Between Pages and Places

Since November – time’s just swished passed by me. One day I was excited about moving to Pune and the next day – I was to continue here in Chennai. You dream things, sew them in a fabric with minute details leaving space for the things to come. And sometimes you don’t get to complete it, just yet. So you fold it and keep it in a trunk for another time, perhaps and pick up a new piece. Its been some time since then and many good-bad-crazy things have happened.

I’ve begun reading again, writing bits of poetry, sketching in odd corners of journals, walking to places I’ve never had time to give a second look, stalking beautiful buildings with gardens and things like that – things I’d lost touch with. And sometimes that messes your head up. I went back to college for the viva and got to get back to the good times  with the girls. Its interesting how we change – within a couple of months. Some looked different but were the same; some looked the same but were a changed person. Towards some I felt the same warmth and towards some – I just began to see them in a new light. I spent an entire week in Bengaluru – soaking up the winter sun, binge-watching horror movies with my cousins, riding under the night sky with the winter breeze blowing against us and making plans that never quite materialized. And just when I thought I was having a great week-off, things happened that I can’t quite elaborate upon. Things like these really show you who you are  and where you stand. Unnerve you. Tear you enough for you to breakdown behind trees and sit on steps before thresholds wondering what to do next now that you don’t want to go inside. It passed. I understood things and learned that I needed to accept some realities.

The most beautiful things happened, too. I’ve begun reading like I used to before but the books are different. Galadriel’s chants have been replaced by Abeer Hoque’s poetry, dragon-riders no more reside on my shelves – there are letters of love exchanged by an artist and a poet sitting atop Jane Austen’s finest. More Indian authors than fantasy-fiction. More depth, more tears, more black and white photos of things of the past, more feeling, more originality, more questioning, more understanding, little vanity, more secrets than messages and well, more insight. A lot more and yet, a lot less.

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(I’m listening to Whitney’s No Woman and have discovered these new bands called Oh Wonder ; Hibou; Foxes in Fiction and Low, as I write. Yes, that’s a lot of distraction, I know but its music, come on.)

I’ve made correspondence with some delightful people. Friends from my childhood, friends from college who I never got a chance to know better and a friend with a mind so beautiful that I want to pique it tirelessly. Their stories, my stories, our stories and everything else around us have kept me pleasantly busy. I’ve come to realize that there are really people who love things I love and see them in a way that tells stories that others can’t hear. People who see the way I do, even deeper, I believe. How I’d wish to get lost with them and go to the places we only talk about. Collecting antiques, savoring moments spent walking by beautiful street- scapes, gazing at old-houses endlessly – just being. Its wonderful to hear similar stories from a mind that’s different from everyone else and yet so familiar. When you think a little differently from others around you it so happens that you either feel a tad bit lost or try to be someone who mixes with the crowd. Either ways, you’re missing out on being yourself. But when you meet someone whom you could tell what you think knowing they’d understand – you’re liberated in a way. You’re being yourself. Alas, time makes sure I don’t pester that mind too much.

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Of course, I’ve been narcissistic here. My city suffered deep blows this entire past month. From standing in queues, penniless, to being blow away by a cyclone and losing a gem of a Leader. All said and done, the city is beginning to frown upon Decembers because of all the ghastly surprises it brings with it year after year. But then the clock never stops and we still stand in queues and stock up on candles and instant-noodles at the slightest spotting of dark clouds. We move as does the year.

Hopefully, in my next post I’ll share with you some poetry I’ve under-lined (I used a pencil so don’t frown at me) in my new books and a more interesting read. Christmas looks promising and so does New Year (Family-friends are throwing a bash at their place – a home I love because its got certain spaces that I can’t stop talking about). And there is the Birthday on the first Saturday of the year (is that somehow supposed to make it more cheerful? Or is this just a sly reminder to all you, readers?)

Hope you’re all doing well, so far. Give 2016 a chance – there’s still a week left. Great things can happen, yeah?  Happy Holidays!

Arrividerci.

Someone

Would you still write poems

when the walls come crashing down

and walk beside me on the sidewalk

in the numbing, cold rains.

 

Someone who keeps me up

with words that make a difference

and goes on silent, long-drawn

bookshop dates and nostalgia trips.

 

Someone who scribbles in my

sketchbook his wiry handiwork

just to annoy the hell out of me

and then take me to poetry-slams.

 

Someone I can ponder with

about all the mysteries in our mind

Someone who says things

without worrying about time.

 

Someone I can talk art with

And not worry what he thinks 

about my opinion and 

Has one of his Own.

 

I see images of you in many,

but I settle down for none.

Because you’re somewhere out there,

looking for the one.

 

Tamasha – A quick review

‘Drama’

Our childhood is like a vicious serpent that whispers to us that we are special – makes us believe that we can achieve almost anything we want. And as we grow up- we allow this world; our situations and our own emotional limitations- to crush that serpent under our feet. And now, no one tells us we are special – we face our reality –  of being ordinary, mediocre and simple.

The movie is a cold splash of water on all the Dreamers’ faces who have allowed other concerns of life to subdue the Inner magic that we all hold close to us until one day, we stop acknowledging our true longings-of exploring what excites us. All of us get stuck in a race where we don’t know what we’re running for. And we lose. Not once or twice but consistently until we are just drifting ahead – in the flow, meaningless.

If only we were running in the right race- towards our passion, we’d be so much more better off – complete, happy and grateful for this life.

The story revolves around the above ideology. Little Ved is fascinated by the mythological stories that an old man tells him for some spare change, atop a hill. These stories and the magic they hold in them capture Ved’s imagination. His love for Fiction is not taken well by his Father who belongs to a generation which believes in upholding the values set by their ancestors who suffered the aftermath of the Partition and built new homes from scratch. He is annoyed by Ved’s distractions and wants to mold him into an image of his own. His son bends before his father’s will; gives up his imagination to allow logic and arithmetic to conform him into a person he no longer understands.

Until one fine day, oceans away from his reality, he runs into a fellow traveler. The two of them- in high spirits- decide to enjoy each other’s company in the bliss of anonymity as an experiment and promise each other that they’ll not disclose their identities. Their adventures open them up to each other’s tender realities. What happens in Forsica, stays in Forsica. Or  not. On their last day together, they are bonded by the longing of togetherness and the pain of separation.

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Tara (aka Mona Darling) returns back to her reality in Kolkata – where she is the heiress of a Hospitality Giant and is busied by work whenever she is not thinking about Don – her anonymous companion from Forsica. Its like a part of her still belongs with her Journey and that part makes her feel alive despite her loneliness. She cannot settle for anyone other than him. Four years pass by until she lands an assignment in Delhi – and she has a teeny clue to finding Don. But who does she actually meet when she goes there?

Their past was magic. But their reality? She knows she is in love with him and he with her. But its the personalities that have been misplaced. Pain, separation, bouts of schizophrenic behavior as one struggles to find one’s originality while the other makes this one realize The Truth- the unreal feeling of facing your inner demons who come lashing out at you because you have been bottling up your originality for ages-is what happens in their lives.

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Imtiaz Ali has done an amazing job of amalgamating theatrics with cinema as goes the name Tamasha. This is no generic movie for the typical audience. This is an eye-opener. Ali tries to awaken the hidden dreamer that’s been locked up inside many of us – through a simple-everyday story with hair-pin bends in the plot. The average viewer may lose interest because of a loss of connect. But the ones who connect, will be hooked.

The music composed by A.R Rahman is a pretty decent score – comprising of songs that are skeletal to the movie and not just blind inserts. The songs bring out the essence : pain, humor , frustration and confusion in various scenes. Catchy and beautiful ones that you’ll be singing by the end are : Matargashti and Agar Tum Saath Ho (which comes in a beautifully scripted and performed scene) and the others have a lot of pop-folk elements in it that will either make you laugh or barf. The more romantic ones include : Safarnama and Ishq Me. A deep, meaningful tune :  Tu Koi Aur Hai which will tear you up. The others like Chali Kahani and Heer Toh Badi Sad just support the movie essentially. Parade De La Bastille is , well, a vibrant composition.

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Its a movie that , yes, I’ll watch again if I can. Because it awakens a sense of accepting one’s originality in the viewers. Moreover it has a Wes Anderson charm in many parts. Plus the realism in some scenes will crack you up while deep inside you’re agreeing with the idiosyncrasies of life.

It gets a hearty ***1/2 from me for Imtiaz. Some scenes are so well composed that your eye catches the beauty. The backgrounds, the sets are simply impeccable. The whole coming-together of the various facets is seamless. The past-present infusion. The storyline. Everything

And because of Ranbir’s exceptional performance and Deepika’s portrayal of raw-pain along with delirious excitement in such a , such a delectably elegant way : Another half star.

All in all : A perfect 4. And beware, I’m a dreamer so it struck a major chord with me.

 SPECIAL MENTION : Whoever the set-designer was : Bravo! The entire Shimla segment : The House, the dark school hallway, the hill-top, the Manch where the performance took place : just amazingly nostalgic. 

Forsica was of course breathtaking : the street-view; the cafes and the drive.

And also the theater stage , the Dilli home where Tara stays and well just about everything else.

AND THE COSTUME DESIGNER NEEDS TO BE AWARDED : WHY?

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Hope you liked this one. I urge you to watch it and post your comments below 🙂 

Beautiful Sleep

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March 16, 1940


Like a river flows so surely to the sea darling so it goes some things are meant to be

Allowing are hopes, cares and worries to flow into our dreams as we let go of everything we hold onto, so dearly, and go with the ebb and flow along with slumber.

An unknown adventure, a welcome friend…sleep, by all means, is a gift with no pretend.

Sleep tight.

Live Life, Our Style ;)

ImageMaybe its the fact that I’ve turned 18 or I have all these crazy friends who party all night in different clubs and pubs all over Bangalore at Dawn Thomas parties…or maybe because that’s what my generation enjoys besides watching Big Bang Theory, fighting over football clubs, grazing at Malls, whatsapping each other to death, befriending new people at social networking sites no matter how bizarre they are or staying up at 4:00 AM under the pretext of assignments when they are actually chilling with friends… or biking,photography, experimenting with new dishes, dating random people, travelling short distances and checking in at Foursquare with special cheats, taking weird pics and Instagramming them…or the basic… listen to music and react as though you are at the MSG Arena at a HUGE-O-WAR concert  playing the best House or Trance !

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We 1990’s kids are geniuses at this stuff. You may not find any of the above productive at all. Well, in our defense,with a sarcastic sneer,there is a lot of stress we deal with…managing expenditures, tackling the erroneous friends’ atmosphere, travelling between college and home, living away from our sanctuary, adjusting to the choices our parents make for us or even, themselves…

We get inspired by catchy music and actors in flashy movies. We love living a free-willed life! Like a new wave generation of The Hippie sans the drugs, thank you. We may not wear weird costumes with dangling flowers or run away from home and live in the trunks of a car. No way. We do things in our own way.

We BALANCE. We do all our crazy,wacky and tacky shit and then attend college the next morning like regular people. W e ace exams and then party. We have dreams. Big Ones. Of reaching the pinnacle of success in our careers. And we work towards it.Image

The only difference is, we don not let THAT sabotage our life. LIFE…Where we dream, socialize , experiment, laugh, love, smile, cry, get stronger, experience and mad.

We do HUGE things without making too much noise except on our facebook and twitter pages. We break records, create new ones. We think before we act. We take it slow in a chilled out manner instead of torching buses and carts. We hold candles and paint walls. We believe in bring about a difference without splitting ourselves into two.

We believe not in much hue and cry.

We believe in giving it a try!

 

So blame us not if you are a little jealous of our good-natured hill-billiness 😉ImageWe know our responsibilities, we are making our own mistakes knowing that when theparty gets over and shit hits the fan…IF that happens…we’d be the only people to blame and not someone else. We take our risks. We pay for it and reap benefits too.

So instead of thinking of us critically…just sit back and enjoy the fun. And we have this unique age-no-bar policy, where fellow open minded and decent crowd is welcome.

ImageIts all about living your life, earning your bread, collecting pretty memories, meeting the right people, loving the deserving and finding your true light and following your dreams. You got it? Whoa, join the club. You didn’t get it? Relax. Start Over 🙂

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Just smile coz you have one life to live. If you can balance your prioprities…there is no harm in relaxing a bit as long as its not too wrong. The soceity can go to hell. They don’t come to your rescue when you’re broke, pained, hurt, dying or crying. So why care about them when you’re glowing with joy ??Ba7tnhecqaahgpj_large

JUST BE HAPPY. And all else will fall into place!

Until then, Arrividerci :* 

 

Olá Mundo (Hello World)

Benvenuti nel mio dolce vita (Welcome to my Sweet Life) !

Hailing from the Country many Merchants aptly called ‘the Golden Bird’ … Inde (India) , as the french call it…

I don’t taste expensive wines or grill spiced meat. Neither do I  drive around in BMW’s or shop at Barney’s , NYC.

I am, but a humble person, living her life her way with No Reservations and whipping up Creativity as she passes through Vintage Streets in her Scooty, Ear-phones plugged into her ears, playing music from her iPod.

At home, she would sit in one corner of her bed, a diary with dog-eared pages opened upon her lap and a pen (whose cover lost itself in the tides of time) in her hand. Images of Caribbean Winds , English Castles, Mythical Creatures, Fae Dust, the pancakes on the pan (which she is yet to attend to) and a myriad of other things swim in and out of her mind as she scribbles down a plot… scratches of a certain line and re-writes. This goes on.

By dusk, she is ready with what can be called a script (though the burnt pancakes had to be dished into the bin)  … she sits before her beauty of a computer, a present from her Mother, enters her blogand types what she wrote and posts it’s link onto her other sites… ignoring messages and notifications that crowd up.

She has work to do. She has a place to go to… dreams to work towards… yet she shall never let her writing, which she holds closest to her heart, ever be ignored.

 Only the words that she inks onto the paper or types onto her computer, that are her solace, inspiration, motivation, love and passion.

Everything else can wait until later.

As she wakes from the trance, she remembers she has application forms to fill out, dinner to make and well, other stuff that teenage people going to University, like studying, do.

Adiós, por ahora. (Bye, for now)

Arrivederci (See you later) !

From Childhood To The Next Chapter

Bed-computer-girl-headphones-laying-favim.com-443721_largeJuliah – Förlorat mamma pappa & syster | Välkommen till min blogg, babes! Jag heter Juliah och är en glad och spontan brud som älskar livet – även fast jag haft väldigt många motgångar. Jag är 14 år och har förlorat min syster, pappa och mamma vid 3 olika

School’s done with (two months ago) and College is yet to begin (2 months later) so naturally, a kid is FREE …I mean, after 12 whole years (or  more if we count kindergarten and Pre-school)  … a student … now a Young Adult can relish this moment and hold it close to his/her heart.

All those years of waking up early (even in cold winter mornings and rainy days) , getting ready, wearing uniforms (or selecting outfits , much worse) , breakfast, SCHOOL >> Subject classes , FRIENDS , fun , lessons , boring teachers , mischief , detention , canteen mayhem , bedlam in the grounds , basketball , cricket , running around, scribbling on desks , autographs on the lockers , mimicking teachers , playing pranks , fights , heartbreaks , tears , pain , joy , new love , favorite lessons , awesome teachers , GROUP LOL’s , scrapbooking , music …………..

SWAG ♥ Flirtygirl09 Sem título | Flickr – Compartilhamento de fotos!

And then , HOME >> homework , fangirling on twitter , friends on facebook , iPod , books , family , supper , room-cleaning services , clashes with mum over small things , walks with the dof , TV (OMG! Everything from NCIS to SIMPSONS to Drake & Josh to SPONGEBOB to Lizzie McGuire to E!Now to MaterChef to So many more…. we people can go on)

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And then midnight text messaging , gossip , ice-cream from the ref (secretly , of course), iPod, Journal >>> Daydreams and then BED 🙂

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Didn’t we LONG for weekends when we could hang out with friends at concerts , Malls , McD , KFC or wherever… visit Grandparents , go hiking or JUST SLEEP WITH THE RADIO ON!

TRIVIALPhotos of you XOXO, Sarah-Leigh♥

What did we miss? NOTHING! Everything from the joy of topping the class to the anger in a fight to displeasure of a heart break or the rush of the crazy teenage crush! From sneaking out to parties , trying out make-up at excursions , shopping stuff for best friends and handing it to someone else by mistake, PRANK CALLS on friends, KITCHEN DISASTERS, camping all night , getting caught in the rain , stealing your siblings’ share of cakes, chocolates and ice-cream… Taking funny pictures before the mirror … POSTERS of your favorite stars ALL OVER THE PLACE … dreaming out loud until mother literally has to PUSH YOU OUT AND BRING YOU BACK!

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And then … these 12 YEARS just flew by and suddenly you’re 18 with a new life! And responsibilities and COLLEGE! 

Everybody expects you to grow UP! And sprout out wings and behave real mature! You’re given so much freedom that you’re like, ‘Hey ! Won’t you ask me where I’m going or when I’ll be back?’

And your parents (who’re watching TV)… ‘No, love, we know you’ll be fine’

And you miss the … ‘Be back by 9:00 PM or you’re grounded’ or ‘School Night… you’re SO not going out… dinner is at 7:00 pm’ or ‘No make-up! It makes you look too grown up! You’re still my little doll’ or ‘You can have my car, boy, but Watch It!’ or… well ‘DO YOUR HOMEWORK AND LEAVE THAT iPod / TV/ Computer/Phone !

Eating Chicken &... Tumblr_m2jwr62i7q1qehj79o1_500_thumb_large Victoria's Blog

SOME MEMORIES  :

So that’s how life is now coming to another new chapter for most of us… now its gonna be UNIVERSITY and God knows what all!

But we sure will miss all the fun we had 😀 Crazy teenagers on a mission to go even more crazy 🙂

But that’s childhood 😀 Everything’s forgiven and life is blissful 😀

A big THANK YOU to my friends, family , teachers and EVERYBODY:D You’re the reason I’m here … in some way or the other 🙂

Stay in touch 🙂 Made With Love !

Dreams Come True

A world of Dreams … where some come true whilst the others are swept away with the tides of time…

Them coming true depends wholly upon the Dreamer, his/her perseverance and belief in oneself.

Its been proved time and again that Self-Belief can make the impossible possible…

So have that confidence! You were born to achieve and spread the joy !

All the best 🙂