Love means never having to say you're sorry

Erich Segal is no more. Call me sissy, but my life was far more touched than by the other phenomena called Michael Jackson...

RIP...

Uninspired Me, this November

Every Child is an artist.
The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.
- Pablo Picasso

Ok, I promise, there will be only one more post in this series. I am looking for a calendar.

Blooooooo...

I took this with my cell phone. One of those rare occasions to be flying around sunset time. The only regret was that I was flying to the North and seated on the right side of the aisle when the other side was revealing a riot of golden hues every passing minute.

East is West and the West, East

I love love this version of the Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan 'eternal' love song...



the video is inconsequential...

Just Finished Reading A Book

Come, Comrade, let's eat. I, too, am a tramp.

The Motorcycle Diaries is such a romantic book. Tugs at my heart strings, it does.

October Calender

Not all those who wander are lost.

- J R R Tolkien

Sign of Times

There must be something really wrong with all of us if there is a 'reality' show on television that attempts to create entertainment out of pseudo celebrities trying to babysit...

my latest girlfriend

there was an 'I love you' and a good night kiss. sadly its going to be a long distance affair. sigh!

Come September

September could be a good month or it could be a bad month... or it could be both in parts. Bring it on, I say... At least I love this month's calender page.

Old men's music

Of note: Tracks 1, 3, 4, 7 and the superlative Track 10.

Am I eligible for a quarter-life crisis? or a mid-life crisis?

Where the grass on the other side is seldom green

I could be a farmer, tilling the land, watching in delight as the crop would grow under my care. I would work hard from sun rise till dusk, lunch and a simple siesta in between. An early dinner by candle light, sleeping in the moonlight, probably listening to the news on AIR. But then I'd be at the mercy of weather and perhaps the rains would play truant. I would have to borrow from the local money lender at exorbitant interest, which I wouldnt be able to pay back. Worse still, a corporate giant would decide to build an SEZ over my land, enter into a JV with the local govt. development body which would in turn 'fix' the rate of acquisition, which would be paid by the cash-rich corporate giant for my land. Effectively, a pittance. Id either have to shift to the city and do menial jobs or I could chose the easier way out and commit suicide.

I could be a 'floriculturist', growing exquisite flowers which can be exported to the West. I could watch the season change the colors of my produce, count the honey bees swarm around my produce. Perhaps have a side-business of producing honey the organic way. Make millions in a few years after I have set up farms over hundreds of hectares of land in a place with wonderful weather year round. But then, an automobile company would decide to set up shop in the vicinity. It would dole out thousands of dollars to the local politicians who would de-notify the forest and agricultural land and convert it into an industrial zone. The whole region would be attract a ton of migrants willing to live in squalid conditions in return for a job in the auto company. The pollution would harm the atmosphere and that would be the end of my farms.

I could be a call center executive, restricted to working for 8 hours a day only. Meet targets of taking calls by the minute, resolving queries from stupid foreigners and gradually moving up the value chain. I'd get an accent, perhaps a foreign trip thrown in now and then. But then I'd have to work odd hours, the pay would be a pittance and my health would go for a toss, life expectancy down by 25%, apart from the slur of having wasted by upbringing and education to do a 'call center job'.

I could be a tourist guide at an exotic destination, giving tours to firangs willing to shell out dollars in lieu of ludicrous tales of past generations. I'd work on my terms and refuse loud Indian tourists looking for a cheaper deal. I could take a few months off every year when the tourist flow is low and go explore other places and take tours myself. But then I'd be at the mercy of the exchange rate, stupid firangs (again) and be a part of the general cartel which is just as well adept in procuring hookers and dope for the tourists. Probably some day, the government of India would bow to firang pressure and declare the tourist place a heritage site, UN boards would be nailed across the entire area and the Department of Tourism would bring out printed tour guides and pre-recorded audio tour guides which would make the likes of me obsolete.

I could be in the creative field, a graphics artist, a photographer, a writer, painter, sculptor, an ad executive making a living out of the things he's created and the things he loves. I could work all day, all night, hold exhibitions that receive rave reviews. Over time, I'd receive awards and my work would be resold by investors for millions of dollars and give me a royalty. I could do dope, have models for girlfriends, travel to exquisite place and attend workshops to broaden my horizon. But then, I'd be probably disorganized, a junkie, depressive and prone to commiting suicide. The whole dream could go sour if I'm not good enough and I'd live a life making sketches by the footpath near the Jehangir Art Gallery or some such place. I'd have to work for a client who's paying for my creative work and therefore he gets to decide whether the color is blue or yellow, when all I want is a dull grey. Most of the times he wouldn't pay the final payment and I would be left with no recourse but to forfeit it. The worst of all would be the pressure of having to produce something creative / path breaking / revolutionary on demand and perhaps at short notice, which would eventually lead to a burnout.

to be continued...

Of Blogging

The Dream

Split The Pain

Nothing To Lose

Summer of 69

To E16 and back again

You Bring out the Up-Walli In Me

I always wanted to do this post. Started making up this list a long time back, ages, it seems. As if the list on the side wasn't enough, I wanted to have a list of singular posts, and not blogs as a whole, or writers, that had, at some point in time, left me mesmerised. Influenced me so much, that I have gone back time and again to these words, sometimes for a moment of solace, sometimes to be mesmerised by the play of words again, to recreate the powerful imagery in which I lose myself... and sometimes, to just remember the tingle at the back of my neck when I read these the first, nay the second time, ever! Some of the links are perhaps obsolete, some blogs are perhaps forever lost, others are dormant since long, some of them have moved on... The list is of course incomplete and I can think of a few posts for which I am too lazy to hunt the links. Like the post on 'smells' by Smriti aka Soulcurry, or a couple of poems that I relate to very personally. Others, which I read ages back when I'd just started blogging, yet more which were more interesting for the stream of comments after, than the post in itself. There are other blogs, Ive chanced across since then, some of which I've devoured in a few hours of office time spent better. But, Gah! Now, Shorter or Longer, Never...

Breaking News

In other incidents of no consequence, my uncle was complaining to my 22 year old cousin about constantly receiving porn links as offline messages from him (my cousin) on msn messenger. All attempts at convincing him were futile. He was simply unable to comprehend that they are chain viruses / spam that get automatically forwarded, leave aside the fact that he would be the last beneficiary in the whole wide world of such messages on my cousin's behalf. What's more, apparently, dear uncle has been receiving such messages from my hotmail id as well. Should I really be bothered, or should I simply enjoy a laugh?

any of you on my msn contacts list?

When I Was

Urvashi, my 9-year old niece who stays in Canada won some poetry contest... here is how it goes

'When I was'

When I was one, I ate a drum,
When I was two, I ate a shoe,
When I was three, I ate a bee,
When I was four, I ate a boar,
When I was five, I ate a fish alive,
When I was six, I ate some sticks,
When I was seven, I ate the number eleven,
When I was eight, I ate a gate,
When I was nine, I ate a dime,
When I was ten, I did it all over again!!

Yesterday, a colleague told me that I am one of the few uncomplicated people she's known. I can't say she doesn't know me. In the recent two years Ive grown older, with the newfound independence I have come to realize some harsh truths of life. I can't say Ive learnt enough, I never will. But the learning has certainly numbed me. I look back at my designs from Architecture school, I look back at some of the designs I created in B-school, many of the posts Ive written here and elsewhere now seem so alien that I wonder if i can ever do anything similar today. It's a realization that has taken its time to seep in, that I'm just another drop in the Ocean and that chiildhood dream of being someone was just that, wishful thinking. Yes, I have half of my life ahead of me (perhaps!), but I don't imagine it to be much different that the past. Just another brick in the wall, as was written.

Such is Life

There is actually a tailor's shop in Baroda (if I remember correctly) called 'C'Lai'...

Man mein laddoo phoot rahe hai

After years of being ridiculed as a member of the Bajrang Dal, a dear dear friend is now un-officially off the singles list. :)

Just in time, I'd say, buddy, just in time!!

What If?

You and I will never know the answer to the question... and that won't make any difference now.

it's a weird feeling to bump into an old school friend and find him working as a salesman at a departmental store which you used to frequent together years ago...

Gulaal, Anurag Kashyap

a.vant-garde

n.
A group active in the invention and application of new techniques in a given field, especially in the arts.
adj.
Of, relating to, or being part of an innovative group

the Udaipur Palace

I took these on a recent work trip to Udaipur and this time I didn't forget the camera. :) The palace offers an audio tour, which I highly recommend, and is similar to the one offered at the Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur. The last pic is of the Uday Vilas Hotel, (voted the best hotel in Asia by Conde Nast Traveler) as seen across Lake Pichola from one of the courtyards of the Palace.

At times like today, I feel like Ive not been strong enough. There have been decisions to make, always. And the proverbial way, there is the easy way out with immediate rewards and the difficult way out with lasting rewards. I have done different things at different times, choosing one of the either way without so much of a guide book to help. And when I look back at those times and wonder what it would be like if I'd done differently, there is no clear answer. However, almost every time I have reconciled with it and made my peace with the decision and the outcome. It has of course, involved varying amounts of time for that to happen. But right now, I feel that there are some things that will never find peace in the natural course of history. Some levels of entropy will remain, till the time some things change, some barriers broken or some event occurs which turns you around to face a similar decision again. And this time, I wonder if there is a possibility of change. I wonder if there is time and opportunity yet to make that peace, and if it will in any which way undo or make up for whatever was the past. I wonder, today, if I should make peace with a few things in life...or wait for it...

My Twisted Philosophy

I call this photograph 'Life'.

Fort Tiracol, Goa

As has been the case often lately, I forgot my camera, so a cell phone* was all I could take pictures with...















*somehow Ive taken a liking to cell phone pics, in small sizes they appear like pretty stamps...

Shoebite

Making a shoe is a very fine art*. Not everyone can makes shoes. Or chappals. When I was studying to give the entrance exam to Architecture, I studied under this eccentric old man who used to teach at Architecture School. He mustve been over 80 years old, had lost half his teeth, was a fan of Walter Groupius and all Bauhaus. In hindsight, he was a bit of an old lech, used to kiss his pupils (more girls than guys) on the cheek when he saw some good work. So this friend made a 'ladies chappal' out of cardboard, to which I didn't pay much attention. (Who though making a chappal was art then!!!). The only reason he probably didn't get a kiss was cos he was 6 foot 4 and kept moustaches. I was quite intimidated by the old man, though. He used to ridicule every generation after his, and half of his well. But I did make it to the School.

*Why I remember this? I bought a new pair of shoes that 'are' biting my ankles because the height of the shoe's side measured from the inside (sole to ankle) is more than what it should be. I shoudve known better than to buy shoes marketed by a company more known for its travel gear.