Thursday, March 30

Neruda says...

...Love is short
but forgetting is long.

I'm being lazy. Need to install Photoshop soon.

Wednesday, March 29

Where are the sounds?

And sometimes


never being able to sleep without dreaming
Of waking up in a cold sweat morning after endless morning.

I'm also scared
of ennui.

And sometimes,
I find inspiration within,
it grows out of thin air,
it grows up big
it grows on me.
It makes me do things in a frenzy.
Sometimes, I just don't find it.

He said, I have a whole new continent for inspiration.
It made me think.
Yes, there is a whole new continent for inspiration.
But this new continent's not inspiring me.
Not yet, atleast.
I'll give it some time.
It's only been a few days, afterall.



Monday, March 27



I'm here now.
I'm having fun.
It's a bit cold. I froze when I walked out of the airport.
Stopover at Chicago was fun. If I had that guy's number, I'd've called him. Tried remembering his number but (thankfully) realised I had just written down my sister's number instead. I bought some small things at the airport and wanted to buy a coffee just for kicks. So I did. And scalded my pallette in the bargain. The American Eagles' flight was a joke after the American Airlines' flight. Oh! I met some really friendly people all along. Actually, eversince I got into the IGI airport, I kept talking to people. Nice friendly people. They all wished me a pleasant trip here with my sister.
Hmm, let's see if I can find some photos to put up.
I didn't have jetlag per se, but since I hadn't got too much sleep since the last whole month or more, I've been sleeping ' rather well'. Ahem.

Oh! What'd I finally see yesterday? The motorcycle diaries. I know....I should've seen it a long time ago. But I couldn't. So I saw it yesterday and yikes! Gael Garcia is hot hot hot! My sister's gifted me the Bolivian Diary, which is a part of the actual Motorcycle diaries but not part of the film.
I watched the Mystic Masseur today and found it rather boring. The book is a whole lot better. I love Ram Logan in the book becuase I can imagine any degree of improper spoken english (does that make sense?) in the book; but in the film, my imagination is limited. Ayesha Dharker is a fine Leela. Ram Logan's shop is too neat, unlike in the book where I can almost smell the putrid jalebies.

I was sketching while flying, and a lot of people gave me the thumbs up sign which was heartening, considering that I haven't been doing much sketching lately, except for film work and all my sketches end up looking like either Sukhiram or Dukhiram (from my film).

I wish I'd just stop dreaming of the boy. It makes me sad when I wake up.

I don't want to end this post on a grave note.
Hmm, trying to upload some pictures but there's some problem. so I'll upload them later. And I'll start sketching and painting!!!! Yes, PAINTING! Like real oil on canvas! Yayyy!
shall put things up soon.
enjoy, everyone!

Friday, March 24


Where'd the days fly off to?
Why did the nights canter away?
Now I sit here, home after a week which feels like a whole year (I had so much fun in Ahmedabad), and now I must get up and first unpack and then pack up to leave again.
I don't even know what I'm feeling right now. The only truly identifiable feeling is of nostalgia...leaving all the nice things back at NID and coming away. I'd do anything to go back there, really. To go back for some time and be with my friends and hell, I'll even work, do any sort of work to be there.
Can't believe I was there yesterday, at this time, looking for someone to help me with After Effects. Then a junior came over and we worked till the evening. Then I left and as the plane took off and I could see the city twinkling, I was sad. Really sad. Since the lights were dimmed, I cried easily. Had asked for a window seat but I didn't want to look out. The sight reminded me of all the beautiful years I've spent there.
I want it all back.
I don't know what it is really. But from this evening on, I'm going to be forced to look ahead.
And what am I going to do in the 19 or more hours while I'm airborne? I mean, being in limbo is not nice really. Leaving behind all that I yearn for, going off to someplace completely new. I'll have fun, I know. But

No time for buts, you know.
Loads of packing to be done, still. I haven't even had a good shower yet and I might have to go out for shopping too. And as I sit and type here, I can hear my mum scuttling around, trying to finish packing up for me.

I must away now.
I miss so many things.

If any of you who read my blog, know me in person, please don't ask me why I write what I do when we meet. This space is here and I don't want to carry it around in my physical world. If I wanted that, I wouln't be writing anything here.

Monday, March 20

Sure, feels good

I'm in Ahmedabad submitting my film.
Been running around getting the last minute things tied up, don't want to leave anything unfinished.
It's sheer joy to be back here. I can sit at the main gate and sips endless cups of chai and even smoke if I want. People come and go and there's always a refreshing conversation to be a part of. If I'm alone, there's always the trees and the birds and of course, my sketchbook to keep me company. Alongwith, of course, Manu. The cups of chai he doles out are simply amazing. Sometimes I've even gulped down 8 cups in one go. Of course, they're these mini cups.

Last night while I was recording my voice over with two batchmates, it was hilarious. The voice over is in Hindi and we first scripted it. It isn't much, just about 8 lines but they needed to be said with a lot of emotion at the right places. We recorded at home, shut the doors and told the dogs to stop barking and go to sleep (it was around 3:30 am) and turned off the fans. The result is fine. I'm sure my batchmates who were doing the VO, must've dreamt of actually being HIV + after saying those lines scores of times over. It was really nice of them to get so involved in it.

I can't believe so many things are happening. I'm going back to Delhi on Thursday and then leaving for Chicago on Friday night. It's a whole lot of shift for someone who's been grounded at home for so many past months but I'm looking forward to it all. The uncertainity of the future doesn't scare me, I know things will get figured out as I walk on.
Leaving behind some memories. Trying to hold on to some other ones. Building new ones all along. What else is there to do? And also, staying clear of frivolous talkers. the sort who make big promises and when you finally decide to perch on them, they go away. Those are the scary ones. And all this caution has made me indifferent as a result of which I have become somewhat numb. It's scary too. Sometimes there's something good staring at my face and I'm not even thinking about it. I guess there's a specific time and place for everything but there's one thing I'm worried about. I used to be so open to things. Things happening and people coming into my life. That's how I met some of the most unconventional people. I was always on the lookout for new things. Fresh mind. The questions remain, the inquisitive mind is there, but that openness is going away. I'm wary. Scared and tired. 'What if'...'but then'....'no, no, I can't' know the sort... It's always these things on my mind. Too scared.

And then this junior friend I have here, sat with me, we talked about things. You know the sort of friends you don't need to be constantly in touch with to know what's going on exactly in each others' lives? Well, he's one of them. So we talked. Was nice.
I didn't know how badly I was craving for company till I reached here, three nights ago. Since then I've been on a spin, talking, talking, talking, asking all the questions about all sorts of work that had been buried. It's SO rejuvenating to be with people!
This is a mixed bag, this post, I mean. But then, so is my life right now. And I want my life to be a mixed bag always. But without major bumps.
Anyhow, I can't believe my film's over! And my guide liked it. Can't believe it.
Feels super good. And it's the first time I'm here without any work tensions.
Sure feels good.

Toodles till we meet again after a week or so, or maybe sooner.

Sunday, March 12

good morning world!

this zombie bids adieu for now...

Saturday, March 11

Friday, March 10


I went for walk around town today.
Crossed streets
picked up paths
I hadn’t seen before.
Each stone on the way
Had your name written on it.

I looked up at the sky
birds flew overhead
a stray balloon floated by
kites stuck on trees
spelt nostalgia
and with them on the branches,
I saw,
your name.

Passing people by is a game.
Sometimes you look at them and they tell you stories.
sometimes a silent greeting
recognizes lost words and enigmas.
someone’s mole
someone’s eyes
someone’s stray curl
swimming on the forehead
striped shirt
striped shoes
all remind me of you.

I don’t want to forget you.

I want your name to forget
And stop visiting me.

Across the universe

Across the universe

Words are flying out like endless
rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow waves of joy
are drifting through my open mind
Possessing and caressing me.

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

Images of broken light
that dance before me like a million eyes
That call me on and on across the universe
Thoughts meander like a restless
wind inside a letter box
they tumble blindly as they make
their way across the universe

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

Sounds of laughter shades of life
are ringing through my open ears
inciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love
which shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on across the universe

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva

Thursday, March 9


All I ask for
is a heart full of love…

…for life
smallest things
in your closet
and life

...days of

...nights of
sleeping birds
sleeping passions
awake passions.
Baobab, pine sap
and aloe

...peanut chutneys
homemade jams
and striped socks
darned at the toes

...night lamps
street lamps
cold salad
and turquoise

...and me.

Blaring love
silent love.
from miles away.

Mountains and seas
are infinite.
You and I
are infinite.

So must our love be.

Wednesday, March 8

Go away you smog, I want to see the moon as a shape, not scattered around like paint-splash

The way back down is harder than the way up.
Tread carefully
leave some footprints
and pug marks,
traces of breath
inhaled slowly
exhaled in a short

Have you ever watched a valleyful of stars?
I have.
Been lucky, I think.
When, during evening prep at school, the lights suddenly went off,
they went off together,
in unison.
When they came back,
they twinkled and became stars.
It was a plethora of stardust.

Can you imagine it?

It's a night for stars.
even though I can barely see them.
I know it is.
I know they're there...

and on the way back I chatted with the rickshawwala

Feeling awesome!
Work's going well. Need to do lots and lots more by tomorrow.
I'm feeling
and full of energy.

My newish sketchbook is almost full.
I have lots more to start using.
Good friends
are around.
Some are not around but they still show me they care
which works, too.

It's going to happen soon

really soon!

And then,
I'll be off.


Over the last couple of days I've been having these conversations with my mother.
Really rejuvenating ones.
They pep me up.
Thank you, Ma...

Things are looking good.

Tuesday, March 7

Today we spoke

I needn't have stroked your face.
We knew each other
before fingers.

It could go away quite easily.
Another day you will look at me
and see a wall.

Knowing doesn't make
a straight line.
Another day I'll call
and your voice
will shut the door politely.

There are no gaurantees.

Tday we woke
in separate countries
to different birds.
Yours sing, mine croak.

Today I broke a silence.
You cut the blindfolds off my words.

Imtiaz Dharker

Saturday, March 4

I want some answers

I can’t find my crowquill.
It’s what I write and draw in my sketchbook with.

Can’t find it.

I know it’s somewhere around but I can’t see it.
I wish they had some sort of microchip sensors or something that I could put on my small possessions to trace them because

I have a knack of losing things.

Isn’t there some sort of an award for the best thing loser or something?
Well, there should be one.

I’d get it.

A friend wants to write a book without bothering about grammar. He says he wants to write the way he thinks and he doesn’t think in commas and fullstops and if he wrote a book like that and the book talked about how he thinks of current affairs and what’s happening to the world and about george bush (yes, I know I should’ve written George Bush but my friend doesn’t even think in upper case), and if prophet mohammad were alive today the religion of islam whould be entirely different. He wants to know if people would buy something like that. He wants to know if they’d be able to understand what he’s trying to say.

I told him maybe they won’t understand it because if he’s writing the way he’s talking then they need to hear him first to understand why he’s writing the way he is and what he’s trying to say.Then I suggested he release an audio book instead.Of course I guffawed after that because I immediately saw him sitting atop a revolving dais or some such thing, talking like a new age guru or something like that. The image was hilarious.

Why am I talking about all this?
Because I liked his idea very much.
I think it’s real.
And I think it breathes.

And I think we don’t have genii in our generation (well, there’s definitely no one I know who could be compared to Mozart, nowhere even close to that) and I often wonder why. I know I don’t know a whole lot of people who could very well be genii or even /atleast turn out to be something like that. But it doesn’t stop there. I wonder what makes us stop short of just going ahead and doing it the way we feel it should be done because sometimes we do know how a certain thing should be done (if I’m talking subjectively, I’d talk about colours, that’s my forte, I could talk about how just a thin stroke of ochre could change the whole feeling of a painting, but I’m not talking about such miniscule specifics, they’d sound boring, perhaps) (and shucks, I’m completely confused now, I think I’ve forgotten what I was talking about).

Genius, yes, I remember now.
I’m not saying my friend is a genius. He could be one but I’m not saying he is.

What am I saying then?
Just that we need more

Stirring up
Active action

We need more


If you read what Rilke says in his second letter (I think it was the second one) to the Young Poet, you’ll understand why I think questions are so important. Unless the questions are identified, how will the answers ever be found?

That's why I think my friend should go ahead and write what he wants to, without bothering about punctuation and spellings.

Now back to what I was thinking of.
Yeah, the importance of asking questions, having questions.

So, I have a question.

Where's my precious crowquill?!?

Friday, March 3

the other night
when you called me on my ten digit number and my phone was silent

lying next to the computer,
the number flashed

sought me out

i jumped
went red
reached out to pick it up

and the computer's screen did a quick tango.

Thursday, March 2

James Taylor's singing now

If something seems right, I mean, really right; how wrong can it be?

(that looks more like an exercise in understanding italics or some such thing)

But really.


it's important to understand colour.

Wednesday, March 1

Vitamin C

2 Oranges for breakfast.

Sob! I miss my frand!!

Positive negatives

And before a single camera was born.

And when we weren't looking
something happened.

The picture came out
moonless nightsky


I think

the film knew our secret.


Uninvited, the thought of you stayed too late in my head.
So I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name,
like tears, soft, salt, on my lips, the sound of its bright syllables
like a charm, like a spell.

Falling in love is glamorous hell:
the crouched, parched heart
like a tiger, ready to kill; a flame’s fierce licks under the skin.

Into my life, larger than life, you strolled in.

I hid in my ordinary days, in the long grass of routine,
in my camouflage rooms. You sprawled in my gaze,
staring back from anyone’s face, from the shape of a cloud,
from the pining, earth-struck moon which gapes at me

as I open the bedroom door.
The curtains stir.
There you are
on the bed, like gift, like a touchable dream.

Carol Ann Duffy