Friday, November 28, 2003

The unmistakeable bagpipes in the Bravehrt theme
    or the guitar in Khamosh Raat
The beats of the tabla in Kehna Hi Kya
     or the hauntingly sad notes of the violin in the Gdfther theme
The piano in the Lgaan dream sequence waltz
    or the flute, the harmonium in the Bmby theme
The whistle in Wnds of Chnge

Each time, I trip, tumble and fall in love with music and all there is to it

Thursday, November 27, 2003


There is also many a slip between unwrapping a chocolate very carefully, leisurely, with love and care, all the while drooling over it and popping it into your mouth

First Tip of the Day: Never eat a chocolate just after lunchtime when the workhall is so quiet that the slightest noise of a wrapper is enough to attract a colleague on the other side of the partition

Second Tip of the Day : Never be so kind so as to refuse when she says lets split and eat.

And before you know it, its gone forever, forever and for always,
yakin nahi aata ki maine ye apni do haathon se usko daan kar diya, woh khaane lagi aur mein sirf dekhthi reh gayi
*bang* *bang* - thats banging your head against the wall to vent your frustration, ekdum filmi style

(and all this for one tiny "yet-to-be-declared-as-containing-worms" eclair. Not that I care much. If I can eat a roadside bhel-puri and months later, still be alive, no harm in eating a choco-worm combo, wot say?)

This blog is not meant to be a recorded transmission of my day-to-day activities but for the welfare of mankind and other such Good Samaritan-like thoughts, I decided to warn people engaging in similar pursuits

Current Music : Jungle mein mor nacha, kisine na dekha
( and as soon as I decide to eat my teenie-weenie eclair, kisi ek ne dekha, or rather suna :( )

Wednesday, November 26, 2003

Off late, I am beginning to realise that I haven't watched most movies any person my age would have. Allow me to go offtrack - to my horror, a minute ago, I found out I was 749955217 seconds old. This figure gives me a feeling of being competition to a (try repeating this ten times, and let me know if your tongue is still in place, untwisted) Dystrophaeus viaemalae or in layman terms, a Dino.

Coming back to the point , the handicap in question basically stems from three reasons :-

The First - during my college years (*sob* even that seems to be so long ago, I dont even remember the good ol' (?) days properly), I stayed back while others went off to movies. Why, don't ask. Studies? Nope! Probably an attempt at trying to appear sincere and bookwormish.

The Second - My PC doesn't have speakers. Never got around to buying them. The headphone wires are too short. Never got around to buying an extension. Again, don't ask why.

The Third - I am always away when they show all those "super duper" hits on TV. At times, I am travelling or the other times, I am forced to watch a weepy-creepy soap, or else I am at a place where they don't have a cable connection.
And when I have access to everything, they will show some movie called "Throw Momma Off The Train". I am damn sure, no one is ever gonna google it and hence I am not cutting off the vowels like I usually do. Furthermore, I am damn sure I am the only person in this whole wide world who has watched it more than once. And please dont tell me this movie is a hit.

As a result of all three reasons, the list-of-movies-to-be-watched has grown to a length equal to my age in seconds. Ok, ok I cut the exaggeration but almost as much, huh.

Whn Hrry Met Slly, A Rmn Hldy, Gn Wth The Wnd, Prde and Prjdice, KnduKndain KnduKndain, Chker Bali, Alai Pythe, Sholy (yes, shocking, I havent watched it fully) , Jrry McGre, Svn Yrs in Tbet, Meet Jo Blck ....

and I could go on and on and on...

FYI, 749956023 sec and still going strong................ *sigh*

Monday, November 24, 2003

A strong feeling, something of that sort will happen
Intuition you can call it
And when it does, it leaves you shaken, even if for a moment
For being so close to reality

Just like the dust flying off an unused book when it is handled
As the particles swirl madly in the air
So do a hundred thoughts run through your mind
When finally the dust settles down
Life goes on as usual

My stories tend to have a lot of loopholes, all due to the fact that I try to build up the plot with various threads of thought. Anyway, writing fiction does give a certain sense of satisfaction.
In the story below, all references to places or persons are fictitious, I had to think really hard to come up with the names, but all coincidences with places or persons are purely intentional.

A River Runs Through It

Rupert knew they would be coming for him. He had known it from the very moment when he had mentioned his wish to Evan. Telling Evan was like shouting from a rooftop to the crowds below, the first thing Evan would do, like those fat ladies in the market place, would be to get hold of a palace guard and spill it out, get it out of his system once and for all.

He got up as soon as he heard thunderous footsteps. Looking out of the window, he chuckled. They had sent ten men, to arrest one 'mad, and hence dangerous' man. Barging in, they stood pompously, surrounding the 'convict'.

“I am coming with you, my friends, but allow me to carry my flute”, Rupert said.

Taken back and after a minute of intense pondering, the leader consented. The flute could not be used as a weapon anyway.

The palace was indeed very beautiful. Magnificent lawns, a hundred gardeners bent over the rose bushes and an equal number of guards swarming all over the place. The front door was dark mahogany done up in the most exquisite of designs. From the walls inside, and their foot long frames, the kings and queens of yester yore looked disapprovingly at the 'traitor'.

They were waiting for him, in the court. The king seated up there, on the dias and a dozen councilors flanking the length of the hall. (And oh yes, the court jester too). Rupert was led up to the center of the hall, fifteen feet away from the king and forced to kneel, his hands tied, the tight knots digging into raw flesh.

“You wish to travel to the kingdom of Estoria I hear”, the King, almost spitting out the name of the neighboring kingdom, as if it were venom.

“Yes, Your Majesty, I wish to travel and sell my flutes there. I wonder how you got to know though. That was just between Evan and me”, he answered, as if bewildered.

“That is none of your business and I..I have no idea who Evan is. Don’t you know my countrymen are not allowed to travel there. Don’t you know about the feud between King Vildemort and me. How do you suppose you would be allowed to go there. If we don’t hang you here, they certainly will”, the King, sneering

“Your Majesty, I know of a way I can sneak in. And the feud is between both the Kings and not among the countrymen. Why do you drag the innocent into this? Not very long ago, we were one, weren’t we. We lived like brothers, not like foes. The day you let that evil Sir Elias worm his way into the deep recesses of your mind and influence all your decisions, small misunderstandings blew up into mighty fights, and..”

“Stop! How dare you talk to me like that!”, the King shouted, his mighty frame shaking.

“I speak the truth. They say the truth is bitter”, Rupert, very calm and composed. He had seen this coming.

Silence reigned. Even the court jester who was sniggering till now, moved backwards, slipping into the shadows. The guards moved forward, menacingly, as if to cut the 'traitor''s tongue.

"I shall now allow any of my countrymen to travel there”, the King much quieter now. “You play the flute very well, so they say. Play something for me”.

In a few seconds, sweet notes filled the room, they spoke of the twitter of birds, of the flowers greeting the sun, of the river gurgling its way through the woods, he played soulful notes, of the anguish of a damsel waiting for her love to come home.

“You are indeed very talented. And that is why I don’t want you to go there, you understand. They shall steal our music, they shall learn to make flutes like you do. I don’t want to lose such a valuable fellow”, the King relieved, as if the answer would serve as the right façade for his opposition.

“You don’t understand. You have to let me go. I want to go home”

There was a sudden buzz in the court. Sir Illyas leaned forward and questioned, ”Home?”

“Yes, home. I am from Estoria. I am but a visitor here, I sneaked in here a few years ago, and mingled with the folks. I made sure no one would ever learn about my origin. I came with no evil intentions, Sire, I am an artiste, I came to learn about the music here. To my surprise, I found no major differences, we are one, Sire, the people are alike, our worries are alike, our celebrations are alike, we play similar games, then why do we insist on nourishing the seed of discontent? True, we have erred, both the rulers have erred, but let us work towards peace before it is too late”. He continued,” the notes I just played, this music I learnt in Estoria, you never realized its origin, did you? Your majesty, the birds, the flowers are the same, and the river, the very river that divides us, wets the same kind of soil on both sides of the bank!”, he cried out, his strength ebbing.

Frightening moments followed. Rupert, who had till then, thought that he had almost won the argument, wasn’t too sure now. The court jester emerged from the shadows. The King was pensive, his face contorted as if he was in great pain. He suddenly got up and started pacing the dias. The silence so deafening, just like the calm before a storm.

“You may go, you may go… home”, the King, a whisper, barely audible.

“That is not the only thing I wish”, Rupert said.

“It will take time, it will, but one day, it shall happen, for sure. One day I shall come there personally to hear you play about the river that unites”, the King replied.

“I will be waiting, Your Majesty, and then I shall come back with you to my home here, by the market place, back to my people here”.

“Leave, now, before I change my mind”, the King, his face crinkled, the age now showing.

“I will be waiting, Your Majesty, I certainly shall..”, Rupert, bowing awkwardly, his hands still tied, walked out, alone, a winner, his heart lighter, a song in his lips, and at the same time, wondering if he should tell Evan about his good fortune.

Current Music : Chanda, Suraj, Lakhon Taare – Nsrt Fth Ali Khn and ARR

Thursday, November 20, 2003


Why does it happen that the swing next to yours goes higher and higher while you are still somewhere there, in between, in mid-air

   Why does it happen that someone just walks in and reaches the counter while you patiently watch, tenth in queue

Why does it happen that the future looks bright but tomorrow dull

   Why does it happen that you want to reach out to someone, but your hands are tied and your voice is lost

Why does it happen that there is still something that keeps you going, that someone who whispers, the best is waiting for you, if you wait, just a little bit more, just a little bit more, my child

   And why does it happen that you smile and answer, I trust you, I always have, then why should today be any different

Music and blogging are therapeutic. I had mentioned this somewhere before. Today I mean it with all my heart.

Current Music : Raindrops keep falling on my head - Frrst Gmp

Wednesday, November 19, 2003

While most of India watched the finals yesterday, we watched the Mtrx Rvltions (in a theatre btw ;). Need I elaborate on the number of vacant seats in the movie hall?


-Trinity has lots of dangling pointers. For more on dangling pointers jump two posts below.

- The Mtrx movies serve as an intelligence test, just like the Mensa, in case you have not *fully* understood the trilogy, you are normal, if you have, you are abnormally intelligent.
(And am I proud to be normal!!)

- "How long do you think this peace will last?"
"As long as we don't make Mtrx IV " - unofficial comment from the directors.
But this time you are in for a surprise. The cast has changed. They are still deciding on a title but it could possibly be "Mtrx Ctrl-Alt-Delete" as a favour to their benevolent sponsors. Catch a few frames here

-To the Western world, India will always be a country with snake charmers and yoga and sadhus by the Ganges ghats. (Just like people elsewhere think Africa is jungles and people dressed in grass skirts, well, it is not!!) . Sati is an outdated name isnt it? or is it back in vogue?

-Neo and Smith playing improvised Quidditch in the last half an hour? The Wchwski brothers sure are fans of Hrry Pttr.

-Oh, what I would give to wear Mr Anderson's long black coat. The way it swirls and flies in the air. Ahhhh!

BTW, the break is still on. Every thing that has a beginning has an end.
This is just the interval.

Current Music: May It Be - Enya

Friday, November 14, 2003

Its a mad mad (blog)world

I cannot comment on whether the Bhartiya Blog Kela ** is a good idea or not, but it sure makes for hilarious reading. I guess most of the nominations are from people having personal differences with the bloggers. I was surprised to see one from someone called Pooja (and its not me unless I sleepwalk and sleep-post-nominations-of-some-blog-i-have-never-read ). Well, I shouldnt have been too surprised, 'cos I see the sun rise on a day when I shall say Pooja?, who Pooja?, I am Poo.
(translate this in Hindi and it sounds as dramatic as it should)

Anyway, all said and done, I plan to take a break from the blogging mania that is sweeping across the globe faster than SARS was, in its heydays. ( Well, actually I suffer from a I-have-nothing-to-write-about syndrome) . The comeback shall be soon as I come up with some new crap, its not easy to write crap lemme tell you. Or if nothing works, I will "remix" some of my old posts, a word here, a word there and present it on this blog, new and improved. Remixes sell, man, sell like crazy, so what if they taint the very essence of good music on the way to the cash counters.

Speaking of remixes, the other day, at a certain place, I was the Chosen One again, this time subjected to some terrible early nineties pop music, and for the first time and probably the last time (unless of course I am forced to listen to such music again), I wished they would play Knta Lga instead. So you see, remixes are a blessing in disguise once in a while.

Current Music : OST - The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

**UPDATE - It aint so hilarious anymore. In fact its getting malicious and crude day by day. This is the problem with such a media of expression, mudslinging, hate camps, its very easy, you dont even have to try. Reminds of the new Ariel advert, where rich ladies throw food at each other and then walk off with the detergent. What we need here is an opinion-wash and a lesson in netiquettes.

Wednesday, November 12, 2003

Airtel has come up with some very meaningful adverts recently, with the tagline "Express Yourself". The visual I liked best was the one with a blind boy reading Braille and crying out in joy when he comes to some particular line. What makes this advert even better is a melodious ARR jingle at the end.

Another reason I liked this piece so much is because it always reminds me of one of my favourite poems . The jingle would certainly go with this poem, were it to be enacted on screen.

But at times, I guess, some feelings would always remain, unspoken, unstated, like dangling pointers :) ( for all ye programming folks out there)

Current Music: Chup tum raho, chup hum rahein - Is Raat Ki Subah Nahin

Monday, November 10, 2003

Everybody says I am fine, so do I.
Its so much easier than trying to remember the last time I actually meant it.

Everybody says I am fine. What they dont mention in "fine" print somewhere down there below is Conditions Apply

Current Music: Tujhse Naaraz Nahi Zindagi - Masoom

Saturday, November 08, 2003

I came up with these lines during Diwali when I read about a girl being molested. The poem is probably different from anything else I have ever written before, quite explicit. But its about something I feel strongly for.

As a lamp is lit
  She crouches in the corner of the closed room, shuddering
  Her eyes dry, her heart bleeding
  Now its not the darkness she fears, its the human touch
  Why me, she asks the world, why me

As the lantern sways with the gentle breeze
  She, we will name her Asha, for what she has not,stares at the doorway
  The trailing streamers throw eerie shadows
  And she half expects them to come to life, like that afternoon, bruising her, ravaging her
  While she lies motionless, too shocked to scream, too numb to fight back

As the fireworks burst into frenzied showers
  Our Asha is born, sometimes as a nurse in a hospital at Delhi
  Or on that train at Dadar
  Sometimes she is 4 months old
  Or other times she is a shy pig-tailed schoolgirl

As the colours of the rangoli vie for attention
  An innocence is lost forever,
  A girl steps into womanhood, but how, but how
  The body still there, the soul long frozen
  The voice cracked, why me, she questions, why me

As a lamp is lit and the lantern sways with the gentle breeze
  They stalk her while she waits for a bus or for a rickshaw
  Or while she takes a walk in the park or is it the university campus?
  Slowly, stealthily, the demons unleash their fury
  And yet another Asha is born

Thursday, November 06, 2003

Etc and blah blah blah....

-The family get-together was a great success, as in, no one was found to be missing. In any case, I feel it would be a great idea to have a family song, like the one in Yaadon Ki Baraat, or maybe a funky family tattoo for generations yet to be born. At the rate the world is progressing, its getting difficult to keep in touch with oneself, let alone with others.

-I am not very comfortable with being in the limelight. It can come as a shock to some that you are still unmarried at all of 23.66 years and with no wedding bells within hearing distance. ( FYI, equally shocking is that I haven't watched Matrx I and II)

-6 women purchasing 8 saris in a span of 45 minutes is a Guiness record of sorts. The shopkeeper insisted I buy one too. Yeah sure, after I practise walking at least 50 feet without tripping over the 5 yard piece of cloth. But seriously speaking, a good sari can beat the best salwar kameez hollow any day.

-With some people it does not really matter if you have met after ages. There is always something to talk about (read gossip about). On the contrary, with some others, I just cannot go beyond a hi, hello, how are you. Its basically shyness (most times mistaken for arrogance) coupled with a "its-not-that-you-are-a-stranger-but-i-have-no-idea-what-to-talk-about" problem. (This idiotic shyness attribute also leads to voices stuck in the larynx during rounds of antakshari or feet stuck to the ground when people are dancing and of course stage fright)

-I have a feeling God is testing my patience or rather teaching me to be patient.
    First it was being subjected to the dreadful songs of Tere Naam, not once but 5 times in the bus to Kolhapur. I am so scarred for life that the very mention of the dumb movie is enough to cause a neuron short circuit. I am sure Pandu the Cat is more interesting movie material.
   Secondly it was an agonising 4 hour wait in an engineering lab while my ill cousin attended a practical exam. It brought back veri veri bad memories of my own practical and oral sessions. Machines that did not work, practicals that we had not performed, moody professors, and again that agonising wait for my turn to come. *shudder* *shudder*
  Finally it was running around a five year old trying to feed him a bowl of rice. I thought people started rebelling adolescence onwards?

-Cancerian moodiness, Leo tantrums, A Piscean's attempts for a truce. Playing Agony Aunt too. Come to think of it, I should have been a psychologist. The only thing that would hinder my success in this profession is that when people would talk about their heartaches, my first reaction would be to laugh. God knows why I do that, but when people talk about their love life problems, I just cannot stiffle a giggle. Otherwise I can be as serious as the occasion demands.

-You aint been to Kolhapur if you aint tasted the assal Kolhapuri Misal. And you aint tasted assal Kolhapuri misal if you aint eaten it in that town (or is it city?)

-The Chosen one
When it comes to being frequently bit by mosquitoes and hounded by supposedly "just sniffing around you know" doggies. And yes I finally got to know why I am any mosquie's favourite gal.

P.S: Any suggestions for a family song ?
Nirupa Royji, shaayad aap ko koi accha wala pata hoga, aadath jo ho gayi hai aapko:-)

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

I'm Back !!!

Somehow found that this short story made it to the Bharatiya Blog Mela
A special thanks to Gandalf for the blog nomination.
Certainly makes for a pleasant "welcome back to blogging" gift.

Current music: Sarigame - Boys