligations standing tall’ (Insomnia, State of Disturbance), and these obligations are not even self brought in.

“Adventure?” the bewildered boy shook his head. “I don’t recall reading anything about it in my notes copy, nor did the professor say anything about it. You sure you heard the term right?”

“Magic?” another boy this time, looked confused. “Yes, I know bits about it, I had to prepare an essay on it, but no, I don’t believe in it.”

“Love?!” this boy laughed. “Look man, I’m too busy with my exam marks to worry about something as futile as love. You’re crazy dude!”

What’s this all about? Buried under piles of notes, under hours of memorizing them, are we losing yourselves somewhere in there? The ‘Us’, the ‘Me’, are they getting lost? Are we becoming robots?

I would still say no. I would still dream.

“You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one” (John Lennon, Imagine)

(Originally published in Dewal Likhon, the school wall magazine.)

A promise.

2008-03-24T12:46:00.003+05:30

Promise: an assurance that one will do something or that something will happen. (Oxford dictionary)

What a strange word this, promise. We make promises all the time. Assure oneself, others that something will happen, or something will be done. "I promise you". How easy to say. Yet how easy to forget.

We made a promise. That whatever comes, we won't sacrifice our friendship. Yet, I'm no longer a friend of her. And it's my fault that I'm not.

A list of words/sentences/phrases that should be banned: (no one knows how to use them, that's why... Or maybe they don't mean anything.)

1. God

2. Love

"Next to 'god', 'love' is the word most mangled in every language" - Richard Bach, The Bridge Across Forever

3. I love you. (It never lasts. Never. Rather it would be better to rephrase the sentence as, "At this moment, I love you, the next moment what will happen, I don't know." Will make things a lot easier. edit - one can also rephrase it as "I still love you! Isn't that strange?!")

4. I promise. (Reasons explained above.)

5. I will always love you. (Everyday a new definition of 'always' is made, from 1 second to infinity, it can mean anything. That word has no meaning these days, making this sentence impossible to hold any meaning.)

6. Things will be alright. (What the fuck. What does this mean anyway? What does being alright mean?)

7. Give it time. (Yeah, right. I buy some time from the departmental shop and then give it. Do you want it gift wrapped?)

(More will be added to this list, "I promise"!)

And then...

2008-03-15T23:09:00.001+05:30

And then when you are alone
Shall you find them
They have stayed
And will do.
...
Nice to meet, again
Told you we would meet, again
But you didn't believe me, again
Just like the last time...

Back again, eh?
Good.
Hope you'll be staying this time.

"Yes, I will be."

My new friend

2008-03-14T13:39:00.000+05:30

Anger, bitterness and sorrow
Are these my only friends now?
The only thing I feel now-a-days
Is pain, nothing else

Happiness has evaded me
But I don't give a damn
I still have someone with me
Does it matter if its only pain?

No one understands me
or the other way round
Whatever is it though
I have my friend pain with me now

It hurts, yes it does
But atleast this feeling is here to stay
Unlike the glimpses of a happy life
Which I know I'll never posses.

Done. And over with.

2008-02-25T15:04:00.002+05:30

It's been done
And over with
Either you're dead
Or me

But someone is,
Surely

And he is lonely.

A whisper:
"Close your eyes
Look around

Hear
With your eyes covered

Images.People.Sound.
A flurry of movements.
FRIENDS.

You're not alone."

But then.
What am I?
Or you?

(Dedicated to someone. She knows.)

Inside and Outside

2008-02-24T23:09:00.008+05:30

(South City, Anwarshah Road.)

Dust.
On the street, the leaves, the buses.

Inside.
Not a speck to be found.

Noise.
Horns, shouts and screams.

Inside.
Orderly confusion with a smile.

Poverty.
Glares at you, naked.

Inside.
People in Nike sneakers,
Levi’s jeans,
And Armani shirts
Smelling of costly fragrance.

Garbage stinks.
Outside.

(inspired by a writing, and only the author of that shall know which I mean.)

I'm happy, as long as you are.

2008-02-10T17:41:00.000+05:30

You spoke to me, of things
I didn't quite like.
But kept silent.

Hurt I looked away.
But I couldn't keep
From glancing back.

And as I saw,
Your smiling face
Your happy eyes.

I couldn't help.
I smiled back.

Conversations on a deathbed

2008-02-05T19:09:00.001+05:30

The sharp edge scratches the lifeline
Something dark red oozes out
It's blood Sourya,
You're going to die Sourya.
"I welcome death."

It's bleeding Sourya.
You've got a minute to live.

"Which lasts a lifetime
A minute is forever
A minute is life
Life is but a minute."

You're not making sense Sourya
You're DYING!

"I, welcome..."

~Breathes his last.~

...

2008-01-04T22:22:00.000+05:30

Never question me

For I know it all

But answer none.

We all live. Either in body, or in soul.

2007-12-19T13:32:00.000+05:30

The body shook. The boy raised his head.

So, he was alive. When he was absolutely sure he was going to die, he in fact, was not at all dead. But quiet the opposite. But was he really alive?

He opened his eyes. It took a moment to get used to the light. Or did it take a lifetime to get his eyes adjusted? He was not sure. He wasn't sure if time was working properly for him. He wasn't sure the things he had grown used to were true. Or maybe, he wasn't truly alive.

He looked around. The same everywhere. A dazzling white light. What had happened before he had gone to sleep, or to die, he wasn't sure. Where was he lying on? It was neither hard, nor soft. He looked down. He saw he was floating in space. Or was it he had lost his eyesight and could only see the white light? When your eyes stop working, can you see anything? Or is it darkness, or light? He wondered. He had lost his eyesight. He could not see his body too. Had he really lost his eyesight? Or was he dead?

He couldn't feel anything. Now he realized, he hadn't opened his eyes. He was just so used to the routine, he had felt he had opened his eyes. But he couldn't feel anything. What was going on?

Maybe he was dead.

But he could think. Can you think after you die? He wondered. Then he shook his head. But there was no head. Or was there?

Was he dead?

Or was he alive?

He was puzzled. He wanted to cry out. But could he cry out? He tried. He succeeded. But his cry reached no one, expect himself.

The body shook. The boy raised his head.

So, he was alive.

He opened his eyes. He looked around. It was the same. The same room, identical to the one in which he had gone to sleep. Or to die? He was sure he was going to die.

But, he was alive.

But, was he alive before?

Maybe, he had just been born.

Something was different. He started thinking. And the body, the surroundings were the same, but the thoughts which came, were unfamiliar to him.

He blinked. What was this all about?

But he still wasn’t sure why he thought he was going to die.

He looked around, again. It was the same. But all was different.

He had been born again.

But no! It wasn't him!

It was his consciousness.

Now he remembered.

He was sure he would live, but he was also sure, his consciousness would die.

He was right. It had died. But it had been born again.

He got up. He was free. He knew what was expected of him. He knew what he was meant to do. He knew who he truly was.

He also knew, all that was past, was merely an illusion, ways to bind him to the material world, which, in reality, or in spirituality, did not exist.

He was born again. Not from the womb of his mother. But from the souls of understanding and wisdom.

Self Doubts

2007-12-16T20:12:00.001+05:30

There comes a point in life when you don’t want to carry on with what you are facing. But you don’t have the courage to break free to change the way things are. The heart says something, the brain whispers something else, and you turn up doing something totally different.

What is the problem you might ask. There can be numerous. It can even be that the reasons are countably infinite. There might be a particular reason for someone’s this state, and again, this might be totally unfamiliar to someone else, who is also in the same state of disturbance.

You are disturbed. But you don’t know why. You draw into recluse. You stop listening. You stop thinking. But you don’t do anything to help yourself. And you refuse the help of others. You draw away from others. You even draw away from yourself. Then a time comes when you stop recognizing yourself.

This is not the life I wanted. A few years or even days ago, is this what I pictured myself as when I stopped to think about me in the near future? Or did I even stop to think about the future? Is this going to continue? Or am I going to win the war against myself when I finally have the courage to wage it?

Life is stale. Routine. Without any adventures. The same things repeating themselves. And maybe going to continue for ever, if I don’t do anything about them. But can I do it?

You Re-arrange Me, Till I'm Sane?

2007-11-27T19:50:00.000+05:30

"You re-arrange me, till I'm sane"
- Brain Damage, Pink Floyd

That's what everyone is trying to do. Re-arrange me till I'm sane. Like I can't arrange myself properly. Like they know what's best for me. Like all of them can arrange me as they want, but how can that happen if everyone has their own version of sanity?

Rather, leave me alone. I'll arrange myself.

That'll be better for the both of us.

Nightmares

2007-11-20T20:32:00.000+05:30

This is an old one, found it at the back of my stats copy which I'm going to throw out soon, so this needs to be preserved!
And by the way, no idea when I wrote it...must be in some stats class drooling away!

Nightmares

I've been dreaming since I was a kid
No, they weren't dreams, they were
NIGHTMARES...

Someone's chasing me
Wherever I go
Whatever I do
Someone's watching me...

Go, Go, Go,
Leave me alone I say
Go, Go, Go...

Leave this place,
Find someplace else,
Find someone else
To inject and infect...

I've had you for too long...
The fear...
The Nightmares...

-Sourya

Maybe We are All Mad

2007-11-14T12:29:00.001+05:30

Maybe We are All Mad.

I never thought about it like the way I'm doing it now, after reading Paulo Coelho's Veronika Decides to Die. To quote the book directly, there's a line which says "Madness is the inability to express your thoughts" and summed up as "We are all mad."

To come to think of it. True.

I don't know about you, but there's been plenty of times I have felt helpless after unsuccessfully trying to promote or discuss my opinions. I have been scorned and ridiculed. And to others, then I'm mad. But I've never completely agreed with their ideas too. Then are they mad in my opinion?

Maybe we are all Mad.

Images. Sounds. Disturbance. Thoughts.

2007-11-13T17:49:00.000+05:30

Show me a way out,
Out of this tension.

Out of the apprehension,
Bloodshed and tears.

I'm tired of the colour Red,
But there are no other colours.

Anarchy reigns.
Violent images flash.

Gun's sound their bang.
Fear controls Men.

I hate the reality.
Reality is bad.

Give me some drugs.
Intoxicate me.
Take me on a high.
Then I'll be where I want to.
I'll see what I want to.
And what do I want?
I want to see peace.
No more lies.

-Sourya Sen, 13th November 2007

yes, Yes, YES

2007-11-11T21:59:00.000+05:30

I know.

Most of you people are wondering why I referred to God as She.

Well, I am not in a mood to explain why. Those who are seriously interested to know, I suggest you read a book by Paulo Coelho titled "By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept".

You will get your answers.

A few thoughts about God.

2007-11-10T17:20:00.000+05:30

God, are you there?

And if you are, shall I refer to you as he, she or it?

Even a week ago, i scorned at the idea of god. Weaklings imagination I used to call him. Those who are weak rely on him to do everything for them.

Then two days ago, I prayed.

Was I maintaining double standards? Or was a proving myself weak?

I thought and got the answer.

Neither. God is not a person who is sitting over the earth and looking down upon us. God is residing right inside us. God is just helping us to get ourselves right. For every individual, there is an individual God. And God guided me well. Or in other words, helped me to find my own way, which I always knew was right, but was having hesitations to follow. I helped myself, and called the helping hand God. She was good to me when I needed guidance.

Yes, SHE.

Existence

2007-11-09T23:23:00.000+05:30

Wrapped up in your own petty issues, have you ever tried to look at the wider picture? You think you're pretty important, heh? But come on, who are you? Mr. Some One, you are just one of the insignificant millions on earth...

Still think you're bloody important, heh? Now think of this, the earth is a piece of rock, which is hurtling through space at a huge speed, around a huge ball of fire, with no assurance if it will continue to do so in the next instance...

Still think you're important?
Then you are pretty thick to get into!

Imagine,
What if all ends today
We don't survive the stay
Here on Earth

All of us,
Gone in a glimpse
Faster than the eye blinks
Just gone

Will it matter what I did?
Will it matter what anyone did?
I guess not dear friend,
Nothing will if we just fade.

So does it matter what we do
Try to achieve in one go?
Questions are easy, answers not,
But have the time, give them a thought.

Originally written 3rd July 2007

2007-11-09T21:26:00.000+05:30

I need a place to blab...I don't not care who reads it, or if anyone ever reads it...I do not want a diary or something like that, I'm more comfy with the keyboard these days than with a pen...and the old saying should be changed thus The keyboard is mightier than the pen, which in turn is mightier than the sword. To come to think of it...the keyboard is mightier than the pen...you can even use it as a weapon if u want!!! WHAM!!! There goes someone's head...lol....

Oh come on...I seem to remember that I had something to write about it particular, but I can't seem to remember what that something was all about...My memory is seriously dwindling...Wonder why we can't buy extra RAMs or something and attach them to the brain...Nice idea..should suggest to some specialist - who - deals - in - this - kind - of - thing - and - I - can't - remember - what - they - are - called...

I'm raving...talking too much bullshit...

Back Later!

-The lunatic aka sourya who also goes by the alias ayruos (which is just his name spelt backwards)
Or maybe, it's the lunatic speaking who lives in his head!