Behind the scenes, writing, casting… done a bit of most of it.

And I have a problem with what we make. I think we are capable of far, far better.. In terms of story, characters, costumes, direction… everything…

But I could be the only one thinking this.. So I want to know what you guys think..

Do you willingly watch Indian TV shows…? If not, what DO you watch? What do you think is lacking in our shows? and what sort of series would make you hold your breath for the next episode?

Consider this some sort of personal research. Please use the comment space liberally and tell me!! PLEASE!!!

The crowd around him was making a din but their noise didn’t reach him. There was silence inside him as he stood there, watching them. People of the city. On their way to work. Glued to their phones. Infidels. They just had time for themselves. They didn’t take the time to be thankful to their Maker. They did not heed His wishes and lived like pigs. This was the scum that poisoned the world today and he had been chosen to bring the word of The Lord to them. He was destined to show them how angry He was. He was to unleash His wrath upon them all and later, he would be rewarded by The Lord himself for his service. They had named him The Messenger.

Resolution straightened his spine and strangled the feeler of doubt. He glanced at the giant clock on the clock tower. The longer hand moved as the minute changed. It was time.
The Messenger held his breath and pressed the tiny button in his pocket.

Pain like he had never felt before ripped through him. Every nerve ending was on fire and he felt himself being ripped apart. He screamed but his voice was never heard over the ear splitting roar of the explosion. The agony seared through his flesh and he thought he could take no more when a white light appeared before his eyes and he felt himself falling…. Falling….

When The Messenger opened his eyes, he felt weightless. His vision was blurred for a moment and then it all became clear. He felt around and realized that he was sitting on clouds. This was heaven! He had made it! Joy, the likes of which he had never felt before filled his soul! It was just like they had predicted! He got to his feet to examine his surroundings. The riches, the glory must be waiting here somewhere for him; his to be claimed. He looked around and found only clouds… Then as he looked carefully, light seemed to be blooming from behind a large cloud. He inched towards it and the cloud began to shift. His face was stretched in a huge smile. He was content. Then the cloud shifted completely and his eyes saw the source of the light.

There stood a wooden work desk with a book upon it. Behind the table sat an old man and the light seemed to radiate from him. He had long flowing silver hair and beard. His robes were a dazzling white too. His eyes were a piercing blue that seemed to look through The Messenger’s soul. The face was wrinkled. There was an immense sadness in the man’s gaze as he looked upon him. It was a few moments before the young boy realized who the old man was but the moment he did, he fell to his knees and prostrated himself before the divine being. And when he looked up again, he saw that He still had a deep sadness upon His features and he frowned. The Messenger said, “My lord! I have arrived!”

He heaved a huge sigh of sorrow as His eyes studied the boy before Him and he said, “so you have, my son… So you have”

The Messenger was confused. He had expected a grand welcome like they had said. He felt foolish standing here, not knowing why he was being regarded with such sorrow; like he had committed a mistake. And unbidden, he remembered the small nudge of doubt just before the end and he felt ashamed of himself; The Lord knew about it. He had disappointed Him. He bowed low and said, My Lord, I beg your pardon for my moment of weakness… It was just a moment and I mastered it for you.”

His sad gaze didn’t lighten and The Messenger was further befuddled. He looked up and asked, have I displeased you in any way, My Lord?”

The blue gaze saddened even more as He said, “In more than one way…” And he proceeded to open the book lying on the table and ran his finger down the first page saying, “When I sent you to earth, I cried at the conditions that I had set you amidst. No father at birth and a mother I was to summon in a matter of weeks. But I told myself that I had given you the gift of courage and bravery and that you’d make it through…”

The Messenger sat before the desk and listened. He went on, “When you were but a boy of 5, I saw that you were deprived of love and friendship so I sent you a companion; a puppy. Oh how glad I was when you held that little creature and swore to protect it and be with it for the rest of your life. But you broke your word….” The sad eyes again rested upon the features of the boy. The Messenger looked up, feeling that he needed to defend himself said, “But My Lord, that was your test! I passed…”
“You killed your first and only friend..! I cried that day. I was so sad, I came down to meet you in the form of that old man. I tried telling you that this was not my word but you didn’t pay me any heed! At age 10, you were already inching out of my reach!”
The Messenger’s heart sank as he said, “But My Lord, how was I to know?”
The blue eyes went back to the book and he read on, “Then when you were 11, I sent you another sign. I prepared a path for your escape so that if you chose to come back to me, you should not be harmed. I sent a childless couple to take you under their wing and under my protection but you hurt them too. For four years you ate bread with them and lived under their roof…”
“That was my first mission! They told me you would be pleased with me if I completed it!”
“… When they looked at you that last time as you pointed that gun at them, they were broken… When they reached me, your foster mother cried tears of blood in my arms. Your foster father blamed himself for what you had become. I cried too because I, your Father, had not felt that hurt ever before.”
“My Lord, I did it all for you..! Trust me, had I known…”
“I came down again as the old man and tried to win you over once more… but this time, you were far gone…. You abused me and turned your gun at me…”
“They told me the old man was the Devil’s word! They said he was trying to misguide me!” The Messenger yelled.
“… I felt helpless as I watched you sin over and over again. I had given you courage and bravery and you used these as weapons upon others. You killed and you watched killings and celebrated and at each fallen head, you called my name and I bled…”
The Messenger was now crying, rivulets of sorrow trickled down his stricken face as he looked upon the face so fallen with sorrow on his account.
Then the sad eyes regarded him once again as he turned the last few pages of the book, “And just now, I saw you poised at the edge and I made my last attempt. I appealed to your heart, I tried to make you doubt your action. But you had moved far out of my reach… You didn’t hear me. You thwarted me and you committed the most heinous crime upon humanity…” He read from the last few pages, “you took away mothers from their children. You took away children from their mothers. You took away fathers and grand parents. You took away unborn babies….”
“I did not know! I did not know!” Howled the boy as he crumpled before the table of judgement. “They lied to me!”
“But I never told you anything but the truth… You chose to listen to their twisted interpretation of my word but you didn’t choose to listen when I myself spoke to you…”
“I was told that it was your Will to show your wrath to those infidels!”
“My wrath..? My child, I came to you even when you sinned to try and win you back… I made you… Like I made all those others…. They all sin too but I visit them myself… They are my children! How could I have wanted this for them?”
The boy all but choked with tears as he wept.
“I tried… But you never have me a chance… Now, I can do naught…”
The boy looked up at the wrinkled face in fear and felt for the first time, the full impact of what he had done. He felt warmth growing behind him and he turned his head to see a black gate opening up behind him. Black fire issued from it and a form seemed to emerge from within it. He turned panicked eyes to Him and begged, “I am your child! I wronged but I knew not any other way! I bypassed your signs and squandered your blessings but forsake me not! Save me from the wrath of the Beyond! I shall do anything to be with you!”
The old man looked down at the young boy and said, “I wish it weren’t this ways child. But your fate is what you made it. There is nothing I can do…”
The Messenger looked on in fear and words failing him, he pleaded with his eyes, trying to appeal to the divine being but the old man just looked on as a monstrous creature advanced from the gates of Beyond, coming to claim what was his. The boy cried uncontrollably. The old man looked at him one last time and said, “you used to be fascinated by butterflies… How did you let this happen..?” And a silvery tear filled and overflowed from one blue eye into the silver of the beard. The boy felt a scorching heat upon his heel and turned to see that he was in the grip of the creature of the Dark. He knew even as he screamed for help that there was no way out and as the creature lifted him by his foot, he dangled in the air. His last pleading glance found the table and sought the man behind it but when he looked, he saw the old frame of The Lord slumped forward on the table, heaving with sobs…. Lamenting the loss of yet another son…

I was sitting at my window this morning, waiting for a good moment to take a nice picture to go with this post… and this is what I posted on Facebook: “Watching the dawn breaking outside as I am finishing my work… its something else.. to see Mumbai at this hour… its like looking at the face of a hyperactive child when he is fast asleep… the chaos and the madness will soon set in… but for now, there is peace… and it looks beautiful…”

Have you ever done this…? Just sat in a window with a view of the city in the small hours of the morning and watched morning setting in..? I have.. My window overlooks a large part of the suburbs and since I work through most nights, I am generally awake at dawn and I get to feast my eyes on the sight.

It is an amazing experience. Almost poetic. Morning, in this city begins way before the Sun has even set on the other side of the world. We don’t have the time to wait for the Sun to rise. We have our own private suns captured in little spheres and tubes of glass, waiting to bring in the morning as and when we please, at our bidding with the flick of a switch. These small, individual points of light begin flickering and rising in tens of hundreds of windows as the people wake up to begin the day. The almost empty arterial roads start showing signs of activity; a precursor of the heavy traffic that will begin thronging them in a matter of hours.

999The harbingers of morning; newspaper men, milk men, car washers and a plethora of others start dotting the streets even before the sky is hit with the first blush of morning. There is no lethargy in their movements; they are quick and efficient as they go about their job so that their clients may begin their days shortly. Pressure cookers whistle from various apartments and the sounds of food processors spatter the air as the first shafts of light begin to appear on the horizon. Women line up at municipal taps to collect their stock of water in areas that still don’t have a 24 hr water line. Then slowly, as the blood of sun rays starts enervating the sky and heralding the sun rise, a soft rumble of vehicles starts increasing as more people begin movement. Then as the sun well and truly begins making his presence felt before actually rising, there are a few moments; the magic moments. Church bells sound from one direction, from another, the sound of the morning azaan issues from a mosque or two. A few temple bells from somewhere. For a few moments, the city is just a middle class working person, having gotten ready for the day, standing before God with eyes shut, arms folded and with a prayer on the lips, asking for blessings before stepping out for the day. It is a matter of moments. A few snatched bits of a calm hardly found during the day…..and then, the turmoil sets in. People hurry to work places in different states of disarray, stuck to their mobile phones. There is no time to halt now, no moment of prayer. Only the urgency of the moment and the task of going through the day and managing to survive. Cars flood the streets, buses honk, trains over flowing with men and women begin to shuttle across the city and Mumbai begins another day….

So I went and looked for it on YouTube. I didn’t find the one I was looking for but found a couple of others. Just watching the videos made me feel so good…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vr3x_RRJdd4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zf_muP0z5w0

I dont know if these videos are for real or choreographed. But look at the faces. They all look so happy! Just one simple act; a hug. It has the capacity of spreading such joy! Tell me, if you are walking down the street and something like this is happening there, would you not like being hugged? Agreed, by a complete, random stranger. But to exchange a warm hug; no questions asked, no explanations required. Won’t that feel nice? 

There is something amazingly magical about a hug. Don’t you think? Just to fling your arms around a person and squeezing tight. There can be a world of emotions that can be held in that one hug. An understanding of support; I’m here for you. Restoring confidence; everything will be all right. Warmth, compassion, and an endless sea of joy! 

You may not know the person you hug but sometimes you don’t need to. Sometimes, the knowledge of the fact that there is a heart beating on the other side of their ribs just like there is one in your chest is enough! Whoever they are, wherever they are from, whatever their life is about, its OK. A Hug is acceptance; whatever you are, its OK! A sincere hug breaks through all barriers; black or white, male or female, straight or gay, tall, short, educated, uneducated, young, old… whatever the distinction. A hug can cross them all. 

I think we all need these hugs. We all walk around with so much stuff weighing us down! Our jobs, financial situations, illnesses, family concerns, relationships, national issues, war, world peace, environment, global warming… the list could be long enough to be made into a book! We could all do with setting aside our burdens for a little while. We could all do with a friendly hug every once in a while. To know that we are not alone. There is always someone else, battling the same woes like ours. We could all do with a hug to comfort each other that all is not dark; all is not lost… because there IS magic in a hug… an honest, warm hug, not one of those fake ones that the presidents of countries exchange in front of media cameras… Tell me, doesn’t a hug make you smile? Doesn’t it make you feel warm inside? Like in a cold, frosty night, someone has lit a camp fire near you..? 

It does, doesn’t it? So it obviously is a happy, positive thing to do. In a world that has become so dark and murky, I think it is one hell of a nice thing, this hug. It makes a connection between people. 

I think of all the things that can be put under the title of human achievement, the Hug ranks the highest. And unlike most other things, I think this Hug, is the ultimate sign of our humanity…

But being the idiot that I am, I still made one more resolution for this year…

Hold on!!

I should be slapped for bad manners!

Before I go ahead, wish you all a very happy new year! Congratulations on having survived 2012… lets see if we make it to the end of 2013 without annihilating the planet..!

So, like you must have guessed by now, this blog post is as pointless as the stuff playing on most of the ‘NEWS’ channels….  nothing but a bit of rambling and an attempt at breaking the inertia and getting back to this poor old blog. So I’ll just go ahead and ramble. You are free to ignore and continue with whatever it was that you were doing… no seriously! I wont take offence..!

You sure..?

Ok then…

Since you are being kind enough to read on, I’ll try to take points and stick to those… jumping from one point to the other might remind you a little of jumping from one dry stone to another when crossing a water body… I just hope you don’t lose your balance and fall off somewhere…. Ready? So here goes:

The Delhi Rape Case and surrounding topics: Obviously that had to come up. I mean, everyone and their dog has voiced opinions about this one. It sure caught the whole country’s attention. What happened was monstrous… And what followed was even worse! Like I said on twitter, we must take note of the various things the people in power (in some form or another) are saying about this incident because never before have we had such a huge declaration of fools in our country! Anything and everything that I have to say about any of this has been said by various people.

I am not one to go for candle light vigils and change my DP on facebook and twitter in support of the poor girl. Again, like I tweeted, I will show my support in my own way: by raising good sons. I take an oath that if I am ever to raise any sons of my own or of an adoptive nature, I will make sure that I do the task well. No son of mine will ever so much as look at a woman in an inappropriate fashion. I will instill in my sons, the virtue of being men capable of  inhabiting a world where women can coexist safely and happily. They will look down upon the mistreating of women and if needed, will stand up to defend a woman’s honor. No son of mine will shy from his responsibility as a man to look out for the women with him. And he will DEFINITELY not himself be any sort of a threat to any woman. Not only will my sons find the very idea of any such act beneath their character but if all else is of no importance, they will fear the sense of guilt that will inevitably follow any such action on their part. And by some misfortune of mine if I fail in raising such men and ever hear of them having so much as whistled at a girl, I will personally bury my offspring before they graduate to being any more of a threat!

And if I am blessed with daughters instead, I will make them into women of such gumption; God save the men who even dream of messing with them…

This is my promise to the soul of that poor woman and to the other souls similarly tortured and maimed.

(Also, to the mothers of those men who commit these crimes, what the heck are you doing..? If I were you, I’d have finished hacking my son to pieces by now! For the love of God, take a stand! What are you waiting for..??)

OK, Jumping on to point 2 (hang on!)

My Resolutions for 2013: Again, obviously that had to come! Like, who doesn’t have resolutions?! This year, I am totally prepared for them to break again, but what the hell! Can’t hurt to try right..? So this year, I’ve decided to read at least one novel and go for at least one play  every month. Seems doable to me, especially since I quit my super time-consuming job and am now freelancing as a writer. I see myself having a lot more free time on my hands from here on. (Though the money may be a little bit of an issue but one can’t have it all!) On this front, I have made considerable progress! Started the year with Ashwin Sanghi‘s “The Krishna Key” (Having ended 2012 with his ‘Chanakya’s Chant‘) and while I waited for ‘The Rosabal Line‘ (Also by Sanghi), I started with ‘The Adventures of Sally’ – PG Wodehouse.  I admit here that Wodehouse was one writer that I had failed to read until now but error rectified! I am in love with his works! I am already on to ‘Something Fresh’  and have gone ahead and purchased ‘Leave it to Psmith’. On  the Plays front, already went for ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ put up by Akvarious Productions at the NCPA recently. Had enjoyed the book. Loved the play too! Up next is ‘The Compleat Wrks of Willm Shkspr (Abridged) at the NCPA at 7.30… TODAY!!

So yeah… That about sums it up for me… actually it doesn’t but it is pretty late in the night and I DON’T want to save this post as a draft because I will never end up posting anything! So here goes!

Also, Things that I plan to post:

A Short Story (As and when I manage to finish it!)

A list of books and plays I’d like to read and see this year. (I’d like it if you guys could throw in some suggestions)

A list of things I plan to do… a kind of a bucket list of sorts. (some of the things will be REALLY far-fetched but still!)

Some reviews (Now that I am actually reading and watching stuff, I could, you know, be a smart ass about it!)

So that’s all for now! G’nite!!

(and here’s a picture because, you know… makes for better visibility on fb and shit…)

This was the first tweet I read the other day as I casually checked in to see what’s happening.

I felt my insides cringe at the thought of what might have happened. Sure enough, as I scrolled down to read the other tweets I read prayers for eternal peace for his soul. Rajesh Khanna had passed away.

I felt hot tears well up and I blinked them back furiously, willing myself not look like a fool in the office. But it took minutes for the news to spread and within no time, news channels were switched on and the dreadful news flashed across the screen. India’s First Superstar was no more.

The realization was painful. That jovial, handsome, smiling face on the screen was now officially history. And swift on its feet came another realization; an Era was ending. One by one, all the Greats were leaving us.

The men and women who made magic in black and white, who’s music made the heart climb up into the skies of joy and plunge to the deepest trenches of sorrow, were leaving us. Only a handful of them remained now. A very precious, VERY mortal handful.

And after they’re gone, what would we be?

An Industry that produces a million shit films a year? Full of meaningless action sequences and cheap item numbers, brainless humor and sleazy kissing and sex scenes? A thousand songs releasing every year, each sounding more or less like the other? A hoard of producers and actors and directors who were more concerned about how much more money they would be making than about the quality of work?

The Master Magicians were leaving… what would remain would be cheap, roadside tricksters that promised you a trick and left you crestfallen with a dumb ace-from-the-sleeve trick and a much lighter pocket.

It was a desolating, depressing realization.

Since the news broke, there have been Rajesh Khanna movies screening back to back on the TV. I’ve seen a fair few of them before and I honestly envy my mom and dad’s generation since they got to live through all that awesome cinema!

Anand, Kati Patang, Amar Prem, Aradhna, Sacha Jhuta, Safar…

And these are just the Rajesh Khanna flicks!

If you put together the movies of that era, the ratio of good story telling to bullshit video tricks is alarmingly opposite to what it is today! Every scene, every shot meant something. Every note in every song, every line of a lyric meant something. There was barely any shot just for the heck of it. There was no rhyming because it needs to rhyme sort of songs. Everything meant something. Everything was thought out with the actor, the writer, the producer, the director and the whole wagon-full of people involved concentrated on one point; how best to tell the story.

When that became their focus, things may have gone smoothly, or things may have been rough. They may have had arguments and falling outs and financial rough patches. But what came out at the end of the day… left you speechless. They used to take years to make one movie but oh what movies! What stories! They put their hearts up on the screen and they were loved. loved? heck, they were deified!

They didn’t have special effects and mind blowing fight scenes and steamy sex scenes and item numbers…. They had something much much better. They had moments. They had the real thing; the real emotions. They didn’t need a sex scene… they had romance. They made themselves Legends on the basis of that stuff! Today, they call it ‘corny’. well, if that was corny, then in the words of Iris Simpkins (Kate Winslet) from “The Holiday”, ”I Like Corny…. I’m looking for Corny in my life…. “

When Rajesh Khanna was in his prime, I hadn’t made an appearance yet and my mom was considering writing him a love letter. In blood.

But still, his demise is as painful to me as it is to my mother. I can feel the loss even when I didn’t really see what he was when he was The Superstar. Yet, I feel the loss. It is not like he (or any of the other Legends) were still doing stuff like they did back then. They haven’t made that sort of cinema too often since I was born. Yet knowing that these men are still around, still living and breathing is a sort of a happy thought.

I guess somewhere deep within me, I was hoping that them being around meant that there is still hope for good work to happen. Somewhere deep within me, very selfishly,  I wanted to be sitting at their feet and listening to them tell me about how it was done; how one blank, white curtain can be made to come to life. Without LCD screens and 3D technologies…. How they did it…

I wonder, when I am older and when I have kids, will my kids feel like this for any of the men and women on the screens today?

Forget them! Will I feel like this?

I don’t know… Maybe, barring an Aamir Khan or two, I may not even give it a second thought! I may actually ask, “who?” when someone broke this sort of news to me.

I don’t know what sort of a future we’re heading towards when it comes to Cinema. But if there is any way of taking from the past and bringing in the best of it, I would love to do that. I don’t want the five minute superstars and the twitter celebrities. I want a Superstar. I want a Rajesh Khanna.

To conclude, since I already began with the quote from The Holiday, I’d like to end with a thought from the same movie. I keep thinking of Arthur Abbott’s (Eli Wallach’s Character in the movie) speech at the ceremony held for him. It goes something like this:

 ”I came to Hollywood over 60 years ago, and immediately fell in love with motion pictures. And it’s a love affair that’s lasted a lifetime. When I first arrived in Tinseltown, there were no cineplexes or multiplexes. No such thing as a Blockbuster or DVD. I was here before conglomerates owned the studios. Before pictures had special effects teams. And definitely before box office results were reported like baseball scores on the nightly news…”

I guess deep within me, I too want to sit like Iris Simpkins and listen to the legends as they share their stories…. I want to be awed by their experiences…. I want to be inspired by the sheer magic of them….  before the rest of them decide to leave us too…

(Note: I do know that I’ve been harsh about Bollywood today. I appreciate that a lot of you may take offence or not like to read what I’ve expressed and in such cases, I generally welcome feedback in comments and I encourage people to express themselves but for once, for just this once, I request you not to defend today’s cinema in the comments. I don’t say that they are all trash and that no good work is being done anymore. I’m just saying that there is no legendary work anymore. If you don’t agree, unfollow the blog if you must but please PLEASE don’t argue over this in the comments. Thanks!) 

I saw a rainbow today.

Reblogged from loco memoriis:

• 

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.

Read more… 631 more words

Then we both decided, a drink must be had.
Since we didn’t meet often (and that was just sad!)
So we headed for a Cosy Nook that I once knew.
They still did serve by far the finest brew.

“I say,” I said, as Thought had his drink.
“We haven’t met in weeks or months, I think!”
“I guess you’re right,” Thought said ruefully.
“But now that we’re here, let’s live this day fully”

“Let’s do that!” I said, and raised another beer.
But how we’d do that was still pretty unclear.
So we drained our mugs and set them on the bar
And started to plot out some schemes bizarre

“I know!” Said Thought as he grinned like an elf.
“How about, you write and I’ll just be myself!”
“Hey, that’s cool!” I said with fervour.
“I’ll pen down a poem before the day is over!”

So we got down to work with pen and paper.
Put down some words, stuck our heads together.
But things just wouldn’t fall in to place at all!
So yet another ruined sheet I crumpled into a ball.

And we sat there and wondered for hours on end,
What part were we missing? What do we mend?
My pages were now covered in some untidy scrawl
But the poem wouldn’t sound like a poem at all!

Just then, from the door, Rhyme walked in,
He put out his cigarette and aimed it at the bin.
Then he waved out and said merrily, “Hey! Wassup?
I’d like some coffee! Could you make me a cup?”

He threw us a look, a smile and a ‘hello’
We waved back, and a conversation did follow.
We told him our plight, of the poem gone wrong.
He laughed loud at us and we chuckled along.

We showed him our work, the sheets full of words,
And he picked them all up and tore them in thirds!
And he beamed at us, his eyes had a gleam!
“Worry not!” He said, “I have a scheme!”

With that, he threw all our words in the air,
And Thought and I almost cried, ‘unfair!”
But before we so much as uttered a squeak,
Rhyme laid out the words and we took a peek!

And lo and behold! A miracle it was!
A wonder, no doubt! And we broke into applause!
Rhyme took a bow as we read through the verses
They all seemed to fit! Like women and purses!

So we celebrated with rancour till the hour got late.
And the drinking had staggered our retreating gait.
We bid farewell to the nook and each other.
Promising to catch up, on an evening or another.

And I staggered away, happy as a clown
Dancing to a tune as I headed to town.
With a smile on my face and a beat at my feet,
And rolled up in my pocket, a poem complete!