LEAN DUDE WITH ATTITUDE TM

Flower Girl

2010-08-13T23:34:00.000+05:30

As she cut the heart-shaped cake placed on the table, their eyes lit up. The youngest of the lot, also the most shy, turned her tiny little face to glance at the cake and the towering grownups who had decided to pay her and her friends a visit.

They didn’t have visitors often. They had a routine. Wake up- school- common lunch- continue with school- come back- study-pray and then sleep. It was the flower girl’s visit they craved for. They would have loved to have the flower girl come there often. She came once a year, smiling and glowing with such elegance that it was hard to forget her. She’s the one who’d make heads turn, wherever she went. Am sure she was the brand ambassador of Iodex (or at least the soul responsible for their sales) what with all the crick in the necks she has been responsible for over the years.

The flower girl was a thinner, more beautiful version of Santa Claus. And what more, she didn’t keep them waiting till December. It was August, the time she blossoms. And the fragrance lingered for a whole year. The cookies tasted lovely, the savories had an extra crunch, the juice overflowed and to top it all, her love was everlasting.

She came with her entourage of reindeer, who were more than just happy to share her magic. “Am just being selfish”, she’d say. But we all knew she was just being way too modest.

It takes a lot of heart to do what she does. Though she’s not the only one in the phase of this planet to do what she does. But it still is a wonderful gesture. Its things like this, which makes her a wonderful person, a nice human being.

This is for the flower girl. A friend, a warm person and an amazing soul.

Happy Blossoming.

Short Series: She

2010-07-14T14:38:00.001+05:30

She walked in, hair swaying in the wind, eyes glancing across the half crowded coffee shop, with a bunch of red roses gripped tightly in her hands. A cat whistle shrilled from across the table where she rested her grip on the flowers. A couple of gawky teenagers couldn’t hide their excitement and let their jaw drop (along with the glass of cold coffee) at the sight of the flower girl. She looked up, sharp eyes, lined with kajal, the type that makes the eyes look even more expressive than how it is on a lazy Sunday morning. On second thoughts, the morning face, Sunday or otherwise always wins ‘pants down’.

The flowers found a place on the table and one got to see her fingers, beautifully manicured, the ones that would have experienced the choicest of creams, lotions and moisturizers, the ones that always smelt fresh and felt divine. The ones that were always not too far from sanitizers. The ones that had mehendi on them?

Ah! She is married. About to be married? Or her friend just got married. Yes. That should be the case. Phew! That’s a relief.

She sat down at a table that could accommodate only two people. She is expecting company. The electricity just went off, thanks to the heavy rain. A few drops of rain cascaded down her forehead and fell on the table. She carefully took a tissue from her bag (didn’t even bother looking at the pile of tissues folded and placed on the table in a triangular shape by the waiters) and wiped her face, gently, not ruining the kajal. The heart skips another beat. She folds the tissue and places them next to the flowers.

“I’m there”, she said on the phone, that seemed to have magically sprung out of her bag and planted itself to her ears, when the mind was too busy deciding on her relationship status.

“Oh! Another half hour? Shit”, she cursed. The lips seemed so pure, so bright and so sensuous, that one could never expect words other than love, peace, hope, and bliss, let alone profanity. Those lips were meant for kissing, to be kissed than curse. It looked like a painting, perfect, symmetric, orgasmic with the blood red of her lipstick, like the painters final signature.

The waiter walks up to her table and places a candle and she smiles at him. It’s his lucky day. He walks away and she lights the candle with her lighter. The candle light falls on her face and the heart skips another beat. Her eyes shine. The light keeps shifting, thanks to the wind; it plays a pattern on her face. Her nose ring twinkles. The light is blinding, making me turn my gaze away from her for just a moment.

She is trying to catch the attention of the waiter. Unaware that she has everybody’s attention. She does realize it. She signals him to get her a hot cappuccino; you could see her pinky sticking out, while she signaled.

The coffee arrives in what felt like milliseconds. She looked awkward trying to open the sachet of sugar to add to her coffee. She spills some on the table-the coffee and the sugar. She looked up to see if someone saw her clumsiness.

Her eyes met mine. I smiled. She was still for a moment before a gentle smile escaped her lips. The candle light was playing tricks. The light and shadow was just too much to handle. I gently nodded my head to greet her. She hesitantly waved back.

I went back to scribble on the tissue paper, the one I had in front of me from the moment I came into the coffee shop. I wanted to write something. In fact I wanted to just keep writing. I had something to write about.

The coffee shop began filling up. The rain was getting heavier and water was dripping from the roof above. People were trying to squeeze into any available space. Tables looked crowded. Privacy could be forgotten. At least till the rain stopped. The air smelt wet. The voices became loud and conversations from every table could be heard clearly. No one went near her table. She still stood out. Alone, beautiful and mesmerizing.

Ever so often, I looked up to see her. I just couldn’t stop. I would then smile to myself and then get back to writing. My coffee was getting cold, partly due to the weather and mostly because I never bothered to drink it.

“What? You’re stuck? It’s pouring here and what do you want me to do?” she spoke on the phone once again. Frustration was written all over her forehead. I could see the lines forming on her clear face. She shook her head and disconnected the call. And I’m certain I heard her swear one last time before hanging up the call.

She glanced towards the flowers that were on the table. She picked up a tissue and began scribbling something. A note I thought. She tucked the note to the flowers and called the waiter. She handed him the flowers and said something, the waiter nodded. He went back to the cash counter, carefully holding the flowers. She took a final sip of her coffee and got up, hand held over her head to protect her from the rain and strode out as briskly as she had come in just a while ago.

The heart skipped another beat.

Do I go behind her? Maybe just talk to her? Would I be seeing her again? Questions flooded my brain. I was snapped out of my trance by the waiter.

“Sir, that madam asked me to give these to you”, he said handing me the flowers.

“Would love to read what you have written about me. Coffee tomorrow at 4?” it read with a smiley at the end.

Click. Or is it Clock? Maybe it is just Click-Clock!

2009-11-20T03:34:00.000+05:30

Click- Clock, Click- Clock
The clock went click
Clicking away as the crickets creak
The cricket’s creak and they click like clocks
Click-Clock, Click- Clock

The old man walked with his grand-father clock
Clocking time with each click from his clock
The photographer stood there and clicked
Clicking pictures of the magical clock
Click-Clock, Click-Clock

With every second from the rickety clock
The runner raced against the stop-clock
No one knew the time on the clock
The crowd screamed when they saw the clock
Click-Clock, Click- Clock

World Guitar Nights

2009-11-16T09:03:00.001+05:30

And while most of Bangalore was sitting at home immersed in the re-runs of unintelligent reality television or getting high on inexpensive liquor (not a bad option really, when you are subject to the typical English weather minus the piercing winds) a select few were witness to two unbelievable nights of fingering.

Now, before you perverted-twisted souls start picturing cheap porn made from a bra-string budget, let me be quick to add, the fingering was reserved for the strings on an acoustic guitar.

* * * * *

What do you get when you have four mad guitarists from four different countries on stage in a palatial garden in Bangalore on a rainy weekend? You get music that is pure, potent and orgasmic. You get physically, emotionally and musically stoned!

As you enter the gate of Jayamahal Palace with its strange décor of serial lights that one associates with rich Indian weddings, all you wish is hopefully it’s only the lights that are shady and not your evening.

After giving your throat the wetness it required with a nice cold beverage, you proceed towards a bunch of empty plastic chairs that are carefully arranged all over the lawn. It was time for the cold elixir to act on your system and the music to flood the starved soul. That, by the way brings me to talk about four guitar masters who entertained, enlightened and intoxicated the audience with sheer talent. Masters who pushed boundaries with such force that was brutal and subtle, sexual and sensual, arrogant yet nonchalant.

Konarak Reddy started the evening with an ‘Aalap’ that was capable of giving goose bumps to a stone. He had the small crowd that trickled in, move right up to the stage to watch him in action. His rendition of ‘Taara’ with Don Ross, was poetry in motion, it had the power to make you float and soar in the sky, for that date with the stars that you’d been craving for. Watching his fingers perform ballet on the strings was a treat for sore eyes. The effortless ease with which he swayed his big frame, the smooth improvisation from Carnatic to Jazz and his ‘Konnakol’ mesmerized the audience and transported them to a beautiful place.

Imagine a Japanese dude with an acoustic guitar in his hands and a performance that was as explosive as an atom bomb. It was ‘Mass Suicide’ aka Masa Sumide. It looked like Masa swallowed a few springs before stepping onto stage. His bouncy movements like a ping-pong ball, in a match between Wang Hao and Wang Liqin and his contagious smile so radiant and illuminating, ensured Bangaloreans got a taste of what Aurora Borealis feels like. Sumide’s music is completely sexual. You don’t make love to his style of music. He makes you feel like the teenage kid dry humping a cushion the day before his big prom night, practicing for what might be a lucky night if he could hold his trousers in place. His groovy, percussive music oozes lust every time he plays. Sumide is quite a performer. Watching him play on stage made the audience seem like peeping toms. He was stroking, sucking and blowing the strings on his guitar with such perverse joy that it was but natural that he had to run off stage immediately after his performance with such speed that would have put Usain Bolt to shame and made him seem like a toddler in the 100meters Olympic finals.

The evening continued and the audience reeling from their first orgasm of the evening, it was time for the ‘Seducer’ to take the stage. You’re shaking, your throat is dry (the many cold beverages that you downed through the evening doesn’t make any difference) and you’re breathing hard. Is that a drop of sweat that just trickled down your neck? You think you need to just sit down and calm those shaky legs. I suggest it’s a great idea.

Szabo is a magician and instead of a magic wand, he is armed with a guitar. Szabo holds his guitar like it was a woman, the last- beautiful woman on earth. He creates music by caressing her, feeling her soft skin, smelling her as she steps out of a nice bubble bath after a long day’s work. His music is sensual; it tickles all the right muscles in your body. His music loosens you up and makes the hair at the back of your neck stand up. It flows and overpowers you and catches you off-guard. And you thought it was that gorgeous woman in a mini skirt standing behind you, who just blew softly below your ear. You like it. You lean back and breathe slowly. You close your eyes and let yourself feel what he wants you to feel. You see his fingers glide over the guitar and make music like you never knew existed, that you never knew was possible by just barely touching the strings. And people wouldn’t disprove when you say that you just saw his guitar turn a shade red from his touch. They are too embarrassed when you look at them and see that their cheeks are flushed with a deep red like a prostitute’s lipstick. You look up to the heavens and pray that it doesn’t rain when he starts playing the Hungarian Folk song. You believe him when he says, he played this track at a concert in Korea and it started raining and the rain didn’t stop for five days. He is not just a musician but a shaman with unbelievable powers. Szabo leaves you high and hard, craving for more, aching for a touch and makes you spell-bound. His job is done and he smiles. You are left on your own with a long lonely night ahead of you, if you are single!

Guitarist, singer, song writer, composer, stand-up comedian and grizzly bear dressed in a shirt and pair of jeans, watching Don Ross on stage is like watching a Rock Star. The term ‘Gentle giant’ was coined only to explain a person like him. If you ever thought musicians don’t talk as beautifully as they play, then you couldn’t be more wrong! Don has the ability to make you tap your feet and sway with his music one instant and then make you roll on the floor laugh with his wit the other. I wouldn’t blame you if you laughed so hard that you even peed a little. Some people do have that effect on us lesser mortals. Don’t forget to listen to the story of his song, ‘Dracula and Friends’, a special dedication for his daughter Taara. There is a story behind each and every single one of his songs, each more interesting and entertaining than the other. At the end of it all, you are blown away by the sheer range of his style. Jazz, folk, rock and classical music, you name it and he plays it. He draws his inspiration from just about everything, from the kids on the streets with their baseball caps turned the other way to cartoons on television that his daughter loves, Don is an opportunist, an entertainer and a pure genius.

* * * * *

The crowd begins to disperse, the rain slowly picks up (your prayer worked), and the musicians stand around the swimming pool – cold beverage on hand talking to a meager bunch of people who are high as a kite, both from the concert and the many liquids they generously gulped through the evening. And no points for guessing what the conversations revolved around!

You ride back home, alone, humming some of the ballads and songs you heard earlier in the evening, and strumming an air guitar. Recreating the magic. You are spent by the time you reach home. You look at the box of Whey protein on the top shelf of your kitchen and smile to yourself. You need the strength. Or maybe you might want to save it for next year’s show.

Bombay- My love

2009-11-07T01:49:00.002+05:30

It has always been on my mind. I just can't stop thinking about it. I belong there. I just know it. What have I done about it? Well, as of now, absolutely nothing. And I just want to kick my butt for that. I have told a bunch of people, that they are all talk and absolutely no shit. I could say the same thing about me now, with regards to this one particular topic.

Bombay.

Where do I even begin? The city of dreams. The city of love. The city of challenges. The city that has taught me the way of life. The city where I want to live. The city that has been home away from home. Everytime I think about this city, my heart skips a beat. A smile escapes my lip and am overcome with emotion. I love this city. I love the smell of this city. I love the people. I love the rains. I love the traffic. I love the old, pale buildings. I love vada paav. I love the late night drunken taxi rides. I love the buzz. I love the suburban train rides. I love getting stuck in traffic at 2 in the morning. I love the concept of being in love with this city. I am in love with this city.

Bombay.

The city that never sleeps. The city that doesn't want to sleep. The city that hates sleeping. The madness. A walk from Mehboob studio to my hotel in Pali hills, made me realize the meaning of my life. I don't think I would want to be anywhere else on this planet other than this city. I have done some crazy things in life. Nothing more crazy than my trip to Bombay with just a helmet. It was just another evening. An evening with cousins at a pub which eventually resulted in taking my bike and parking it at the airport parking lot and taking the next flight to Bombay. A sudden trip that eventually turned out to be the best three days of my life. A trip that resulted in meeting a strange but amazing couple who let us stay at their place for the night- the night that we landed in Bombay. A friend who was more than happy to drive us around town and spend time with us. And another friend, who gave me the keys to her sea-side apartment for a day without having a single thought.

Bombay.

Jo barse sapne boond boond
Nainon ko moond moond

Jo barse sapne boond boond
Nainon ko moond moond

Kaise main chaloon, dekh na sakoon
Anjaane raastein.

I can't stop listening to this song. I can't stop being in complete awe with the lyrics. Shayad yahi hai pyaar. I am in love. Again. With this city. With this amazing city.

Gunjasa hai koi iktara iktara, gunjasa hai koi iktara
Gunjasa hai koi iktara iktara, gunjasa hai koi iktara
Dheeme bole koi iktara iktara, dheeme bole koi iktara
Gunjasa hai koi iktara iktara, gunjasa hai koi iktara

Paati~

2009-08-17T15:09:00.001+05:30

I woke up to the vibrating buzz from my phone. I was having a very interesting dream. The anchor had just announced my name and amidst thundering applause and a standing ovation, I was walking towards the stage to collect the National award for the best director (also my fifth award for the night).

“Paati Mob”, the screen screamed and I knew this was the real thing and smiled. The call got disconnected in three rings, the time it takes for my Paati (Grand mom) to realize her mistake and cut the call.

The scene began to change. I was smiling with pride and had reached the stage by then. Mani Ratnam was standing there with the award in his hand, he smiled as I approached. As I was about to put my hands out to collect the award, the phone in my jeans began to vibrate. Then it starts ringing again and the sound was resonating everywhere. The anchor was staring at me with her mouth wide open. I could hear Big B and Junior B sitting in the front row twitch and squirm in their seats and curse me for not keeping my phone on silent. And then it rang again. And again. Three rings and it got disconnected.

“Paati Mob”, the screen screamed and I knew this was the real thing and smiled. The call got disconnected in three rings, the time it takes for my Paati to realize her mistake and cut the call.

My Paati has a new mobile phone for the last four months. But she’s still trying to understand how it works. She had always been great with numbers. Be it the ones on her sudoku board or remembering phone numbers. She was good with statistics and scores of cricket matches too. In fact she learnt Hindi listening to the commentary on DD. Her understanding of Hindi numbers is better than most North Indians I know. I remember the time when she used to wake up at 4 in the morning to watch India play Australia in Australia. The match always started at an ungodly hour. She would be up and ready with her kaai- kari (vegetables) spread across in front of her while she settled down to watch the match right from the pitch report and toss. She knew for a fact that I would also be up to watch the game and immediately after the toss; she would call me (I lived in the next house). And would then discuss the strategy of the game and tell me her views on what the wicket looked like and what it might do for the team batting first. I would always tell her that she should have been the coach of the Indian team. Imagine a madisaar clad old lady sitting in the dressing room in front of a laptop making notes during a match. Now that would be a sight.

She loves her 7 children, 8 grand children and 3 great grand children. She is a Rock star. She sings like a dream. She distributes Gokulashtami Bhakshanams in a way that would put mathematicians and statisticians to shame. She loves her TV serials. She loves her cricket even if the match is between Zimbabwe and Bangladesh. For the last four months, I wake up everyday to find a couple of missed calls and a few blank messages from her phone. My name is the first on her address book and she is yet to figure out how to use her phone. It’s a wonderful feeling to wake up to those. Brings a smile on my face.

Paati has a flair for languages. She speaks Tamil, Telugu, Hindi & English with absolute ease. She picked up Telugu from her neighbor in Karakpur. This little girl who stayed next to her house would drop by her house everyday after Thaatha left for work. I still remember the day when I brought my friend home and my paati’s eyes lit up when she knew she spoke Telugu. For the next half an hour the two of them were at it and paati was in full form. Even now she keeps asking me when I would get that friend home again.

There is so much more to my Paati. I could talk about how she religiously gets up in the morning and finishes up the Sudoku from every News Paper. The way she meticulously draws the boxes onto a sheet of paper before she begins to solve the puzzle, the way she makes her thakkali (tomato) rasam, the way she walks around her garden every evening and plucks the jasmine flowers, the way she counts them and walks over to my house to talk to her daughter (my mom) and proudly tell her the count, or the way she calls my mom if she is not in town to tell her about the flowers, the way she sits right in front of the TV so that she could listen to the dialogues better, the way her skin feels all wrinkled and soft, the way she spends time with her grand kids, the way she talks proudly about her grand kids to others.

To my Paati- the most amazing woman I have ever met.

“Paati Mob”, the screen screamed and I knew this was the real thing and smiled. The call got disconnected in three rings, the time it takes for my Paati to realize her mistake and cut the call.

Exploring possibilities

2009-08-05T18:24:00.004+05:30

the music was blaring
it made him deaf
thisthingthatthingthisthingthatthing
over and over
and over

movement, motion, kinetic
potential, position, promise
sacrifice, sanctity, salvation
over and over
and over
thisthingthatthingthisthingthatthing

the hurdles in the prose
were making it difficult
but he was not going to
stop this rush that was
more than a suburban train
thisthingthatthingthisthingthatthing

move
relax hold
scream

thisthingthatthingthisthingthatthing

understanding this ain’t
going to be easy as i
thought it would be
considering the fact that
i don’t know this at all

thisthisthisthisthisthingthisthing

P:S Thanks so much for the inspiration Ranj. And I give full credit to you and you only for the italics idea.

Have you ever seen the rain?

2009-07-29T00:40:00.003+05:30

Have you ever seen the rain?

Have you ever seen the rain like I have? The way the clouds turn a deep shade of Grey before completely turning black, like the thick smoke coming from the mouth of a chain smoker. The way the clouds loom over your head. And the gentle breeze that it brings with it that blows away all the sorrow?

Have you ever seen the innocent school kids running hastily towards a shelter, clinging on to the hands of their parents with their tiny fingers? The people on the side of the road on their stalls, hurriedly taking the plastic sheets to cover the fruits and flowers that they have been trying to sell all day?

Have you ever seen the retired military officer walking his dog in the evening? The look in his eyes when he sees the younger lot sitting on parapet walls by the side of the road and sharing a cigarette. Have you ever seen the way the kids quickly throw the cigarette away and shamefully look down so as to not see the old man?

Have you ever seen the rickety old rickshaw filled with tiny-tots singing nursery rhymes that they learnt at school or the singing beggar who has a sparkle in his eyes and magic in his voice? Have you ever seen the chai-wallah and the old crumpled newspaper lying on the brown bench or heard his philosophy?

Have you ever seen the tiny rain droplets falling on the sand and making patterns? Have you ever smelt the intoxicating joy that tends to flood the air and along with it your nostrils when the first drops touch the soil? Have you seen the birds sitting on thin branches shaking their feathers enjoying the sudden downpour?

Have you ever seen the puddles on the road or the people jumping over them? Have you seen the speeding cars splashing water on passersby? Have you seen the pushcarts serving snacks, with sweet tea and horrible coffee?

Have you ever seen the stray dogs sprawled on the water or felt the wetness in your shoes? Have you ever smelt the wetness in the air and your clothes? Have you seen the soaked match boxes that fail to light or the sodium vapor lamps that seem to switch on?

Have you ever seen the tip of your fingers that seem to have taken a new shape from all the soaking? Have you ever felt the chill that runs down your spine? Have you ever felt the drizzle prick you like a thousand needles while riding a bike or felt the cold wind that caresses your face?

Have you ever held someone close in the rain, under a tree or looked deep into their eyes? Have you ever kissed the one that you love under the stars, in the moonlight listening to the music of the rain falling on tin roofs?

Have you ever seen the rain?

Have you ever seen the rain like I have?

The Formula to Success- Part 1

2009-07-24T19:38:00.000+05:30

I remember a time when my social life revolved around the F1 Calendar. Weekends were blocked for Qualifying sessions and Race day.

I very clearly remember how we used to reach a watering hole early. ‘Happy hours’ were not just the two hours of the race, but started much before the cars lined up for the
Warm-up lap. Hardcore cricket followers, boring corporate executives, journalists, advertising crowd, real estate agents, models, businessmen, college kids and the young and old alike, would all be there religiously at the same watering hole. Some even superstitious enough to sit in the same chair and table as the previous race. I wouldn't blame them really. It was just way too entertaining that way.

In a country where cricket is religion and Sachin Tendulkar is God (yes, I know am using a cliché here) F1 was quite a welcome break. It was a rebel sport. I couldn’t stand the Indi 500 races and the Moto GP races that used to come on television. There could have been nothing more boring that watch a bunch of cars and bikes going round and round in circles for three hours. Something was missing.

Then it happened, F1 came into the picture. The slick promos with fast cars taking turns at over 200 mph. The adrenaline rush that one got while listening to the commentary of Steve Slater and Chris Goodwin during every race. F1 was a sport that became very much a part of almost everybody’s life. Including my mother!

From a time when one knew about Ferrari by watching Sharukh Khan and Kajol standing next to a Ferrari convertible with the Swiss Alps in the background in a song from DDLJ to now seeing school kids sitting in coffee shops smoking sheesha, coughing and talking about the race that they just didn't see completely because MTV had the re-run of Teen Diva & Roadies, F1 has come a long way.

Friends and colleagues became opponents during weekends, each supporting a team or a driver. Michael Schumacher was the new God (not surprising really with Gods popping out by the dozen each day even otherwise). Ferrari fans/ supporters would wear red,
Mc Laren supporters would crack subtle (Not) digs when Hamilton overtook Kimi. Nicknames of individual drivers became present in everyday conversations. Life had entered into the race tracks and there is no way it would stay away now!

The screaming, the howling, the shouting and the emotions that I witnessed during each race are something that I can’t quite express in words. No matter how hard I try. It has to be experienced. Being amidst hardcore F1 lovers, watching them squeal when their favorite racer makes a mistake and crashes out or when another racer takes a dangerous turn or clips the wheels during an overtaking maneuver, the one-hundredth-of-a-second delay in the pit lane when someone comes to refuel the car followed by a quick tyre change, it was all way too intense. Every second was important. Not just for the people at the pit, or the drivers, or the race engineers, but also for the ones who watch the race. Visits to the loo were few and selective. Only during the commercial breaks, when the dreaded music was heard (a true F1 supporter knows that music that gives him his cue to run to the loo and get back).

March to November. That was the time. The F1 calendar would be at its very best. 17 races, driver’s championship, constructor’s championship, points, tables, who tops the chart, which team is out of the race, which driver has created history. The statistics were keenly followed by everyone. Wake up someone in the middle of their sleep and ask them a question and they would be able to answer. That’s the magic of the sport.

Has the magic reduced? Are people losing interest in the sport? Is the FIA coming out with rules and regulations that are ruining the sport? Or are they making it interesting? Are people worried about front runners not making a mark? Is there going to be a new trend in this sport? What is the Formula to the sports Success?

Untitled

2009-07-17T11:10:00.001+05:30

The ones who care don't know anymore and the ones who know don't care.

The Long Road

2009-07-02T19:11:00.000+05:30

I sat alone in the coffee shop, like I've done a million times before.
I wanted to write. Poetry, Fiction, A funny story maybe, or a trying to be funny article. Just something. My thoughts were all over the place.

Writing, scrapping it off. Dreaming and Wondering.

Words failed me. I reached a blank. It continued for a long time. Really long time. This is it. I can't write anymore. Not at least now.

Saturation Point?
Out of stuff to write about?
Lack of inspiration?
Way too content with life?
Laziness personified?
End of the road?

Questions. Questions. Questions.

Then I heard a song....

"The answer my friend, is blowin' in the wind. The answer is blowin' in the wind".

Thank you Mr.Dylan.

Would you like another coffee?

The Larry Story

2009-06-03T00:46:00.000+05:30

There once lived a man named Larry
People thought he was very Hairy
He wobbled around with a jacket in May
That was because he was happy and Gay.

The more he talked people would Stare
And everyone called him a grizzly Bear
Over and over, More and More
When he sleeps, he sure does Snore.

You could see him wear a Cap
He always drank beer from a Tap
They say he had a heart of Gold
But poor guy was just getting Old.

His house was next to the Clock Tower
The old fox sure had a lot of Power
This is the story of a man named Larry
What do you know, he nailed a Fairy.

Short Series: Reunion

2009-05-27T14:09:00.003+05:30

It was a Friday evening. Shreya sat at the usual spot. The small coffee shop overlooking the beach in Bandra. She used to love coming here. Hers was a fun group, filled with the ones who she went to college with. Two boys and three girls. A five musketeers of sorts, she remembered.

It had been three years since she came to that place. She finished her graduation in Bombay and decided to move to the UK to pursue her masters. The others in the group branched out as well, all in their separate ways. Though there were a million social networking sites in the offing, none of them were in touch and had absolutely no clue what the others were up to. It was Abhay who had sent everyone a mail a couple of months back asking for a reunion of sorts. The mails had started pouring in after that, but Abhay didn't respond to a single one after the time and place was fixed. It was to be Friday the 27th of June, in Cafe Brew- Bandra.

Shreya had finished her final paper presentation and she had three months before she had her graduation ceremony. So she decided to come home and spend time with her parents and also to meet up with the musketeers. As she sat at Cafe Brew, she noticed people running for cover. The monsoon had just hit Bombay and it was beautiful. The waves making breathtaking patterns and the force with which it came onto the shore. She saw school girls in tiny skirts crossing the road with such care, so as to not get their shiny black shoes wet. The crazy motorists who didn't bother slowing down and splashing puddles of water overflowing the roads onto stunned passersby.

The sky was dark and gloomy. The weather had a chillness to it. She loved Bombay, especially during the monsoon. There was such romance in the air. There was such joy. The city always came alive during this kind of a weather, she said to herself. She ordered her lemon tea. She was not a coffee person and she remembered how Abhay, a hardcore coffee drinker and lover, used to always tease her about that and how he had offered to make her some lovely coffee that would leave her mesmerized and begging for more when they meet again sometime in the future. Thinking about that made her smile even more. She noticed a young couple sitting under the giant umbrella whispering sweet nothings into each others ears and laughing. She noticed how the guy had his hands gently wrapped around her shoulders to keep her warm.

The coffee shop was packed, since people came in to take shelter from the rain. A slightly old gentleman walked upto her and asked if he could take the chair that was vacant in her table. She smiled and gestured to him to come take a seat. The man, she thought should he in his early 60's. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and grey trousers. She saw his silver hair and pepper grey beard. He introduced himself and began talking. From the conversation, she inferred that he was a writer working on the story for a film and he was to meet someone here a little later in the evening. But since his work had gotten over early, he decided to get to this place before it started raining heavily. She nodded and listened to his words. She also told him about her reason of being at the coffee shop. As they were talking two more girls and a guy from the musketeer group landed there and the old gentleman, just smiled at the group and told them to have fun and moved on to another empty table on the other side of the coffee shop.

The group then exchanged pleasantries and laughed and sighed in unison like excited school kids on their very first picnic to a zoo. They had so much to talk about and everyone wouldn't let the other person finish. They sat around indulging in more coffee, more gossip and the chocolate fudge when they saw a familiar face walking slowly towards the coffee shop drenched in the rain. The person didn't bother running for cover but with such elegance slowly evading the puddles on the road and walking towards their table. The group let out a collective sigh. It was Abhay. They couldn't believe their eyes. He looked thin, pale and weak, but he still had the best smile in town. Everyone ran towards him and hugged him. Abhay stood there with the rest of the musketeers hugging them close and smiling.

The group walked back towards the table and while the others went ahead, Abhay walked towards the old gentleman and whispered something in his ears. The old man smiled and patted him on the shoulders. Abhay ran his fingers in his hair to brush off the rain and smiled once again. Abhay was the most talkative person in the group. Everytime he started talking there was no stopping him. Everyone knew that and hence as soon as he came and sat in his chair they looked at him and Karan the other guy in the group, took out his wristwatch and placed it on the table and said, "GO. Your time starts now", the others as soon as they heard it began laughing. Abhay smiled gently and mumbled something that the others couldn't pick up. They leaned forward and asked him to repeat it again. Abhay then said, "My time's almost up guys" and he smiled. No one knew what he was talking about and they thought he was just kidding. Karan, then taking the cue from the other women decided to talk. "Do you have a meeting or something"?, he asked. Abhay then looked into the sea, the road and sighed. "Yes, I need to meet Mr.Mathur, the gentleman sitting in that table", as he pointed his finger towards the table. Mr.Mathur saw this and waved a friendly hi towards the group. Shreya, waved back and said that she had met him while she was waiting for everyone.

"Oh, so you're into movies now eh? Awesome. Never knew an engineer from our batch would end up in movies. So are you acting or...", shreya shrieked with excitement.

"Am not acting. Don't think I can pull off the running around trees really", Abhay joked and the others laughed.

"I have written a story that I need to discuss with him", he said.

The group sat up on their table and paid attention. "WoW, dude. That's amazing, so what kind of story is this"?, asked Karan.

"It's my story guys", Abhay said and took a sip of water.

Shreya called the waiter and ordered a hot cup of coffee for Abhay, for which Abhay just shook his head and cancelled the order.

"WHAT. The biggest coffee lover saying NO to coffee", everyone in the group said in unison.

"I'm not allowed to drink coffee. The doctors have told me that", he said.

The moment the group heard this, everyone went quiet. What was he talking about? Not allowed to drink coffee? Doctor's advice? This was getting extremely serious.

"Dude. What the hell is wrong with you?", Karan barked.

"Well", Abhay took a long breath and started talking. "I have a very rare kind of cancer that has affected my brain. The doctors have tried everything and looks like they don't have a clue. Am dying guys. Am dying. Just wanted to see the four people who mean the world to me before I die", Abhay said and a tear drop gently trickled down on his chin.

No one knew how to react. It was all just sudden. It was shocking. I mean, it was Abhay. How could Abhay have such a disease?

"It's my story that Mr. Mathur is working on and he wants to make a movie out of it. I wanted him to", Abhay said softly.

"I love you all. Forgive me guys", Abhay said.

The group just hugged him and stayed that way.

It was a Friday evening. Not just another Friday evening for everyone in that table.

Pay Attention. I say!

2009-05-15T22:57:00.002+05:30

Why did the chicken cross the road?

(a) To be murdered along with millions of goats and cows.
(b) To rid the world off masala dosa, sambhar idli and koththamalli chutney.
(c) To establish a non-vegetarian, totalitarian empire ruled by the evil incarnate.
(d) All of the above.

Who can stop this inhuman (obviously) hen-o-cide? Which charismatic cowboy can cull this cackling carnivore? Is there no salvation for the cows and goats from the salivating non-vegetarians?

Deep in the south of India, a hero is born.

Quick Gun Murugun is also born deep in the south of India.

Quick Gun Murugun – the outlaw without a mother-in-law; the lover romancing with a locket; the gun-slinger in white boots. Quick Gun Murugun – the Vegetarian Cowboy™

Watch him dodge bullets. Watch him cheat death.

Sambhar Western meets Tollywood , meets The Matrix, meets Austin Powers.

Ladies & Gentlemen. The One & Only.

QUICK GUN MURUGUN.

Quick Gun Murugun – riding soon to a cinema hall near you. Failing that, at least one just half hour away.

Short Series: Happyness

2009-05-04T10:53:00.000+05:30

It was the tenth sheet of paper that he wasted trying to write something. The words seemed a tad too difficult to articulate. The thoughts were strong. The things he wanted to say were quite a bit. But he just couldn’t write.

“This part of my life is what I would call things falling into place”, he had written that and he kept staring at the crisp white sheet of paper in front of him. The coffee shop seemed too empty for a Sunday evening. Maybe the weather had something to do with it, he thought to himself. But coming to think of it, the weather was lovely, heavy winds, coolness in the air and dark clouds with a distant thunder and lightning. It was just perfect. Popular tracks were being played on the radio and it filled his ears. A gentle strumming of a guitar was jamming with the song on the radio. It had to be a beginner playing the guitar; he chuckled to himself and continued staring at the sheet of paper.

The traffic was peaceful and the motorists were going about their job in a nonchalant manner. The long weekend he sighed. The city needs more of these extra long weekends. It made it extremely easy for him to commute and if he was lucky, even take a nice peaceful walk.

He liked the song that was playing then. He smiled.

‘Free Door Delivry’, it read in big bold letters. Ah! How many times now, he thought. He had made it a point to tell the guys at the coffee shop to check their spellings before they put something up on the board. Things never change, people never change, he told himself.

Work had been wonderful the past few months and things were just wonderful. The kind of work he had been doing was really giving him a huge high. He loved it. He loved the endless hours, the mindless running around, the wonderful conversations, the amazing people he got to meet thanks to his work and the best of all, the travel that came along with the work. This was it. He smiled.

“This part of my life is what I would call things falling into place”, he read the line out loud, smiled and added a period at the end of the sentence. It started drizzling at that exact moment. A drop fell on the period and the ink blotted.

“This part of my life is what I would call things falling into place”.

Short Series: World War III

2009-03-16T09:33:00.001+05:30

He sat alone, looking dreamily deep into the thin flame from the candle. The gentle breeze that seeped in through the window made the flame dance. He could hear the sounds that the rain created outside. Droplets falling on the asbestos sheet that covered the neighbor’s car. The electricity had gone off because of the rain and it had been a few hours now. The heavy sound of thunder and flashes of lightning added more drama to the dancing flame in front of him.

In the quiet of the night, he could hear cars and motorists screeching on the road that ran outside his house. They all seemed to be in a hurry. They always were, he thought to himself. A smile escaped his lips. He sat there quietly; everything in that room seemed to happen in slow motion. His movements, his thoughts, the dancing flame from the candle, the smoke from the mosquito coil. The mosquito hovering around his ear seemed to have other plans. Furiously fluttering around his ear, the little thing looked like a being possessed and with a mission. The silence from the room only amplified the buzz from the little fella.

"Target found. All units be advised. Proceed with caution", said a voice, although slightly garbled, it was clear. He turned back to check where the voice was coming from. He couldn’t see anyone. Maybe it was coming from the television next door or something, he thought to himself. But there isn’t electricity. “Target locked. Eagle 27. Attack”, said another voice and before he could react, he felt a sharp needle like prick on the soft spot on his neck. ‘Ouch’, he let out a scream and his immediate reaction was to swat the back of his neck with his hand. “Target hit. I repeat. Target has been hit. All units lock on to the target”, the moment he heard those lines, he had a whole army of mosquitoes breathing down his neck and buzzing around his ear. They were everywhere. Where did they come from? He wondered and quickly took evasive action. He lit up another of those mosquito coil’s murmuring profanities about the worthless qualities of these coils. As soon as he lit the second coil, everything became quiet again. Slightly relieved he sat down on the chair and made himself comfortable. In the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny little fella creeping close towards his ear, he acted as if he didn’t see him coming and when he was close enough, he turned around and with both his hands made a clapping motion. ‘Whack’, was the sound it made and it echoed in the tiny room. When he spread his hands, he could see one of those blood sucking thingy smothered on his hands. There was blood. He took the little one and brought it close to the flame. What he saw shocked him.

There he was the little fella with a smashed skull wearing army fatigue. The mosquito had his face painted. He couldn’t believe his own eyes. Was he dreaming? This just couldn’t be. It’s a mosquito- an army mosquito. As he was still reeling from the shock, he could hear more voices, “Officer down, officer down. Kamikaze units attack”. Before he could react he saw an army coming towards him. He could see they were angry. They attacked him. His ear, neck and forehead were easy targets. There was a separate group attacking his arms. The attack was pretty intense and he did everything possible to stay safe. He waved his hands, and smacked it together, tried slapping the space in front of him in an attempt to cause damage to his attackers. He did manage to hit a group that was launching another attack. They went tumbling down. He tried to catch them, but it slid right through his fingers and fell crashing to the ground. He managed to get a radio that the mosquitoes were using to communicate with the base. “Eagle 39. Eagle 39. Do you read me? What is the enemy status? Do you want us to send more troops?” the voice on the other end said on the radio. ‘More troops?’ he thought to himself. That’s not good news he said. He had to do something to stop them. He got up and tried to cover himself with a blanket. So that he doesn’t reveal any part of his body to the enemy.

“Target has gone hiding. Seek & destroy”, those were the dreaded words. He thought it was time to show those blood sucking monsters, who the bigger person was. He was ready. He let out a loud scream and he was on his legs to try and counterattack. He began racing across the room with his hands and legs swaying and striking the air furiously. This was a calculated attack from his enemies. They were not easily visible, while there he was a target out in the open. The train outside his house came to a grinding halt at the station. The sound of the wheels on the track could be heard very clearly. Other than that, there was silence. Then it happened. The mosquitoes began attacking him and he began fighting back. What was earlier a quiet room with a candle light was now a war zone. He managed to strike down a few groups that kept targeting his neck and ear. They went tumbling down and fell on the burning flame of the candle. He could see them burn. The slight hissing sound it made when they were burnt to ashes. He felt good to see that. ‘Serves them right’, he told himself, concentrating on the others. He quietly went up to the kitchen and took the mosquito spray. He hid it in his hands and waited patiently behind the couch. Then finally when the intensity of the buzzing sounds near him increased he got up and started spraying all over the room. He closed his eyes and began swirling around the room. Diving to take cover every now and then when he saw his enemy braving the spray and still trying to attack. In a few moments it was over. No more buzzing sounds and no more attacks. It was quiet. Extremely quiet.

The only sounds in that room were coming from that of walkie-talkies that were damaged. And the flame flickering with some of the attackers still burning in them. He felt relieved. He was injured a bit in the war. His arms were swollen from a few bites and his hands had blood stains. But he had won the war and that’s what mattered. He sat down on the chair and laid back. The electricity came back then. The first thing he saw was the war zone. His attackers were lying on the floor dead, crushed and smashed. It was a huge army. He just shook his head and decided to watch some television. As soon as he clicked the remote, he felt a shooting pain on his neck. He took evasive action and slapped his neck.

“Target has been hit and nuked. Virus has been infected. Sniper to base. Sniper to base. Over and out”.

Arseploring beyond and beneath: a bootilicious research on human behavior.

2009-02-24T21:10:00.000+05:30

Experts of all disciplines seem at a loss to understand the recent activities of married housewives at yoga classes, usually by individuals who were targets themselves oggling at other members in the class whom they did not know personally nor have any grievance against. The events at South Bangalore are presently of pressing concern to localites, psychologists, and psychiatrists who have been mystified by the apparent surge of blatant oggling attacks by young females who, often, are characterized by those who knew them as unlikely to commit such terrible acts.

At this time, this violent behavior is not sufficiently documented to ascertain whether there is a serious and sad global phenomenon at work. There are indications that similar acts are appearing in other cities besides Bangalore, including Mumbai and Chennai. Still, even if the intensity of these acts of extreme perversion differs with varied conditions, we have yet to clearly understand the individuals who are most driven to do harm to others.

The newspaper descriptions of a 27-year-old housewife from Indiranagar, just after she oggled at 8 people (men and women included), pinched 4 others, and then oggled at herself before breaking into a jig on the terrace of a two-storey building, included the following: “successful employee,” “revered,” “not an outcast,” “won the employee of the month award,” “personable,” “easy to talk to,” “and an exceptionally sweet and soft spoken lady – something must have happened to her.”

Early reports suggested strongly that the oggler/ assaulter was a timid person whose behavior on this occasion was totally out of character and entirely unpredictable. We then learned that she had been rejected from multiple yoga and fitness centers in the previous six months, some in the same area. We know now that she had been in the care of a psychiatrist, had been prescribed psychotropic drugs, may have stopped taking the medications, and removed herself from treatment. We learned that she had been noted as a person who isolated herself and whose vegetable vendor was able to recall incidents in which her behavior was of great concern.

When interviewed after the incident, Muthamma, the vegetable vendor recalls shakingly, "Well, she normally asks for one kilo potatoes and one kilo onions every alternate day. But when I told her that the prices of onions increased, she went started shouting at me and told me that from now on she would never buy onions from me. My husband is a drunkard and I have three kids. What would I do without the money?"

When asked later during one of her therapy sessions, the woman responded saying she had once read a small article on the internet, following which she had changed into this monster. We have managed to track the article: This is an exclusive report, and we can promise you that you won't find it in any other story. We have the best journalists reporting from different parts of the world. This was the dreaded article she read:

Question: How should you react if someone touched your butt?

Answer: It would all depend on the situation. If it was obviously accidental, it is probably best to just let it go.

If it is a situation that is inappropriate, makes you uncomfortable, or the same person keeps 'accidentally' doing it, then you would most likely want to tell the person they are making you uncomfortable and firmly tell them they need to stop. How polite you are about it would vary depending on the situation.

If you are old enough to be thinking about relationships, you enjoyed it, and it was all in good fun, then you may want to ask them if they found something they liked.

When the article was released in the newspaper,spokesperson from Sri Ram Krishna Shiva Samaj, commented that it was not in our culture to be oggling or assaulting at yoga classes. In his words, he believed that Yoga was a method to attain liberation and good health. It was shocking that there exists women or men out there who stoop to such low levels. It's highly immoral. (He continued talking for a really long time, but our staff reporter who was covering this story had to run for cover, since he couldn't keep his hands off her bottom)

Sarah (name changed) is now spending time in the US and is the personal yoga trainer and guru for top hollywood celebrities.

When we tried reaching her, these were her words to us over the telephone: "Stare at a fat (wo)man's ass for long and you would realise it's not bad after all"

Short Series: Milana

2009-02-13T14:22:00.001+05:30

She stood there motionless staring into nothingness. She had been standing like that for a while now. The light from the window slowly filtered through and fell on her hair. That was the only source of light in the room. She didn't blink, she didn't move, she didn't talk.

"Welcome back to Tit-for-tat", said a voice shreaking out of the television screen from the adjacent room. Ricardo was watching some meaningless television. He did that to take his mind off things. He was in line to be sent off from work and he didn't like that feeling. He had been working in that company ever since he quit high school. He got married to Milana during that summer. She was pregnant at that time. It was a marriage that happened out of the blue, they didn't plan for it. He was wild, she was beautiful. He got drunk and she got pregnant. Ricardo got kicked out of his house when he told his parents about Milana. They didn't want to support a son who quit high school and his pregnant girlfriend. His parents were very orthodox. They had a good reputation in the neighbourhood.

The baby was crying. The shrill noise shook Ricardo out of the couch. He threw the ciggie down on the floor and got up cursing the baby. "A man can't watch some TV peacefully in this house", he barked while he took a big swig from the beer can he clutched in his hands. The baby was crying in the room next to the TV room. The noise from the TV was louder than the baby. He stormed into the room and lifted the baby from the cradle. "Shut up, you little piece of Shit. Shut up!", he screamed at the baby. "Why the hell do you cry all the time? And your mommy that witch never bothers about you". Milana had stopped talking to Ricardo. It had been 5 months since she uttered a single word to him. She never left the house. She was silent. Her world had crashed. She didn't want to exist... In that house... With that mad man.

"I'm pregnant", said Milana in a soft tone. "What?", Ricardo was shocked to hear those words. "But,how? I mean, I did use it!", he swallowed his words. He didn't know how to react. "I don't know, Ricardo. Maybe it had a hole or something. How am I supposed to know? And moreover condoms are not 100% safe all the time",clutching Ricardo's hands and shivering while she said those words. He was breathing hard. He was still in high school and he didn't know what else to do. He had to do something. He took a few deep breaths and got up and hugged Milana. "Don't worry baby, I shall work something out". He had no clue about what he could do.

"I think I should quit high school, then maybe I could check with Jack at the store to see if I could work there or something", Ricardo told her while repeating those words again louder in his mind, so as to reassure himself. She stood there next to him. Looking into those eyes that seemed like it had gotten pale. Lifeless. Afraid.

He carried the baby in his arms and walked around the house to find something for the little one to eat. He opened the fridge and saw an old packet of milk, lying cold. He brought the packet to his nose to check if it had gotten spoilt. He didn't really care much. He poured the stale milk onto a bottle and shoved it to the baby's mouth. "Eat this. Maybe that would shut you up for a while".

This happened everyday when he was at home. He had to babysit while Milana chose to stay locked up in her room. He wondered if she took care of the baby when he was not around. He knew certainly that she wouldn't bother whether the baby cried or not. That arrogant witch, he thought to himself. The phone rang then and he placed the baby on the couch and went to answer the phone. It was Jack from the store. There was some emergency and he wanted Ricardo to come to the store immediately. Something to leave this mad house, Ricardo thought as he stormed out of the house.

The baby began to cry again. This time with a lot more pain. He had thrown the bottle down and the bottle lay there with it's lid open and sour milk dripping from the opening. Milana had heard the door shut and snapped out of her trance like state. She slowly closed the blinds on her window blocking the little light that was seeping in. She took a deep breath and began to move. Slowly.

She lifted the baby into her arms and held her closely. She looked deep into the baby's eyes. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She gently placed her fingers on the little one's face and wiped her tears. She kissed her soft on her forehead and whispered, "Don't worry my little angel. It's all going to be fine. Mommy's here now".

Iyer Works

2009-01-28T15:05:00.004+05:30

Ok. I don't have space on my computer and am too broke to buy Cd's or Dvd's. So from now on you could find some of my works (professional) here.

There won't be too much writing there. Just a site that will showcase my works.

Don't worry. This site will still be active:)

Short Series: Anniversary

2009-01-16T14:32:00.001+05:30

Books, handwritten letters, photographs, records, memories and posters, his life were full of them. He woke up religiously at 6 every morning and went straight to his treasure chest, filled with things which others called old junk, but for him it was his life. It was everything he ever wanted and ever owned. He had lived a life the way he wanted. He was 75 and a widower. It had been 15 years since his wife had passed away and he missed her the most. His two sons had left him long ago and he lived in a small house that he built himself near the lake where he met his wife for the first time 45 years ago. It was the place he proposed marriage and she had said yes.

The treasure chest contained all that means the world to him. Photographs of his wife, his kids, some real close friends and memories from each and every one of his trips. He loved to travel and he ensured he took his wife with him everywhere he went. Old records that he used to listen to all his favorite music from everyday on the gramophone player that adorned his desk. He would start his day with some lovely music that would fill the three rooms that he had in his house. Cofi, his dog was the only other living thing that stayed with him.

Rafi’s voice echoed in the background, as he made his first cup of coffee for the day. He whistled to Cofi to fetch the newspaper that was thrown near the gate by the little boy down the lake who delivered his dose of world news. He settled down on the big easy chair overlooking the lake and began sipping his coffee. His face had a lot of wrinkles. His hair was silky but silver in color. He had aged gracefully. Looking at his face one couldn’t understand him completely. One had to look deeper and deeper, like excavating the real face that hid behind all the layers of wrinkles. It was poetry in motion if you had to analyze the man’s face. After completing the newspaper, he walked up to his treasure chest and took out an album. He had collated it himself. With photographs that spanned many decades. He had also written notes about the places where those pictures had been taken to remind him of all the things beautiful in his life. He saw a picture of his wife, this young gorgeous woman who was 26 at the time when the picture was taken. He gently ran his wrinkled, shaky fingers over the picture, caressed her face and smiled. A drop of tear trickled down from his eyes and changed its course many times before falling on the back of his hand. He scrolled through the many pictures that adorned his album and he did this everyday.

He would then take another paper bag which had all the letters that his wife had written to him when he was in the army. The letters were very brittle, almost had a shade of brownish yellow after all these years. He still loved the smell of his dead wife’s perfume on those letters. He had been in the army a year after he had gotten married and was away from his wife for four years. He still believed that it was those four years that made him realize that she was the one he wanted to spend all his life with. These letters were worth a fortune. Every time he read those letters, he could visualize his wife reading it out to him, speaking to him. He could feel her presence. That’s why he did that everyday. The many names she would address him by, the little fights they had, things that were bothering her in his absence. It was magic.

Today as he was reading those letters, he was overcome with emotion. It was their anniversary. After he was done with the last letter, he closed the box and walked up to the lake. He stood there gazing at the water. He could see his reflection on the water. His eyes were moist. As he kept looking at his reflection, he could see another person next to him. There she was, smiling at him. He whispered, “Happy Anniversary, My love. What would you like to have for lunch”?

Predictions for 2009

2009-01-12T17:43:00.002+05:30

*Drum Roll*

Ladies & Worms,

With the New Year mood out (it’s been more than 12 days now) of the way and everyone getting back to the grind of lots of work and recession. It’s time once again for HORRORSCOPE. The reason for writing Horror Scope now you may ask, well I have a lot of time on hand, no money and absolutely no work. So if you give me another two minutes, I could come up with more reasons as to why am writing this post.

So let me get straight to the point here. Take a piece of paper, tissue, bills, tablecloth, anything. Just make a note coz this is the prediction for the year. Thank me later.

*Takes a deep breath*

Pisces:
2009 = 2+0+0+9 which totals to 11 that in turn becomes 1+1 and finally adds up to 2. Ok. It’s got nothing to do with the prediction. Am just brushing up my mathematics skills. This year is perfect for that loooong holiday that you have been planning for years now. That’s coz as soon as you finish reading this prediction your boss is going to call you and fire you from the job. So, I say just pack your bag and enjoy the holiday and come back when the economy of the country becomes better or when companies start hiring again. 6 is your lucky number (that’s the amount that would be left on your bank account two months from now) and black is your lucky color. (Don’t ask me everything).

Aries:
I see water, lots of it. Wait a minute, no sorry, that’s just coz someone turned the tap on and forgot to close it. (Concentrates harder) You guys know exactly what’s going on in your life. You don’t need any funny/ scary/ serious prediction or horoscope. You were broke earlier, you are broke now and you will be broke for a really long time. So try eating at home, drinking at home and staying at home.

Taurus:
You tend to be headstrong and deliberate in your actions. Basically you don't give a fuck about anyone. Most people hate you but you couldn't care less. You will not be invited to any weddings this year, including yours. Your friends (well, sorry wrong prediction) you don’t have any friends and that’s how it will be even this year. (I just can’t stand a whole bunch of taurians) So, EAT THIS!!! You neither have a lucky number nor a lucky color.

Gemini:
I know who you did last Halloween. The funny thing is he knows it too. You will have a lot of bisexual tendencies this year. A whole bulk of your savings this year will be spent on online chat rooms and weird toys. Let the net-nanny save you.

Cancer:
You will wake up on the wrong side of the bed everyday for the next 66 days. On the 67th day you will not wake up. You have a dreaded disease that no one knows and no one can cure. Rest in peace.

Leo:
Keep saying sorry as many times as possible. People will pull you up for everything, whether you have done it or not. Chances are most probably you wouldn’t have done it. That’s coz you just can’t to save your life. You are daft, obnoxious and a complete pain in the butt. How dare you read this horoscope? Go and do your work shithead.

Aquarius:
You would be called to audition for a toothpaste brand. Not because you are a good looking model, but you are the reason why they have created something called toothpaste. Use it. Please and don’t stink up the room.

Scorpio:
You’re the type who wouldn’t have moved straight down to Scorpio but stopped and read every other sign till you reached here. You have an identity crisis and you’re also a cross dresser. Take my word and quickly replace your sister’s dress back in her shelf before you get caught. And don’t be shocked when you find your clothes in her shelf.

Virgo:
Your cell phone will explode during a conference call. So avoid conference calls through the year. Today’s going to be the day when they’re going to throw it back to you. By now you should’ve somehow realized what you got to do. Don’t go too close to a cow; it will fart on your face.

Capricorn:
The threat mail that you wanted to send your boss, well what do you know, has finally been sent. Get a faster internet connection before you plan to send that PowerPoint presentation with nude pictures of your boss with his dog. Please mask your face from the remaining pictures.

Libra:
You will have a major reconstructive knee surgery on your stomach. This is what happens when you have George.W.Bush as your role model. Avoid wearing shoes. That crush of yours that you have been thinking about all these months, well she is pregnant and carrying your best friend’s baby. Watch your back and don’t bend in the presence of other men.

Sagittarius:
You have giant man boobs that sag. Your mouth stinks like a drain. Your nails are long and dirty. Your skin has puss oozing all over. But you’re a kind hearted soul. You’re the type who likes to help old ladies cross the road but they think you’re out there to rob them off their money and they beat you with their walking stick.

The year that was

2009-01-08T11:06:00.000+05:30

First up a very Happy New Year to everyone who happens to drop into this mad world every now and then or often. Have a fantastic year ahead and it feels nice to sit down and write something in this space not just coz I enjoy doing it, but also knowing that there are people like you out there who make it worthwhile. Give yourself a nice pat on the back from me.

It has been a little more than four years now since my first post. Four years, wow that sounds like a long time. But it has been one hell of a ride so far. The many blogs I have read over the years, the many people I have had the pleasure of meeting and the interesting conversations I have had with a whole bunch. Nostalgia time has set in again.

2008 has been a year that taught me a lot of things. It was a year where I worked in two agencies and by the end of it, had quit both. It was the year that made me realize that I really don’t want to write ads anymore. It was the year that made me put my foot down and say ‘I want to make films and that’s all I want to do’. It was the year I met her. It was the year of major spiritual journeys. It was the year where I lost him. It was the year when potato land refused my visa. It was the year when I knew I loved her. It was the year I told her I love her. It was the year I was misunderstood. It was the year when I was really happy. It was the year that made me cry. It was the year that made me realize that I hate farewells. It was the year that made me take a helmet and travel to Bombay. It was a beautiful year.

The year started off in a very drunken state. And maybe that’s why the first few months were confusing. I was thinking a lot and I was letting things get to me. Bother me. Upset me. But I guess the fag end of the year made up for all the madness. It was slow, it gave me a lot of time to think and understand my life. It made me strong and it gave me a lot of clarity. It has been a joy ride hence.

It’s 2009. It’s a brand New Year. The year seems like it has a lot in store for me. The year where I hope to prove a few people wrong. To correct my previous statement, I think I hope to prove myself wrong this year. A year where I hope to understand the complexities of Income Tax. A year to hopefully travel out of the country.

I closed my eyes to think about what to write next. These are the images that came into my mind.

Bike rides, music, laughter, family, friends, inspiration, travel, books, food, cooking, you, poetry, love, fun, you, kids, photos, posters, maya, prayer.

Happy 2009.

What's in a name?

2008-12-16T14:32:00.004+05:30

I say it's all in the name.

I love my name and I can’t be happier that my parents have good taste.

Now that I have made my thank you speech, I would like to dedicate this post to everyone in this planet (and beyond) who’ve had the misfortune of having lived and who are living with the most dreadful names. This one’s for all you people.

I remember reading somewhere that you are what your name is. A name is so important in defining a person. And in most cases it is the one thing that you live with all your life.

In this post I shall talk about the people who I know in person, people who I have seen walking around in the schools and colleges where I have studied and a select few I have had to work with and a couple of people who I know off. I love you all I have the utmost respect for each one of you.

Jijo. J. Jajan – This poor mallu friend of mine had a name that was so bouncy and slippery and he was just like that. Short, stout and with greasy hair smelling of fish all the time. He was the target of all insults and ridicule throughout his school life (am sure he is still being poked fun at wherever he is right now). Imagine him in some exotic country where the alphabet ‘J’ is silent or pronounced as ‘H’- Hiho. H. Hahan. My god, Santa would probably like to adopt him as his personal assistant.

Jetty Jean Joy Kutty - Another mallu (what is it with some mallu’s and their names) person who studied in the college where I did my undergrad. She was very silent always. Initially I didn’t know why she was like that, but when I got introduced to her, I knew the secret. How can someone be an extrovert with a name like that? People always had this thing of shortening a person’s name and calling them while in school or college (even now?). Imagine how it would be to call her. Any which way you try and truncate the name; it either sounds corny, cheeky or just plain stupid.

Latha. K. Lund – I feel so bad for you girl. In fact I feel bad for your dad, Mr.Lund. But on second thoughts, I don’t feel bad for your dad. If he had to live all his life with a name like that, he should have had some sense to not add his name as your surname. And for a girl to have that as her surname is just plain SAD. In school the teachers always had this annoying ritual of calling people out with their full name and initials while the roll call to check the attendance. No wonder you always had a proxy person say ‘Present ma’m’ in the morning. Get married or move out to a country where people don’t understand Hindi.

Brooke Shields - She was my junior in college. Slim, dark and a very nice person no where close to her namesake celeb. I guess her dad must have had the hots for the actor and thought it a good idea to name his daughter that, so every time he called her, he got his share of joy.

Infant - I met this man a few years back and he was 39. And he introduced himself as Infant and I was like, Get out of here. You’re kidding me. Felt the whole time I was with him and people calling him by his name and all I could picture was this man of 39 sitting on his office desk with a feeding bottle and a bib. I couldn’t sleep for a good one week thanks to all the nightmares.

I met a friend from kerala. He told me the secret behind some of the most bizarre and weird names from malluland. A couple get married, say John gets married to Jincy (Yes, Jincy is a name and I didn’t make that up) and they have a kid. What do you know, it’s a boy. Now comes the part of naming the boy. They take the first two alphabets from the dad’s name and add the first two letters from the mom’s name and voila they have a new name: Joji. It doesn’t stop there. They need to add the name of their village, the name of their street and the name of their house. So in the end the boy’s name is: Joji Kutty Thillaberambil Vincent. And by the time he learns to spell his name he is a 40 yr old Infant.

A good friend’s grand dad when he was working in the US of A had a girlfriend who he just couldn’t forget. So what does the old man do, name his grand daughter that. And no wonder she is grand pa’s favorite. This helped her with a lot of pocket money and our best friend.

Some more names of people who I don’t know really well, but know off: Steffi Graf, Michael Jackson, Mother Mary (I know you are devoted and all that, but how can a new born be called Mother Mary), Rajnikanth and finally Madhuri Dixit (her dad’s surname is Pundit).

Now that I have spoken about all this. How could I not mention the various Baby Mami's and Puppy Mami's in an Iyer family. I remember this very old paati in my family who was still called Baby when she was 92. It is not an affectionate name, but their actual name that is Baby and Puppy. To top this there are the chaachi's and the chachu's. Lallu's and the paapa's.

And after all the love, I just want to add this special note of hate to the guy who typed my name on my voter identity card. I don’t know how in the world he ended up typing that, maybe he sneezed while typing and just didn’t bother correcting it, or maybe he didn’t sleep the previous night and dozed off on the keyboard, or maybe he couldn’t type, maybe he was blind, maybe it was a new born who was given the duty to type names on voter identity cards. But whatever be the case he typed something that has made me think twice about taking the card and going to a voting booth and admitting I am in fact that person. Yes, the name of the card reads: dfhkuyhdi!!! (That little son of a…)

Short Series - The letter

2008-12-12T21:26:00.001+05:30

I don’t think I can stop thinking about you. In fact I don’t think I want to….

He sat down in a coffee shop and began writing a note to her.

There have been times in my life when I have met a lot of people. Some have stayed on for a while and some left in a hurry. But you’re the one person whom I love (d) with all my heart and I don’t think I have ever felt this way before.

I have wanted to do this for a while now, but never really got along doing it. Enough is enough. Today, I just want you to know how I feel about you.

Taking a deep drag from his cigarette he continued writing.

I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight. Because my feeling towards you had already started before I even met you. I saw you smiling when I saw a text from you; I pictured the glint in your eyes when you laughed while talking to me on the phone. The way you spoke to me in your mails, I could sense your presence next to me and the words flowing effortlessly. Meeting you was the only thing left.

The cigarette had gone off by then. He lit it again and chucked the matchstick aside. Looking at the smoke, he smiled to himself and exhaled the smoke. His eyes were moist.

What is it that am going through? If I have to put words to this feeling that am experiencing, it would have to be ‘Peaceful Pain’. I feel happy every time I think about you and it’s painful when you are not here with me. I want you to see how happy you make me and I want to see that smile on your face. I know I can make you smile.

Would she even read this? Would she understand? Those were his thoughts. He stopped writing. He read the lines again and again. Slowly and then he read it out loud. He paused and stopped in places where he wanted her to stop. He closed his eyes and saw her. A smile escaped his lips. She still had this spell on him.

I remember the time when we sat in my house and spoke. About life, about the many things we want to do in life, about our goals. I remember the passion in your eyes when you told me the things you wanted to do in life. It all seems like yesterday that you were with me and now when I think about it, it has already been a while since I saw you or heard from you.

He was feeling emotional now. His hands were trembling. The third cup of coffee that he had ordered was now cold and almost over. The packet of cigarettes that was on the table next to him was almost over. He closed his eyes again and was thinking about what to write next. He slipped into a zone, a comfortable zone and was shaken back to reality when a car began honking loudly. He settled down and continued writing.

I want you to know that I will always be there for you and I want you to be happy in life. I want you to go out there and achieve everything that you always wanted to. I want you to know that everything that I have ever told you I meant with all my heart. I want you to…I want you.

He took one long look at the letter and sighed. He folded the letter and scribbled 23 on the back of the cover.

He placed the cover in a bag. There were a bunch of covers in that bag. He placed this one next to number 22.

Short Series- Showdown

2008-12-11T18:29:00.002+05:30

‘There is no us. There never was. And please don’t call me again or try and meet me. It’s over’. Those were her final words. He could still feel the intensity of her voice, the look in her eyes. It ended as suddenly as it had started.

‘I have always wanted to show you this place’, Anoop said while holding Maya’s hands. It was love at third sight for Anoop. He saw Maya for the first time at a friend’s wedding. She was the bridesmaid and Anoop just had to be the best man. They hit it off so well like young teenage girls in a washroom. They had so much to talk about and so many things to explore.

‘I don’t get it man, you see a girl and you know her for three days and you say you’re in love’? Avinash barked at Anoop. That was the second showdown in as many days between the two men. Anoop had made his mind. He was ready to leave everything for his love. His true love.

Maya was everything that Anoop ever wanted in a girl. In fact Maya was someone who everyone would fall for in an instant. It had to be her eyes. Those big brown eyes, sparkling like a rare diamond every time a smile escaped her lips. Her hair falling soft on her thin face. The way she nonchalantly brushed those thin strands off her eyes with her fingers. The nose ring… Maya was sensual.

The last three days had been the best three days of Anoop’s life. He had never felt this way before. He had never felt attracted to someone so much before and here he was smitten completely by the beautiful Maya.

It was on the fourth day of their time together when they decided to go on a drive. Maya loved long drives, sunsets and the mountains. Anoop decided to surprise her when he showed up at her doorstep at 4 in the evening with some lovely orchids. He could see how happy she was to see him there. Her surprise was made even more fruitful when Anoop asked her to get into his car and they drove away towards Anoop’s farmhouse near Malay Hills, a 100km journey from Maya’s house.

The music in the car was Maya’s favorite. Anoop made it a point to do everything to please his lady love. He had remembered in detail every little piece of information that Maya had given him in the time that they spent together.

Anoop had his eyes locked into Maya’s expressive eyes and for what seemed like ages didn’t want to look elsewhere. Then it happened. Crash! A loud thud and the windshield came crashing in close to their face. Anoop ducked to avoid the broken glass from hitting his face and Maya. He turned around to figure out what had just happened and he brought the car to a screeching halt.

There was blood all around the car, the windshield, the seat and on the tar road near the car. What did he just hit? Anoop got out of the car and stood there confused, shivering and sweating profusely. ‘Maya are you alright?’ he asked. Maya. Maya. Where was she? What happened to her?
Maya was lying motionless in the next bed next to Anoop. She refused to talk to anyone. She had a fracture on her leg and bruises on her pretty face and elbows. Anoop on the other hand had three stitches on his chin and a dislocated elbow.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt that man. I didn’t see him there’, Anoop was trying really hard to convince Maya of the unfortunate incident. ‘You didn’t see him there coz you were not looking Anoop. You were supposed to look at the damn road’, Maya was trying to make her point across, but barely managing a squeal. It was a difficult time for both of them. And they were dealing with it in the way they knew. Their friends decided to stay out of it and left the two alone in their beds and walked away promising to come and look them up the next day.

For three months after the accident, Maya refused to neither meet Anoop nor answer his calls. Anoop was left wondering why Maya was acting this way and he was feeling let down, disappointed and deeply hurt with the whole turn of events.

And the day when they did meet it made Anoop’s world crash in front of him, with him feeling sucked in with great force. Maya had come to his house on a Saturday evening dressed like she would on any given day. Lovely, sensuous and breathtaking. She stormed out of her car and walked towards the door. Anoop was on a phone call with a client and he stepped out with a cup of coffee and the phone to his ear. He saw Maya and didn’t know how to react. He could barely talk on the phone. He was overcome with emotion and it was a surprise that he didn’t think would ever happen. ‘I guess I might have to call you back’, Anoop managed to speak these words to the client who was on the line and disconnected the call and placed the cup of coffee on the table next to him and walked slowly towards her.

Anoop gave her a soft smile. Maya looked cold. She seemed cold and she acted extremely different.

‘There is no us. There never was. And please don’t call me again. It’s over’. Those were her final words. It ended as suddenly as it had started.

It's not the same anymore...

2008-11-30T18:29:00.000+05:30

Tear drops and candle lights
Bloody souls and sleepless nights,
Death is just the beginning
It’s not the same anymore.

Fatal minds, the scars they wore
Casual walks no fun no more,
Smoky plumes across the clouds
It’s not the same anymore.

Heads do spin when bodies crumble
There is madness in this jungle,
Debris burn and birds don’t fly
It’s not the same anymore.

Sounds they were, oh, so haunting
Posing casually, guns they were flaunting,
Danger lies around the corner
It’s not the same anymore.

Women, Children- Young and Old
Lives are way more precious than Gold,
Terror has an ugly face
It’s not the same anymore.

Tempers flare and people stare
Need a place to hide, but where?
My heart is heavy and too numb
It’s not the same anymore.

Huh what?

2008-11-26T13:29:00.000+05:30

The time on my clock shows 2 a.m.

What am I doing up so late? Staring at a piece of paper and listening to some music.

All I want is you. My mind keeps saying that to me. I have no clue what that means.

I can feel the wind. It must be cold outside. I’m wrapped in my blanket with the fan switched off. I’m not about to sleep. I need the gentle sound from the fan when am sleeping.

Guitar strums and cigarette smoke. Old monk rum and drum beats. Bob Marley and Beatles.

It’s all like fine wine. The older it is the better.

Tell me, tell me, tell me.

I just want to write what my mind wants me to. I don’t think I want to stop.

The ashtray is flooded. Jimi Hendrix looks like he is anemic. Maybe he is just dehydrated. ‘Here you go, Jimi. Some water’. This might help you.

You’re such a mean old man. Oh come on. She’s a go getter. You’re such a dirty old man.

Do you think you can get away with this mess that you have created?

You’re such a mean old man. You’re just a dirty old fag.

The Big Secret

2008-11-21T11:04:00.001+05:30

The Pavement Baba never spoke much. He believed in the saying ‘When you know quite a bit… Shut Up’. He was a man of actions. In simple words, he was someone worth watching.

With his simple dressing style, captivating smile and intense eyes, he was a nice man whom you could see while walking on 12^th Main Road. A green bag hanging from his shoulders, jeans rolled up almost up to his knees, a branded pair of sandals, packet of beedi and a book for company, the Pavement Baba was a man with just one mission- Never have a mission… though a vision might help on the long run.

Every once in a while, one can find a group of people standing around the Baba and talking eagerly. He had a knack of saying just one line which would be the answer to ten questions from five different people. Such was the power of his words. To share Baba’s beedi is like understanding the purpose of life… or Baba was generous that day… or one was just plain lucky.

The Baba had slightly longish hair that started from a rather big and wide forehead. Brown eyes and a sharp nose and a smile oh so radiating all the time. His mouth had a sole purpose, to help him smoke his beedis, to continue smiling and to occasionally speak. Food, coming to think of it, either Baba never ate or the food never liked him.

It was always a mystery as to why the Baba wore his jeans or any trouser folded up to his knees. A number of people had tried to find the secret or the bigger meaning or the absolute truth behind the phenomenon, but they always failed crashing all their beliefs.

One day while a bunch of people were sitting around Baba, a kid managed to draw enough courage and asked Baba the reason behind the way he wore his jeans. Baba quietly smiled, then lighting his beedi, took a deliberately long drag from the beedi and exhaled… Looking directly in the eyes of the kid Baba smiled and said, ‘The reason kid… is silence…a dog… and a Silencer’.

Everyone sat there mesmerized wonderstruck and confused with the response. Baba then got up from the pavement and began to walk. That’s when the group of people gathered there understood what the Baba had meant when he spoke those words.

Baba limped his way across the street with a huge burn oh his leg. ‘ It’s coz of all the energy’ someone commented, ‘No, it’s coz of the endless hours of meditation’ someone said, ‘I’m sure it’s because of all the beedi he smokes’ another person barked, the kid who was silently observing all this slowly said, ‘It’s because of a dog and a silencer’.

Baba turned around from across the road and smiled. ‘True Son. True’, he said softly and limped away into the darkness.

Pavement Revelations

2008-11-12T12:32:00.001+05:30

The vehicular cacophony from the road was music to his ears. The rumbling sound from his tummy was the perfect percussion. Sitting on the pavement he wrote.

The words started to flow as he paused to let the moment sink in. The sky was blue and clear like a young lady’s eyes, the air smelling of crispy somosas and cheap cigarette. Putting the scribbling pad on his thigh and biting the tip of the pencil he was holding so dearly, he was watching the sights and sounds around him.

A eunuch with flashy bangles and marigold on her hair swayed her way towards him. She placed a hand on his head and blessed him or at least he wished she had. On the contrary she now stood next to him demanding money. He didn’t want to give her any and continued his distant stare into nothingness ignoring the presence of a rather dusky, brightly draped eunuch in a saree that was riding high unto her ankles. This continued for a while and the agitated woman then cursed him under her breath and walked away showing him and the few people who had gathered around an ample view of her flat chest and hairy arms.

As the evening sun slowly began setting behind the tall buildings, he could see the moon playing hide and seek with the clouds. He stopped everything that he was doing and continued to gaze at the beauty of the white ball that was playing tricks with him. A smiled escaped the corner of his mouth.

The scribbling pad now had a lot of doodles. Of little boys in sweaters, of mothers holding the hands of their little ones and walking on a street, of dogs lying under push carts selling tender coconuts, of the eunuch smiling and posing like a model.

“All that a man has to say or do that can
possibly concern mankind is in some shape
or other to tell the story of his love-
and to sing; and if he is fortunate and
keeps alive, he will be forever in love.”

He remembered Thoreau’s words that he had read in a book recently. They made so much sense, he thought to himself. Or maybe they always made sense but it was only now that he had the clarity that he could understand the essence and the meaning of those lines.

A kid with bright wide eyes came closer to him and was amazed looking at the doodles on his pad. He stood there mesmerized with a smile and pointed at one of the doodles & said something like, “Dog. Alsatian?” Was that a question that he was asking or a discovery that he just did? He wondered what it would have been, but smiled at the kid and showed a couple of tricks he had learnt from his father. It was simple, the tricks. How to make a police officer from a tea cup and how to draw a person’s face with all the numbers from 0 to 9. He was amazed looking at how his father could make something so real with such ease. And he felt the same effect and joy on the kid as it was his when he was small.

He folded the pad and placed it back into the bag he was carrying. He lit a smoke. He walked away from the pavement as he saw an elderly couple walking towards him. He always felt that smoking in the presence of elders was in some way being disrespectful and he didn’t want to do anything to annoy them or spoil their evening walk. As he walked through narrow lanes, he could see the neon lights beginning to light up the streets and the shops. There was a lot of activity on the street. He saw a bright light coming from one of the shops that sold antiques. He loved that shop. He could get some of the most amazing things from there and his house was in fact full of little things that he had bought from this shop.

The shopkeeper was a friend and he waved a friendly hello and continued to explain the working of an old grandfather clock to an eager customer. He knew his way around the shop and hence didn’t bother waiting for a sales person to direct him. He went to the corner of the room, where he knew was a drop down ladder that took him to the attic where a lot of antiques were dumped, stored not dumped according to the owner. He moved to the dimly lit attic and his nostrils were immediately filled with the smell of old rugs, dust filled books and lamps and rodent pee. He smiled to himself remembering his conversation once with the owner about cleaning up the attic and him moving in to that place filled with absolute treasures. He saw an old book dumped alongside kashmiri shawls and half-broken temple idols and some old furniture. He lifted the book and dusted the cover. The dust from the book moved up like mist with the moonlight coming into the room from a broken down window pane.

“The works of Thoreau”, it said in big bold typography.

On a sudden he knew what was going to keep him occupied.

Nirvana

2008-11-03T16:13:00.002+05:30

I was lying there, stretched and sprawled on the floor with my eyes closed.

I saw a big tree. It was the only tree.

I saw the silhouette of someone sitting under that tree. The place looked isolated. It seemed to be in a place that people normally stayed away from. The air was still and there was no movement on the tree or the leaves. There was an eerie silence and the sound of silence was overwhelming.

The sun was setting and the orange glow was harsh but soothing at the same time.

I moved closer.
I saw something. I saw someone.

The man was sitting with his legs crossed and his arms on his thighs. I was certain he had his eyes closed. But all I could see was his back. I moved closer. Looking at that person had a calming effect on me.

I had a lot of questions on my mind lately and something made me feel that the solution is just around the corner. Sitting under that tree.

I went around the tree to now face the man sitting under the giant branches and the still leaves. I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. The man… sitting… under the tree… was Me.

I stood there with my mouth wide open and my eyes literally falling off the socket. ‘This can’t be happening’, I thought to myself. ‘How is this possible’? The voices in my head were LOUD.

There was something about looking at a peaceful Me. The closed eyes, the slight smile escaping from the corner of the lips, the body that felt so light like it could fly any moment. It was divine, it was blissful and I could feel the happiness that I was experiencing looking at Me.

For the first time in what seemed like a really long time, my muscles relaxed and I was comfortable with the whole concept of observing Me. I decided to sit back and enjoy this little trip.

It wouldn’t have been long before I spotted a white bird flying out from its nest in the tree. The bird was white, so white that it seemed like someone had emptied a bucket of white paint on the bird. The bird’s eyes were red. With its long wings, the bird swayed elegantly from the tree and flew towards the sky. When I looked up to see the bird flying, the ground below me caved in and I began to fall. I was feeling so light. I was plummeting with great force and intensity. I was petrified. Then I saw the silhouette of Me also dropping just like how I was.

During the fall, the only thing I could feel was my heart beating real fast but my body feeling so light. In fact it made me feel like there was nothing on my body except the beating heart. In the course of the fall, I was turned upside down and I could see a bright yellow light? Was it a yellow lake? Or a Sea?

I fell head first into the yellow light. Immediately I felt a heat wave flow through my entire body. From head-to- toe. It seemed to take its own time to burn my body. I could feel the heat. It was intense. But with every inch of the wave moving across my body, the feeling was just unbelievable. I felt so much joy, I sensed peace, and I felt I was being liberated.

When my body was immersed into the yellow light the heat was way too much to handle. I could sense a glow of that light on my face. I closed my eyes unable to face the intensity of the light and the moment. Just when I was enjoying the heat and the peace it gave me, the light stopped. The bright yellow that engulfed me and which had reached my toes, stopped. Then the next instant like it was being sucked out of me, it shot right up from my toes towards my head. This time the light became a bright red. As the light was moving in such great speed through my body, I could feel a certain chillness in my body that was soothing. The red spark was now moving upwards with greater speed and it reached my forehead. It stayed there. My temple was throbbing from the intensity of the spark. My body was cold.

While the spark continued to stay at my forehead, it was just mind blowing. My body was cold and I was flooded with waves and waves of bliss. It felt like there was a waterfall of nectar in my body. I could feel the sweetness of the substance. I could feel the elixir.

Then in just the same intensity as it had when it was sucked from my toes to my forehead it went above my skull. It stayed there for a fraction of a second and all I could see was one big gigantic red ball of fire in front of my eyes. Then it was zapped away from my sight and it was gone.

‘What just happened?’ I asked myself as I tried connecting to make sense of the whole incident. The tree, the white bird, the meditating Me, the drop into the underground world (paatala), the yellow light, the heat, the red spark, the chill, the joy, the bliss and the experience as a whole. It was orgasmic.

I feel light now, I feel happy now, I feel peace with myself and the world around me.

What just happened?

The effective art of cutting and pasting

2008-10-19T12:30:00.000+05:30

There is something about sitting late night in an edit studio watching the monitor as the film is getting done. The way you look at shots and sequences over and over again. The way they still don’t make it look redundant.

The voice over that keeps coming on during the edit: cut, paused, stopped and chopped at various places to ensure that the voice matches the shots and is in synch with the music and any other background score that you have in mind for the film.

I have sat in edit studios a number of times in the last six years and every time I sit in a studio it has been unbelievable. There is something about looking at the screen hours on end, trying to make something productive out of all the shots, stock that you have. It makes me feel like a sculptor. I make something look beautiful out of just the raw stuff.
It makes me feel like God.

When I walk into the studio, I have so many thoughts in my head. I think about all the many things I can do with what I have. I think about all the many things I can bring to the film. I think about my client. I think about the editor who am sure hasn’t slept in the last 72 hours. I think about the many hours of studio time that I or my company might be paying for. I think about my friends who I haven’t met in a long time. I think about the studio assistants who don’t get tired of the many I times I ask them to make coffee for me or to run down the street to buy me cigarettes. I think. Because I get paid for my thoughts. I get paid to think.

In the last six years I have met so many people. Editors. They are one of a kind. Most of the editors I have had the pleasure of working with, have been amazing people. Extremely soft spoken and I have always felt they talk less, because the lesser the things to edit, the better a film looks. Maybe they have adapted that kind of a lifestyle.

Some of them think.

I only wish all of them did. It makes my job so much easier. But do I really want to take the easy way out here? I don’t think so.

There is something about sitting in a studio and having an argument with the editor. He does his job, and am trying to do mine. “A dissolve here would work just fine”, I bark at the editor while I light my smoke and stare at the screen with a blank expression. He would look at me like am committing the biggest sin of my life. “A dissolve? You must be joking”, he would snarl back frothing. In the end after repeated effects and arguments we would settle for a fade.

Its little things like this that makes my time at a studio pleasurable and worthwhile. The amount of things one gets to learn. The various tools one gets to understand. This one’s for all the editors I have worked with.

The End.

(I know you’re smiling now. Fine it’s over. Burn the DVDs and send me the bill)

It was 6 in the evening...

2008-10-13T13:46:00.001+05:30

I was sitting next to the glass overlooking the busy evening traffic on 12th Main road. The sights were not something new to me. I have sat there by the same window with a coffee and observed people and vehicles on the road. But it felt different today. It felt extremely different.

As if someone had shot a video of the busy traffic and was playing it in slow motion for me to sit and watch. Cars were moving past me, with their headlights on high beam. A cyclist was trying to avoid the puddle on the road that was present thanks to the confusing weather pattern that this city is blessed (cursed) with. An old couple walking hand in hand and all that was missing was an old kishore kumar or Rafi’s song.

Suddenly everything stopped. Everyone stopped. The slow motion was over. Someone had pressed the pause button. They knew I was watching. They knew I loved the whole scene that was being played before my eyes. The coffee tasted lovelier than always. The mosquitoes seemed to have taken a break to watch this movie too. Didn’t feel a single one of those blood sucking thingies on my skin for what seemed like a long time.

“Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man. Play a song for me”. I don’t think am sleepy and I don’t think am letting anything come and stop me from experiencing something that I have never felt before. This was completely insane.

Where is my beer when I need one? There it was. On the footpath. I could see how cold it was. I could sense the chill from the other side of the road. Bliss awaits me and all I need to do is cross the road and take it. Cross the road when everything had stopped or so I thought.

Bam. Bam. Crash.

I was lying on the road with my back on the tar road. My head felt funny. My hands were too numb. My leg. I think. Was bleeding? Missing? I don’t know.

“Are you ok?” I heard a voice. A girl’s voice, calling out to me. I opened my eyes. The sun was directly on me. I couldn’t see anything. Everything was dark. I closed my eyes.

There were people around me. They were looking at me. I felt like I was in some zoo. With people paying up at the entrance to come watch me. Perform.

Hindustani music was playing in the background and there it was. The old man smiling at me from the adjacent bed. He was singing. He was the singer, whose voice I had been hearing all evening?

He had a cardiac arrest. The poor old man. He was singing so well. I missed him. I will miss him.

Suno bhai sadho…. suno bhai sadho…

Satisfaction Guaranteed

2008-10-02T23:32:00.001+05:30

'Done', said the voice.

'That's it'? he asked quizzically. He had been there inside the room barely for ten minutes and now it's over. That's not what he had heard. He had been eagerly looking forward to the experience. He had dreamt about it. He had fantasised about it. Even rehearsed the whole event in his head a million times over before he could get himself to come there. And now like an overblown bubble, like a monkey on heat, it was over.

He felt like he had been cheated. He felt completely let down. Tears slowly formed. His eyes became moist. His lips began to quiver. His hands trembled as he reached for his jeans. The people who entered the room moved back. No one knew how to react. The man standing closest to him ducked for cover behind the red couch that was placed strategically for the comfort of the customers. The others quickly followed his actions. His knees felt weak. His stomach was getting queasy.

'This can't be it. This really can't be....'

He screamed. With his face buried between his palms. His whole body was shivering. He felt a hand tap him on the shoulder.

'That would be 500 rupees', the voice said.

He lifted his head up. There, he saw her standing in front of him. Her hair looked neatly in place. Better than his. He was sweating. She was surely not amused with his melodrama.

'Pay up and beat it mister. I have more clients waiting', she said.

He reached for his wallet with great difficulty. He took the money and offered it to her. She pointed towards the cash counter where her assistant was waiting with a stare. The assistant had bright red lipstick on. She had very big bust and it seemed like they were heaving with all the anger. She looked more like a man. She snatched the money from him and showed him the door. He could barely walk. He literally crawled out through the door. The door closed behind him.

He inched his way a bit more. Flashes of the french movie he saw a few days back came flooding. His temples where throbbing. With all the courage he could muster, he turned back. There it said, the sign on top of the door....

"Amazing Matilda- The salon experience you will never forget".

Special Memories of Special People

2008-09-26T20:09:00.000+05:30

It was early evening when I decided to walk at the park near my house. I stepped out wearing a simple t-shirt and a pair of jeans that was crying for a wash. It had been a while since I did that. Wash & Walk.

I heard the familiar sounds of the horse-cart that picked and dropped school kids. The guy who managed the cart was a friend of mine. That’s coz I used to take the same cart to go to school back in the time when I was in school. He stopped the cart got down and smiled at me. His face all wrinkled now. Years of drinking had made his breath smell like the cheap Monitor whiskey that he drank all the time. He moved closer to me. He was hunching now and he walked slowly. I smiled and waved at him. The kids sitting in the cart were noisy, as all kids were in the evening, all geared up to reach home and play. The old man asked about me, what I was doing, about how my parents were and told me that his health had been pretty bad lately. I remembered his son. A little boy who used to drop milk packets in every house at 5 in the morning. He worked hard and went to school upon insistence from my parents. The old man then told me that he would come by my house later since it was holiday season for the kids. I smiled and continued to walk. I knew why he wanted to come home.

The park was pretty crowded that evening. The weather was nice. The sun setting slowly behind the distant mountains that enveloped the area like a bowl. The sky was orange. It was glowing. An old couple with their walking stick were walking slowly on the path that surrounds the park. Stopping and smiling at friendly faces that they have seen over the years. A bunch of kids were playing cricket. With red bricks lined up one on top of the other leaning like the tower of Pisa as the wicket. I smiled. Thought to myself, some things just never change.

The lady who sold flowers was sitting by herself near the park gate. That was her spot. She must have been in her mid 30’s when I saw her first. She was dark, plump with a huge bosom. A friendly smile always lit up her face. There she was sitting & arranging the flowers from the sheet on the floor. I used to enjoy watching her fingers work magic on those flowers. Tiny buds when touched by her would blossom into fine garlands. The way she used to call out to customers. Her smile. The sweat was dripping from her forehead like pearls. She would take her saree and wipe the sweat. She saw me walking past and called out to me. I smiled and walked towards her. She was more than happy to see me. I had not been home for a while now. I went and stood next to her. She beckoned me to sit down and screamed to a little boy in the next stall to get a bottle of ‘Color’ for me. They never called it a cool drink or a soft drink. It was always Color and they liked to call it that. She started asking me about work. She wanted to know how much money I was making. That was a common thing with people like her. They wouldn’t understand if I told them that I was making advertisements or I was aspiring to make a movie. But they always want to know how much money I was making. Strangely any amount that I tell them makes them happy. She was telling me that I had lost a lot of weight and that I need to take care of my health. And the one question that she would always ask me, if I was married or when I’m planning to. I spent some time chatting with her and decided to continue with my walk. She wished me well and asked me to drop by anytime to pick up flowers for my girlfriend or my wife when I get married. Promising her that I would surely get all the flowers for my wedding from her I moved away.

The sun by now had almost sunk behind the mountains and it was beginning to get dark. The kids who were playing cricket had all left. I stopped by the tea shop to have a chai and a smoke. A loud film song greeted me when I entered the chai shop. The owner must be in his late 60’s was a man with a lot of words all the time. I used to get very annoyed back in my school days when I stopped at his stall. If someone asks him the time, he would end up giving a lecture and talking for hours. Such was his personality. When he saw me walk in and ask for a chai, his face lit up. I could see him push a couple of people standing near the cash counter and walk towards me. He knew me very well. But I guess his age got the better of him when he couldn’t remember my name. I could see it in his face that he was trying real hard to remember my name. How could he not remember? After all, it was my friends and I who gave him the maximum business. He barked at his assistant to make that chai a special one and add a couple of biscuits along with it. I smiled and told him that it was not needed. But he insisted I have one at least. I lit my cigarette. His face shrunk. I think he took it upon himself to ensure that I stay clean all my life and my action disappointed him. He did well to hide it. He shook his head in a way that made me realize that he was not happy with me smoking. I squinted my eye indicating that I needed one pretty bad, but am not really a smoker. It didn’t work though. He started smiling again when I stubbed the cigarette and tasted his special chai. After twenty minutes of telling him where I was living and what my job was like and yes, how much I was earning, I offered to pay for the tea and smoke. But he refused and told me that I was his guest and he thanked me for coming back to his stall after all these years.

I began my slow trudge back home. I began thinking. Who were these people? They are not family. They were not people I saw everyday. But they are such a huge part of my life. I enjoy talking to people, I enjoy meeting new people. But it’s people like this that makes life such a joy. They don’t expect anything, they mean well and they pray for you. They want all good things to happen to you, more than their kith and kin. They are wonderful human beings. I think about all these people who occupy a special place in my life. I think about them all the time.

The old man with the horse cart, the flower lady, the chai shop owner, the dabbahwallah who brought my lunch box to school everyday, the bus conductor who worked in the route that I took to go to college for three years, the waiter at the coffee shop that I visit frequently, the bartender from my favorite pub, the guy at the juice shop, the shopkeeper across the street from my house, and many more who I have known over the years.

I reached home and saw my mom talking to the man who brought the groceries to my house everyday. She was smiling and talking to him about me. I stood there smiling.

Randomness

2008-09-11T16:28:00.000+05:30

Thirteen stations
Twenty seven tokens
Fourteen litres
Nineteen bicycles
Ninety seven letters
Sixty words

What the fuck am I typing?Randomness is a wonderful feeling. I thrive on it.
I mean I could just sit here all day, look at the people walking in and out of the coffee shop, continue sipping on my coffee and lighting a smoke every now and then. But...

There she comes again. That little brat. She has been doing that all evening. I have only been here in this cafe for the last six hours. Not moved an inch.

Is it really possible? She sent me a text. I guess so. But then again, I couldn't be sure.

Eighty eight songs
Thirty six heads
Fifteen coats
Twenty cups
Eleven names
Seventy dogs
Ten texts
Fourteen calls

This is insane. Am sure that's what the person serving coffee is thinking. He has done this over and over again. He has seen me here almost all the time. Everyday. I don't disappoint him. she walked in slowly. Her hair flying swaying gracefully thanks to the wind. It was drizzling outside. I could see a few drops of the rain on her face. She stood there next to the elevator, wiping away the droplets.

Is it really possible? She sent me a text. I guess so. But then again, I couldn't be sure.

I know what you're thinking. Another one of my random ramblings. But look closer. Not so close dumbass. I mean not with your nostril sticking on the monitor.Now, that's better. Do you see it? Do you? I have been doing this for the last four years. Writing stuff here. Posting things. I have a zillion other things that I have written on tissue papers, on the back of bills, on scribbling pads. It's there. Somewhere. I don't post all. I don't want to. I choose not to.

But why would you care? You come to this page to see if there is anything interesting. I disappoint you on most days. Then there was silence.

Someone asked me once. Why do I write? I say, coz I have nothing better to do. Then the smart ass that she is, asked me, I thought you didn't want to write anymore and that's why you quit. I say... someone didn't flush in the loo. That disgusts me.

Do you care about the comments on your blog? What do you want me to say? I do. Like, yes. Sometimes? Or else I would have de-activated the possibility if I didn't want to. But that doesn't stop me from writing, posting and sharing what I want to. There are people out there who know me. Who know the real me. Who know the person I am. They don't quite care if I write a suicide note or a love letter. They don't care if I say Screw the world or screw you.

Screw you. She said and walked away.

I should stop doing this. I should stop this random crap. I read your mind. Didn't I?

Five years, meaningless, mindless, mind fucked, Clueless, happy, strange, sad, angry, hurt, posts, more posts, more... it's been there. I have beent here. So have you.
It's been good. It's been crazy. It's been one interesting journey so far.

Randomness is fun.
I had a wonderful time. Maybe we should do it again sometime.

Bloody Mess

2008-09-08T20:12:00.001+05:30

As he was sitting in that room with a bright white tube light above his head, he felt uneasy. White light was not his favorite. It made him really uncomfortable. It always made him close his eyes. It reminded him of things that he wanted to forget.
In a fraction of a second there was blood all over. It was red, dark and it was oozing quickly. He shook his hand as a reflex and a few drops fell on the floor. It made a circular pattern on the white floor.
She walked out calling his name. She looked small and petite with a blue skirt and a tiny blue cap. She had a tray in her hands that was grey. She looked around the narrow hall and called his name out again. A little louder this time.
The blood was now dripping onto his arm. The white cloth that he had used to cover the cut was now bloody. He had held his hand up closer to his body and so a few drops had fallen on his shirt. The sight made a little kid sitting next to him, hold on to his mommy close. She held her hands over the kid's eyes. So that he didn't have to see the gore.
Machine gun sounds and people screaming. Blood smeared on walls. Blood on the floor. Blood on the ground. Bodies lying around. Strewn all over the place. Organs scattered everywhere. Pain. Death. Life. Death. Blood. Devastation.
They ran. Faster with each second. Their breath getting faster. Gasping. She held his hand as they ran past people on the road. Pushing an old couple. A cyclist slides and avoids a roadside stall. Crashing into a car. Honking cars, rude motorists. Crazy man walking his dog. It had to stop.
She called his name out loud again. He got up and walked towards the door outside which she was standing. He had come to see the doctor. She gestured him to come inside. There he was. With a deep intense look on his face. He was looking at an X-ray. He nodded his head and turned around. He was disfigured. There was blood from his neck. His eyes were missing. A piece of his tongue was lying on the table. He walked slowly towards the man.
The girl kept looking at him. She looked like she wanted him to know something. But what? Her black dress was swaying with the air from the ceiling fan. He looked up to see where the air was coming from. He looked down and she was gone.
It was all too sudden when the old lady held his shoulder from the back. He turned back. She was breathing heavily and her forehead was wet. It was her sweat. The little kid walked across the hall. He was happy to see her. He wiped the sweat off his face and looked up at the lady. She was smiling. He walked upto her. He helped her wipe the sweat off her brow. He wiped the sweat on his shirt. He bent down to look at the shirt and there was blood. His jaw dropped and when he looked up to see the old lady, she was bleeding from a deep cut on her head.
He began to throw up. All over the floor. All over his dress. He just couldn't control it. It was all too scary. He had no clue what was going on. He closed his eyes and screamed. He screamed but words failed to come out of his mouth. He had three of four people looking at him. They didn't react. They had a blank expression on their face. No one cared. No one bothered. No one was alive.
The bell rang. It was gentle at first. It began to get louder and louder. There was now a pattern. He could hear people laughing. The laughter was evil. It was sadistic. The bell became even more loud. He got up. He walked towards the door. He was still in a daze. He was disoriented. He opened the door and his maid was standing at the door. She walked past him and entered the house. She said, "You can go back to sleep now. I shall clean up and lock the house".

I Hope I don't fall in love with you

2008-08-31T12:57:00.002+05:30

It's just strange. This feeling.
Too fast too furious.
But love every bit of it.
Why does this have to happen?
Why now?
Meant to be?
Another way to get hurt?
Been there. Seen that.
Is it?
Maybe not.
But could be.
Should it?
Instincts say otherwise.
Heart is all over the place.
Mind is a bit clogged.
Fingers seem to be doing overtime.
Smiles & tears are the same family.
Fear is just an angry relative.

...................

2008-08-18T17:30:00.000+05:30

If wishes were wild horses, they would want to make love to
unicorns.

Thanks for a lovely evening

2008-08-12T11:16:00.003+05:30

25 kids stood in a semi circle. Innocent faces with a lot of stories. Shy, eager and overjoyed. They stood there with their hands clasped with their own or the girl standing next. They always spoke in unison. They laughed & smiled in a group.

Little kids, they know so much. Little kids they make us understand so much more.

"Happy B'day to you
Happy B'day to you
Happy B'day dear AKKA
Happy B'day to you"

They sang, they giggled and clapped their hands in glee.
It's christmas for them.

Santa Claus had come to see them with a nice big bag. Food & Drinks to quench their hunger and thirst. But Love to quench their life.

Thanks for a lovely evening.
Happy B'day.

Do beedi ka samay

2008-08-06T23:52:00.003+05:30

I have tried to understand the concept of time for a really long time now. After all these years, I have realised and come to a conclusion that such a concept doesn't exist and it's just a term. My interaction with people from different nationalities, origin, race, and color has given me a better understanding about this term and also helped me a great deal in my research on the theory of 'Do beedi ka samay'.

This theory is a revelation in understanding the behavioral pattern of the human species. Why 'Do beedi ka samay' you may ask?

While working closely with the tribes of Tippasandra, Bandra, Byappanhalli, Kuniyamuthoor, Sundakamuthoor, Kalasipalayam, Murgespalya, Lal Chowk, Subhramanyapuram, Kovilpatti, Kuppakonamuthoor and a lot of other palyas and puthoors, the one common factor that I have seen is Beedi. Everything starts and ends with beedi. 'Hey, come. Sit and have a beedi'. ' Am sorry to hear about your mother. Here this is a special beedi'. Beedi before you go to sleep and beedi immediately after you wake up. A beedi with your chai and a beedi while you work. A beedi in the hand and a beedi tucked behind your ear for future consumption. So, talk about time with these beedi idolizing crowd, time is also measured in beedies. When I explained one of my concepts with them, a wise old man after taking a deep drag on his beedi said, 'Do beedi ka samay'. The gathering said in unison, 'Do beedi ka samay', and there was a loud roar. I was offered a beedi as a token of appreciation.

The wise old man's words kept haunting me for a long time. 'Do beedi ka samay', he would say, while smoking one. His voice would echo in my head. He would also have an evil villanous laugh. The laugh kept getting louder and louder as the days went by. One night while sleeping, I heard the again. The laugh was loud and haunting. I woke up startled, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. I couldn't take it anymore. I got up from my bed. The tribal mosquitoes didn't like it either. They wanted my blood and I wanted answers.

I walked aimlessly as far as my legs could take me. I couldn't continue like this. Aimless, lost, confused and haunted by the wise man's words, I was losing it. My legs gave way and I fell to the ground. I don't know for how long I was unconscious. A hand was trying to push me. It was shaking my fragile body. 'Sirji, Sirji', I could hear a mumble. I groaned. With great difficulty I opened my eyes. The sun's rays were piercing through my eyelids. I shielded my eyes. After what seemed like ages, I finally managed to get up and sit. My head still aching, my legs bruised and bloody and the voice of the old man still loaded in my brain. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to leave. I wanted...

'Sir ji, Doctor saab ko humne bulaya hai. Woh do beedi ka samay mein aajayenge'. I got up. My eyes popped on the floor, when I heard the man say that. I took my watch and saw the time. It said 6:20 am. I began to wait. Did he mean the time from when he said it? Did he mean from the time he saw me unconscious. God. It was too much to handle.

I was looking at the watch. I was looking at the man. He smiled a reassuring smile and lit a beedi. Ah, first beedi, I thought. He took a deep drag, spoke to me and the others who had gathered around me and then let the smoke out. He stubbed the beedi after that with his fingers. Oh, No. That's one beedi down? I wondered. But instead of throwing the beedi down, he placed it behind his ears. He began to write something on the sand, squatting while he did that. You always smoke a beedi squatting, that I learnt from the tribals, which a french friend of mine still practices till date. After talking to the group for an additional twenty minutes, he took the beedi from behind his ear and lit it again. This he continued leaving regular intervals. Till finally the beedi was over. Ah! Am I getting to understand something here? Maybe, just maybe I was getting closer to the elusive secret behind 'Do beedi ka samay'. I looked at my watch. It was 7:20. One hour for one beedi. That's it. I had cracked it. I had finally cracked the secret behind the wise old man's words.

I was hysterical. I was elated. I was going insane. I got up from the ground and started jumping, screaming, going red on my face. Tears swelling up in my eyes. I held my hands over my eyes, buried my face in my palm. I cried. Like a baby, like a mother who had just given birth, like a father during his daughter's wedding. I cried for another beedi ka samay.

As I looked at the puzzled, quizzical faces around me, I began to smile. I looked at the wise old man who had come while I was crying. He was glad to see me smile. I looked at him and said, 'Babaji ek beedi milega?'.

Long time now

2008-08-04T09:06:00.001+05:30

It was 4 in the morning. He was sitting at the terrace of his house. The morning cold was piercing through his skin. He sat with his hands wrapped around his knees. Like a little boy he was staring at the sky. He had been doing that for a long time now.

He recollected the people he had met a few days ago. The smiling faces, the many stories, the beautiful landscape that he had seen. He smelt the air- it smelt of love & hospitality. He had always been a people's person. He loved meeting new people in life. He had been doing that for a long time now.

He thought about his first crush. The way he used to walk his dog outside her house to get a glimpse of her when she came home from school. With her hair tied in a pony. Her crisp blue skirt swaying in the wind. She would turn around and look at him before she entered her house. He turned away when she did that. He had been doing that for a long time now.

He remembered the day when he smoked his first cigarette. It was on his friend's birthday. There were a bunch of kids from school wanting to experiment. He wanted to blow smoke rings. He wanted to hold the ciggie between his fingers. He had been doing that for a long time now.

He took the tissue paper and started writing. He let his thoughts wander. He let his guards down. He felt comfortable doing this. Sitting by himself, immersed in his words, he could explore the magical world of words. He had been doing that for a long time now.

Getting close to people. That was his speciality. He had nothing to hide, he had everything to share. He walked around with his emotions on his sleeve. And he always had the time for others. He had been misunderstood. He had been blamed. He had been hurt. But he continued. He had been doing that for a long time now.

The hot coffee that he was sipping on was getting cold. The water in the glass was cold. He liked it that way. He went through the text messages on his phone. He smiled, he shrugged, he shook his head. The old lady walked past him. He smiled. He had been doing that for a long time now.

He checked his watch. He observed the chaos on the road. He saw the dog chasing a motorist. He saw the watchman lighting a smoke. He saw the waiter clearing a table. He saw a bunch of adolescent kids discussing about the girl in the next table. He waited for her...

A houseboat named Pink Floyd

2008-08-02T19:10:00.001+05:30

As the sound from a machine gun rattled in the distance, I was sitting under a tin roof with an afghani. There was hot 'Chai' brewing from a vessel that looked like it had seen and been in the midst of a few dirty wars. "This happens all the time", he quipped between his breath while focussing on the boiling liquid. All the time? I thought to myself before lighting a cigarette. How do they manage? How do they lead a normal life with so much terror around them? I am from the south. A region that had always been a safe zone in the history of India. The region that had not seen any major war, communal riots, terror attacks, nothing. Maybe the region was not worth it, maybe the people were far too evolved right from the beginning, maybe they just couldn't care less, or maybe they cared a lot.

"Your chai", the afghani man offered me a cup with a lot of stains. Was it blood? I just felt I was overreacting and let it be. I smiled and took the cup from the man and took a sip. The tea was sweet. Like how a tea is supposed to taste. Like how all teas taste.

Walking along the lake, I couldn't but stop and think about all the smiling faces that I had been seeing from the time I stepped foot in this land. For a place that has seen so much terror, so much violence and lots of blood and gore, it was the most beautiful place I had ever been to. The sun was shining bright above my head. It was 7 in the evening and it was still very bright. The lake was filled with colorful 'Shikaras' - these boats where tourists and locals alike take time to just sit back, relax and enjoy the beautiful landscape and rejoice. 'Indian Palace. Dekho magar piyar say. with music', read a sign. It caught my eye. I moved with my backpack in tow and the camera hanging from my neck. That's where I met Sajid Hussain. Old man, wise man, man who knew 8 languages. There was more chai, more stories and more smiles.

Gulam hassan was a man who always had a lot to say. Always. He was a cabbie. Two daughters and three sons. He would proudly say about his family. He was a real man according to him. A real man is one who doesn't shy away from bullets, from fights, from problems and has a lot of kids. As he starts to talk, he can't stop from showing off his bullet wounds on his legs. Militant attack, he said lighting a cigarette that he borrowed from me. With his cell phone constantly ringing and him constantly smoking, it was a little crazy to see the car just move. There is no concept of road sense in that land. I don't think they even think such a concept exists or is needed. People honk all the time, two wheelers always had three or more people on them. No helmets, no seatbelts, no signals, no accidents. I was certain I would have been killed. But am alive to narrate my tale.

Ak Daleel Loolekh. A story of love. That was the name of the kashmiri movie directed by this person whom I met next. Aarshad was a very interesting person. Calm, composed and measured in his conversation, but gets very emotional when he gets talking about his land, about India and Pakistan. In his words, "I was 14 when on one day after a militant attack, I attended 20 funerals in one day. Friends who played football with me, neighbors, schoolmates, family. I woke up the next day feeling like a 44 yr old and not a 14 yr old. My life has changed since".

In addition to the smiles, the madness on the roads, the breathtaking landscapes and the unbelievable hospitality there was also another thing that was there in abundance. Army - RAF personnels with machine guns and their bullet proof vests. They were all over the place. Tankers, bunkers, wired fences crop out of nowhere in the city. Apparently there is one guard for every 11 people in that land. That is some serious security. People are not bothered by their presence. They are not bothered by the movement of the locals, there is so much harmony in the chaos that I witnessed there.

Smiles, warmth, splendid scenery, chaos, gorgeous women, cold security guards, talkative cab drivers, friendly boatmen, great room service, a house boat called Pink Floyd, mouth watering kashmiri food, friendly soccer matches, interesting conversations, wild imaginations, lots of local talent, annoying clients, solitude, harmony, loneliness, crowds,fantastic poetry, crazy journalists, long walks, late nights, lovely lakes, green trees, love and more love.

Every single person who I met in the one week that I was there, all had a story behind their life, behind who they are now, who they were then and who they want to be from now on.

That was Srinagar for me.

Maya Memsaab

2008-07-18T15:06:00.002+05:30

"Don't think my bike is going to start. Why don't you go ahead, I'll try and get the bike to start and follow", he said, with the heavy rain pouring over him. It was 10 in the evening and he was getting back home from a cafe. It was just his usual routine. He would finish work; ride his bike to the cafe two roads away from his house. Sit there alone or with a bunch of friends and discuss the day's happenings with them. He loved doing that. He loved the quality time he got with his friends.
The rain was being ruthless that evening. The roads were deserted and the occasional bike or car that passed him, were moving pretty fast, splashing the rain water that was now mixed with the drain that was overflowing onto the road. He loved the rains. But that was when he is sitting dry in his house or even in a cafe with his hot cup of latte next to him, a good supply of smokes and a tissue paper. He could sit there and look at the rain for hours on end. He could even get lost when in those moods. Time can go to hell, he would say smiling. It was just way too beautiful to leave and go.
As the rain got him drenched from head to toe, he was stranded on the side of the road near the footpath. The rain was getting heavier now and his bike wouldn't start. He spoke to the bike often. He liked it. He knew she liked it too. "Maya", he would call out, if she didn't start with the first few kicks. She would immediately listen to him and start. They play that game every now and then. If he forgets to give her a wash during the weekend, well Monday morning would be fun. She will have a face that only he can understand. They were made for each other. He would say, "Oh, come on. It was Sunday. It's god's day. I just wanted to chill and not do anything". She would then give him a hope that she was about to start and then stop. I think it's that time of the month for me. He never got upset with her antics. It was just way too playful when both of them were at it.
"Maya, come on. If you need a wash, this is surely not how you get it. Its sewage water for crying out loud. I swear, get me home and morrow morning you're surely going to get what you want. But rite now..." That's all it took. She was up and ready to go, for as long as you wanted her to. They reached home, but not before a handful of call taxi's sprayed them with water all over.
The chemistry that the two shared was something that words won't do any justice. He came to the city four years back, with a master’s degree and nothing else. He never had a bank account. He didn't have a place to stay of his own. But he came in to the city a day before his 21st birthday. His phone ran out of currency twenty minutes before midnight and he was stranded in his cousins house because it was pouring heavily on a bloody April evening and the few friends that he had in that city didn't really want to get wet that evening and so they decided to cancel the plan. "Well, 21 is not a bad number", he thought to himself when he was walking down the steps that lead to the drawing room on the first floor when he came down from the terrace of his cousin's house. He was 21, just out of college in the big bad world. He had been doing small jobs here and there, radio shows and freelance work to make enough money to get himself some beer and pay for the exam fees and not to forget his short films and music videos that was so close to his heart. He had also served coffee in a cafe while he was still in college. Life was completely insane at that point of time. Now he has to do something and he has to do something to make the world stand up and take notice.
"Type my name on Google and you would get a million hits. Pictures of mine, interviews of mine, news and information about me", he would tell his friends during one of their many (infact during every) coffee meetings. A small tea cup in hand and a lit smoke, he would gaze into nothingness and tell his friends, that he is set to make it big and he would surely.
He was kneeling down on the ground, wiping the drops of water off Maya. He took extra care every time he came close to the mirror. He saw his reflection on the rear view mirror and smiled, adjusted his hair and smiled again. Like he was posing for the cameras that were clicking. For the million people who were looking at him and waving, trying to grab his attention for one second. Flash.
"It's the 13th of the month and you still haven't paid the rent. When can you pay?", said a female voice in the background, making him snap out of the world that he was in and come back to earth. So here he was washing Maya at one moment and stuck with the house owner's wife the next. She was big, at least 100 kilos. She didn't care whether there was electricity in your house, or water. Give her the rent and she would smile. No smile otherwise. A phone call on his cell phone gave him a reason to leave that place, only after he made a sign that was more like; I shall pay the rent either today or by tomorrow. The lady gave him a stern look and walked inside slowly, because she couldn’t walk any faster.
All set for a new day, he sat on Maya and smiled. Ten meters down the road, pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. A loud hissing sound and the bike was sliding to the left and then to the right. Maya had a flat in the rear wheel.
Maya Memsaab always had the last word.

The Act

2008-07-14T15:49:00.004+05:30

Ext. Busy Street. Evening.
Shot of a busy market. Lots of activity. A fruitseller (male) calling out to his customers. Fresh fruits in his cart. He seems over excited. A little girl holding her mother's hand and her stuffed toy, tightly. The mother is busy bargaining with another vendor.
A cyclist carrying a huge load cycles past people on the street. The camera follows the cyclist as he goes past the people and follows him till he turns around the corner of the market.

The camera pans across the street capturing everything. One shop to another. One cart to another. Expressions of people. The sun shining bright above their heads.

Cut to

Ext. Coffee shop. Evening.
A writer sitting in a table in the corner. Quietly looking at the street overlooking the coffee shop. A lit cigarette on the ashtray. A coffee going cold on his table. He writes in a tissue paper. A few photographs are scattered across the table.

A young couple in the next seat. Looking suspiciously at the other tables. Stealing an occasional kiss. A special moment.

Cut to shot of the writer, chuckling to himself as he takes a deep drag from his cigarette. The smoke fills the screen.

Cut to

Int. Hospital. Evening.

An anxious father waiting outside the operation theater. His hands clasped across his cheeks. Head buried behind his long locks. A nurse walks past him. She is in a hurry. Her hands holding a saline bottle. Her forehead drenched in sweat.

Cut to
Ext. Dark alley. Dusk.

The sun setting slowly behind a tall sky scraper. A black man dressed in a blue sweatshirt with a hood and a pair of jeans waiting impatiently.
Foot steps. The puddle of water from the rain that had just stopped is disturbed by another pair of legs. A lean man looking flushed enters the scene. His hands inside his trousers. He is carrying a bag. He looks at the black man and signals him to come towards him.
The black man moves slowly. Looking around to check for any company. Any movement.
They exchange a parcel. They walk away in the same direction from which they came.

Cut to

Int. Restaurant. Night.

A man is sitting with his fiance. She looks radiant with a red sleeveless dress. Her long neck, her pearl necklace. She smiles at him. The man takes a small box from his coat. A diamond ring. And gently pushes the open box towards her.

ECU of the woman. She is overwhelmed.
CU of the man. Smiling.
Cut to

Ext. Graveyard. Night.

A small boy standing next to a pyre. The flames reach high into the sky. The silence is unbearable. His eyes are moist. They are red from all the crying. His body shivering. It's cold. There is chillness in the air. He kneels down before the fire. He takes the sand from the ground and applies it on his face. He begins to wail. He is bawling. Uncontrollably.

Quick flashes of the crowded street. The coffee shop. The Hospital. The dark alley. The restaurant.
The shots come over and over and over again.

Cut to
Int.Edit Studio. Midnight.

A man (editor) gets up from his chair. Stretches his arms and legs and walks out of the studio.
He lights a cigarette and looks at the sky. A lone star shining bright.
The smoke from the cig covers the star. The star disappears.

ECU of the man. He looks blank. Expressionless into the camera.

He doesn't blink. Long, excruciatingly long ECU shot of the man staring into nothingness.
Cut to

Ext. Road. Day.

A man standing in the middle of the highway. Cars and motorists and trucks whizzing past him.

Cut to
Ext. Coffee Shop. Day.

Shot of the writer giving the final touches to a sketch.
Sketch of a boy kneeling down in front of a fire with words written on the page.

" I see life as scenes, I see people as actors, I hear voices as well-rehearsed lines...

The perfect dream

2008-07-06T14:07:00.001+05:30

It was a lovely evening. The sun was just about to set behind the tall skyscrapers. They were sitting on the 97th floor of a building having a quiet romantic drink. The sky was orange with a slight mix of grey. The big orange ball was slowly but surely going down. In a little while the city would light up with the million lights and a different energy would take over.

He moved close to her, holding her hands and smiling.She loved that smile on his face. Everytime he smiled, she would fall for the dimples on his cheeks. She didn't have to say anything. He looked away and was thinking about Bombay.

The next moment they were sitting having coffee in a coffee shop in Bombay. The rain was pouring down and there was a chillness in the air. She was dressed in a black sleeveless dress and he was in his usual shirt and a pair of jeans with a green jacket. He could see that she was feeling cold. He smiled and walked from his chair and placed his jacket over her shoulders and hugged her from behind. Softly kissing her cheeks. She felt comfortable, she felt secure
and she felt the love he had for her. She knew how much he loved this city. The life of this city. And he always used to tell her there is everything for everyone in this city. But she also knew
one thing more, the more this city gives you something, the more it takes it away from you. She looked in his eyes. They didn't have to talk. They were having a conversation with the eyes.

She had just taken a break from her job and was now spending time with him. She closed her eyes and thought about her life when she was in paris. When she was exploring the sights and sounds of the city and working on her documentary. She was thinking about the beautiful buildings, the sculptures and the interesting people she met there. She was thinking bout her friend with whom she spent sunday afternoons going around town in her yellow scooter. She was smiling to herself. She opened her eyes and she was there in the narrow street near her house. She was standing there with a book in her hands. She saw him walking down the street. The pebble stone pathway never looked so wonderful. As she saw him walking towards her with a bunch of tulips. She loved tulips and he knew it. He walked upto her and hugged her gently and offered her the flowers. She sniffed them and she felt beautiful. He held his hands out to her and
she took it. They walked down the road, watching little kids playing in the park. She wanted this so bad. The whole time she was in paris, she had missed him. She wanted him to be there with her. She wanted him to see her work, she wanted to share all her stories, she wanted her friends to meet him. She felt complete. As they were walking, they saw an old monk sitting in the park and meditating. He remebered the monk. It was the same monk who travelled with him when he was in India. He remembered the conversations they had. He remebered the tattoo that he got after meeting this person. He saw the tattoo on his right shoulder. He felt the words. OM MANI PADME HUM, it said. She knew the story. He had told her after he came back from his trip. It was a life changing trip. They walked towards the monk. They went quietly and sat next to him. They wanted to meditate with him. They sat on the grass next to each other and closed their eyes.

The monk touched the two of them and they were in tibet. In the monastery. It was his dream to live in a monastery. To get some answers for questions on his head. He wanted to go away from everything for a little while atleast. He didn't want technology to stop him, he didn't want people with him. He didn't want time to be a hindrance. He just wanted his solitude. He wanted to live life. He wanted to feel life. He wanted to understand life. As the monks started to chant, he felt the energy. The hair on his neck was tingling. His heart was beating faster. He felt the heat being generated in his body. He opened his eyes to see her looking at him. She didn't know what was going on. She was slightly scared. He held her gently. To reassure her that
everything was going to be ok.

While he held her close, he could feel that they were being airlifted. They were floating gently in the air. They were going higher and higher. They could see the monastery, the monk, the cattle, the green fields down below. They were gliding towards peace. They were gliding into the clouds. They could feel the clouds brushing against their faces. It was magical. It was perfect. They decided to rest in the clouds. She felt the softness. They could see nothing but sheets and sheets of white. It was all a dream. It was the perfect dream.

Love at the tenth second

2008-07-01T22:06:00.003+05:30

It's raining outside. The gentle drizzle that began a little while ago has turned into rain.

It was quiet a little while ago. But the amount of people that trickled into the coffee shop ensured the silence was broken.

I was hungry. The coffee and the burger ensured that my hunger was satisfied.

The ashtray was empty. The cigarettes that were smoked ensured there was ash and cigarette butts all over.

The wallet had some change. The little beggar kid on the road ensured that I ran out of them.

The streets are wet, the place is packed, the hunger is gone, the ashtray is full and there is no money.

As I continue staring at the cursor on my screen, I see a pattern. A pattern that has happened before. A pattern that will happen again. I smile to myself, look around and see the faces around me. Some immersed behind their long locks and their mobile phone. Some glaring straight back at me and a couple of faces even staring at my screen. A little kid walks upto me and asks for a matchbox. I look at her innocent face and wonder why would someone send a little girl to my table to ask for a matchbox. "Unbelievable retards", I curse between my breath and smile at this little girl. Her eyes were lovely. They were wide open. It was round, with a slight shade of green. I could see myself in those eyes. I could get lost looking at them. I bend down and go on my knees. I put my hand out to her and ask her name. "Ananya", she said with a few fingers in her mouth and drawing patterns on the concrete floor with her tiny toes. I lift Ananya up and ask her, "would you like to sit with me for a little while"? She smiled. A smile so radiant, I was in love. It was love at the tenth second. I heard someone call her name. I turned around with Ananya in my arms, to see a table with four people smiling as they sipped on their coffee. I smile back. One person got up. I didn't want him to come and take my love away from me. Not so soon atleast. The man walked upto me. He said, "Is she being a brat?". Brat? I thought. No way. She was being the angel she is. I smiled. "You can have her. But would you by any chance have a matchbox?". I was thinking, I would give you the matchbox, would you give her to me? I wanted to give everything I had and just walk away carrying Ananya in my arms. I was thinking where I would take her. I was thinking about the conversations we would be having. I was thinking bout the rhymes that I could share with her that I learnt back in school. I was thinking about... "The matchbox", the voice said and burst my bubble. I offered the box and continued to look at the innocent smile of my love. The man walked away leaving her with me. I thanked my stars.

She kept looking at me. She kept smiling. I kept looking at her and I was smiling too. Ananya, felt there was no need to talk. We spoke a new language. Silence.

She took my phone that was lying on the table and asked me what it was. I told her it was a cellphone and you could talk to people with it. With her sweet voice, she said "I thought you speak with your mouth". I loved her even more. Pretty, Sweet, Radiant, Intelligent and a sense of humor. It was all too beautiful. "My papa has one too," she said. I asked her what her papa had. She pointed at my phone. I didn't know what to say, so I smiled again. She found that funny. Guess she had never seen someone who was smiling so much. She didn't know the spell she had cast on me. "Do you have a motobike", she asked me. I bent down and took my huge astronaut's helmet and showed it to her. I was too proud of it. I wanted to impress her. It was our first date after all. She saw the helmet and she saw me and chuckled. I was conscious now. She didn't like the helmet? She doesn't like the shape of my head? Relax man it's just a little girl, I quickly told myself.

Her papa came again. Placed the matchbox on my table and came close to Ananya and lifted her away from me. He smiled again and walked away. As I watched my love being taken away from me, I felt a sinking feeling. I could see her jet black hair and her head bobbing up and down while her papa walked away. As she came to the gate, she turned back. Her eyes met mine, it felt like time just froze. She smiled and blew me a kiss. It was love at the ninetyeth second for her.

Bye Bye Blue Sky

2008-07-01T12:19:00.000+05:30

It was a typical blue sunny sky
A young girl glides across the streets dressed in blue
The blue suede shoes fitted her tiny legs beautifully
Blue box in hand, she was floating through the narrow lanes
School children in tiny blue skirts
Giggling and tasting their blue Popsicle
The girl was looking for the blue house
The big blue gate with a board on it, she was told
She observed a blue bicycle lying on the grass
Blues was playing on the stereo from a house
A grumpy dog with a blue collar was barking loud
She turned blue with fear
The mailman walked in with a blue envelope
“Blue Lagoon” it read on the return address
She placed the blue box on the mail box
And walked away singing “blue blurred boastful bodacious boggled bogus boiling”

Journey

2008-06-24T21:22:00.001+05:30

"Wham", a nice kick in the butt, is what he needed to realise what he had been doing all along. He was always game to explore, to experience, to learn and to understand. His search had kept him occupied for a really long time. But the path that he had decided to take to reach his detination was full of new oppurtunities that he was willing to take with both hands. He dabbled a bit with almost everything under the sun. It was getting a bit too hot to handle. The sweat dropped from his brow. He looked up, he flinched, the rays were hitting him pretty hard. He closed his eyes. It felt lovely.

It is time to move on he thought. His bags are packed. All set for the new journey.

Kannamma

2008-06-12T19:00:00.004+05:30

The great poet Bharathi who lived in Tamilnadu wrote lot of poems addressing Kannamma his sweetheart. "Kan" in Tamil means eye and Kannamma is the darling who is as precious as the eye or 'the apple of my eye'. Possibly this is one of his all time best. There is something magical about the word kannamma. Everytime I say it.. There is a twinkle in my eye, joy in my heart and happiness in my soul. There is no other word that has the same effect on me like this one.. A special tribute.

Here is an English translation of the poem.

I am the rushing light to you,
And you are the eyes that see for me.
I am honey that spreads sweetness to you,
And you are the honey bee to me,
Words do not form in my mouth,
To describe all that is good in you,
And let all that is good in you flourish for ever.

Oh my darling Kannamma,
Who is the shining light of the sky,
And who is the brimming nectar of the world,
You are the musical Veena to me,
And I am the fingers that play on it to you,
You are the golden chain that is worn to me,
And I am the new dazzling diamond to you,
Whichever side I see,
I see the light of your eyes.

Oh Kannamma, who is the great kingdom of life,
And who is the basis of all my living.
You are the rain that pours from the sky to me,
And I am the pretty colored peacock to you,
You are the drink to me,
and I am the cup to you,
Luster of knowledge shines from your shining face, my darling.

Oh Kannamma, who is a beauty without any faults,
And who is the taste that drips inside my mouth.
You are the white full moon to me,
And I am the spreading sea to you,
You are the beats of the music to me,
And I am the taste of music to you,
There is no limit to your taste , my darling,
Even when I think and think again.

Oh darling Kannamma, who is like the pretty eye,
And who is the nectar that is packed,
You are the breeze that flows to me.
I am the flower that opens to you,
You are the words that I speak to me,
And I am the words that ring in your heart to you ,
How will I describe your beauty, Oh my darling ,
who is the ray of the sky that loves,
Oh darling Kannamma who is the wine of love
And who is the endless taste.
You are the love to me ,
And I am the magnet to you,
You are the holy books of Veda to me,
And I am the blissful knowledge to you.

Oh my darling Kannamma who is a great soul,
Whose taste ebbs when I am in passion,
And who is of the form of music.
You are my soul Kannamma,
And I am your heart beat, Kannamma,
You are like the wealth to me , Kannamma,
And I am like the fund that is saved to you,
Oh beauty which can never be measured,
Oh rays of gold that spreads everywhere,
Oh darling whose smile is like a blossom of jasmines.

Oh Kannamma , who is the pleasure that beats like waves..
You are the twinkling stars to me,
And I am the cool full moon to you,
You are the valor to me,
And I am your victory,
Oh Kannamma, nectar of my mind,
You are the sweetness of the entire world and the heaven,
Rolled in to one person , Oh darling.., mine.

Muse

2008-06-05T15:45:00.000+05:30

As she stepped out of the passenger seat of the car, the engine came to a halt. The rattling of the windows and the cacophony that was on earlier had stopped. Time didn't.

It was just three days ago that she had flown down. He had been visualizing her arrival, the smile on her face, the look in her eyes, the way her hair would cascade down her forehead and the way she would tie it in a bun when it did, the conversations they would have and the hugs they would share. He was a dreamer, she was full of surprises. He was a lover, she was a mystery. He was her friend, she was his destiny.

There was a little bit of tension during the drive to the airport. Words were spoken less, but lots were communicated between the two. The gentle music playing in the car stereo was enough to bring a smile on her face. As he was concentrating on the road, his mind was racing. What would it be like in a few minutes from now? How would he feel when she gets down from the car and boards her flight? Are things going to be the same? Questions like this, he thought always came at the right time. Made him come back to earth. He had always been someone who walked around with his emotions on his sleeve. He never held back. He spoke his mind. She was no different.

They had been friends for a while. But their bond felt like they had known each other forever. Their friendship blossomed because of their love for words, their passion to explore, their aim to make it big and their drive to achieve.

"Kannamma", his soft voice called out to her. She turned around with the innocence in her eyes that made his heart skip a beat. The sudden rush of blood to his temples made him lose it for just a bit and it showed. The car swerved to the right and the driver of the adjacent car on the road gave him the look. "I had a wonderful time", she said. And when you see those eyes when she spoke, you would know that she meant it. He smiled, placing his hands on hers. There was silence once again. The song changed.

"You better be free when I come," she had told him before she came. Without a blink of an eye he had said yes. But he knew his work had its own special way of messing things up for him. But her presence, he felt would change everything for him. He had always been the hardworking type. Work was always something that he was proud of. He was passionate about. And he knew that she was too. In fact, even more than his. He would sit in the terrace atop his house, with the cold monsoon winds caressing his face. He would sit with his legs folded, his hands wrapped around his knees, looking up into the sky and seeing the stars. He would think about how she loved her work, about how proud she made him feel with the kind of things she had achieved. "You still have a long way to go Kannamma," he would constantly tell her. And she knew what he meant.

"Things are going to be different in a few years from now and I don't have much time", she said sipping on her cold coffee. The cream from the coffee left a trail around her lips. She took time between her words. And every pause from her made him realize the depth behind those words. His eyes completely meeting hers and his hand on hers. He would gently run his fingers on the back of her hand in a reassuring way telling her it was all going to be ok. She had her own thoughts. He felt like he didn't know what was going on in her head. He wanted to. He wanted to be a part of her world. The world that was making her say those things.

The phone beeped. The light was shining and he ran to see what the message said. "Come soon. Am waiting for you", it said. Without him trying to do anything he smiled. It was instinctive. Even if the whole world had come crashing down at that time, he wouldn't have cared less. He was happy. There way joy and lots of it at that.

The drive to the airport took longer than she had expected. But for him every wrong turn he took, was in a way giving him an extra five minutes with her. He had always been good with directions. But somehow he didn't get it right this time. Maybe he tried too hard. Maybe he didn't try hard enough. Well, there are more questions to think about on his drive back, he chuckled to himself.

'It's cold", she said, shivering in the cold night standing on the highway. The tiny plastic tea cup clutched between her fingers. Her face turning a shade white thanks to the chill air and he could see a hint of a pink spot on the tip of her nose. "The tea is hot though", she said and smiled. He was standing next to her, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. "Take your time love. We have all the time in the world", he said. She looked at him sipping on the tea and smiled. The traffic on the road was less and there was not much noise. One could hear the cold wind.

“Cleaned you guys up didn’t I?” she said and laughed loudly. She was rubbing her hands in glee before taking all the monopoly money that was used as poker chips. He was a silent observer. He loved the game, but there was no doubt what he loved more. He walked up to the door and stood there outside the house while he heard voices from the group inside the house. The sky was clear and the few stars that were visible were shining bright. He wondered where the other stars were. “Iyer,” a voice called out getting him out of the world of questions that he was getting into. He turned back to see her standing there blowing him a little kiss and smiling beckoning him to come next to her. He just walked slowly, all the while looking at her, at how happy she was and how happy she made him.

He had told her before to not worry about anything in life smile. “Rubbish,” she would say nonchalantly. He wanted her to understand that he was always going to be there for her. “Life is not all rosy and you know it as well” she would say when ever he said something about just taking it easy. She had so many things in that little head of hers.

He received a telephone and he left work. The bike ride to the coffee shop had him thinking again. Standing at a traffic signal, he was just playing back the happenings of the last few days that he had spent with her. The smiles, the words, the emotions, the sharing, the caring, he could go on with those thoughts. Another call on his phone made him snap out of the new world that he had found. The world that was for him and her with the others entering and leaving the stage were like actors.
“Your latte sir”, the waiter called out. He loved coffee and he loved spending time in coffee shops. She did too. It was all these, the number of things they had in common that made him smile and wonder where she had been all these years. After taking a gentle sip on his cup, he looked up to see her. She was lost in her own world. She wanted to go home. She wanted to get back to her world. She was missing her life. He knew that there was much that he could do to help, he felt bad for her. It broke his heart to see her upset or sad. There was no way he would let that happen. Not before, not then, never.
He sat in the car and wore the seatbelt. He knew he needed support for this drive. He had a sinking feeling. He knew this was the hardest thing he had ever done. He hated goodbyes. He was never comfortable with them. Somehow he just didn’t want to let go. He just didn’t want her to go. They reached the airport and she had made it right on time. This was the moment. She stepped out of the passenger seat of the car; the engine came to a halt. The rattling of the windows and the cacophony that was on earlier had stopped. She walked away with her little bag, dragging those wheels on the concrete floor. He stood there looking at her. She never stopped, his feelings never stopped.
Time didn't stop.

He got back in the car, holding back his emotions, holding back his thoughts, holding back… when he heard a beep on his phone “I had a lovely time. You are very special to me. Will call you once I land.”

Absolut Inspiration

2008-05-25T15:31:00.002+05:30

It's just strange the amount of things that you learn over a weekend. Mind-blowing things that would change you for the rest of your life. We might all come across a number of people in our life, some just come and go, some stay for a little longer and some stay with you for the rest of your life. Along with these people come a lot of other things. Some that you choose to take, to keep and some that is going to be with you for the rest of your life.

The main idea is to just let these people teach you along the way. Every little they know and everything they know. Since knowledge or Gyanam is the only thing that has the power to let you understand life the way it is supposed to be experienced.

My life has been witness to a lot of change in the many years (few?) that i have been in this world. Changes that has made me who i am today and the changes that is going to make me who I would be in the years to come. It is important for me to understand that who I am and who am going to be is all superficial and is subject to change. If I want to and If i let it be. Let it change me. For the good of me. FOr the good of people close to me and for the good of this world.
Every person born in this world is here for a purpose. karma. To fulfill what he was supposed to do in his previous birth that he had failed to, or maybe the karma that he has generated thinking about and doing things that maybe he was not supposed to. But that is not what am trying to get into at this point of time.

I have been having a lot of questions in my mind lately and the answers am sure would change the way I look at life and the way I look at people. I was not confused. I was not disappointed and I was not really searching hard enough. But somewhere deep down I needed those answers to only help me get to the next level.

This weekend has got me closer (if not complete) to those answers. It has been given to me. Most of it in codes that needs to be decoded by me. By my actions. It's come at a time when I needed it the most. Am extremely thankful to that special person for helping me get those answers. I have made a promise to myself that my actions from now on would surely decode those many important answers that was tranferred. At times all it took for me to understand was just a look in the eye, a pat on the shoulder and a smile. And at times it took a few stories, a few detailed explanations. But the essence has sunk in. Slowly its making me feel rejuvinated.

The recent past has been a little turbulent. At the work front, at the financial front and at the family front. But it has also made me understand that there is no point in being bogged down by all these things and the life has to go on. Infact one has to be compassionate about all these things, but there are things that are more important than all these .

My purpose in this life is to co-exist with all the worldly matters and a lot of things beyond. I have set out on this unbelivable journey and I have the light guiding me. I have the supreme force leading me on.

Like someone once told me " I drove for miles and miles and wound up at your door. I've had you so many times but somehow I want more.." Yes, I do want more!!!

Jootha Akbar - The eternally crappy movie

2008-02-26T01:39:00.003+05:30

Let me get one thing straight before I end up writing this piece. I have never seen a movie that is so unbelievably crappy in my entire life and I think in the next filmfare awards this movie wouldsurely win the award in all the following categories, "Meaningless", "Crappy", "Worthless", "Waste of time" and the most coveted of all "Waste of Money".

It requires courage, prowess, patience, aptitude, knowledge, passion and of course, loads of currency to attempt a movie like "Jootha Akbar".

I heard the movie costed a whopping 40 crores to make. Oh, come on, when you have so much money to blow, I suggest Ashutosh should have probably given it to some charity organization. That would have atleast made some needy, innocent and homeless people happy. Because at the end of the movie, the only happy faces that I saw were of those who were glad the movie (read junk) was over.

Ok now here is my review on "Jodha Akbar".

Set in the sixteenth century (Yawn), Jodha Akbar is supposedly a love story between a mughal emperor (Akbar) and a Rajput princess (Jodha). But unfortunately this movie is all about disturbing outfits, and extremely weird topis. The jewellery apparently is specifically designed by Tanishq!!!

Ashutosh Gowariker, I think has a thing to start all his movies with the voice of Amitabh Bachan. A map of India drawn by a 4 yr old just five minutes before the actual shoot captivates the audience from the very beginning.

Some scenes from the movie in no special sequence, order, style or class:

1. The war sequence- What the??? The aerial shot of the battlefield (with 20 people in weird armour, weak horses and baby elephants on either side) set the tone for the film. Popular movie review websites and critics compare this scene with the initial battlefield scene from Troy. You must be Shi**ing me!!! Apparently the casting crew couldn't find enough people for the scene at the time of the shoot and most of the crew who didn't have any work that day also dressed up and were a part of the scene.

2. Hrithik taming an out-of-control elephant. It’s hair-raising. - For the elephant maybe. Cheap graphics and over acting from the supporting cast ensured a hearty laugh for a select drunk few at the movie hall. In an interview given on a popular channel by the director, he says that to get this shot in the best possible manner, Hrithik was made to sleep in the same shed as the elephant for ten days. At the end of the ten days, the elephant could identify the snoring sounds of Hrithik and his bowel movements. So everytime they had to shoot this scene, Hrithik would secretly produce those sounds and the elephant would then ACT like its about to beat the crap out of Hrithik, but only the crew know that the elephant, Hrithik and the entire unit would watch WWE every day to practise those deadly moves.

3. Hrithik's Naked torso act- Ok. Hmmm.. actually, errr, we have received information from valid sources close to the director that this scene was requested by Ash. Apparently that was the only day Junior B was not present in the sets and she was to have actually done another scene of her sitting in front of the Krishna Idol praying and singing bhajans. Since she got bored doing that, she requested Ashutosh to have Hrithik remove his rather long sherwani? that he keeps wearing throughout the movie and do a little show for her (and yea to all the female fans) Apparently this particular scene has received tremendous support and fan following from the pubs down in Brighton.

4.The confrontation between Ila Arun and Ash at the kitchen- Ila Arun shouldn't be talking. Maybe she should have been made to walk in and out of the frame with those big round eyes. Her eyes were more expressive and venemous than her lines. The huge vessels in the scene were again a major source of entertainment for the drunk friends. And thanks to this scene, the "Elephant Actor's Association" had called for a strike and didn't come for the shoot for one week. They felt that they were fed less than the humans.

5.The immediate sequence, when Ash is asked to taste the food herself by Ila - This scene makes you wait eagerly to see who eats the most. The expression of the supporting actors are laughable. The scene kept going on and on and on and on... Made a lot of people in the movie hall extremely hungry, since by then the time was already 1 in the morning. (and still no sign of an intermission in the near future).

YIPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! Finally a couple of scenes later Ashutosh must have realised its been a really long since these guys are sitting on their butt and he was kind enough to stop the movie with more torture to follow very soon for a short intermission.

6.The sword fight the very next morning, between Hrithik and Ash - I think Mr. & Mrs. Smith is an all time favourite movie of Ashutosh. The chemistry, between Ash and Hrithik was disappointing. Maybe Junior Bachan was present at the sets. Ash reportedly used to practise lifting the sword more than actually performing any stunts with that. Hrithik on the other hand has this extremely stupid smirk everytime he would come close to Ash during the stunt.

7.The Azeem-o-Shaan Shahenshah track- Hmmmmmm. Long. Very very long. Just like the movie.

8.The fight in the climax- Ok. I think Ashutosh spends a lot of time watching Hollywood movies. I think he wanted to shoot the fight like the sequence between Brad Pitt and Eric Bana from Troy. The point being WANTED to. But it was miserable (like the entire movie).

Ok now moving on to more stuff from the movie. This is a review of Jootha Akbar, it's going to be long (just like the movie) so kindly adjust.

A.R. Rahman’s music...Ah, this I think I would enjoy writing about. Rahman's background score for the movie is the only saving grace of the entire movie (ok, now wait a minute.. that's a compliment) I think I could say the background score was decent and not laughable. Azeem-o-Shaan Shahenshah reminded me of Michael Jackson wearing an Olodum T-shirt and doing weird groin movements. Jashn-e-Bahara is a song with decent lyrics and tune,but please buy the sound track seperately if you need to enjoy the song, because the song has been butchered to bits with its strange picturisation. The execution of Khwaja Mere Khwaja is the one part in the entire movie that I enjoyed the most. I was rolling on the floor laughing. It's supposed to be a scene where a bunch of Sufi singers perform before Akbar. There are totally four people who sing the song in the video and all of them sing in the same voice (A.R. Rahman's voice). The main vocalist (in the video) has a nose that would surely BLOW you away in every sense. I have absolutely no clue why the cinematographer kept zooming in on his nose (which were pretty strange) the whole time in the video. They were tilted in a 45 degree angle and if you actually looked at the screen a little closely, you can infact see the hair inside his nose. The expressions of the supporting actors in the song were....errrr..STONED? I still have a major doubt what Ashutosh must have briefed them while shooting the scene. Ashutosh if you are reading this, I would like to tell you that am a great fan of your movies and your directing & storytelling abilities, (Swades, Lagaan.. they were nice movies) but what in the lords name did you tell the actors? And for all Hrithik dance fans this is the only song in the movie where he dances (atleast does something).

Certain aspectss of the movie I feel could have been done better:

1. Direction
2. Storytelling - Screenplay
3. Acting
4. Casting
5. Cinematography
6. Editing - Especially the parts where graphics have been used and actually in chopping the movie.
7. Stunts
8. Art Direction

Have I missed anything?

On the whole, Jodhaa Akbar is, without a shred of doubt, The WORST HINDI MOVIE I HAVE EVER SEEN IN A REALLY LONG TIME.

Some important tips to people who still want to watch the movie:

1. Never, I repeat NEVER watch this movie on a sunday night. You won't be able to wake up on monday morning to head to work.
2. The perfect movie for young couples on two counts. One, there won't be people in the movie hall and two it is really long. You could easily sit and discuss America's political situation.
3. Never go to a movie hall where the movie is screened on the second floor and above. Chances are you might want to jump off during the movie.
4. Never take your kid to the movie. Chances are he/she would hate Indian History.

But after all this I would have to say one thing more. I surely enjoyed the music that was playing in the men's loo.

Reason?

2007-11-06T11:53:00.001+05:30

We all need a reason to start over. And most times before we realize, the reason is gone. A reason to share, to care, to love, to change, to leave, to move, to let go, to forgive, to forget. Reasons are everything. Coming to think of it, we reason the very thought of reasoning. I don’t have a concrete reason as to why am writing this piece right now. And am pretty certain you don’t have one either as to why you are reading it. I now need a reason to start over.

A painter and her works

2007-11-06T11:51:00.000+05:30

Black lines of magic
Bristles for eye lashes
A little brown diamond sparkling
Light that can blind a thousand stars
House on the house
A gentle rhythm with the pen
A world on her paper
Excitement with every stroke
It’s all surreal
Right in front of my eyes
The best seat in the house
A dream.

Tears on a tea cup

2007-10-29T14:22:00.000+05:30

Aimless, lost and confused
Hurt, wasted and clueless
Weak, angry and sick
Blood shot eyes and weak knees
Screaming, pain, no mercy
Mayfly, living corpse, fear?
Needles, cut wrist, RED
Breathing, gasping, waiting
Weird, strange language
Slash, bang, boom
Slithering, white line powder,
Brown, Dark, Black
Slain, vain, feel the vein
Clogged artery, screwed ability
Coffee stains and nicotine
Stuffy rooms and noisy phones
Heavy wallet, stench, filth
Group, crowd, lonely
Shivering, laughing, loud
Fake, Fake, Fake
Help them- Please.

Vande Mataram

2007-08-16T12:02:00.000+05:30

The stone with smooth tip
Turquoise blue inches
Mathematics across the table

The gentle scratch of ignorance
Feverishly dipping into an ocean of numbers
Scribblings on a battered tissue

60 it screams big and bold
colored ribbons around the room
All here as a reminder

Pride slipping from the sleeve
Honour catching the fall
One Voice. One World. One Love....

One evening in a coffee shop

2007-07-25T15:31:00.000+05:30

Spring she dances upon snow
Silence she wears like mini skirts
Manalo Blahnick’s for magic wands!!
Blistering barnacles her favourite words…

The armadillo does the fiddle
And batman’s there to answer the riddle
Conversations with Moses
With Gucci glances for pauses

Slowly she slithers down the corridor
Glancing through the window at the distant horizon!
Sun’s getting ready to violate the line
That is getting ready with pelvic thrusts.

Prada watches her every move
With the evil eye of Armani watching her drooling following
Is she a walking talking fashion house?
Maybe all she wants is to sit in her doll house!!

With the loo full of channel 5
And the aroma room smelling like a toddler’s burp
She’s flicking her cig. With the hair down with the rain
She can see Marc Jacobs in the window, bobbing to Johny cash on her fingertip.

A sudden rush of blood surging rite through to her brain..
Is it time already? She thinks all but in vain.
Sunlight bursts through the Johny Cash in her ears
And memories gather in a musty corridor of the years
Weird shaped lamp shades dance on her face
As the smoke swirls…

She watches the sunrise
Rhythm can be dangerous, this feeling sets her free
This feeling takes the lead and controls her fears

What’s there being poor with no cash?
As long as there is an endless supply of Johny Cash!!
Rhymes without reason
Bind them like shackles in the hunting season.

Black hounds & Axwell; fruit flies & gold striped ducks
For all that she could imagine, from her ----------------

Why fill the missing blanks. When everything is ready on the plank
Deathly sorrow seems to be the order of the hour,
She suddenly remembered the curd has gone sour.

Summer she dances with the bad milk
Making coffees that are too bitter to look.

An evening....

2007-07-16T15:41:00.000+05:30

The Time: 22:45
The Location: STONES – B’lore
The Scene: A single guy sitting alone and observing.
The Weapon: A mug of beer, a pack of smokes, a pen and a scribbling pad.

“Shine on you crazy diamond”, a song I grew up listening to, thanks to an older brother and his collection of audio cassettes. The speakers are blaring and I guess songs like this are composed keeping in mind the growing number of pubs around the world and people who always manage to find each and every one of them and flock into them. Change the bloody CD, a voice screams out. Popcorn flies in the air towards the counter where a short but plump man with an expression that only he can pull off on a Sunday evening stands meekly pouring beer into the empty pitchers and mugs in front of him.

The activity is slow today, not a typical Sunday evening crowd, this I know since am a regular here. The man at the counter waves a gentle hello to me, when I lift my head between my writing. I smile at him and signal for a refill of my beer. He is disappointed today. Disappointed that am sitting there alone and ordering for a mug and not a pitcher. The waiters and the other bartenders decked in a pale red shirt and black trousers seem to walk up and down the entire length and breadth of the pub. They seem pensive; they seem buried in their own world. They are working, occasionally stopping at tables where they see a known face. Am sure they know more about the people than some of the friends who sit in the same table. The favorite drink of one guy, the amount of spice in the egg burji of another, the capacity to drink of one gang and the amount of money another group would tip always. They know everything.

The song changes, “Where were you”… it says. I stare into the plasma screen above my head and smile. Feel like the song is directed rite at me. Where was I? Where am I? I really wonder. The sheer fact of me probably sitting alone in a pub and writing is a sign that I really don’t know where I am. A tap on the shoulder breaks my thought process. A guy in his late 20’s or even early 30’s holding a mug of beer looks at me, curiously. The mug is almost empty and am sure there has been a few down already. He was in this phase that I define as the “pleasantly high” phase. ‘Hey, what are you doing man?’ he enquires. Quietly I look at him, obviously a little upset with the fact that I was disturbed from my writing process. He peeks into my scribble pad and takes another drag from his ciggy. The smoke covers my face. I move away from the smoke blanket and smile at him. Gently closing my book, I tell him am working on a story. With a slight tilt of his head, he starts, ‘Oh, what story? Like a book or something?’ I take a sip from my drink and tell him, ‘No, not really. This is just some random ramblings’. I could see that he was disappointed about something. He turned back to the bar and ordered for another drink. I continued to look around, carefully observing the sights and sounds of the place that night. A group of adolescent kids were all sitting in a semi circle and raising a toast to this one extremely cute girl who was with them. I could see in their eyes and everyone wanted to make a toast and say something special. She was more engrossed with her mobile phone, smiling to herself and messaging someone. A tall and leathery young man walks in through the door and searches frantically for someone. He walks a few steps check the watch and then continues to look further. Is he late? Is he early? Is he alone? Or is he with a group? His expression doesn’t give me much scope on anything. He looks at the corner table right next to mine and smiles. Walking in a brisk pace he approaches my table and gently moves my chair aside to make way to sit with someone who was already there on the table. I turn around to see this person, whose hair was long and curly, covering her face. Her thin fingers pop up from under the table to clear the hair from her face. I could see a faint smile when the hair is cleared. I look at her as she goes around filling the empty beer mugs on the table and then takes a sip of her fresh lime.

I bend down and continue to write, when the guy taps on my shoulder again and says, ‘Nice crowd eh? Happening chicks’, an follows it up with a chuckle. I choose to ignore the sly comment and continue to write. He says, ‘If you are working on a story about this place, then have me as a character in the story. I would really like that’, saying that he goes back to his tall chair. I close my eyes after he leaves, smell of beer, and smoke is everywhere. People are talking real loud to be audible for the others in the same table because of the loud music. Crash!!! A mug falls flat on the ground and breaks. A girl looks embarrassed and the others from her table point fingers at her and are laughing. A cozy couple sitting next to them look and nod their head like they have just witnessed something completely sinful.

The crowd starts leaving the place. The music is switched off now. I look into my watch and realize that it’s a little past 23:30 rite now and they have already closed the bar and the bills are being cleared. The short man at the counter is counting the amount of money they made that evening and entering it in his little black book. I have always wondered about the numbers in that book. Mathematics was never my favorite subject at school, would have sucked at the job if I was there in his place. I get up and pay my bill, the waiter is obviously disappointed. I tip him an amount that is almost close to my bill. I guess I was there not to drink but to probably feel high on a different level….

Random Series

2007-03-21T01:16:00.000+05:30

She dance upon snow gone lost in her dreams,
Giggles turn to wiggles as she makes angel wings.

Spring she buys a dress full of blooms,
Spring class robust laugh breaks through the chill.

Mind over Matter

2007-02-23T11:13:00.000+05:30

A bizarre turn of events

Brings a weeping flower

Yet to bloom, on the verge

The essence seems to have been lost

Amidst the gloomy shadows

A pale, frail being, loses its identity

The voices, reach out, far and wide

The call for help, surpasses the reason

An ability that seems to be submerged

Beneath layers of soliude

Restraining emotions and feelings

Seeking comfort and consolation

The answers aren't easy

The questions don't have a form

The presence overpowers the moment

A movement that is painfully slow

The thrust felt beyond all depths

A lone image stands without a purpose.

TAG

2007-02-21T19:03:00.000+05:30

Been at home for nearly three weeks now and well have all the time in the world to do stuff like this. You don't have to have time to read all this. But if you do have the time, then what the heck, go on and read what I have here.

Name: Arvind Iyer (If you didn’t know that, then what in the world are you doing here?
Nickname(s): Iyer, Iyer Man, Leanie

Single or Taken? Hmmmmm. People often get confused on this one and am confused almost all the time. But well I am SINGLE.
Sex: Male

Birthday: 8th April
Blood group: A+

Sign: Aries
Siblings: Elder brother & Younger brother.

Hair color: Black (and pretty long)

Eye color: Dark Brown

Shoe size: 9 (I think)
What are you wearing right now? T-shirt that says (absolute Bangalore) and Tracks. Where do you live? Bangalore, at the moment. From coimbatore (that’s Home)

Have You Ever:-

given anyone a bath? Yup

bungee jumped? No (almost did once and it started to rain)

broken the law? Yes. A few times.
made yourself throw-up? Hmmmmm (wicked grin)

gone skinny dipping? No (but been with a bunch of people who did)

been in the opposite sex's bathroom? Yes. (The perks that my profession gives me at times)

eaten a dog biscuit? Yea. They taste much better than some of the regular biscuits that we eat.

put your tongue on a frozen pole? Naah. From where I come there is no question of me being close to any of that. (does the road side ice cream that looks like one count?)

broken a bone? Yes. A few times. Am an outdoor person, you see.
played truth or dare? Yes. It was always Dare for me

been in a physical fight? Yes. And got badly beaten a few times too and also broken a really hefty man’s nose!!

been in a police car? Yes. Was picked up by the cops when I doing a video shoot without permission.

been on a plane? Yes.
been in a hot tub? Yes

swam in the ocean? Yes.

fallen asleep in college? Oh yea. Who wouldn’t!!!.

cried when someone died? Yes

flashed someone? NO.

lied? Well, we all have to at times. I have too. But not lied that it has hurt someone.

laughed so hard you fell off your chair? Oh yes.

sat by the phone all night waiting for a call? Yes. (those were the days)

saved e-mails? Yes. (a whole lot of them and sent it to a friend on her b’day)

wished you were someone else? No

wished you were a member of the opposite sex? No

been rejected? Hmmmmmm *Scratches Head*
used someone? No. Don’t think I would ever want to do that too.

been cheated on? YUP

done something you regret? Hmmmm. Maybe a couple of things.

First Thing That Comes to Mind:-

Yellow: The song
Blue: The sea
Happy: My family

Autumn: What’s that?

Cow: HOLY?

Have you ever had:-

chicken pox? Yes

sore throat? Yes

cold? Yea
Stitches? Oh yea. Rite on the jaw. Comes with playing serious cricket I guess.

bloody nose? Yes
sex? Hmmmmm (baseball comes to mind) *evil grin*

Do you:-

believe in love at first sight? Hmmmmm
enjoy parks? Yea, I do. But don’t see many these days. Or see a reason to go to one.

like picnics? Yes..

like school? School was always not for me. Don’t like doing something that everyone blindly follows and does.

hate anyone? Yes. A few and I really do. (I know they are not worth it. But yes I DO HATE THEM)

Who:-

is the last person that called you? My mom. Wanted me to come down and take my coffee. (You didn’t mean the phone did you?)
Makes you laugh the most? A few friends (they know who they are)

can make you feel better no matter what? Am the agony unc. So its my job to make everyone feel better.
was the last person you touched? Been in bed rest for the last three weeks. So nothing to write home about. Bleh.

you hugged? Refer previous koshtin.

you yelled at? A client who kept calling me and asking me for his payment.
told you they loved you? Hmmmm. They told me. Why would I tell you?

Do You/Are You:-

like yourself? I think am cool and I love it.

dye your hair? NO

have piercings below the waist? No. (don’t think I would too)

stolen anything over $50? Someone’s heart. That’s worth a lot more. *this is where all the girls who read my blog go, awwwwwwwwww*

like ice cream? At times.

Which is your favourite flavour? Black current.
like cold coffee? NO. Coffee is supposed to be sipped real hot.

smoke? Yes

have beer? So tempted to say All the time. But yes.

obsessive? Bout wat?

compulsive? Bout wat?

depressed? Never

suicidal? Get out of here!!

Random:-

Prized possession: Maya. My bike. My only possession, literally.
Last thing you said? Talk to you in a bit. I need a smoke.

What is beside you? An mp3 player churning out loud metallica, my cellphone, a book on physiotherapy, my cd collection, a mug of hot coffee, mint and a pack of cigarettes.
Last thing you ate? A really awesome south indian lunch.

Are you right handed or lefty? Right(ly) handed.

Favourite song: There are quite a lot. All time favorite is Yellow – Cold play.
Worst thing that has happened to you this year: A broken back (as of now)
Time started: When I was really bored.

Time finished: When am even more bored.

SNAP

2007-02-14T16:27:00.000+05:30

A routine morning
Heavy smog in the air
Maya sailin across the road

Reach the destination
the days line up
running on my mind

The morning elixir on my hand
Call from home
Too engrossed with both

The passage to work
always comes with a Catch
realized what that meant, today.

The shutter is reluctant
Doesnt wanna work i guess
A sudden pull and....

SNAP

If I was a movie...
Id be Split Wide Open

If I was a book....
Id be Catch 24 (am not 22)

If I was a doc...
Id say, Dude, your back is screwed !!!

For my family

2007-02-10T16:49:00.000+05:30

There is a strange feeling going through my head at this point of time. It’s been a while since I felt this way. And I love the feeling. Life has come a full circle and I just had to make its presence felt. The wave is just subsiding and the storm is overpowering. Over the years, I have spent time with a number of people, family and friends. And the learning that has transpired makes me the person I am right now. Physical, emotional and mental strength comes from strange sources that you never knew existed. They have been right in front of my eyes and all I had to do was to open my eyes a little wider and I see a world, a world full of wonderful things, amazing people and happiness.

The way I lead my life has always been in tune with my spiritual seeking. I seek truth, I seek life and I seek joy, and I don’t think am the only one who does that. I have been blessed with a family and an upbringing that has helped me understand the joy that this life and birth has to offer. It beats me that when my head is so clear at this juncture, there is still something that is missing. I know that I don’t have everything and I don’t want to have everything. What I have with me right now is something that I would cherish for eternity. This is unbelievable and I just don’t have enough words to describe the feeling. A family that has given me all the freedom, a proper education and the thought that I can lead my life the way I want to and how ever I want to. Guess it’s this freedom that has brought in a lot of self control in me that I just don’t want to misuse and let the people dear and close to me, down.

After packing my bags and letting my thoughts take me places, I am in a position to say that things are falling into place. On one of my late night conversations with my cousin, I was discussing about how our lives have changed but still remain the same. The time where a single earning member in the family was raising three kids. Three different kids, each with a different point of view about life and with different priorities, co existing under one roof. A woman with the strength and heart of a lion to hold all the four and still give us everything, when we didn’t have everything. But not once did she make us realize that we didn’t have everything. We didn’t have to.

It brings a shiver in my body to think about all those times now. I close my eyes now and here are the things I see…. Mom running around the house, dad coming home late from work, elder brother not home yet, younger one painting something on his art note, me sitting in front of the television set watching a repeat telecast of India’s tour to west Indies from 1990, people coming in and out of our house, endless coffee making sessions for mom, letter from brother, friends, smiles, hospitals, my dog, war with the younger one, relatives, religion, all these and more come in my mind as flashes. It takes a lot of strength for someone to have been in the hospital so many times in their lives, either for their health condition or to just be there and take care of the others in the hospital. To have gone up to the doors of heaven and fight with the gatekeeper there for the sake of three little ones and an innocent man in her life. Come back and push herself to the limit to ensure there is never a sad moment in our life. Brings tears in my eyes thinking about all that. How much would she have gone through, how much would she have compromised, how much? She always had just one thing to say, the three sons she had were everything for her and I would believe her without blinking an eyelid. A teacher, a doctor, a mom, a wife, a tutor, a real estate agent, a believer, a lawyer, my mom has been all this and more. She is what I call everything.

A man with a lot of words, tall, fair and warm, that’s how I would express my father. An advocate by profession, a wonderful man in person, he is what every man wants to grow up to become. All my life, not once has he raised his voice or his hand on any of his three kids and his partner in life. He has nice things to talk about and share with everyone, but an angry man when he sits on his car and travels in his city that he calls home. I sometimes pity the ones on the road when he is driving, but he is harmless. A pious man, who is proud of his roots and his religion. A man who has faced many situations to be where he is right now. Loves music and Krishna sweets (too bad he is off the latter). A good father, a family man, a very good lawyer and a great influence to many.

Guru, friend, philosopher, guide, baba that’s how I would explain my brother. Intense, warm, loving and an unbelievable person. So happy to be born in this family with him as my brother. I always seem to be short of words when am trying to talk about baba. He is everything to me, someone who I always look up to and someone who I know would always be there for me. I guess there can be no words to describe baba. You have to sit with him and listen to him talk and the world (and everything beyond) becomes such a wonderland. To his three lovely angels and an extremely warm and caring wife, thank you for everything. (And am coming there this Christmas)

Software engineer, younger sibling, go-getter (come what may), kid. That pretty much sums up the younger one.
I don’t know the feeling in my mind right now is that which is full of warmth and love and I think my family means more to me than anything else in this world. Guess lying down at home without stepping out of the house and resting with a sore back gives you all the time to reflect on the person you are and the wonderful past that one has had.
To everyone who has been a part of my family and who has been a part of my life. This is an ode to each and every single one of you. The good times are on.

Ehsaas

2007-01-13T15:06:00.000+05:30

Sun, music, road, screams, water, chai, smoke, beedis, vitamin tablets, warmth, metal, tamil, milestones, wheels, kannada, thoughts, dreams, expectations, care, engligh, sunsets, kms, maps, pit stops, home, shore, sand, beach, beer, babes, bikinis, towel, tattoos, fenny, food, beads, kurtas, sea food, smiles, friendly couple, photography, wonderland, emotions, love, friends, family, sms, miss you, wish you were here, long walks, truth, destiny, ogling, time, space, world, sleep, soul searching, and all the above over and over and over again!!!
That was Goa during New Years!! It was great, it was fun, charged my batteries and my senses (lost them too). It gives me a rush to sit down and write this post. This was something I should have done ages ago. This was something that I had always wanted to do. Travel and write about the thoughts in my head. I know am not doing justice to my thoughts or my trip, but nonetheless, am doing it and am happy doing it.

My life seems to have seen and experienced too many things in the last two months. Sorting things in my head, trying to search for a bigger truth, trying to understand the concept of my thoughts and actions, trying to seek a path and this journey has made me strong and I feel new and fresh. I have this sudden urge to step out and pass this feeling to everyone. To a few people in particular. I feel that am not the person who I was not so long ago. I have not changed; I am not different or indifferent, just that the transformation seems to have come at a time that was most needed. Guess I needed time on my own, guess I needed some space and a whole new start for bigger and better things to come and explore. The way the concept of life works is so wonderful, magic so to speak. The mystery of each moment as it unfolds, the images that it brings, the blocks that it seem to easily analyze and open, the strength of character that it can bring to a person is all so fascinating. I have always been sort of a thinker, I think for people around me, I think for family, I think for people who I work with, I think for friends who need help, I think for the person in the chai shop, I think for the house owner who wakes me up at 7 in the morning and ask for rent, I think. Strange that I say that now. Because I have always felt that thinking in injurious to health.

Am a dreamer. There are others who have said the same thing, long before I stepped into this world and am sure there will be a lot more people who would say the same thing in years to come. There is no end to the kind of things that your mind can think of or strive to achieve. Even while writing this post, all I feel like doing is have a smile on my face, music in my ears and smoke in my lungs. We are here in this world to play a part, and we are all special and different and as long as we play our parts and improvise along the way, there would be a natural high that we would feel. I want to live life, I want to live for the moment and I want to make an impact in the lives of many. Think am getting there and am sure I will get there.

Legions of BOOM

2006-12-04T11:06:00.000+05:30

The white mist engulfs the air
Warmth enters your body
Senses take a back seat

The world becomes a stage
Life becomes the script
He is the master – the director

The cast enter the scene
Heads begin to spin
Fingers tremble at the mere touch

A giant drop
A thick smoke
Gravity drops

A circle of trust
Faith and hope
Family means the world

Others on the sidelines
Past along the milestone
A future beaming at you

Dim, Lite and faint
A voice in the distance
Calling out…

The Big O after a Wild S

2006-11-28T14:08:00.000+05:30

Alrite, before all you pervs get any wild ideas and have your imagination run amock, I just meant the Big October after a Wild September. Frankly the reason for this update was coz I got really bored of seeing ANACIN on my page every time I logged in. And another reason being, I just didn’t have the inclination to sit and write in this space. Been doing a LOT of writing at work too (and at least there I get paid unlike receive e-props and comments, but I complain and I fight there, while I enjoy my solitude in this.)

Been working like a rabid dog. Wow. Now that is one imagery that am sure all of you would like to see. Iyer fuming and frothing from his mouth. Ok, on second thoughts I don’t quite like the idea of that. Work has been crazy. Loads of things, clients, deadlines and new campaigns. A simple but really productive shoot for a campaign. Boss is happy, client is thrilled and am on a high ever since I saw the hoardings up in the city. Ah!! The sheer bliss of standing under the hoarding and smoking a beedi. Never knew the great OKTOBER FEST could be so cool and its not just coz of the endless amount of beer I guzzled but also coz I managed to find my model for the shoot sitting there drinking beer. This is why I love my job. Where else can you just walk upto some girl and introduce yourself and ask them if they would like to be a model for a shoot? But the job also comes with its share of screw-ups and deadline pressures. Its been a while since I had a social life, lets just say its been a while since I had a fun evening with friends.

Two hectic months, a cool campaign that was written about in the papers and a couple of wonderful corporate films. Over all content with the way things have fallen into place. November saw Iyer move into a bigger apartment. From a meager one room with an attached bath, which I stylishly used to call my studio apartment (just coz I had my tripod in one corner of that room), now I have moved to an awesome shack. Have a pretty chilled out roommate, my retard Cousin who also blogs.

Its been close to a week since I started writing this post. I start writing and then something comes up and I continue the post when I get the time. And writing something for one week an something that is just a rant is no fun. But I guess, this space needed an update, my life needed an update. I need to take some time off work for better and more important things. Its strange. I don’t quite enjoy typing my posts directly on to the computer. No computer at home has made this easier for me. I sit at home or a coffee shop and write things on my scribble pad or a tissue and I type that onto a computer and then post it. In some strange cases I sit in a meeting and when my client makes me wait, while he collates some info for some profile brochure that am doing for him. I sit on the table right opposite to him, sipping coffee on a lazy Saturday afternoon and complete this update.

There are gazillion thoughts on my mind right now. And all I wanna do is just keep writing, pen down my thoughts and not stop. Thinking about how much someone wanted an update on this space. Thinking about how much certain people mean to me. Thinking about all the crap back in school and college. Thinking about music, about love, about traveling, about friends, about family, about ex-girl friends and their getting married, about best friend who is about to get married, about what to wear for her wedding, about a special someone who is about to come to Bangalore, about the one person who I was so attached to and the changes in our lives now, it can go on..

And on a final note. After trying my hand in journalism, Radio, Television, Cinematography, Events, Waiter in a coffee shop, Promotions, Advertising and a whole load of freelance bullshit, I have my BIG (small) break finally. Iyer would be acting in a Tamil movie shortly. A 20-mt cameo, the shoot for which would start in January 2007. Wish me luck.

Anacin

2006-10-16T20:25:00.000+05:30

After a really late (read wild) Saturday night. You slowly open your eyes due to the harsh ray's of the sun piercing through the little window in your house. Your hands search for something. Its your phone, you open one eye and check to see if anyone had missed you. There are quite a few ppl. Most of them asking you if you had reached home safe that evening. You see it after nearly 13 hours. Prompt, I must say.

You laze around in bed for a while. The smoke that you lit fills your lungs and the room. You smile and tell yourself, the Joy of Mist in the middle of your room. The music then fills the room and the mist is getting heavier. You feel a rumble in your stomach. You decide its time to grab a quick bite. You make plans to meet up with a few people. A quick shower to get that hair soft and shining again. A three day stubble, you don't want to mess around with. You take the helmet and step out. MAYA has a flat tyre.

Monday morning, you wake up dazed, sleepy and tired. Sunday night was no different. Your body needs sleep and your boss needs work. There is a huge event likely to unfold in a week and you don't want to be left out of the whole buzz. A buzz even higher than the 9 pitchers you had the previous night. You have an excuse of a shower. Take the first decent looking shirt that you find hanging in the room. Stuff yourself into it and start a quick mist to start your day. You take the helmet and step out. MAYA is out of fuel.

You clutch your fists and curse. Push MAYA till the gas station. A good 2 km away from home. And then you understand the powerful meaning of the line.

'Not today honey. I have a headache'.

--------------------------------------------------

EDIT : Man. Just when crazy things happen in life and a close friend lose their dad and you feel drained and down, you have a person write something for you which gives you a lot of energy and gets you back on track. Thanks so much Shubha.

Spin studio

2006-09-25T13:26:00.000+05:30

Round and round it spins
The surface beneath opens up
Equilibrium shifts

Senses give way
New senses appear
Is it just in the head?

Throat gets dry
Thirst overpowers you
Was it planned?

The system wants it
The body needs it
You crave for it

Hallucinating thoughts flood
The core functions
Do you even realize?

Five days of pandamonium
Three days of pain
Two days of sheer Bliss.

I love weekends.

Date with Work

2006-08-30T16:35:00.000+05:30

After a long, hard days work, when every muscle in your body aches, all you want to do is get to the cozy comforts of your home. Have a hot shower, listen to some good music, make some coffee and sit in the balcony and light a smoke. Ahhh. Bliss…

But this bliss is short lived. You receive a call from a client, who wants something urgently, and you being the nice, sweet agency guy that you are, tell the client that it will be done and mailed to her first thing in the morning. You need to make a choice now and you are left with two options. You either go home and indulge in all the above mentioned things and do the work in the morning or stop your bike and step into the next coffee shop you come across and get cracking. Either way the possibility of getting back to work is ruled out.

So, you start riding your bike slowly and after a while spot a coffee day, Your more a barista person than a café coffee day person, but you need caffeine real bad and you dont care a damn. Thats the first mistake for the evening!

You park your bike and after walking past a lot of rich, spoilt school kids and the heavy trail of strawberry hookah smoke, you find a corner table and leave your stuff and settle down. You look at the watch and it shows 8:30. You think to yourself, ok another one hour, a couple of cappuccinos and then youre through from that place. You look around you and see a couple not bothered about the place and having a cozy making out session. You smile and think to yourself, search the keys to your house from your jean pocket and are really tempted to offer them the key and politely tell them to get a house instead of a room. But you shrug your shoulders and dig your scribble pad from the bag instead. Just when you are about to write a line of thought, a deep voice disturbs you and waits for your order. You dont raise your head, but order a cappuccino and also ask him to get you a cold glass of water. The strawberry hookah is now beginning to give you a headache. You start working. Ask questions to yourself about the product, the client, their service (thats how you work and crack concepts). You have a whole barrage of questions before you and you start answering one after the other. Suddenly there is a loud shriek of a microphone. Your ears become sour. You immediately cover your ears and spit some water out. You look up to see a guy with thick glasses and an even thicker moustache standing at a corner of the coffee shop with a microphone in his hands and a headphone on his ears. He has a laptop on a table in front of him. There are bunch of people around him and also a really beautiful young woman, making circles with her hair. You see relief. But you’re still not sure as to whats going on.

The man introduces himself to the crowd sitting in the coffee shop and tells everyone there is going to be a karaoke session that is Instore for everyone. You love music and you dont think your a bad singer at all, so you thought this could be a slight relief from the concept that you were working on. You keep the pen down and close the scribbling pad. The young woman starts off with -Hips dont lie, You thought the song made a lot of sense. Youre not really a fan of shakira, but you are of her hips. The young woman sings really well and you were thinking to yourself this is going to be fun. And as always bliss is short lived. The man with the microphone starts singing after the shakira song gets over. Your reaction, you feel like strangling him and putting a bullet through your head- thrice. It is terrible, it is hilarious. And strangely this does not bother the man at all and he is having a blast. Screaming, shouting, oh am sorry he is supposed to be singing. You become happy about one thing though; his singing makes the school kids smoking the hookah, stand up, laugh and leave. The air smells divine with only cigarette smoke. But what do you do with the screaming man? He then calls a few people from the audience to come and sing. You start praying, somebody please go on and grab that mike before he starts singing again. There are a few guys who are keen and you applaud them to the stage where people have to sing. This is the second mistake of the evening. The brave ones who actually come in have no idea about the song that they choose and make up their own lyrics and it gets pathetic.

For the next one hour that youre there, you cant work, you cant drink water, you cant sip your coffee, and well you just cant handle it anymore. Until the man walks up to you and asks if you would like to sing for the crowd. In the bottom of your heart you know that you are a much better singer than all the other blokes who have sung so far, but then you really dont want to push it. So you just smile and tell him that youre really a bathroom singer. The girl, who is sitting beside you in the next table, feels disappointed. You think maybe she wanted you to sing. The cycle continues and more people step on the stage and sing some more songs, there is vande mataram – a song only Rahman can sing better, there is Who lamhe one of your favourite songs, but well its just not your day.

You ask for the bill and decide to move out, when the girl walks upto you and looks you right in the eye and says, I thought you would sing something for me. Mistake number three that seals the day!!!

Orkut – Is that a name?

2006-08-16T18:37:00.000+05:30

No!! I dont wan to make friendship with you. I dont have the silky hairs. I dont want to be on the ship that never sinks and I dont know if orkut is a name. I dont want to scrap you, I dont want to give you my number, I dont want to write you a testi (that sounds like a body part) and I dont know if orkut is a name.

From Hi, Im XXXX, glad to meet you. Whats your name? Its become Hi my orkut id is XXXX, whats yours? Is there too much spare time for everyone? Im not against orkut and I think the concept of getting in touch with old, long lost friends is simply awesome. But people shouldnt be so addicted to this stuff. And thats why people, who dont have anything better to do, than just go through profiles and leave a scrap as dumb as this one. Hi, your profile picture is sexy and so are you? No clue why there is a question at the end of it all. And something like, Hi, I dont know you and you dont know me, but how will we know each other, if we dont become friends? Like DUH!!! Whats happening to this world? From messenger ids to orkut ids, guess times are changing. And if you want to be with the crowd and the time, get yourself and orkut id and start scrapping people or otherwise sit and make use of your time, like me, observing people and writing something.

The same was the case with blogs. What started as an avenue for people to pen down their thoughts and voice their opinion has now become a hotspot for people to make new friends and fix coffee or beer dates. The love for writing isnt the only reason why people write and updates have become some sort of a must do. You stop writing for a little while, you could be buried with work or busy with your newest possession, well who cares? And not commenting on others’ blog makes you a social outcast of sorts.

(Guess am moving away from the motive of my post)

Are people getting way too caught up in the virtual world, that they have stopped admiring the beauty of a world outside the www. People are so comfortable talking to someone through a chat window, that when you do end up meeting them in person, they would much rather type an LOL or a smiley than look you in the eye and have a conversation. When your phone book or your address book is filled with names and numbers and urls of people who you have no clue about, who you haven’t met. Life is so simple, yet so complex and top of all that, there are virtual good wishes, hugs and kisses. I have been very much a part of this cycle. I do have a lot of friends, who I have understood and read over the years. The face that comes to my head every time I read an individuals post, the mystery of who the writer is, how they look, how they are in real life, what goes through their head when they write a certain post is something that gives me a huge high. And that is something that I wouldn’t compromise for anything in this world. That’s the reason I want the one’s reading my blog to have a mental picture of who I am and what I am. So folks, there won’t be no pictures on my blog. I would love to meet all you lovely people and buy you coffee, but there will not be a picture…

But I sure as hell do have one question.

Orkut – Is that a name?

Iyer is back

2006-08-03T14:50:00.000+05:30

This is an ode to a gorgeous woman who has been in my thoughts the last few days. An ode to the mystery woman who keeps showing up in my dreams. I think I take my job way too seriously. Been working on this concept for a write up for a campaign, about a woman, a woman of substance, a woman who everyone wants to fall in love with, a woman who is there to make you happy, to make you smile and to smile with you and fill your senses and along with it, your life.

For me, she is no woman. she is just a beautiful thought. A thought that can come in your mind before you say Czechoslovakia. A thought that lingers over your system for a really long time. She is full of life, she is full of zest for life. She is life.

Ive got friends and family who read the crap I churn out from time to time. Friends, who message me or call me and ask me why I have been silent for a while, Friends who dont think twice before calling me at two in the morning and ask me,what color is my creative juice. Yes, I do have strange friends. But it feels nice, it feels great to have people like them in my life. I strongly believe that it is people like them, who help me come out of crazy screw ups I end up in, and holes that I dig myself. I dont generally feel upset bout things in life, but there sure have been instances where I had to go through a lot. Thats history now and there is a really cool and amazing future to look forward to.

My career is on an all time high, and with each passing day, am only being happy. Doing new things, learning tricks of the trade, meeting interesting people and not to forget being sold to three women for 50 rupees one night in a pub.

On the one hand everything seems to be happening, but on the other, I see that I have begun to stray away from friends. I havent been spending too much time with a few people and it feels sad when I know they mean a lot to me. A trip to Mumbai has been on the cards for a really long time and I just dont seem to be able to do that. Looks straight In the eye, I shall be there soon, real soon.

I need to go to goa. I sure do. And I have already got the design for the second tattoo that I want to get. The sun, the sand and the beaches, not to forget the liquid diet that I would be surviving on, once I get there. There is magic in the air when I just take the name of Goa. Am pretty certain thats the same with a lot of you guys who are reading this post this very moment. I also do sometimes feel that the place is highly over rated, but who the fuck cares, I need to go there and I need to go there fast. So who ever wants to come with moi can please send me a line and after the initial rounds are cleared there shall be an interview in a coffee shop or a pub and based on your taste of music and coffee and the capacity to which you can drink, I shall sign the papers and take you on board. Entry open. Drop in your lines.

P:S She is Black, She is Sexy, She is Gorgeous, and She is Maya!!

Ladies and Worms, I introduce Maya to all of you!! My only possession. My new BIKE.

Eternal Sunshine with the Coffee Shop woman

2006-07-06T19:02:00.000+05:30

As I stood there gazing at those eyes
A cold rush flowed through my body
Abstract images kept flooding my mind

Nailed to the surface beneath my feet
Inches, she moved, she swayed
The hair brushing against the softness of her skin added to the mystery

Her scent was overpowering
heightened with her smile
I thought her fingers were trying to tell me something

A sign, to maybe move closer
To feel the warmth of her breath
Gentle drizzles filled the air

This was the moment
And she was ready
One latte and quick, she said

The waiter am sure didnt hear a word
He was mesmerized as well
words kept flowing, but I could only see her lips move

A glance around her,
Maybe she was expecting someone
Or maybe she didnt want anyone with her

As she stretched her arms
She should have felt so relaxed
Her body slid back into her chair

And then something happened
She knew someone was looking
She knew it was I

An attempt to adjust herself
She was clumsy this time
She is human afterall,I thought

Her cheeks turned red
She realized wat happened
I smiled, She did too

maybe there is something in the air
Maybe there is more to her
She was a beatiful thought !!!

Entangled

2006-07-06T18:44:00.000+05:30

Why do you seek meaning

When Reason is right in front of you?

Why do you seek Truth

When Trust is behind you all the time?

Why does being away from you

Feels like total relief to others?

Why does the concept of you not being mine

refuses to dawn on others?

Why do I detest you so much

that it kills me from the inside?

Your a dream and am out of your mind

Your a haze and I want you out of mine

Your just a dream, You always will be

You have lost out on life, you have lost me forever!!!!

Psychology of the Mind

2006-07-01T19:35:00.000+05:30

There have been times when I have sat and wondered what it would be like to be inside the minds of people. Is it a healthy affair? Or would it be an affair to remember? Whatever it is, it sure would be an affair that has the ability to leave you spell bound and speechless and would definitely leave a lasting impression. The mind sure plays a lot of games with the self and also with everyone around us. It is the essence of any person. It has the power to imagine, it has the power to think and it has the power of reasoning. Or wait a minute is it the brain which does all that and not the mind?
Is the mind different from the brain? Or are they the same? In the time of the great Rishis and the Munis people had the power to sit in one place and enter the minds of people. The bodies of other people and enter the body of their previous birth and live the life, live their life. Isn’t that a little too hard to handle? Would I have the strength to do something like that if I had the power to do that? The movie HOLLOW MAN got me thinking. Though it was a crappy movie, the concept of being invisible fascinated me. Am sure it is every guy’s fantasy to be invisible, at least for a day to be able to fulfill all their dreams. The most common being step into the ladies change room. (How clichéd does that sound) What would I do if I had the power to be invisible? Ok, am going way off target here. Coming back to the mind here. Focus Iyer, Focus.

I love psychology and I love everything that has to do with psychology. I think in life, everything revolves around people, the mind, the thoughts, the way people react to things and it is psychology all the way. A write up or a proposal that I read from a friend of mine got me thinking. She plans to do an entire photo feature on people and their psychology and relate that with advertising. Interesting. But needs more clarity for sure. She wanted to discuss the whole thing with me and this post is a direct result of the write up from her. Maybe I could answer her queries with this, maybe I could answer myself with this or maybe this could just be something that I wrote sitting in a coffee shop waiting for a radio jingle to be produced.

Photography, advertising, and psychology. Three different topics, interlinked to create a desired effect, food for thought? I wanted to study psychology when I was just about to finish my school life. Spoke to a few psychology students and ‘Elders’ from the family, the result am in advertising now, not a software engineer, not a doctor or a lawyer, but an advertising dude with long hair and weird eating and sleeping habits. It’s fun how my eagerness to do psychology quickly faded away, but the passion, the fire for the subject still is engraved in my system. Fortunately I got to do psychology in the course I did for my under graduation and my post graduation. And I loved every bit of reading about Freud and Lacan and the various other twisted, perverted and repulsively real psychologists this world has been subject to. Freud particularly caught my attention. The man was a genius. But unbelievably twisted in his brain. He has come up with startling reports about the human mind, hard to digest for a lot of people and more so for a few of my girl colleagues in college. They used to twitch and turn every time we had a discussion in class. They just wouldn’t take the ‘S’ word of the ‘G’ word. How funny is that? The oedipal journey and the electral complex, psychology students would understand what am referring to here, for the others, there is always Google and Wikipedia.

The world of still photographs- images is absolutely mind blowing. How the concept of capturing a moment of time between four frames came into life. How the photograph has a life of its own, not that of the person or the image in question, but on its own. More than abstract images captured, or more than the sunsets and the sunrise. The empty roads and the tall buidings, the distant mountains and the horizon. The beach and the boat. Its people that is more interesting. Human life forms are interesting subjects for photography. The contours of the face, the depth in the wrinkles, the smile, the eyes. It’s poetry. Real, true, breathtaking poetry. I have been working a lot with video, that I have lost out on the joy of still photographs. The way light can change the mood of a picture, the color can add beauty to the subject. I need to get back to photography. (takes the scribble pad and makes notes to self).

How can you bring in photography to describe psychology? How can you just use subjects, normal people, in normal setting, to project normal or abnormal behavior. How would a certain someone react when he is subject to different environment, under different circumstances? Would he be the same? Or would there be a drastic change in his behavioral pattern? This is Iyer the psychologist speaking here. Is it possible to perfectly blend the two – photography and psychology? If yes, then how? A silent photo feature about the activities of just one individual? His day to day activities? The people around him, what he likes, what he doesn’t, what he believes in and what he doesn’t. How do I juxtapose all this?

Maybe when I start off with something, or someone, I might be able to get answers to a lot of things, and maybe others who are put in similar situations would also get the feel of what it is like to be in their shoes. Would I react the same way as the subject? IS my life different from that of the other person in question? Clarity my friend is what is needed here. Shit loads of clarity.
I could get under the skin of people by doing this. I could understand what it feels like to be in another persons shoes. Maybe this is what the Rishis or the Munis did without the help of a Nikon Fm10. So getting into someone’s mind is not that difficult after all. We all do that in one form or the other and there is just no way of stopping us. Some do it cautiously and some without an idea.

Does that contradict everything that was spoken earlier? Does that contradict everything that psychologists have taken years to analyze, study and project? Is getting into the minds of people that easy? In a way it is like the Truman show. I know you more than you know yourself. But still knowing oneself is a whole different perspective. That is a spiritual journey. That is the search for peace, that is the search for truth and that is what we all know as Soul Searching.

Silent Zone

2006-06-19T13:42:00.000+05:30

The mind is abuzz with loads of things
A lone man stands tall
Braving distractions, or he thinks

Time plays havoc, plays games
A game not very enjoyable
Helpless, he looks around

Only to have cold faces around
A chill down the spine, he sure has one
What ever happened, he wonders

Puzzled, perplexed and pissed
Yea, whatever, I write what I feel
If am pissed, I am PISSED

Puzzled, Perplexed and Pissed
He enters the dark depths of the silent zone
Nothing really happens here on the surface

Everything happens beneath layers
Beneath layers of Trust, Integrity
Beneath layers of Love and Friendship

Its been a week now
Since I entered the Zone
My feeling – I want to break free.

P.S When am screwed in the head, I feel like writing.

Haiku Highway

2006-05-25T14:05:00.000+05:30

Scorchin Summer Light

Moist Pebble on the Sand

Expectin waves of Mist

Trudging along the wide Horizon

A Broken Edge

Wilderness in not Far Off

Entrapped between Love and Lust

Lost between Hope and Despair

A young voice Screaming to be heard

A Soft Touch

A Deathly Kiss

And She thinks its Love

A Hard Thrust

Scratches all Over

And He thinks He's MAN enough

Now I have seen everything

2006-05-14T13:02:00.000+05:30

Talk bout crazy forward mails in ur inbox. This one steals the cake (read Diamonds).
Got this thing on my inbox on a lazy sunday afternoon. I didn't know wat else to do with it. So here it is for public viewing. Ensoooooy Maadi.

Sub: I need your help to relocate my diamonds from Miss Chisolu Fodeh

Copy:

Hello dear,
How are you,I would like to apply through this medium for your co-operation and to secure an opportunity to invest and do joint business with you in your country.
My name is Chisolu Fode from Liberia,I am 26 years old and i am presently living at Dakar Senegal.I have some Diamonds i honourably intend to invest in your country into a very lucrative business venture of which you are to advise and execute the said venture over there for the mutual benefits of both of us.The diamonds is well secure at the deposited Institution here and all the relevant documents is well kept at my possession.I hope to hear from you soon so that i will give you the full details of the Diamonds.
Awaiting to hearing from you,
Yours Faithfully,
Chisolu Fode.

On a different note.

Currently listenin to 'Black Earth' - Hallucination Theory. Check it out ppl. New progressive rock band in town. They have just released their EP.
Buy it - Save Music.
Peace

It could get lonely without me

2006-05-02T23:28:00.000+05:30

I want to trip inside your head

Spend the day there

To hear the things you havent said

And see what you might see

I want to hear you when you call

Do you feel anything at all ?

I want to see your thoughts take shape

And walk right out

Freedom has a scent

Like the top of a new born babys head

The songs are in your eyes

I see them when you smile

Ive had enough

Im not giving up

On a miracle drug

Of science and the human heart

There is no limit

There is no failure here sweetheart

Just when you quit

I am you and you are mine

Love makes nonsense of space

And time , will disappear

Love and logic keep us clear

Reason is on our side, love

The songs are in your eyes

I see them when you smile

Ive had enough of romantic love

Id give it up, yeah, Id give it up

For a miracle, a miracle drug, a miracle drug

God I need your help tonight

Beneath the noise

Below the din

I hear a voice

Its whispering

In science and in medicine

"I was a strangerYou took me in"

The songs are in your eyes

I see them when you smile

Ive had enough of romantic love

Id give it up, yeah, Id give it up

For a miracle, miracle drug

Miracle, miracle drug

Ok, I know everyone comin here into this world is pretty upset with the fact that i haven't updated in ages. I have written bout five stories (read posts) but don't have either the inclination or the patience. Work is awesome, doin some really kickass projects off late and life is soo full of things and people. Went home for a few days last weekend and had a really wonderful time. Did a small pooja at home and came back totally charged and rejuvinated.

I have my very own V ISITING CARD. My seventh job in the last five years and my first ever card. Feelin elated and I understand how small and simple things like this can really get you all going.
Shall update this space a lot faster, till then u guys go out there and kick some butt.

Another memorable year

2006-04-10T01:20:00.000+05:30

9 o clock friday evening the 7th of april, the gang is ready and the party started,Ended at 3 in the morning on the 8th,Loads of vodka, and an awesome cake,A slightly weird candle setup on the cake,An unbelievable day on the 8th,Loads of smiles, wishes and gifts,Not to forget loads of beer,Family and Friends were there,Calls and Sms came in all day long,Missed a few special people in the party,Suprise calls, loads more beer and poker, Gokarting and more poker.
Finally the party ended. 2 in the morning on monday.
Thanks all you guys, My Birthday was an 'Absolut' Blast

Blue Skies From Pain

2006-04-03T10:42:00.000+05:30

Piercin words that leave a scar
Not thought of, or was it really?

The reward for bein sensitive
For lending a heart
For having a soul.

What have I have done to deserve this?
Is bein there such a crime?
Maybe bein there for you, is.

Endless nights, revealing conversations,
Eerie Silence, Scary turn of events
A lump in the heart thinking bout your next move,
hour, second

Why does it hurt so much to let go,
To be a mute spectator
Like people dont even exist?

A million thoughts flood my brain
with a heavy heart, I try to dissect
A postmortem of sorts

Is it really worth all this pain?
Is it really worth all this struggle?
Is this really what your made of?

Been thro this before
Didnt mind going thro it again
Dont think I want to anymore.

It took twenty minutes to get me shattered
It will take forever to mould me back
You still teach me the concept of life

Even after your gone
Even after you want me out
Even after you feel meeting me was a mistake
The worst ever, you say.

Guess you have made your decision
Taken a call and will move on
I will do the same, Better than Ever.

A rebirth is long due
Or WAS .

Untitled

2006-03-29T12:03:00.000+05:30

I was there when there was love blossoming
I was there when there was a ray of hope
I was there when everyone thought there was no hope

I was there when it reached rock bottom
I was there when you wanted to go bottoms up
I was there when there was only an endless pit

I was there when you were drained
I was there when you were getting back
I was there when you wanted to start afresh

I was there at your new start
I was there when life was fresh
I was there when you made a choice

I was there when the world was against you
I was there when the stars were not with you
I was there when love was not with you

I was there THEN
I am there NOW
I shall always be there

But now you want me out,
For now
Forever …

Lonesome Tonight

2006-03-13T10:04:00.000+05:30

A family of five sitting on the floor. A feast spread in front. Its a festival each day. The days happening discussed over sambar and rasam. A dash of potato fry to spice up the conversation. A pinch of sarcasm, bucket full of humor, a lot of client bashing and spirituality for dessert. Gluttony sets in at the end of it all.

Cut to one man sitting alone on a chair. A voice calls out “what would you like to have sir”? “The Usual” comes the reply, without lifting the head. A plate with food is placed under the nose. The plate is empty in a while, the stomach could be full, the heart is always empty….
Sloth sets in Now.

Edit 1 : Australia can now kiss my butt.. What a match. What an unbelievable match. I can die in peace now. I feel like India has won the world Cup.

Edit 2 : I hate the finance minister. They have increased the price of Cigs

TAGOMANIA

2006-03-06T10:19:00.000+05:30

You are tagged.
And then I start running and this time around not chasing someone but chasing my own dreams. Tags are at it again, and they are even more fierce than the bird flu. Guess turning vegetarian is of no use after all.

There have been quite a lot of people who have tagged me for a number of different things. And though I enjoy reading most of them, its a different ball game altogether when it is me who is on the line of fire. I always have a whole of things to say about others, but when it comes to talking bout me, I always seem to get stuck. Am going to give it a shot this time.

About Arvind aka The Absolut Iyer.

* Im the president of the “Women, you cant live with them and you cant live without them” Club. I have been successfully promoting this club for a while now.

* I love music and I love writing, been searching for a job that pays me for doing that and that pays me a fat sum at the end of each month.

* I have been in love, I know how it feels, I have been hurt real bad and I still feel it sometimes. I think every person has to fall in love at least once in their life time. I think you learn a whole lot of things being in a relationship with someone. (The crush or love with that professor from school and college doesnt count though).

* I call myself a MEDIA SCIENTIST, and I really am proud of that name. I have had a taste of all medium so far and I think I enjoy the pressure and satisfaction that this industry provides me all the freaking time.

* They say behind every man there is a woman, and I believe behind every man there is a butt. Prove me wrong anybody, somebody.

* I love to dance and I love to sing, just that there are no takers. (How bout a sample Saturday night?)

* I curse myself every morning for not picking up the habit of reading.(And no, starting now wont solve the purpose and Mad, Calvin & Hobbes and Google doesnt count)

* I pray everyday and am very spiritually inclined. I thank my family for that.

* Always dream of waking up one day and Googling my name and finding a million hits.

* I think am a peoples person. I love being around people and I dont really enjoy being left alone.

* There are very few people in this world who I hate, George Bush tops the list and a jerk from college is a close second.

* I detest hypocrites, but I also understand that we are all one ourselves. So dont be very obvious with me, and then youve had it.

* I have never peed in my pants. (just had to write that)

* I love writing mails to people and sometimes I also write Snail Mails.

* I have a tattoo on my left arm which I designed three years ago and I think that is my most prized possession. And I want to get some more tattoos done.

* Love English Language the most next to Tamil. Thanks Dad. But next time please dont make corrections on my report card or any application form.

* Im the biggest job switcher in town. It takes a lot for something to get under my skin (not shirt) but when something does, I try and get out of it ASAP.

* Im a total sucker for women with expressive eyes and beautiful hair. If you think you have it, give me a shout.

* My life so far – Family, Music, Coffee, Women, More Music and loads more Coffee.

* I love traveling. I firmly believe that one gets to understand a lot in life through traveling. People, Culture, food and a whole lot more and that is what makes a person.

* The maximum I have had to drink on one day. New Years Eve 2005. 5 Rounds of Absolut, 3 Pints of Beer and losing count after the 10th shot of Tequila. “Sun is shining”!

* It doesnt take much for me to get acquainted with someone. I can strike a conversation with a total stranger and at the end of it all we are no longer strangers. I have made quite a lot of real good friends thanks to this quality of mine.

* I have met a transsexual one evening in a coffee shop and ended up having the most amazing conversation of my entire life for the next six hours. (To the nosy-cozy couple sitting next to me…Bugger off or here are the keys to my apartment)

* I have been threatened at gun point once by a jerk in a coffee shop. (Most of the interesting things in my life have happened in a coffee shop. They say a lot can happen over coffee, Coffee day I think needs to make a movie out of all this)

* I can write abstract poetry at the snap of a finger. (Ok, you can stop now) Heres something that I wrote thinking bout another point.

Believe
Silence Speaks Volumes
Twisted, Bent and Disturbed
Strange faces, staring at you

Trying to talk, Converse
Make sense? Make Meaning?
Synonyms in the name of Truth

Truth is Non-Existent
For the Non-Believer
I am …..A Believer.

* I wanted to become a cricketer and play for India. Realized two very important things. One I dont have the whole package and two; my dad is not rich enough.

* Buy me coffee and talk to me about anything under the sun; I will be your friend for life.

* I love photography and I think “A picture speaks a thousand words”, try telling my Editor that.

* Two people I relate to a lot: 1. Joey – From Friends and 2. Saif – From Dil Chahta Hai.

* My mother thinks am a born Entertainer. I think she is always RIGHT.

* 5 things I cant live without: 1. My Hair band 2.A Pen 3. My scribbling pad 4. My crystal 5. My phone. A Deo, wallet, my torn pair of jeans are a given.

* Im really proud of my voice. No wonder I had a decent fan following when I was an RJ. (Yes, modesty is my middle name)

* I love observing people. Ive had the best times sitting in a railway station or an airport or a coffee shop (again) observing people and trying to link the many words and conversations that I happen to hear. The sights and sounds are just too interesting to let go.

* I love Sashi, Sandhya and Thejas to bits. They are everything to me. God bless those three little ones. Too bad kids grow up :(

* My long term dream is to either make a movie and cast Nandita Das or act in a movie with her. She is gorgeous – Period.

Wow. What started out as a small post to kill time has come down to three pages on my laptop. I think this is too much information about me and then they say a blog is a private journal. English is a very funny language.

That’s all folks. You can go home now! Cheers.

Casapicola Kashayam

2006-02-21T15:30:00.000+05:30

This is going to be one of those posts, just coz I love the title. I just happened to coin this title and I thought it made a lot of sense as to wats goin on in life at the moment. I have been very busy in life, which is not something totally new to me and not something that is new to the ones who come in to my blog and read it. But work has been absolutely kick ass, just finished an event, a huge one at that for one of our corporate clients and it totally rocked and knocked the clients off their feet. Am completely thrilled with the feedback that we have received so far.

At the end of it all am feeling drained, totally out of energy and just needed to sit down, relax and get some focus back in life. That’s what my uncle told me, when I sat with him in our regular hang out over some filter kaapi. Having worked in all the possible medium so far and having made a considerable contribution in all, I was amazed that I didn’t have an answer when my uncle asked me what I really wanted to do in life? Right from the time I knew how to spell media and advertising, I think that is what I wanted to do in life. But media is so diverse that you really can’t get out of a spot when you are subject to one and not be clear about what one wants from media and in media.

I enjoy my discussions with family and friends. One day am sitting and talking bout the prakruthi and the purusha and the next moment am talking bout which night club to go and let my hair down. That is the beauty of my life. Extremely well educated people surround me and pass on their Gyan from life, what they have gone through, what they have understood in life and what they have made out of their own lives. To each his own they say, but well when someone gives their own, you better take it or try and get the max out of it.

I very strongly believe that every time am under the cloud or every time am not physically upto it, is the time I take to rediscover life and to understand myself better. I feel sick now, physically, mentally and emotionally. But at the same time am really charged up. Call me crazy, call me weird, but well that is the feeling am in at the moment. Can’t move a muscle in my body right now. Burning with fever, sipping on a hot cup of milk (thanx sam for the advice) and typing this. And tomorrow I have a brand new day. A brand new opportunity to go out there and kick some serious butt, and not to forget meet a person good in paati vaidhyam (Granny therapy, god that sounds so weird when you try to translate something that is so typically south Indian) and drink kashayam in casapicola. She has in a way opened the doors to all possibilities. And I bloody well take it with both my arms stretched though that would mean finish the entire bottle of Iodex spray on my whole body tonight.

GYAN Series

2006-02-05T19:11:00.000+05:30

Philosophy is matter of the mind that we are tryin to conquer

TRUTH

2006-02-01T18:31:00.000+05:30

There are millions of ways that one gets to understand life.
What is so special in life?

A happy family?
Decent education?
A good job?
A fancy car?
Fully furnished house?

Am sure there is never an end to this list that tends to overpower every ‘reason’ for man. People tend to forget the very concept of LIFE, the very fact of their Existence.
When does one have the time to sit and think and realize the joys of life, the fruits of their existence? When someone does that, the world would be a more civilized place for him to live in.

It’s a crazy world out there. Things happen in a hurry. Life whizzes past all of us. I was raised in a manner where the joy of life was explained to me from an early age. The joy of waiting for my dad to come back from work, to sit with us and have dinner as a family. The joy of visiting friends and relatives from time to time. The joy of being there for people. The joy of attending family gatherings and sharing a laugh and also being a part of their sorrow. A joy to sit and communicate or at least try to.
Have been really lucky with a family like that. But is that the case with everyone these days? What is the world coming to? It scares me, it frightens me, it gets on my head to maybe one day be old and alive to see my kids and grandkids look at life in a totally different light and go on with their lives. Maybe I would just be old and wise – or hopefully I would have the ability to take that as another step on my journey to understand life.

Thinking upsets me. I know I get paid to think –literally. Life would be so interesting when people start using their right brain. This infact is the year of the right brain. The year where creativity would rule over everything else. Change is the only constant. Wow, what a statement. True every single way.

Life has been abuzz with a lot of activity. Work has been productive to a certain extent. No full stops to learning. Finally found myself a nice small place. My first ever house so to speak and what a rush every time I even think about it. Planning finer elements that would go on to the house, every single one of them, carefully thought about and painfully etched and sketched in the head before finally ending up the way its supposed to. It gives a huge smile when I sit with a coffee mug and see it on my house – the focus being MY HOUSE.

Am officially a Post Graduate now. Went to chennai last weekend to be a part of the boring yet such a definitive phase of every persons life, went for my masters convocation. It was made really memorable thanks to the presence of my Mom & Dad who came to see their son graduate. I was happy and at the same disappointed that I let them down, I let everyone down, I let myself down. Missed the gold medal that I thought was mine for the taking. The medal that I thought I had taken it without breaking a sweat (come on its my blog and I get to exaggerate a little too). I missed the gold by two marks they say. I have never been the studious types all through my school life or even my under graduation. Studies for me was very simple, do not flunk your papers and keep moving on to the next grade. It was easier that way, so that I could concentrate a lot on my sports and other activities that I thought was my calling. I very strongly believe that it was that focus that is helping me a great deal at this phase of my life, and frankly that is my life. This is what I always wanted to do in life. Talk and get paid for it, freak out, have fun and enjoy and make a living out of it. Think weird and get appreciated for it. This makes me the person I am.

I have lost interest in blogs. Feels strange to say this when I end up checking my blog every half hour at work and every night when I go back home. But I really have lost the flame that was burning in me when I started blogging. I have stopped regular updates, I have stopped my religious blog hopping. And its nice to still have the friendly souls walk in and out of my blog and reading those few special blogs and wanting to know more about them. Am happy and content this way and would like to be this way.

This post is good enough I guess for all the lost time and the update requests.

BOOM SHANKAR

2006-01-17T14:32:00.000+05:30

A New Year has dawned, and life has been just the same. The routine continues. Wake up bleary eyed from the previous days mayhem. Every muscle in the body is aching and crying out so loud and wants to be heard. It needs to escape from reality and get to a world of its own - Dont see it happening anytime soon though.

Every time I go home the feeling is just absofreakinlutely (copyright) wonderful. The weather, the chillness in the air, the warmth from my parents. The feeling of going back home, getting pampered and over fed. Getting coffee at the snap of a finger or sometimes not even have to do that. The smiles, the happiness is just such a wonderful experience in itself. Havent been home in almost three months. The love is still the same, my room looks still the same, the smell just the same, the old blanket left in one corner is neatly folded and kept ready for me to come there and go plonk on the bed. My mobile phone is on silent, not that I dont want to hear from anyone. But I want to hear from the ones who mean to me. Ones who are special and for the others, well they can wait. Work can wait. Life can wait.

Spending time with my parents and my brothers is always rejuvenating. The conversations always remain so fresh in my mind even after ages. Drove down from banglore to coimbatore. The drive was simply amazing. Drove 350 odd kms in the night. The silence is eerie. The flashlights from oncoming vehicles are the only annoying factor from time to time. Ever had the feeling when your mind is so full of thoughts and you still feel empty – Happy? Thats wat happens to me every time I go home.

Managed another amazing padhayaathrai a spiritual walk to a mountain temple during this trip. Pongal with family always brings a smile on my face and this year was no different. Eating all the goodies that mom prepared, sitting with the coolest grand mom ever and discussing cricket strategies. Greg chappels mistakes, Pakistanis moves and the Indian batsmens reply. She would any day be the most effective coach any cricket team could ask for. And during the break she would sit with her electronic sudoku gadget, listening to Sudha Raghunathans keerthanai in Aadhi thalam. Its a treat to watch. I love u Paati.

The walk to Giri temple was a life altering trip. Six of us, all family set out from our house at 5 in the morning. A 4 am alarm got the gang moving. The only thought in our minds being the shiva alone. Nothing else. Totally blank. Any time we visit a temple, we have a list of things to ask, a list of items to request, thank yous to be said. But after climbin the seven hills to reach the top, when we were sitting next to the shiva linga, the weather is freezing. One wont believe that this place is only 30 kms from my house and its freezing any day of the year. Ice particles would form on the face. The wind is so strong, it pierces the skin, you have to walk through clouds, the mist is strong. The journey magical. It can not be explained in words. It is a feeling that one has to experience and even then to each his own. Immersed in thoughts. But still so totally blank. A weird feeling to be in, but we all love it. That’s why we do this often as and when we can. The prayer went on well and none of us had anything to ask the lord. But all of us had a totally satisfied look, content beyond any words could explain.
Bhole Naath.
Now am back in Bangalore. Smiling, happy and content. Full of energy. Fully recharged. Ready to face anything that comes my way.

................................

2006-01-06T21:22:00.000+05:30

Shining away above the transparent skies
A disc, cruising along the highway of hell

Radiating sparks of sorrow and fumes of passion
Arresting my senses as I gasp for air

Crooked images of reality
Targeting inches of my dark desires

The sharpness protruding my skin
As I wallow in pain - Alone... Lost....

I asked for Peace
Before the Green Being blew me to Pieces.........

"Conversation with an Alien"

Am not a VIRGIN anymore....

2005-12-26T09:49:00.000+05:30

Enter a dark room, with vedic chants in the background. A dim light from a zero watt bulb lights the room. The floor is slippery from the oil. The rooms smells of oil, and there are oil bottles everywhere. No I was not in some petrol station. But I went to pamper myself with a nice full body Ayurvedic massage – Abhayanga.

I have been doing some work on Ayurvedic massage therapists for a while now. Too much information from the internet and thousands of articles, endless phone calls and also been meeting a lot of people and talking to them about Ayurveda really got me all worked up for a massage. MY FIRST EVER. I always believe that we are all chameleons of karma and there is nothing on this world that can make us happy. We keep pampering ourselves with everything that money can buy or anything that we can buy.

Work has been really busy and I was buried for the last one month (that explains my update status) I needed a break and I needed it fast. So decided to get a massage and totally rejuvenate myself. Took my car and went to the massage center. A huge – bulky square jawed woman with a small smile on the edge of her face welcomed us. (My cousin and I) My brain was full of ideas, Is she the one who would give me the massage? Oh my god, Do I really need this thing now? I havent had one before, so why try now? Then I think she understood the wave of thoughts in my head and she told me, For gents- Gents, For ladies – Ladies. I love the way she put it. Still cant stop smirking on that tone.
I got up and was taken to this dark room, not big enough to accommodate more than five ppl. There were two guys dressed in a shirt and a veshti who greeted me and asked me to change. I was taken aback. I asked them 'Change to what', that is when I realized what I had put myself into. The rest Ladies and Gentlemen is what all of you have in mind. This tiny piece of cloth clinging on to dear life and dear skin was the only source of keeping my dignity at bay. Not in all these years have I ever stood like that in front of two grown men. Am straight – straight as Dhronacharyas arrow. And it was really uncomfortable. But then it was too late to back off now. I decided I might as well lay back and well try and relax. I hate oil. I hate the feel of oil on my skin, on my hair , and I HATE OIL.
Being an Iyer there are quite a few religious functions happening round the year where one ought to have an oil bath. That is the day when the whole drama starts. I just would not let anyone have oil on my body, and here I was lying down on an oily plank in front of two men who had oil drippin all over their hands and I knew in a few seconds that would be applied all over my body. And apply they did, every inch, every nook and corner and they made sure I had the oil seep through my pores and enter the whole system. From head to toe I was drenched in oil and I could do nothing about it.

Forty five minutes later and after having two guys literally man handle me and feel me up all over, I was asked to have a shower to wash off the oil and then pay up and leave. I was feeling like Jelly. I was dazed, disoriented and totally embarrassed. I paid those guys and told myself. NO MORE. I would much rather have a friend rub my back or shoulders over my shirt than have two men feel me all over. But If only there was a different masseuse? That explains the title – am not a Massage Virgin anymore.

P:S On a different note, work has been great, the new house is just perfect, wish I could invite all you guys from blogworld for a party sometime. The weather in Blore is absolutely awesome and is bringing old memories in my head from time to time.

Heres wishing all you guys Merry Christmas and a Happy Nude Rear (New Year). A special thanks to that special someone for constantly kickin me in the butt askin me to update. You guys are the best and its good to be back just to start afresh.

Grahapravesam

2005-11-26T11:27:00.000+05:30

Ladies & Gentle ppls...

I have a house of my own now. A nice small one bedroom house with an attached bath, on the second floor terrace. have my house on one corner with a nice open terrace (full penthouse ishtyle) overlooking a number of coconut trees. Have never been happier in life.

Settin out on the next phase of my life and majorly kicked bout it. Shall post piktures soon.

Ahhhh the bliss of havin my own place, can do it up the way i want to. *wide grin*

Grahapravesam shall be on the weekend after I move in, which will be after the 1st of december, when the place is MINE ALL MINE.

One Message received

2005-11-19T12:29:00.000+05:30

"Hi arbhind, bye arbhind ...dont come to light signal, dont come to a
distance either....bye arbhind, hi arbhind"
an sms I received this mornin from my 6 yr old neice.
What a way to start the weekend...and then ppl ask me
"why are u grinnin so much?"!!!!

Awakenin

2005-11-06T11:15:00.000+05:30

Beneath the dark depths of human reality

Beneath the shallow shades of human soul

Beyond the infinite source of light

Beyond the definite shape of the moon

Wake the heart in you

wake the mind above you

For he, the all powerful is watching over the surface

You are but a shadow called man

In his abode be rest assured

That enlightenment is truth

Search the passage

find the meaning

find yourself!!!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Greatness lies in thou

The seeker, exploring the stars

Delicate hymns tingling around.

Subtle breeze blowing the chimes

Concrete patterns adorning the rays

Songs of Life, arising from within..

silvery strokes adorning the land

Amber palette cascading from above

Free fall of the mind

Into the mystic space of Hope

Gentle ritual of truth

A Musical ecstasy.

Blossoming beyond reason

Cosmic vibrations project a

Perfect harmony of the Body,Mind and the Soul!!!

Reason

2005-10-27T12:45:00.000+05:30

A Tiny spec in the Cosmos

A Soul knocking on the Horizon

A Voice trying to be Heard

A Form trying to get Shape

A Blur, A Haze, A Shadow

Screaming

Its Weekend Already!!!

Selfish Need

2005-10-17T13:31:00.000+05:30

Ok here goes, for the first time in the last two years of my blogging life, am using this world for some marketing. I need some work done and well I need ppl. So ppl who are here.. (yea, You..am talkin to u) Listen up real careful.

We Need ppl for the place am workin for now. We need marketing ppl. *Drum roll*
Basic requirement: someone with truck loads of common sense and ability to use HEAD (to think)
Men & Women welcome (though I would like women..my boss needs somebody...yanybody)

*shakes head* I still can't believe am doing this and she talked me into this. Ok. Experience is not a criteria at all. If u need a job and if u are in the look out for a job, drop me a line.

Oh yea..who we are...we are into EVENTS.. We are an event management firm!!!

Interested? Drop me a line...

Ok now...what do I post..Regulars in my world...sorry. Suffering from writers block. Shall post somethin decent real soon.

Wish You Were Here...

2005-10-08T02:13:00.000+05:30

For millions of years mankind lived just like the animals...then something happened which unleashed the 'Power of Our Imagination'...we learned to talk...

Point Blank

2005-09-30T11:28:00.000+05:30

*The setting was a coffee shop normally filled with ppl except on this fateful day*
Three couples spread across the area, in all the corners, whispering sweet nothings and sippin coffee and other colored drink. And the Lean Dude, sittin alone in a table after attending an interview that went pretty damn well.

I order for my cappucino and wait while I light a cig and slowly take a drag and experience the smoke filling my lungs. My coffee is on the table, I take a sip and look at my phone that was lying on the table, after I hear two beeps signalling an sms. I was typing a reply, when I see a person walking in front of me and stopping rite in front of my face. I was still too busy sending a reply when I see the man, lifting his shirt and pointing his finger to the top of his trouser. *what I saw next was something i have read bout it in a lot of books and seen in a lot of hollywood flicks. A pistol was hanging loose from his trouser. Then I looked up to see a man in his mid thirties, hair pressed closely to his scalp, oily and with a huge brown shades covering has his face. Clean shaven- dark brown skin tone wearing a white kurta material shirt and jeans. I looked at his face and this was what happened the next five mts.

Me: *Having no clue and no expression. Looks at his face.
Him: What the F**K are u looking at?
Me: No expression.
Him: This is a .93 calibre. F**ker, I don't like ppl lookin at me (all this in broken english)
Me: *thinkin to myself..WHen DID I EVER LOOK AT U IN THE FIRST PLACE. U were the one who came and lifted ur shirt and showed me the gun*
Him: You think your cool? F**ker. I don't like ppl who try to look cool. I don't like long hair.
*sayin this, he walks upto me and sits next to me on the chair*
Him: I am D's gang member in B'lore. I don't like ppl lookin at me.
*Can smell booze. This guy is pissed drunk and has a gun*
ME: OK. *Don't have a clue as to how to react and Was not scared* Was thinkin this was all some prank..so was looking around for a car or a corner with a camera shooting this whole thing for some television show or something.
Him: Hey, stop looking. Do u wanna get up without a sound and leave now or do u wanna die here in the coffee shop? *sayin this, the man takes his hands to the gun and shows the gun to me again*
Me: *takes another drag from my cig and sips on my coffee..wonderin what the hell is wrong with him and the others, who all seem to be enjoyin their afternoon with their coffee*
Him: U will die if you look at me again. *Gets up, goes to the table behind mine and sits there and orders for coffee*
Me: *Makes sure I don't turn back and get a drunk man with a gun really pissed off*
Him: *Sits behind me and shouts to the guy in the shop to get his coffee and also buy a packet of cigs for him*

*after bout ten mts...with him sittin behind me..I was replayin the whole scene in my head, while drinkin my coffee*
ME: *Finishes my cup...gets up to pay for my coffee. Pays up and when coming out, dare to look at the man again*
Him: *smokin and drinking coffee, and looks at me* STARES BLANK on my face
ME: *continues to walk and does with out having a bullet up my head*

And I thought having a coffee at 12:30 in the afternoon in this city was a joy.

ABSOLUT

2005-09-24T12:33:00.000+05:30

ABSOLUT
Originally uploaded by Lean Dude With An Attitude.

Thro with my Eternal Holiday. Miss the three little munchkins, endless nites, long days, endless coffee, new dimensions, family, mantras, sitting by the fire.
BAck to life in the concrete jungle, no complaints,back to endless nites at work, endless coffee, familiar faces, more family, miss the munchkins tho..
ABSOLUT IYER is back.

A Hole

2005-09-14T17:37:00.000+05:30

OK, my last post was bout the reasons that attract ppl to blogging, and in the last one week, I have been subject to a lot of shockin, life altering and well just plain interestin news from the blog world.

What normally starts as a hobby, or a plain love and interest to write, share and communicate begins to slowly take its toll on bloggers. The most important thing being, u know that WHAT EVER U WRITE- others can sit in front of their comp and read it (ok smart ass, Don't even think bout askin me bout protected posts..shall take that very thing ur holdin in ur hand and shove it up urs.... *mumbles gibberish) . Nothing is personal. Well that's our choice, we get to choose wat others read. We get to post it, blog bout it or keep it to ourselves. There are ppl who start bloggin and are addicted to the comments bug more than their posts..They start writing for comments. Then what they write makes no meaning to what they wanna write. What they write is not really THEIRS. there is no human touch to it.

I have been in this world for quite some time to know certain aspects of blogging. Certain effects that blogging causes to ppl. The concept of personal space is intruded. The concept of time is royally fucked. It gets cramped in here, it gets claustrophobic, it gets too much of a load to keep givin things to ppl, coz they are hooked onto ur life. What is the end result. A temporary shut down, a period of hibernation, a break, a journey some place, or a permanent shutting down of the blog.

But it's not possible. They are already hooked to the crazy claws of this cyber blog world, that they return to write more tryin to forget bout the past as a mistake, learning from them, writing for themselves this time around, or just come back into the blog world with a new URL (makes life simple..or so they think)

It hurts me to see Strong ppl, intelligent ppl, dumb pricks, losers all falling into the pressures of the blog world.
It surely is "SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST"

P:S Come back ,I miss u already!!!

Blaags for weird ppl

2005-09-10T10:33:00.000+05:30

What is it tht attracts ppl to bloggin?

Are all bloggers genuine writers, in their own league? DO they blog coz they love writing. They are just bored. They are software engineers, who are paid out of their brains to sit in front of the comp all day? Or pathetic lovers who take their revenge? Or just plain odd people tryin to sound philosophical or in simple terms, too stoned beyond.

What is the scene when it comes to blogs?

I was just the usual guy-next-door, hair messed up, too lazy to keep the huge lump in place, too broke and without a job to buy a clean new pair of jeans and a T-shirt. A boring day in college turned out to be my guru to this completely new world of Blog. I registered the same evening. A huge mug of coffee sure was the reason.

Here I am, I have a new blog now, wat do I do? The typical computer illiterate that I am, I can't differentiate between a flowchart and a venn diagram, a program and a problem, html to mtnl. It was strange. It was scary even. Why did I sit and fiddle with the crazy comp and the options that blogger gave me the whole night. This brings me back to the first para of this post.

Confused, frustrated and out of coffee, I decided I shall screw the demon (read html code) in the blog that was seriously tryin to screw me and doing a pretty good job at that. Endless attempts, failed attempts- endless mugs of coffee and a lot of ciggies later, i crack the code, and my keyboard. That's when I realised i sure have a strong head for things.

OK, i have my blog fixed. Used the template that blogger gave me, a 'Kaching' orange, a shitty yellow, a gooyie green and a boogie blue. (ah they all rhymed). Orange it shall be for starters. Next koshtin to self, now what? More coffee's later, I read some random blog from the net. Momma-BUn-BUM (no kiddin). read her blog, she was errr graphic bout her life and sexcapades, her kids and her nanny (don't ask me why) and she had so many ppl in her blogroll (the term that am familiar with only NOW). Who are all these ppl? And why do they blog? This brings me back to the first para of this post AGAIN.

Gosh! It's 4:30 in the morning. What am I doing up so late and typing crap on the comp? Am I one in the list? This brings me back to the first para of this post AGAIN....

Yea, am bored and I can't sleep. You have a problem?

LEAN DUDE WITH ATTITUDE TM

Flower Girl

Short Series: She

Click. Or is it Clock? Maybe it is just Click-Clock!

World Guitar Nights

Bombay- My love

Paati~

Exploring possibilities

Have you ever seen the rain?

The Formula to Success- Part 1

Untitled

The Long Road

Top stories at this hour

The Larry Story

Short Series: Reunion

Pay Attention. I say!

Short Series: Happyness

Short Series: World War III

Arseploring beyond and beneath: a bootilicious research on human behavior.

Short Series: Milana

Iyer Works

Short Series: Anniversary

Predictions for 2009

The year that was

What's in a name?

Short Series - The letter

Short Series- Showdown

It's not the same anymore...

Huh what?

The Big Secret

Pavement Revelations

Nirvana

The effective art of cutting and pasting

It was 6 in the evening...

Satisfaction Guaranteed

Special Memories of Special People

Randomness

Bloody Mess

I Hope I don't fall in love with you

...................

Thanks for a lovely evening

Do beedi ka samay

Long time now

A houseboat named Pink Floyd

Maya Memsaab

The Act

The perfect dream

Love at the tenth second

Bye Bye Blue Sky

Journey

Kannamma

Muse

Absolut Inspiration

Jootha Akbar - The eternally crappy movie

Reason?

A painter and her works

Tears on a tea cup

Vande Mataram

One evening in a coffee shop

An evening....

Random Series

Mind over Matter

TAG

SNAP

For my family

Ehsaas

Legions of BOOM

The Big O after a Wild S

Anacin

Spin studio

Date with Work

Orkut – Is that a name?

Iyer is back

Eternal Sunshine with the Coffee Shop woman

Entangled

Psychology of the Mind

Silent Zone

Haiku Highway

Now I have seen everything

It could get lonely without me