Saturday, August 31, 2013

Recipe for Unhappiness

Do you know the recipe for unhappiness?

It's quick and easy. Just follow the steps.

1) Find the biggest cup you can find and fill it up with tears.

2) Next, take one large scoop of disappointment and add to the tears. Mix well.

3) Take a large pan and put in two large spoonfuls of disillusionment. Bring it to a boil on a high flame of pent up fury. Once boiled, let it simmer.

4) Add the best pieces from your broken heart, stir well.

5) Add a large portion of unfulfilled dreams while you keep stirring. Remember to turn up the flame at this point.

6) When the mixture begins smelling of hopelessness, add the tears and disappointment. Keep stirring till it boils.

7) Turn down the flame and take the pan off the gas.

8) Garnish with loneliness for added flavour.

9) Serve very, very cold.

Easy, innit?

Sunday, May 05, 2013

The Demons Came Calling

So much has happened. And so much is happening. Yet, the words fail me.

Remember the times when nothing changed? Words flowed like water then. So easy, so flawless, so happy.

Writing was always my respite, like the best friend you turn to for some impartial advice. Just being itself, listening, quiet, and pointing me to the answers that were there all along. The answers I was too blinded by rage to see, too blurry through my tears to spot. Writing calmed me down. Wiped all my tears, swallowed my rage. And despite having a best friend to turn to, I gave up on writing for myself.

Why? Because there was never the time. Or correction, I never made the time. When you write for a living, it becomes difficult to come home and do it all over again, albeit for yourself. So wrong. So, SO wrong.

Now, I look at the tops of miniscule trucks and even smaller cars as they speed by. Such a racket they cause, even up on the 16th floor, where I live.

But sometimes, even the honking and the incessant traffic is welcome. It helps quell the sounds of the demons in my own mind. When all is chaotic within you, it helps to have even more chaos outside.

But one thing I wish I hadn't learned over the last two months - You're all alone in the world; fighting your demons, battling the insecurities, making peace with the loneliness. There's no one in the world for you. You aren't for anyone. You live alone. You die alone.

The sooner you assimilate this weird little truth of life, the better off you'll be.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012


What else is there to life, without having you around to love?

You, a man I call my own. You, a man who are my own.

Fiercely proud of you, deeply in love with you, insanely in awe of you.

A perpetual high, you make me dizzy. It's the fortune of having found you.

I'm grateful and deeply so.

There are times. There are those times.

You trouble me. Like the proverbial child who shouldn't be spared the rod.

Then there are the others. Where you love me. With the same innocence of that very child.

I'm helpless. I'm happy. I'm unguarded. I'm yours.

Hold my hand please. And don't ever let go.
I'd be lost in the crowd. In a place I could never come back from.

Trust me to be there. Trust me enough to be yourself.

For didn't I just say that I have nothing else of my own but you?

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Defining a circle

So that’s what they mean by a circle. Or a rut.

Where you’re going on and  on, treading the same path millions are treading with you. Where you’re convincing yourself that it’s okay, you’re just doing this so that you can make a mark.

Screw the mark. Screw the unbeaten path. That’s never going to happen.

Whatever you do, others have done it before you. Tons and zillions of others. What you are doing is nothing but find your footing (or trying really hard to) and becoming a cog. And in this bid to be different, you don’t realize what you’re losing.

Time with family. Time for family. With friends. And most importantly, with yourself.

Consequently, you find yourself being exhausted all the time. Even the occasional weekend becomes the same old, same old.

Get up late, lunch with folks, the ‘Saturday’ date with your boyfriend, dinner at ‘someplace nice’, come back home, talk to the folks. Rinse and repeat for Sunday, and voila! Monday morning’s here.

Thank you, God, but you screwed up again. This isn’t the life I’d ordered. And I’m going to ask an unreasonable question.

Why can’t I have bits of everything?

Why must I have to give up on my personal life and sanity, to prove myself at work?

Or give up on an ambitious, excellent professional life to embrace a personal life?

What am I missing here?

And most importantly, how do I go about setting this right?

My lovely parents don’t understand why ‘I’ve changed’. Even if I do, I have nothing to tell them. My friends soon won’t be able to stand me anymore.

And there’s no answer to the question, ‘What’s wrong?’

Because, even I don’t know what is. 

Saturday, March 10, 2012

A Life of Her Own

It was 11 pm as she waltzed into the house. Happy. Smiling. Full of life.

“Hi, baba,” she said, peeking into his study, as she made her way into her room.

“Hey!” he said, and went back to the computer.

She spoke to her mum, nineteen to the dozen. Everything about her day. Whatever happened at work. Everything funny that happened. What her boss said. About her quick date with her fiancé. She was still happy. And smiling. And glowing. 

After a while, he dad came out of the study, stretching and getting ready to go bed. She was still talking to mom. He stuck around for a bit. Heard tidbits of the conversation. But he was too far off from the context. He murmured a quick good night and went to bed.

Tomorrow was a long day.

In about 10 minutes, she came in and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Good night, baba”, she said.

This once nightly ritual. So rare now.

Good night, he murmured, instantly happy.

And then she went off to bed. Back to her life.

He didn’t realize when he drifted off to sleep. But not before replaying her imminent wedding day in his mind. And specially the part where she’d leave.

Would she cry as she hugged him goodbye?

A part of him sincerely hoped so. 

Because he knew he would.

Saturday, March 03, 2012

Paan Singh Tomar: My take on the matter

At the outset, this is not a review. I don’t believe I have the credentials to review a movie. What I can do well within my rights, however, is to tell you what I thought of Paan Singh Tomar. And that’s just what I’m about to do.

Note: This post may be full of what you think are spoilers and what I think is common sense . Hence, (t)read carefully.

After quite some time, yours truly toddled off to the movies to catch Paan Singh Tomar. I didn't know much about the movie except the basic premise and the fact that it had Irrfan Khan in it. Of course I was sold. I was even excited, to be honest.

So, the positives. I’ll tell you what worked for me about the movie. Three things:

1)      Irrfan Khan
2)      Irrfan Khan
3)      Irrfan Khan

If it wasn’t for this brilliant actor and the almost perfect casting, I don’t think we’d have a movie half as decent. It began well. My interest was piqued enough. Irrfan Khan captivated me the moment he set foot into the screen. The amazing presence that man commands is enough for me to keep watching the screen till the end of time. He could be reciting the English alphabet backwards for six hours, for all I care.

First off, Paan Singh Tomar means well. The first half grips you, with Singh’s journey from army person to athlete being completely convincing (but of course, it’s a true story). What touches you the most, perhaps, is the protagonist’s innocence and the beautiful, effortless way Khan portrays the whole ‘Will run for food’ bit. you completely get why he becomes an athlete and you love him. All’s well in paradise till Tomar’s horrible cousin creates property troubles. And up to this point, you’re into every bit of the movie..

Just about here, the screenplay disappoints. You realize that the character development in the first half is good enough just for the first half. It does not flawlessly render into, and explain, the Tomar you see in the second half.

In all fairness, director Tigmanshu Dhulia has tried convincing you of the circumstances in which Tomar turns dacoit. Yes, our man tries to solve his property feuds legally, with the help of the village panchayat and the cops. His son is mercilessly beaten up and no one heeds his desperate pleas for justice. All his efforts fall flat. He tries telling them he’s been an athlete of international stature and should be paid attention to, if nothing else. No one cares a tiny bit.

And then, before you have time to digest all this information and even feel sorry at the man’s helplessness, you see he’s already formed the ‘Paan Singh Tomar Gang’ of 'rebels'. Huh? What did I miss?

What follows is a typical gang war / revenge saga. Somewhere, Dhulia doesn’t want you to forget that Tomar is essentially a good person whose circumstances are to blame for what he has become. Dhulia even keeps  rubbing this point in. But then, he also realises that he can’t really make an audience idolize a dacoit.

Unfortunately, Dhulia’s good person v/s bad person dilemma shows in his portrayal of the protagonist, making the character fall a little flat on its face. Three quarters of the movie down, you don’t know what you feel towards Tomar. You feel more and more distanced from his life’s misery and wonder how Dhulia is going to wrap up this whole drama. Maybe if Dhulia hadn’t tried convincing us of Tomar’s inherent goodness and just stuck to a narrative on his life, we’d have a more convincing movie.

In a nutshell, the second half completely lacked the meat required to support a pretty strong first half. Add to the fact that the story is very reminiscent of Dilip Kumar’s Ganga Jamuna. Just like Tomar, Ganga is a extremely law-abiding, straight-forward person, naïve person whose circumstances make him the village dacoit. But in Ganga's case, you completely get why he picks up that gun and rebels. You are convinced, too. But with Tomar, are you convinced he had no other choice before taking the extreme steps he did? Well, I’m not. 

Another important question. What issue(s) is this movie trying to raise before me?

That sportsmen die hungry in India and that no one cares for them?

That everyone, including the police, is corrupt?

That corruption is prevalent even in the most backward of Indian villages?

That sportsmen deserve justice and will turn dacoits if not heeded to?

That sometimes, when no one gets you justice, you have to take the law in your own hands?

Maybe it addresses all of them, but I can’t say I’m sure. And that’s my problem. I believe that somewhere, the extremely vital point of how this country doesn’t care for its sportsmen is lost in the rebelling and the 'dacoitism' and the family feuds. You can’t link anything in the end, with each issue becoming a separate entity. Take away the entire dejected sportsperson angle from the movie, and it still stands by itself. So why the need for that angle at all?

You can refute all my arguments by telling me this is a true story and one can’t really question someone's life.  And there exactly lies my disappointment. If it’s a true story, then excuse me, but your flawed research into the psyche of the man is showing. I can’t completely sympathize with Tomar, because you haven’t given me enough reason to. I can’t hate him completely, because you keep telling me he’s not all evil. I’m stuck somewhere in between, completely undecided on whether I like Tomar or not. And I’m not sure that’s a great place for me to be in. I don’t even care if he’s caught by the cops in the end.

Well, this could have been a great movie. Maybe you still think it is. Maybe I reason too much. Maybe the way I think is flawed. Or maybe I expect perfection.

Sorry, but Paan Singh Tomar didn’t work for me at all. Your saving grace was that fort of talent, Irrfan Khan, but that says nothing about the movie, does it?

P.S. Where the fuck did Tomar’s daughter disappear to, without a trace? Someone please investigate while I go back to not caring.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Just a li'l something

An unkind word,
For a li'l something I said. 
A li'l something I wished for you. 
A li'l something I don't want you to suffer
The way I have. And still do.
You're angry. I'm upset.
Apologise, I did,
Though not wholeheartedly. 
I look out for you, my silly child.
Because I must. I look out for you
more than I do for myself. 
Why, I sometimes wonder,
When you pay no heed to the love.
When you pay no heed to the tenderness.
When you look past the thick,
warm layers of love
I've wrapped around you.
For you to be safe.
For you to be happy. 
For me to take away
all that bothers you. 
Every speck of sadness
that threatens to hover,
A heartful of my love
to drive it away.
What's in it for me?
What's in it for you?
Except your gentle, carefree snores. 
And a tearful night ahead of me. 
All this, for a li'l something
I said. 
Just a li'l something.