happy random

secrets you don't have to spell
stories you don't have to tell
a mild music to sail your hopes on
a wild song to tune your tapes on

randomness is the word of the hour. and happy randomness. where i don't feel like using capital letters. where rules can go hide in closets and wait for a peek-a-boo. where simple everyday targets are what i think of getting to.

like the sweet juice pouring forth from a luscious pear as you bite into its perfectly textured interior, my days have, by some miracle, become simple and meaningful.

somewhere as you grow up, humour becomes your wayfarer, and a joke in every big issue sure makes it into a no-big-deal. maybe i am growing up well. or maybe this is totally the wrong way to react to things. but if i am happy, i guess anything goes. 

CRIBFEST-1!!!

The blanks. The spaces. The effort to bridge it is probably what is testing my patience right now. To realize a film and make it happen, never was easy. Thankfully, I knew this fact, before I signed up to make films in my life. Much as work keeps happening, there are these times in between where you feel paralyzed. Where you just want to kill time. Do something absolutely useless.

Guilt is a wise leader. It reins me back from slipping back to chai gate for another chai, or opening unsecure to watch a film/sex and the city! I feel obliged to work and get things moving quickly, so that I can shoot as per the mental schedule I charted for myself.

The effort that life is demanding out of me seems insane, especially in terms of my film. And nothing happens easily as well. Permissions, people, fixing, sprucing- it all takes a toll on your spirits! A little sprinkling of easiness would be well appreciated, anti-force.

My crib fest does not stop with my efforts alone. It transcends to money matters as well. A self-sponsored diploma project is no mean feat. Money sublimates and I am left empty handed most of the time.

The vision will make me pick up my work again. Somehow. But for now, I feel blah and like cribbing and giving it all up and going back home and laugh at Melissa and Joey on Star World with my sister, or explain that Phoebe is pregnant with her brother's kid through artificial insemination, to my mother, or teach my dad to make grin smileys on chat.

*sigh

Such a demanding world! :(

Off the top of my head-5

Times change swiftly. Before you can blink, an era has ended and another one begins. I have always had my struggle with such transitions. Much as I like them for the growth they bring...or wait...let me rephrase that...much as I have grown in those phases, and hence, grudgingly learnt to accept them by sheer lack of choice, I have not been comfortable in them.

Vulnerability and questions hold hands together and trap me in between their arms. I walk with them flanking my sides every place I go. Most of the times, I try to ignore them and learn to live with these two shadows instead of one. But sometimes, just sometimes, the space gets too cramped. Like when I lie on my small cot that can't fit three, I feel suffocated for breath, for reason and for truth.

Little did I know that this day shall come again and make me start again. For the thousandth time. Or maybe it is the zillionth... I have nearly lost count and too tired to try to begin from the start.

There is an attic I am building within the house in my head. The house is a cosy small one to fit just me. The attic, however, is beginning to look like a palace! So much to store. So much to keep away from my daily routes and encounters. They cannot be thrown away. I don't even wish to discard them, ever. They still have the sweet fragrance of a preserved rose between the pages of a favourite book.

There is clearly just one path to take. A path of go-where-it-takes-you! Not like there is a choice. Sometimes I wonder, where exactly do I fit in, in my own life?

Am I the protagonist who courses the tale? Or just a mere extra who fills the screen.

Sadness and depression are not buckling feelings. They are like a bunch of thieves- hiding and waiting to pounce on you with stealth. And they do. Everyday. To steal from your treasure, one more of something you treasure- a smile, romance, a happy thought, a thrill... Sometimes, they steal the truth, and you don't know anymore what is right and what is wrong. What is real and what you imagined!

Off the top of my head-4

I spend half my days sipping chai in the chai gate, looking at passing traffic. Bikes, cars, cycles and all sorts of vehicles pass by and sometimes in such fast speeds that I cannot comprehend what they are. Sometimes while sipping sweet cups of "bina-adrak waali" chai- over and over again, songs begin to play in my head. And keeps afloat the hope to finish a film I've wanted to make for the last six months.

Progress is such a cheat-word. It traps us into becoming lazy. It mutates our being by making us run around in circles.

Long walks in the mornings. Chai again. The lovely calming lawn in the night. Me and the monument. A book to write. Somewhere in these, I forget myself, my film, everything. Somewhere there is a calm.

Why do we grow up and become sane?

Waiting for the Winter

Everyday, as I wake up in an east-facing room full of light, I crave for the cold touch of winter. Winter, with its layered clothing and gloomy sunless mornings, are what I have anticipated ever since I landed here. But the seasons haven't changed yet, and sunny skies brightly attempt to dismiss the cobwebs away.

I have always enjoyed sadistically the exaggerated loneliness of winter. The walks alone. The icy breath of the wind increasing your vulnerability. Thoughts that come in verse. Something about winter is painful and so, beautiful. I want my frosty mornings, howling winds, pairs of old-fashioned socks, cup of steaming black tea and a book to cuddle with. Winter reminds me of my strength to fight. Will power. A blend of everything that the other seasons are, but in just the right amount.