November 06, 2006

Some S***

Found some crap in my notes folder. Here's one. All I remember is that I wrote it in a single stretch. It's part fact, part fiction. Don't really know the why or what of this crap. Doesn't make no sense to me. If you find any sense in it talk to me.

Most nights I lay awake pretending to sleep. Playing pretend can be a really engaging activity. Playing pretend has got to work. No matter what you pretend, it’s got to work. I mean, what’s the whole idea of pretending when it’s not logical.

With the click comes darkness. The sub-conscious projector starts rolling the nightmare film. The film is perfect but the soundtrack always comes with an auditorium-echo. It’s like the sub-conscious is trying to up the spook factor with the echo. Most of the times, I am viewing the nightmare in sweeping wide angle shots. I rarely get close-ups, so I can’t figure who’s who.

I lay awake pretending to sleep. In my sleep, I am dreaming. I am dreaming that I am sleeping. I love making those dreams surreal. And what’s more surreal than sleeping in your dreams that you see while pretending to sleep.

Most nights I lay awake pretending to sleep. I don’t sleep because of the nightmares. Those dreadful nightmares. They come right when the sub-conscious starts playing the dreams. In my dreams I am always sleeping. Maybe my dreams are trying to fulfill things I can’t make happen.

The nightmares always begin when someone switches off the lights in my dream where I am asleep. I want to know who puts them off. I want to know if it is deliberate. I fall asleep, in the dream, and there’s this sound, the click of the light switch. Oh, I hear it every time. You know, like you hear sounds yet you know that you’re asleep. These things happen to me, I don’t know if this is an isolated incident.

Click. The light goes off. The nightmare switches on.

November 05, 2006

Remember, Remember.

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
The gunpowder, treason and plot,
I see of no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, 'twas his intent
To blow up the King and the Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below,
Poor old England to overthrow:
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, make the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!
Hip hip hoorah!


PS. Thanks to ado for reminding me.

November 03, 2006

Retrospection: One

Welcome Back.

I’ve been gone long. 3 months, near about. 3 months of slack acknowledgment of life’s suckiness. I am hoping for that to change.

A lot of changes took place, yet somehow I am still as indolent as ever. Rains gave into Fall, which gave into Winter. The music playing changed with seasons – Jazz for the rains, Slowcore for the fall, Johnny Hollow (listen on it) and a whole lotta Gothic ambiance for the winters. The lack of good books to read was apparent in much scarce thoughts on the blog. However, I pulled myself up to read Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and I find myself completely blown away. I haven’t read a more complex novel. The writing style, I presume, is part reason for the complexity. I also watched Coppola’s Apocalypse Now and it is an amazing adaptation of Heart of Darkness. If you aren’t much into reading books you much watch this classic of a war movie. I am currently trying Golding’s Lord of the Flies.

A lot of pending DVDs found their way to the screen. Apocalypse Now, Chinatown, Dead Poet’s Society, The Dreamers, El Topo, Everything is Illuminated, Fargo, Silent Hill, and some more. Many old DVDs went into a lot of heavy rotation too – Casablanca, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, The Godfather I & II, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, Good Will Hunting, Ocean’s Eleven, Ocean’s Twelve, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, To Kill A Mockingbird, Vanilla Sky and a lot more.

So, all-in-all, I haven’t done much again. It is high time I do something worthwhile.

There’s lot to write about but words aren’t flowing the way they used to. I feel more and more like Winston Smith starting his diary in Nineteen Eighty-Four, wanting to write, afraid to write, but when he writes it seems more like babble than a meaningful discourse yet the babble makes complete sense.

So I’ll leave you guys here hoping that at least one or two of the old readers would return. While I club my notes and thoughts for a serious introspection of the last 3 months, you keep reading and talkback on this routinely mundane post.

PS. Took quite a part of these three months to redesign this blog. Wait and Watch. Work In Progress.

July 29, 2006

A Rush Of Blood To The Head

I am working. Working over ideas. Working on my skills as a designer, developer and a writer. I am working on giving a name, an identity to the work I do. All I need to do is try not to lose attention, it’s the only thing I am good at losing. Things are now in motion that might make some changes. Changes that might be good, hopefully great.

Do Stay.

July 23, 2006


Just turned 24. Happy Birthday.

July 15, 2006

Gone. Will Be Back.

Gone: travelling.

Be Back: July 20th.

Until then, Check out the archives. Starting from the last post. And Comment!

July 07, 2006

Getting Wasted on Frankies

It’s hard to keep up with your attendance at college when you have more important things to attend. Like attending the local fast-food joint/cafĂ© “Fifth Avenue”, for some quick chicken frankies. Or hatching ingenious plans to destroy the day for Badruka and his cronies (snobs all of them). It’s hard to keep up with classes when you are needed at the college parking lot to carry smoked out Javed to safety. Or when you have to listen to Savage Garden and Mission Impossible 2 OST back-to-back because Rahil won’t lend the CDs to you.

I attended the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan (BVB) for a whole year. By attended, I mean that I was a student of Bhavan’s for a year before dropping it for an under-grad in computer applications. My real attendance at college was 23%. I am still surprised at how I got past our screaming principal, Kakade.

We spent most of our day in the college parking lot or the cafeteria. In case of excessive monetary funds we would be chilling out at FAVs (local acronym for Fifth Avenue) munching through Frankies and sandwiches and gulping down cold/hot beverages. I must say I have never eaten anything as HOT as a Frankie at FAVs.

When we somehow happened upon a class it would be either QT (Quantitative Techniques) or Eco (Economics) or a language class (English/Hindi).

The QT professor was a newbie, this job being his first-ever gig. This was about the time when that movie Mohabbatein was out. Suddenly being a Professor became cooler than those frigid tins of coke at FAVs. So the QT professor, the young chap that he was, started acting all RAJ A. MALHOTRA on our collective asses. He would come to class, a sweater thrown over his shoulders like Shahrukh Khan, and a pair of plain glasses on his eyes. He also wore those pleat less pants. Those vanilla-palette shirts. The poor fellow even acted as nothing was out of place with that sweater on his shoulders, keeping his back warm. Even when we tried to bring out the sweater-issue he would deviate us with some deviations questions. The weirdest part was his name: RAJ.

Half the Eco class was ruined most of the time because it came right after recess. And we attended recess rigorously. This caused us to return to our classes a bit late, 10-15 minutes usually. Plus, there was Rakesh’s awfully distracting entrance in the class every once in a while. He used enter the class last, wearing his helmet and then would sit half-way through the lecture without taking it off. The professor who had already witnessed/annoyed/threatened over this regular masquerade wouldn’t say a word and carry on with her lecture.

The only professors I would ever like were the English ones. Right from school, through junior college and the under-grads I had some great English professors. It is only now that I’ve realized the amount of interest I paid during those monotonous sessions of Keats and Wordsworth. I didn’t like poetry as much as the next guy sitting beside me, which would be Javed most of the time. But it would have been worth the attention that I never gave. At least I would have had a grammatically correct blog.

It is funny how we waste our college days over these moments. These moments of convenience food and parking-lot-adventures. These moments with peculiar professors and their prejudiced remarks. These moments, they become surreal, almost dreamlike after you leave college. But they persist. Funny how these wasted days are perhaps the best days of our lives.