Numb

It rained last night.
Sleep was like an unrelenting child,
Refusing her intensely as she tried to hold it.

She kept staring at the cluster of droplets forming on the windowpane.
Every now and then a drop would make its way from the top
And cut through the constellation of droplets.
Like a shot of breeze blowing through a dense forest.

She took a large sip of cold water
Letting it numb the insides of her mouth,
You’ll lose your teeth this way!
He would have said.
Don’t worry; I have plenty of them.
I won’t lose them so soon.
She had told him once.

The memory hit her like an after taste.
She tucked herself back into the sheets
And hugged him.
His breathing was steady.
As steady as the sound of the rain outside.

Without any warning a tear escaped from the corner of her right eye
And disappeared in the whites of the pillow.
She was startled by this sudden intrusion.
She turned the other side.

She felt a bulk on her chest.
Lying there motionless,
She wondered where would he be now?
Will he too be lying on his bed watching a constellation of droplets forming on the windowpane?

From then to now

It’s kinda strange. But when things actually begin to fall in place, you don’t really feel the scale of it all. As Kalyani rightly pointed out, our reactions are not any different, the sun doesn’t set in the east, the world doesn’t begin to move in slow motion. No double takes happen nor are there a band of ten violinists giving background score to heighten the intensity of the moment. Basically, it doesn’t hit you.

If you dear reader should go back a few posts to see this post of mine, where I have gone hammer and tongs about my comfort zone and my lack of initiative. Now almost after a year later, things seemed to have REALLY moved. I am ready now. Ready to take the plunge. And that’s what I shall be doing a couple of weeks from now. I am leaving my cushy advertising job and entering the world of Bollywood.

I don’t know how things are going to turn out. I don’t know at this point how to play ahead. But what I do know is that I HAVE to do this and do this with my best possible efforts. I don’t have an option.

Let’s see. How far I’ll reach. How many lives I’ll touch in a positive way.

Ek aur zindagi...

Saamne traffic dekhne par bhi peeche se horn bajta hain
Daftar mein late sabhi aate hain, taana aap hi ko milta hain.

Gali ka hoshiyar baniya chehra dekhkar daam badhaata hain.
Boss ko aap hi ki shakal dekh ke koi mushkil sa kaam yaad aata hain.

Train mein sonewalon ko kandha aap hi ka milta hain
Tammam tele callers ke paas aap hi ka number hota hain.

Poora hafta khoon pasina ek Sunday ke liye bahaya jaata hain
Jab tak mall ki bheed mein na pees jaao Sunday ka bhi mazza kaha aata hain?

My Most Romantic Song EVER!

Lata's phenomenal singing. The mood she's set for this monsoon raga is just so right. The 'harkats' that she takes add so much to the feel of the song.

Panchamda's heady music. What melody! What composition! If there was any music director who with his music had the scene come alive in not just your eyes but also your senses, it was Panchamda.

And if you have the picturization of this song in front of you then it's like a dream come true. It takes you to a different land. It doesnt have any fancy dream sets or smoke machines what's worse it shows a city like Mumbai and it shows it during the monsoon. But it feels so right. It feels so utterly blissful. The atmosphere completely envelopes you into its aura, lets you close your eyes and grows goose bumps on your skin. if you look closely you'll realize that the entire song is a guerilla picurization by Basu Chatterjee. I dont think they vacated the streets. they just had amitabh and Moushmi walk through the city in the rain and they just followed them in a cab holding the camera.

And last but not the least is the young fresh Bachchan effect. The image is more endearing than it's than its romantic.

Mumbai in the rains. It's still romantic.

You get the hugs too easily!

Too much of attention spoils us they say. In this case it’s a bit weird though. The receiver and the complainer both are yours truly.

It’s been a while since I have nurtured the ambition to become a screenwriter. But what have I done about it? Apart from appearing for a Film School entrance exam, discussing countless themes with my close buddies over copious amount of alcohol, buying a laptop, downloading a screenplay writing software, sulking, wearing T-shirts that read – Ek gazab ka toofan aaye, hum ko gehri neend se jagaye, making half hearted attempts at writing, scribbling one amateur short film script, showing off my embryonic knowledge about world cinema. I haven’t really moved an inch from my comfort zone. NOT EVEN A SINGLE centimeter! The outings have been the same. The going out on weekends has been the same. The coming home late from work has been the same. What happened to the clap trap of taking the extra effort of going that extra mile, sweating that drop of blood, burning the mid night oil? The bouquets about my initial writing came too easily. 5 years back I was more prolific than I am right now. What the heck, I am having troubles writing this piece coherently. Whenever I cry about the lack of opportunities, I have friends who offer their shoulders and make me feel that everything’s fine. Why don’t they just shake me up and threaten to abandon me? See? Now I have begun to blame them for my failures. What a weakling!

Till now I have believed that I am not like the rest of them. I can do what I aspire to do. But as they say, at the end of the day you get what you deserve. Probably I deserve this. Ah…not probably, I SURELY deserve this. Let’s see how far I can go on like this.

Words

It’s been long since I actually wrote for myself. Felt the pangs of the words struggling to get out one by one. It’s been a while. I wonder how the words were doing without me around for so long. Like a fickle breeze whose soothing touch entices you initially and you fall for it. You think it will come again and it doesn’t.

*****************

Words now flow in torrents like the rain in the month of Ashaadh. With an urgency that makes me feel that they almost have a purpose. They want to humiliate me. Tell me how insensitive I was. How I tricked them into thinking that I cared for them. That I understood their language, shared their pain. But what pains them most now I realize. The fact that I haven’t even bothered to deceive them.

******************

Where were you when the pain that slashed through me also wiped my tears?

Where were you when I spoke to an empty room that filled my senses with your presence?

Where were you?

Kana

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