That song you played for me...

....transported me back in time, to a moment when I was someone else, when I thought differently, when I knew different people. Nothing remains the same, yet it seems so much so...the quickeming of the pulse, the desire to block everything out, the wanderings away from the path we travelled a thousand times....without ever getting anywhere.

Sometimes, when I hear that song again, I don't know how to think. Should I benumb my mind to its effect, so that I'll never feel like this ever again? It seems like a good idea. Face your demons and remove them once and for all. You can do it. But then, it doesn't feel like such a brainwave any more. I want to remember those things, because today, when I remember them, they give me the confidence in myself that I sorely need.

Do we cease to remain who we are, if we don't have our memories with us? Of course, if you agree that the real "you" was the one you saw in the mirror yesterday. But was it? Which leads me to conclude that there is probably no well defined being such as "Me".

In my case, I just look back over my shoulder and see my shadow following me. It has no face, and no colour, no expression. I paint it as I feel then and there, and that becomes the "Me" that may or mayn't exist.

Funny, isn't it?

But what about the songs of the days when I was blissfully ignorant? Oh...I so want to be there again...

Your Fortune Today

You will write a blog entry today.





Ha!


Sucker!!!

Look Me in the Eye...

It's fun
Being the Sun

Being Today's light
Not knowing the Darkness
Of Tomorrow's fright

Being The Warmth
Good enough for me
Or You, or for Both

Then at Night
You think I'm gone
Putting the Shadows away
Turning off the Furnace
While You hide in the Dark
Thankful to escape the Heat

But where is the Shade
For Me?
But where is the Breeze
For Me?

Lonely Sun
Contrary Sun

Shining On
Burning On

You know why?

Because
The best way to dodge
A peering gaze
A deceitful gaze
Isn't a curtain
Isn't a smokescreen
Isn't a maze

When you're the Sun
It is
The ability to say
"Look Me in the Eye"

About Adjectives

Even though I can use my fair share of adjectives pretty well, I'm not a great fan of theirs. Using adjectives is like indulging in self-pity...once you don't do it, you feel you'd be better off doing it, and once you've gone and cried your heart out, you find that nothing's changed, and that you could've done better.

When I use adjectives, words to describe things, or people, or feelings, I feel a great thrill of having so many arrows in my quiver, and I spare no effort to try and use the most apt words in my collection. But somehow, especially in the case of people, and of natural beauty, the harder I try, the more dissatisfied I feel.

I remember that when I was about 8 or 9 years old, we had to mug up what we called 'anek shabdon ke liye ek shabd' in Hindi. It was one of the easiest parts of the syllabus, because when I sat with my Mum before the exam, and she helped me revise, it was perhaps the only type of question in which she had to speak more than I did while answering! :)

I remember taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in being able to use these words-standing-for-oh-so-long-phrases. At that time, it felt very good that I was able to cheat my way out of writing long sentences. Just like everybody likes long mathematical expressions to reduce to concise LH and RH sides! However, with time, as I began to write more, to write better, not just in my own opinion, but in everybody's, I found these abridgements of expression to be very suffocating. What was worse, every one used them!

It was no longer a big deal to call a scenery 'pristine' or 'enchanting' or any of the umpteen shortcuts there exist to disguise the fact that, even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to much justice to the object of your fascination. It was then, that I decided that I had to unlearn some things. Even if it were to come at the cost of not being lazy!

It's taken me some time to gather the courage to avoid using adjectives when I really, really want to do a good job of describing something very moving, or very beautiful or very exciting. I've moved away from the adjective as a descriptive tool, towards the analogy, or even towards a more visceral, blow-by-blow account of the way I have felt at those times when I felt overwhelmed by what I experienced.

By this, I mean that I've tried to link experiences in one panorama, to those in another. And believe me, the similarities are striking, and very thrilling to discover. Too often, we condense our emotions into cliches and banalities, rather than try and express the feelings as they came, one following the other, like a river through its meanders. The start and the end may not be very far apart, but the beauty of the landform lies in the circuitousness of the path.

It's hard sometimes to simultaneously experience, and to record, the cascade of feelings that you go through. But for a few blissful moments after the experience has passed, you can still see those sights, hear those sounds and feel that touch, as if it were still there. Realization dawns slowly, and if you're really serious about capturing the essence of the moment, that's the time for you. And you know as well as I do, that that feeling is not a combination of adjectives. It's like a seasonal river in flood, breaking down the dams that strive in vain to hold it within its banks.

You are certain to be washed away, but the day you learn how to keep your eyes open even while your helpless little skiff is at the mercy of the torrent, you'll know exactly what I mean.

Motive Force, Idleness Threshold and Relapse Resistance

The first pushes you over the second and you have the third if you don't tend to fall back.


I'm not talking about myself. This is the way a disgruntled tech guy sounds.

And I guess I've already admitted I'm disgruntled.

Zephyr in the Woods

(Reproduced from an older blog of mine...I am rather hazy about what I was thinking when I wrote it, though [ :( ])


A grey sky
A desolate landscape
An empty horizon
A deathly silence....or is it?

When the eyes have given up
looking out for the elusive sign
When the hands reach out
for a feel that's no longer there
When the ears strain to catch
notes that once filled space

My face feels it...
slow, gentle, deliberate
or can I call it afraid?
Flowing through the leaves
Brushing the trunks
Kissing the wild flowers
And...

Maybe there's a word from someone afar
Maybe there's a feeling waiting to be felt
Maybe it's the last there ever will be
Maybe it's now or never

Grappling with a trepidation
The solace of arrival may well be
Overwhelmed by the loneliness of parting
Welcome it with open arms, if you must
But know that you will never hold it for ever
Enticement; entrapment; what punishment!
But then...
It may all be nothing
Or it may hold a storm in its wake
What do you have for me?
O zephyr in the woods...

Stills (or should they be called blurs!) from The American Experience...

...have been uploaded here, and more will follow soon.

Hope you like them!
Adios!

Weaknesses galore!

Tomorrow, it will be exactly a month since my arrival in Philly, and I can't help marvelling at the two mutually contradictory feelings I'm experiencing. While it's hard to believe on one hand, that just a month has passed, considering how much water seems to have flowed under the bridge, there is a certain amount of dissatisfaction at the time it's taking me to settle into a routine.

The workload is considerable, which isn't really a talking point, because all folks I know in their first semesters have said the same. Then I am really suffering because of my bad sleeping habits, which means that I sleep around 6 hours a night, in general from 3:30 am to 9:30 am. To boot, I still haven't got internet at home, which makes a fellow like me stay till late in the Engineering building, accumulating tiring hours on a chair, when I can be far more comfortable on my bed at home. Then, there is the small issue of food. Eating out is interesting in the sense that you get to try out lots of new dishes and cuisines, but somehow, unless you pay a visit to the Indian restaurants in the vicinity, which offer sizeable meals in the form of buffets (albeit at somewhat high prices), you never get the feeling that you stuffed yourself till you could eat no more! Then we have the devil of free calling within the US after 9 PM. This implies that I am spending approximately 1.5 hours (eeek!!!) a night talking to friends, especially at the time when I think I am at my productive best (granted that it's not as if I move mountains when I'm productive, but still...), and there is usually so much to talk about that if you happen to get started, it's tough to look at your watch and say: Hoi! I have to get back to work!!!

But this post isn't for the purpose for whining about my troubles. The damnable thing about the situation is that I don't feel bad, in general, but I surely feel the pinch, when I am running out of time, trying to get an assignment in, on time, or when I have to skip a class, because I feel like I simply have to sleep, or when I wake up and have to walk to campus with no breakfast in my tummy because I missed the last shuttle.

Ah well! Not many options exist. So I might as well stop griping, and get on with the job. However, I would really appreciate it, if somebody could make me believe that a month is really too small a length of time for hardened procrastinators like me to be able to mend their ways!

Hope to have more cheerful things to tell you about, next time!

Alarms!!! (not clocks, though!)

Spruce Street, between approximately 39th to 45th Streets, is a great residential neighbourhood. It's clean, inhabited by nice people (like me!), has quaint buildings, and is supposed to look good in the Fall (coming up!). Basically, the only complaint I have is that it's 20 minutes on foot to Towne Building, which houses the MEAM department, and that means ooh-ah-ouch in the winters. Pretty good, no?

NO.

DEFINITELY NOT!

Right at the end of Spruce Street, is the University of Pennsylvania Health System's main operations, which comprises the Hospital of the University (it has the cute acronym HUP...huppp!! haha!!). And in an infamous city like Philadelphia, which has a number of assorted law-breakers (Nipun says: Texas is very law abiding!), the personnel and their ambulances have their hands full. Spruce Street happens to be one of their favoured roads, and if you are in the middle of a potentially bad dream, then the ambulance may be thrown into it, as it is passing by my window, just to make matters more serious...

Well, no problem. Let's just say I am glad not to be in one of those ambulances.

See you!

An Addendum to the previous post

It was somehow fitting that while watching the movie, I kept hearing these lines again and again:
(Maybe I've watched this film too many times...)

"...And that's the day I knew there was this entire life behind things, and... this incredibly benevolent force, that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... and I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in..."

That's right...'American Beauty' again.

I somehow feel that Mendes and Cinematographer Conrad Hall just managed to make me feel like MY heart was going to cave in...thanks to them both for such an enthralling exhibition of beauty!

Now...

When am I going to buy that digital camera??

Hmmmmmmmmmmm....truth be told, I can't wait!

An Unintended Review: Road to Perdition

I had latched on to 'Road of Perdition' at the very mention of director Sam Mendes' name, whose 'American Beauty' is one of my favourite movies. I was lucky enough to get it from the Van Pelt Library's video collection today, it having been listed as Checked Out last night, because the guy who had borrowed it happened to be in front of me in the line!

I've just finished watching the film, and while I will leave it to you to form your own opinions on the storytelling, the acting and the characters, I couldn't help being awestruck by the visual impact of the film; in particular the locales, the angles and the harmony between colours, and even more so between shades. It also helped to have a number of striking looking people in the cast, including Paul Newman, a spine-tingling Jude Law (creepy is more like it...), the craggy Daniel Craig (Pierce Brosnan's successor as Bond...James Bond!) and even the young Tyler Hoechlin as Tom Hanks' son.

As far as I know, some of the scenery in the father-son duo's drives are from the Prairies of the American Midwest (even if they aren't, who cares?), and the desolation, coupled with the stunning colours and grandly manoeuvered angles, make for an unforgettable viewing experience. Set in the winter of 1931, the quaint automobiles, oil lamps, elegant homes and refreshingly open streets (now this may not be due to the cinematographer's genius; I have a soft corner for empty streets!) provide a wonderful backdrop to the story. It also happened to be my first experience of a widescreen DVD, and I am sure I can never forgive the ordinary prints for being ordinary again!

In particular there is a street shooting scene at night, in the rain, with men in overcoats and hats, and a particular sequence in the scene of Hanks walking into the background. I think I'll try and put it on my desktop as a wallpaper, even though it means absolutely nothing, except that its visual appeal is irresistible.

Do watch the movie folks...and if you have any other tips for films with great cinematography, please do let me know. Next on my list is Clint Eastwood's 'The Bridges of Madison County'!

See you around!

The Compulsive Blogger

...is what I am not. In fact, I realize with some disappointment that one of the foremost reasons I started to blog in the first place was because I had nothing to do. This further implies that I was doing nothing that people might want to know about. Now, I am busy. I have, what can really be termed a 'life' (yes folks, staying at home and enjoying the holidays does not qualify as 'life'.) And so, now I have a lot of stuff to share with people who scrap me on Orkut asking me how I find it here. But I don't have the time to talk about it any more. Paradox!!

I have, thus far, been shortchanging everybody with the same 'trying to get settled' crap, which is perfectly true and absolutely useless to a well-wisher. But, as I said, I am not a man who blogs due to an inner urge. So, I'll try to write about some oddities of Penn and Philly, as I keep on encoutering them. Now, as I had just reiterated, I am not a compulsive blogger (haha...I love doing this!!), so I think this suffices as a post in itself, and I will end it right here. Oh, and maybe you should know that we (Roomie and Me) need to cook dinner now, and (here I go again!!) I am not a compulsive blogger (!!!!!). So I'll take your leave for the moment.

See you around!

PS: Before I go, Oddity number one: I solved an entire tutorial assignment by myself yesterday. Don't recall the last time I came even close...

Post One from the First Capital

So, finally in Philly!

Folks, this place is good, and I am really, really apologetic about presenting such a useless assessment of this place's charms, but it's next to impossible to do better right now. The sheer volume of input is quite overwhelming, really. The only consolation is that my mental bandwidth is completely occupied, so I am thinking of nothing which even remotely approaches philosophy. And I am thankful for it. Today, I'll move into my apartment, which is anice piece of realestate at just over 500 dollars per head of rent. Will update you later on the ghosts in the closets!

More coming up very soon. Thanks again for your concern and best wishes.

Ready to roll?

By all appearances, yes. The calendar says the same. It's August 28, 2k6, the date I've repeated a million times to people who probably wanted me off this country's territory as soon as possible. It's now 0242 hrs. My bags are packed, and save for the small matters of couriering a CD to Doski, and faxing a form to Penn, I should be ready to shift base.

The lead up to this day has been full of an exaggerated normalcy, which settled in with surprising ease among all the restlessness that pervades a household which is about to bid its elder son goodbye for a substantial period of time, for the first time. Everyday, for the past two weeks, I've woken up at 11 am, eaten a cold breakfast, spent the day hiding from the Sun, and playing tennis in the evening with such a suggestion of routine, that a few alarmed folks thought I had chickened out of going to the US of A (or that they had told me to sit at home...whatever...some strange panic-inducing thought, for sure...)

And, now in the last 24 hours of stay at home, I find myself weighing the price of numbness and indifference to this change of seismic proportions in my life. But, I have nothing to say for the moment.

Maybe the impact will hit me suddenly when I step out at Philly International, which will look nothing like Roorkee...or IGI, Delhi...or India...

Ah well, if it doesn't happen, then maybe I'll be a little guilty about not mirroring the emotions at home.

I still hope to be OK. You'll know in the next post. Thanks for your good wishes, and support. Goodbye for now!

If you want to see the stars....don't be afraid to step into the night...

Never knew that caring
Could be so hard
Never knew that oblivion
Could be so guiltless

Never knew that silence
Could tell me so much
Never knew that words, even actions
Could be so futile

Never knew that ordinariness
Could be so heartening
Never knew that being different
Could deny me my mould

Never knew that
I never knew all that

Don't venture out of the house
And you'll never be lost
Do you love to read maps?
I do.
And so
Here I go
Getting lost again...

About me...

The vast majority of people I can see on Orkut flinch when they face this section of the profile. I can't say that I'm completely at ease with it either, but I've always tried to keep this section filled with something or the other. Most of the time it's just a mini-blog in which I put lyrics or quotes to share with the nice folks who stop and read people's about me's (or do I have this uncommon privilege? Either way, I'm thankful!).

I’m a firm believer that most people are the way they are, in a large part, due to the way they were brought up, and the surroundings, the people and the culture they were exposed to, in their formative years. If I look back at my own childhood, I can see my physicist parents working from morning till evening, and we used to meet at lunch, following which they went back to their department, with just me, my little brother and his nanny at home for the afternoon. And those times were fun. I tried lots of things, some of which I never told anyone about (and I guess this isn’t my autobiography, so I’ll keep it to myself for the time being!) And I still marvel at how busy I used to be with just myself, with no friends for company. Dreaming up entire worlds, making little towns with Lego and Hot Wheels cars, of which I had several. It was probably the happiest time of my life. And then, swinging on the gate, looking out for Mum and Dad to come back, throwing pebbles at dogs to see how they reacted, buying the odd ice-cream while I waited.

And then, I find that my memory has given up on me. I catch the train of recollections again in 6th grade, when I started what was to become my passion in life. I’m talking about Tennis. We had a bunch of 4 guys, and we used to play doubles everyday. And not with much surprise, I can still remember that I never came back before dark, much to the annoyance of my mum. Some things just never change!

Around the same time blossomed another of my more fruitful pursuits, that of reading. The Children’s Library on the campus was a treasure trove of all the collections that children of my age die for. This combination of reading and tennis knit our group in school into a unit whose members still stand by each other today through thick and thin. It was a wonderful group, one filled of achievers, dreamers, exciting, like-minded people, who were just sufficiently different for each of us to be equally good friends outside the class, and competitive rivals within. Needless to say, we thought a great deal of ourselves, and I probably trace the beginnings of the pride-before-everything-else mentality that has both served and hampered me all my life, to this phase.

Then there were the Board exams of grade 10, the first litmus test of my calibre as a student. I had been topping my class for many years, and for many people, it was probably a foregone conclusion that I was going to repeat the feat. But it was to prove the first of many of my achievements in which I surpassed my own expectations, simply because I didn’t think I could do what I eventually did. That one result card changed my life forever. It changed me from a person who could put up with anything, to a person who had to get things to be his way. It instilled a self belief that unfortunately crossed the thin line into the territory of arrogance and presumptuousness. But frankly, had it not been for these two traits, I don’t think I would have made my next target.

From June 3rd, 2000, was the start of a self-destructing pattern that would recur in my life so many times, that I have been in a state of perpetual deja-vu ever since! From that day, the fierce desire to be different became an integral part of my psyche. I never had a lot of problems managing that even earlier, and it was just a matter of time before it became an all-consuming focus of my thought process and my work ethic. With a degree of hubris came the recklessness that occasionally leads to a supernova explosion, but which more often than not, sets back careers, and does irreversible damage to lives. But inspite of all that, I still managed to retain an ends-justify-means approach, which never allowed my preoccupation with method to overshadow purpose. Or at least, I guess it was true for my professional life.

Entering IIT was a milestone which I viewed as an elevation into a hallowed peer group, men and women of intellect, with the potential to shake foundations, as well as to build edifices. I was also aware from the very beginning, that from now on, I could take a million things for granted, because I was one of the chosen few. It was also the start of a period in which I think I was closest to doing things I really wanted to do, with disdain for the consequences. Academics ceased to be top priority, and again, for the first time in my life, I proved to everybody that I was nearly as good at something which had nothing to do with books, classrooms and teachers, my old priorities. Looking back, every hour of practice, of sweat, pain, anger and sacrifice on other fronts was probably worth it. And I know it because any day that I’m down, I only have to hit the courts to realize that I have something with me that I owe to, well, hardly anybody but myself.

Concurrently, I flirted with, and gradually embraced a new status as one of the wild cards in class, capable of the odd top-of-the-class performance, but more often than not, plumbing depths I was hitherto unfamiliar with. And I dare say, it was a masochistic journey. There was an insane amount of satisfaction in seeing the horror writ large on people’s faces when they heard my grades. Of course, I would be lying if I said I tried to do it, but it always turned out the same way. What could have been, had I shown the willingness to ponder over it, would have been a very, very interesting topic to think about.

Towards the end of undergraduate study, however, damage control mode had begun to set in, and I guess I can safely say that Autopilot had taken over the troubled flight. What followed was a golden period, in which I probably did some of the smartest, most confident, and beat-the-rat-race work of my life. I chased a dream to apply and work in a field I had no experience with, and I got away with it. At least to the extent, that I can now hang myself to death with honour in the future, if need be.

All through this journey, I made some incredible friends, apart from seeing in action, some of the most special, gifted, astounding, ridiculous, bold, intelligent, hard-working, focused and ambitious people, that I will ever see. The whole mix was there, and barring the minor matter of opportunity, you could go and take your pick from the motley bunch. It would be a rare man who would say he didn’t find like-minded souls in the group. These were men with obvious shortcomings, with habits so egregious that I would have been kicked out of home had I been a slave to them (come to think of it, I guess I am no better or no worse, and I’m still at home. So that’s open to conjecture!) But they were all, without exception, great people. They respected you, had the ability to see how you were special. They dreamed big, they either hated or loved their lives, but they had a swagger about them that comes with minds that may be in turmoil, in confusion, in uproar, but these minds never ever think small. Behind every one of the men who took his share from the table at the end of our four years together, some rich, some poor, there lurked the shadow of ambition. The sheer inevitability of paying life back in some measure for whatever they had to put up with or whatever they had got themselves into. Believe me, it’s not easy to keep up with such a fellowship of mavericks. And I guess it’s what keeps us all going.

So much for the past. Now the curtain rises again. A new set. New characters. With a dream in the head, stars in the eyes, prayer (or expletive?) on the lips, and sweat in the palms, I start again.

The Iceman Cometh…

Oversimplification, anyone?

I was watching 'Good Will Hunting' today and I came across these lines spoken by Matt Damon's Will Hunting. The movie is close to my heart for entirely different reasons, but I thought you might like this monologue. Will Hunting has just been offered a job by the National Security Agency, and he comes up with this explanation for why he doesn't fancy working with them:

Will: "Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll give it a shot.

Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. So I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never had a problem with get killed.

Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some guy from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks.

Meanwhile my buddy from Southie realizes the only reason he was over there was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish to scare up oil prices so they could turn a quick buck. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And naturally they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic.

So my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what do I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. Why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president. "

Way to go, Will!!!

Staying alive...is something like this

For me, several of the most poignant moments depicted on film can be found in Sam Mendes' reflective and, in some ways, liberating film 'American Beauty'. Kevin Spacey's monologue at the end of the movie is probably the best of them. The place it has in the film is, of course, responsible for it being so moving.

"I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn't a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time...

For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars... And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined my street... Or my grandmother's hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper... And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird... And Janie... And Janie... And... Carolyn.

I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday."

I don't know how right the bit is about what your last recollections are before you die, but somehow I can subscribe to the idea that some of the moments of your life which are most deeply etched on the mind's eye just come out of nowhere. You don't try to get them. They just happen. And they sometimes feel like a divine answer to those ever-elusive questions: What is happiness? What am I looking for in my life?

A few days ago, I was out roaming the streets with my great friend GC. He had returned to Roorkee for a last return to old times (ostentatiously though, we always do manage to pull work into the picture somehow...he was no different) It was 2:20 at night, and we staggered out of Govind after a tiring day, most of which was spent on our feet. But for old addicts like us, the lure of a walk around the EnC roundabout before hitting the sack was too much to resist!

A light drizzle soon started, the kind which hits your clothes and disappears before you know it. As we approached the roundabout, it gained momentum, becoming more of a light rain, and we decided to use the senate steps as cover.

I've read that from some kind of chaos in the head, result the most beautiful, the most profound sensations, feelings that transcend perceptions, emotions that warp reality and transport a person to a level of hyper-consciousness that is oh-so-ephemeral, which leaves you gasping in its wake, with nothing left but the realization that what you just experienced was something that you never asked for, but are thankful to have got.

It was exactly one of these moments...tired, jaded, but determined to extract every moment possible from the passage of time. With my back to the pillar, the light spray hitting my face like the surf from a restless ocean, nobody in sight. The area, as always, was well illuminated with sodium lamps, against which the drops of rain looked like molten bits of yellow-pink light. The road sloped away in front of us, and small rivulets flowed across. The grand conifer standing in the middle of the triangle of grass, glowing green, swaying ever so slightly. A fountain of colour, with rich black, warm yellow, dark green...freshened by the drink of water. The absolutely delightful feeling of having nobody around, but not feeling lonely. No need to think, no need to reflect. It was as perfect as moments made only to savour. Moments which can probably be described with nouns, adjectives and exclamations, but which are inherently ineffable, for the simple reason that they are far greater than the sum of their parts...at least parts which stay with you, imprinted on the consciousness.

It was just so right then:
"...I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst..."

I've said so much, but frankly, I can only hope you know what I mean. Words don't even begin to do justice.

More from me soon!

Hello! Guess who??

Aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

Time: 12:15 pm
Date: August 14, 2006
Place: My living room

The phone rings. I pick it up.
Voice: Arre, Ricky?
Me: Haan...(hesitation) kaun bol rahe hain?

And all hell needed no further invitation to break loose.

Let me explain: it was actually my beloved uncle calling, back to India after a lengthy foreign stint. I think I'll also take the liberty of saying that he is fond of me, and keeps himself updated on how I'm doing. It might justify the heartburn I caused him.

"Ab tum humari aawaz bhi nahin pehchante? Itni jaldi bhool gaye!!"

I tried to blame the running taps, the screwed up telephone lines, MTV etc. for the lapse, but to no avail.

Why I'm telling you this is because it happens way too often to me for my comfort. On my birthday, I ended up asking 7 or 8 people who called me up their good names. It offends to no end the considerate soul who is spending money and time wishing you. As far as I am concerned, if I don't tell people who I am when I call up, then I feel that I get my just desserts if they need to ask. But most other people don't. To make matters worse, they're usually the same people who DON'T ask me my name when I call.

Ouch.

Well, I had the option once of developing a better auditory perception or growing a thicker epidermis. You can see which fork in the road I chose.

See you around!

As you can very well see, I'm not the only Monty supporter...errr, or should it be SuperMon(ty)??

NEWS FLASH!!!!

Yesterday, I was (as usual) hunched over my keyboard after lunch, going through cricinfo.com, getting my update on the Sri Lanka-South Africa Test Match in Colombo (the match eventually went down to the wire thanks to a masterclass of an innings from Mahela Jayawardene, and a crazy, stupid, inane, unnecessary, mindless, imbecilic slog from no. 10 Murali)

In the mean time, the hyperlink under the section on England v Pakistan at Headingley went from 'Scorecard' to 'Live Scorecard'. Pakistan needed to get 323 to win and square the series at 1-1, and they were to begin their innings on the final morning. And then I got the proverbial sock between the eyes.

If you're familiar with the live scorecard page on Cricinfo, then you know that the names of the 2 batsmen are at the top, followed, by the names of the two bowlers. There, very innocuously, innocently, was displayed:

Salman Butt 0* (8b) MS Panesar 1-0-1-0
Taufeeq Umar 1* (4b) MJ Hoggard 1-1-0-0

This isn't the same thing (I pinched it from the site later), but fellows, this has to be a landmark moment in modern English cricket. An English spinner sharing the new ball in a test match being played in England against a side whose batsmen are considered seasoned agaisnt spin. No matter what Andrew Strauss does in his career hereon, I will always love him. The days of the defensive, ugly, dispensable, batsman-posing-as-spinner England spinners are surely behind us now!

But Strauss then proceeded to break my heart by installing the old firm of Hoggard and Harmison from the 3rd over onwards. Sigh! And to think, I went and switched on the TV to watch my first ball of live cricket in 3 weeks, just to see Monty bowl with the bright red cherry. But it wasn't to be.

That's life: When you have a Kodak moment, you generally don't have a bloody camera.

In the memory of a memory lost...

I'd have to say that I haven't seen a film that has affected me as much as Chris Nolan's 'Memento'. The plot is basically simple: a man with just a short-term memory is out searching for his wife's killers. He can't remember things that happened to him after the kilelrs broke into his house, beat him up, and raped and killed his wife. But he does remember everything before that happened, and it anchors his existence to the extent that he knows his name, his hometown, his previous occupation as an insurance claims scrutinizer, and all of the things that remind him of his wife, and haunt him to such an extent that he has sworn not to rest until he avenges her death.

Simple enough. But the masterful direction, editing and screenplay, bolstered by impressive performances by the not-so-famous cast combine to create a mentally stimulating and challenging movie. Anyway, I'm not going to review the film or sing its praises. All I say is: Just go and watch it, if you haven't. You're missing something.


The reason I was impressed by the film was the concept that springs forth from Guy Pearce's memory condition, that of a man with no memory. There are two ways to look at it. One, the more pragamatic view, says that such a person would be irretrievably lost in the world, with no markers to guide him. He cannot learn from experience, he cannot trust people, he can't make friends, he can't achieve things because he can't build on what he knows (or does he know anything??) From that point of view, it's a hopeless construct.

The other perspective is from a more impassioned stance. What if you had memories you didn't want? How would you escape them? It would be quite convenient to wipe the slate clean, wouldn't it? But then you would lose all other memories as well. The ones you want to hold on to, all your life. The ones which can brighten up a difficult day or a tough spell. How about the concept of selective elimination of memory? It's practised by some of the most strong-willed people I know. They tell me that the best way to overcome the pull of bad times is simply not to think about them. You ought to learn from your mistakes, of course, otherwise you end up being in the same situation again, and that puts you back on square one. But if you've absorbed the lesson, and are determined to forget the details...well, it is possible.

As for myself, I find that I have a rather weak hold on my remembrances, in the sense that I can't tell myself that "You have to remember this! This is going to be one of the moments of your life!!". In fact, it's the strangely insignificant, little details that stick around for years, rather than the momentous occasions. Often, I find myself groping in the haze for some recollections of what I can assuredly call 'The Times of My Life', but whose particulars are so sketchy that I can scarcely believe it all happened to me. I wonder if I'm making any sense...but that's why 'Memento' affected me so much.

Here is a man who remembers nothing except one fact, one aim which acts like a beacon in his life, illuminating the path for his daily existence. Forgetting is probably an alien concept because its other half, remembering doesnt exist either...just like streaming data. Such a man is perfect for a lifetime of devotion to a cause, with nothing to sway him. Of course, the things he misses out on, are far too many to be listed. And justified too.

But it's an interesting premise.

And before I forget, the dialogues in the film are excellent. Do give them a second look, especially the last scene, in which Pearce delivers a haunting monologue, which I reproduce here:
"I have to believe in a world outside my own mind. I have to believe that my actions still have meaning, even if I can't remember them. I have to believe that when my eyes are closed, the world's still there.

Do I believe the world's still there? Is it still out there?... Yeah.

We all need mirrors to remind ourselves who we are. I'm no different."

Will be back soon!

Among other things...

Point number 1, which I feel obliged to make: The title of this blog has nothing to do with the stuff that will appear in it. It's merely an elaborate subtitle I've given myself (how goddamn vain, you must be saying...you're right...)

I am a lonely sort of chap, by which I mean that my mates at IIT-R have graduated and left me alone to feel moody, look morose, and stick to the internet much like the famed Fevicol mascots. I love being with people who think like me, and I also like to be with people who don't think like me, provided they can argue some topics well, and stop when I think I've had enough.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I like chocolates, but I don't indulge because I have an inbuilt switch which shuts off my appetite when I've had something in the region of a safe bit. It's good, but in some ways, it's worse than having no chocolates at all. I'm sure you can empathize.

And I really do love you if you've just read this. It has nothing to do with my sexual orientation, and it's really a pity that guys get all worked up when I tell them I love them. Such narrow-mindedness. Especially when love is so hard to find these days.

Well, I'll be around. So, catch you later.