tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032700635519263282024-03-04T22:11:18.890-08:00A Lone Voiceobssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.comBlogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-55587685204061452572014-10-30T06:58:00.001-07:002014-10-30T06:58:51.143-07:00Weather and wither<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I’ve been withering to come back here or not, but an unexpected message finally got through and I am here. Am I back for good – I know not, but
am here for now. Been having the most amazing weather the last couple of days,
lazy, lackluster and laid back, the perfect excuse for someone like me to dig deeper into
themselves. Given a chance, it is so much easier to sink than sail, frown than
laugh and give up than fight for it. Maybe it’s just me but that’s how it is.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The gloom outside gladdens me, it brings out my instincts
for doom. Nurtured for decades, the tenacious capacity to expect the worst
springs to life, its relief hidden in its release. The grief laden air, calls
onto it, invigorating and exciting as it latches on to a life’s work
accumulated. It feeds on the signals from outside, grows gleefully, rising high and high until
it envelops all of me. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Once the job is done, the torpor which simply cannot be
contained disappears instantly, making me wonder if it was a miasma or merely
my muddled mind that concocted a hidden impulse for ruin. The thoroughness of
its withdrawal matches the suddenness of its onset, its hold strengthening
until I have none left. I lie quietly biding my time, thinking and thanking
that the storm has weakened, wishing nothing more to left alone. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Alone, forever and free to despair. Alone, free to
indulge and wither away. Alone, to wither away before the claims are permanent.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
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For Kk.</div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-35693835681958566842014-01-07T05:51:00.003-08:002014-01-07T05:51:44.961-08:00Closure<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8gFgB5Dy7G0-qXSB-gtUMKC38BEZXj61-S-ocnIgR3K2ROcS1mTz1wNadJZNmvrf6fu86fybAcNNMKJQF3Fidj4Hk9mVNZbTGQqV9xmM_uYPnUZVqNyR4a2E6gm7UqY967Pdu5RiKXnU/s1600/2013-07-16+17.43.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8gFgB5Dy7G0-qXSB-gtUMKC38BEZXj61-S-ocnIgR3K2ROcS1mTz1wNadJZNmvrf6fu86fybAcNNMKJQF3Fidj4Hk9mVNZbTGQqV9xmM_uYPnUZVqNyR4a2E6gm7UqY967Pdu5RiKXnU/s1600/2013-07-16+17.43.35.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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I see you always closed</div>
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Not an inch you give away.</div>
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<br /></div>
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What is that you say, I cannot hear.</div>
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When I say something you are never there.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Not a day passes when I don’t try.</div>
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Not a moment passes when I don’t think.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Never open, always locked.</div>
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Never giving in, always closed.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
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How can I get past you? </div>
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How do I get over you?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Together we perish,</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
You there, Me here.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
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Wondering and waiting.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Wandering and waiting.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
For the door that never opens, </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
For the person that will never be mine.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I hear the sound of you, I seek the sight of you.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I long to come over, if only to be pushed away.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But never to wait again, never to long as much.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Frozen in time, you and me. Never to be together.</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-70857040158662603232014-01-04T08:31:00.000-08:002014-01-04T08:31:01.917-08:00Word Power<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXS-XVx6m6tSrS8gi_wbM-tL4lhhYx9fxPSu2AxWr7EzhAVYmbRI8cqBw84odiLCcf9Sokb1xaUw8zgW6T70ot-AfZ7WAcozgMKtugKLaoxhCsP6znHMNiI-I6qlc4-84AEJCK9dX-lHA/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXS-XVx6m6tSrS8gi_wbM-tL4lhhYx9fxPSu2AxWr7EzhAVYmbRI8cqBw84odiLCcf9Sokb1xaUw8zgW6T70ot-AfZ7WAcozgMKtugKLaoxhCsP6znHMNiI-I6qlc4-84AEJCK9dX-lHA/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is a word which has been haunting me ever since I
came to know of it. The power of it extends much beyond what it says, it goes
out to show how much a single word can accomplish, its eerie capacity to haunt
you and a breathtaking ability to hound you. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Is it in the exotic tenor of its sound, the way you have
to twist to get it right? Or is it in the roundness of its pronunciation, or
the newness it brings to my palate of words. Wait, it might be the far reaching
meaning it conveys, or the ring of aloofness it has to it. No, it is
melancholic strand in it which resonates with my own or the profound bearing it
possesses.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The grief for the lost places can be only experienced and
never be explained. The grief increases every single day and the weight it
carries will eventually pull you down one day. That which you had, and lost is
a symbol of the distance you have come to. Not necessarily good or bad but
merely something to remind of what has been successfully lost, dismantled and
never to be regained again. </div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
How does one get back to a home that never was, never ever
existed and never will. It takes a lifetime to get over this one and then you
realize that it takes more than that, a lot more.</div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-77233213188759413542013-10-24T09:36:00.002-07:002013-10-24T09:36:51.161-07:00Doubts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
An overcast afternoon, a listless mind and an
uninteresting workday. Listening to the drops of water bouncing off the heartless concrete while a
gentle voice croons in the background reverberating my thoughts. Ruminating on
things decided which will have far reaching effects, things I have set off in
motion but those that have already moved ahead, consuming and discarding me.
Doubts that swirl in and out leaving more confusion and chaos, than which were
around even as they were taking shape.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
What if, have been the two words preceding various
thoughts on numerous occasions of late. What if – they promise to make
everything real seem surreal, they take
me far away from the present where everything is just what I want to be, and
they hold a promise which otherwise seems amiss. They leave me bereft of words
sometimes, but I wish they left me devoid of thoughts at times.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
All that has been worked for till now has been
threatened. All that was nurtured destroyed swiftly. All that has been dreamt
off squashed mercilessly. Will it be spring or will it be doom, or will it be
neither just an endless, tasteless life worse than being either happy or sad? A
lost chance, a sinking disappointment or a life lost, which of them will it
be….</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-17932850947774848802013-10-08T07:36:00.000-07:002013-10-08T07:36:01.113-07:00Three years on<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj67CBMsdDcZnsY8lNtBzpBrPy80dW_GGyAK844GFHiTTYKKCl2m-Jn7GtvJgcahdoxoWtTI3ukAI7ApWG9Z1Zjf_3s70WYUEJ8sL5ZMgT9-7sSojD3TlfaCarimfU5bIEbL6MFt9NRABY/s1600/2013-09-23+11.43.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj67CBMsdDcZnsY8lNtBzpBrPy80dW_GGyAK844GFHiTTYKKCl2m-Jn7GtvJgcahdoxoWtTI3ukAI7ApWG9Z1Zjf_3s70WYUEJ8sL5ZMgT9-7sSojD3TlfaCarimfU5bIEbL6MFt9NRABY/s320/2013-09-23+11.43.58.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
The first time I visited the Falaknuma Palace, I was a child for whom the huge Palace meant a day out with Family. When I went there three years back to do a story, it was a story of a lifetime to watch a beautiful Palace being restored to its prime. Third time was lucky too, when we went there last month to shoot. Its beauty only grows more luminous by each passing day and I was still enthralled by it, its splendor doesn't not dim you, it takes you in its shimmering folds.<br />
<br />
To think that we who are capable of creating <i>this </i>should now find refuge in things which should never have been raised in the first place. That one who who has set his sight on such splendor should witness the regular in an instant. That such beauty should exist amongst such torpor is an inherent contradiction, or maybe its just a co-incidence.</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-71137130098466825432013-09-25T11:54:00.002-07:002013-09-25T11:54:42.359-07:00The Lowland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So many thoughts swirled in and out of my head when I embarked upon a start to finish campaign of Jhumpa Lahiri's , "The Lowland" today. My first reaction to it when I received the book was that it's color was so appealing - green, full of life and brimming with promise, flush and radiant, hopeful and benign. Not the green you see on leaves when it rains nor that which covers a parrot but that of a green in transition from one serious tone to another, that of fresh grass at its radiant best. I couldn't read it for two days after I set my eyes upon it but today I resolved that even a headache wouldn't take me away from it. <br />
<br />
Was it the best book I've ever read, of course not. Did it reach out to me like the aching loneliness of "The Namesake" no it did not. Did I unearth some life changing truth from it, no such thing happened. Then why have I been so captivated by it? In the initial stages when two love stories bloom, I found myself pacing restlessly eager to know how they turn out to be, when a character floundered on his way to receive love which was rightfully his I rooted for him and when finally an exile ended I was soaked with peace.<br />
<br />
I realized that the reason it appealed to me was that the scale it was set was so appealing. It didn't harp on a happy ending or a bad one, it basically allowed the ebb and flow of life to be captured so lyrically that it was hard not to be drawn to it. Jhumpa's writing has a clear, evocative style to emote, one that rises from the book and wraps itself around you. You cannot but be a part of her writing, you transcend from being a mere reader to a pivotal character, at least in both the aforementioned books.<br />
<br />
Nothing beats the pleasure of a good story reaching its deserved destination. That it lives up to deliver what it promised is as much a joy as the act of reading itself. It leaves you satisfied, making you feel satiated as after a hearty meal, a hungered conversation or a herculean act of facing what you always dreaded. Till the next one comes along, of course...</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-12493504984649959072013-09-19T12:07:00.000-07:002013-09-19T12:08:43.758-07:00Sometimes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sometimes I feel that you are with me.<br />
Sometimes it drives me crazy that you do not even think of me.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes I would give up myself to start over.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes nothing can makeup for the lost love and misplaced notions.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes, I wish that you were here.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes I wonder how that would be.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes all I think about is you.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes I would give anything not to think of you.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes I wish that life would be cruel enough to let us be together.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes yours is the first and last thoughts of my day.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes I wonder at the power you still exert over me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes I ponder if you ever think of me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes I wish you never happened to me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes I wish things would be different.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes your thoughts drive me to insanity.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes you are the only one that keeps me sane.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes you and I are one.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Sometimes there is no I nor you.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br /></span>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-41516431118727948532013-07-22T08:08:00.001-07:002013-07-22T10:25:04.796-07:00Chandra Taal - Where Man meets the Gods<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YPnSz1RU9oYxNhY3eqjIdMjyoHmz5Vd3yIqNHQjyaCOhxeWm81f4patfKtBzpzLFYUzGZiqDdJY5lml8c81eW1J2eNOhv_oJGJdJY0Vxhb8jQvCLkIziKyh-9k_xoqs3UXOAcSZvCIM/s1600/IMG_0526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YPnSz1RU9oYxNhY3eqjIdMjyoHmz5Vd3yIqNHQjyaCOhxeWm81f4patfKtBzpzLFYUzGZiqDdJY5lml8c81eW1J2eNOhv_oJGJdJY0Vxhb8jQvCLkIziKyh-9k_xoqs3UXOAcSZvCIM/s320/IMG_0526.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
This is the image of the lake Chrandrataal, where apparently Yudhisthira left his mortal body and moved to heaven. Did I ever imagine, that a reluctant traveler would leave his perch in the Deccan Plateau and leap for the mighty Himalayas? That would make a great story but for now, I was there and I, an almost comatose photographer clicked the image.<br />
<br />
Did I think I would make it ever, to leave the zone of my comfort and move towards the unknown. I who turn my back even to the known? I cannot answer but to say that I was there and that is what matters.<br />
<br />
More will come, but for today a reminder to myself that surprises do lurk around the corner and they need not always be bad.</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-85636089588556723332013-04-17T09:33:00.002-07:002013-04-17T09:33:39.459-07:00Conversations<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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</xml><![endif]-->It’s just one of those times that you feel that
everything you write is not what you want to write. I want to scream and shout
to the world about the one great conversation had today with Mi, I want to tell
everyone I know about how I did nothing more than to complain, whine and
gossip. I want to share with all those I know that though I didn’t win
anything, though it didn’t really lead anywhere or solve anything, it filled me
with so much joy and contentment. I want to smile stupidly because I think that
though no great things were done, I can get through the rest of the day basking
in the sunlight of one talk.
<br />
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<br /></div>
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I have always believed that being at peace with yourself
is the greatest thing in world. I’m neither clever not clicky, nor confident or
charming and the maximum I wish at most times is t be content. Was all that
possible in the course of 17 minutes? yes, all that and more. How do you put
into worlds the immense satisfaction you feel when you say exactly what you
want to say and it’s received exactly how it’s supposed to be. How do you
articulate that feeling that you can crib, cry or criticize with someone who
knows exactly what you are trying to say. That perfect understanding which
shelters you and saves you from judgment. No conflicts resolved, no angst
repaired, no doubts removed, no depression lifted but still I feel like I’m on
the top on the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still am and
will be there for some time to come.</div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-39557237976819339782013-04-10T10:34:00.000-07:002013-04-10T10:34:23.684-07:00Bits and Pieces<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Of late, the bug of re-reading has really hit me hard.
From books I have re-read over a period of time like says The last of Dusk or
The Clear Light of Day to ones I have read only once like Midnight’s Children
and Lunatic in my Head, I am rediscovering the joy of books I have once read
and its simply fabulous to do it again. The forgotten phrases, those hazy plots
and the crazy characters, all seem to come back and it really makes me glad
that I’m doing something I wanted to do for a long time.<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A visit to the Srikalahasthi Temple near Tirupati nearly
made me weep recently. It is truly one of the most majestic temples in India,
with huge pillars, intricate carvings and stones which are centuries old. Half
of the temple has been shoddily white washed, with really bizarre temporary
constructions and wires hanging on arbitrarily. Our immense talent in reducing
a centuries old marvel to a shoddy joke really has no competition. This is the
same temple which once used to make me wonder about the strength of men, to
build something like this when you had no modern tools and then again to
destroy something so beautiful when you have every conceivable modern aid.
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I am hooked to Everybody likes Raymond, I don’t like half
of it but am watching episode after episode, guess when the sitcom bite bites,
it bites hard!</div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-75805601354853107722013-02-15T11:20:00.002-08:002013-02-15T11:20:31.757-08:00A night which never ends<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
12.32 am<br />
<br />
Rekha Bharadwaj playing in the background.<br />
<br />
Tossing and turning, awake and distrustful.<br />
I finally throw off the covers and think what I can do now.<br />
All the books I can read are not with me right now.<br />
I have given up on television so long ago.<br />
<br />
I think of cleaning my room but am not annoyed enough.<br />
Get a bar of Toblerone, move quickly to my third one.<br />
Thinking of browsing the net, but what more news will satisfy my curiosity?<br />
So give up on yet another idea, another fleeting thought.<br />
<br />
Want to call someone, but have exhausted everyone.<br />
Open the window and the breeze comes in, cheering me up.<br />
My only companion, which wafts in and out carefully.<br />
I think I will trap it somehow but never act on it, like countless others.<br />
<br />
12. 40 am<br />
<br />
Jagjit Singh takes over<br />
<br />
He fills the room with his pain and pathos.<br />
He becomes a part of me and its my voice in the room suddenly.<br />
I realize that we are both alone.<br />
He, running away from grief, I running towards it.<br />
<br />
Suddenly I realize that the kind wind is still around.<br />
Engulfing and enlivening everything around.<br />
Suddenly everything seems not so bleak..<br />
I believe that this too shall pass.<br />
<br />
I slowly return to where I rose from.<br />
Thinking that one day everything shall come together.<br />
I will assuage the losses and make good all that was not mine.<br />
The kind breeze. A lilting song. A silent hope.<br />
<br />
One day, all will be fine.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-60134523601679906772013-02-13T09:16:00.003-08:002013-02-13T09:22:45.737-08:00Mangalagiri- A mélange of colors<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<![endif]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> Offering something for everyone, Mangalagiri near Vijayawada has
numerous charms in its folds. Rediscover the many charms of a village famous for its saris and
temples…</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">At a distance of 18 kms from Vijayawada, Mangalagiri a place as famous
for its temples as for the colorful bouquet of weaves it produces. Time spent
in this sleepy village simply flies by, with its quaint streets, friendly
villagers and numerous stores selling the famous Mangalari saris. You can visit
the temple for a quick darshan, shop at the many stores, simply soak in the
clean village air and walk around the countryside and farms.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Things to do
in Mangalagiri</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Panakala
Narasimhaswamy temple</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> perched atop the Mangalagiri hills was built in
1650 AD by Raja Vasireddy Venkadri Naidu, the ruler of the town. A splendid
gate leads you to the main temple and the entrance is flanked a gigantic
chariot or <i>ratham</i>. </span></div>
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<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Upon inquiry regarding the origins of the name
of the temple an interesting story was told to us. The temple got its name from
panakam (water mixed with jaggery) served as an offering to the deity. The
region was prone to volcanic eruptions in the past due to the abundance of sulphur
found in the region. The eruptions were attributed as the angry outbursts of
Lord Narasimhaswamy and panakam was poured into the idol’s mouth to placate
him. Till date every visitor offers jaggery water to the deity. The temple
closes by 4 in the afternoon.<span style="mso-list: Ignore;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Lakshmi
Narasimhaswamy temple</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> is located at the bottom of the hill and is the
first thing you notice the minute you drive into the town with its arresting
gopuram which towers over the town. Built in the 16<sup>th</sup> century by
Krishnadevaraya, the temple is beautiful and the intricate carvings on the
gopuram speak volumes about the quality of artisans in the past. Walking around
the temple transports you to the past with its fallen pillars, stone walls and
vast spaces exuding heritage from every corner.<span style="mso-list: Ignore;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Shopping
</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">for
handlooms is a major draw. The temple town offers some of the finest cotton
saris and fabric to the country and the town is full of stores where you can
shop to your heart’s content. For those interested in knowing how the saris are
made, a visit to the weavers loom is a must, the weavers are friendly and share
interesting anecdotes. It takes about two days to complete a sari and the
commonly seen motifs are mango, leaves, flowers and geometric designs. Fab
India sources its fabric from here and the most arresting features of
Mangalagiri fabric is its mélange of colors- reds, oranges, greens and yellow
make the sari as vibrant as a rainbow. Bargaining is tough here as the
storekeepers refuse to give in to any tactics employed by even the most
seasoned shoppers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">.................................................................</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Part of my first ever travel piece! </span></div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-61408640883085689302013-02-06T08:51:00.000-08:002013-02-06T08:51:13.387-08:00Doors<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OWeRvMQs9EWulbzlrYApmQ4RHWBPKnhDamEA1TZJfNcuiVyKGmdNdcS9ga-dtAf0Wc1hPIMM7YhTakpTaxKW6QsQa1WJ3Lx5T6zMDMzowBaZD7zUA1Jt5McfUeBPv0JoZ3W0y8mMGJs/s1600/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OWeRvMQs9EWulbzlrYApmQ4RHWBPKnhDamEA1TZJfNcuiVyKGmdNdcS9ga-dtAf0Wc1hPIMM7YhTakpTaxKW6QsQa1WJ3Lx5T6zMDMzowBaZD7zUA1Jt5McfUeBPv0JoZ3W0y8mMGJs/s320/017.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
What secrets do you behold?<br />
What lies behind the closed exteriors?<br />
<br />
I think often of those soulful eyes sought to be mine<br />
I think often of the recherche that ought to be mine<br />
<br />
Restless and rancid,<br />
Rancor runs amok <br />
<br />
The purposeful silences and invidious glances<br />
The if and buts of a promise never fulfilled<br />
<br />
The beauty that lies within you<br />
That which you seek never be known<br />
<br />
Strong and Silent<br />
Graceful and Gregarious<br />
<br />
A withdrawn you and a withered me<br />
Stare into oblivion fleeing all things glee<br />
<br />
Will you not let me in<br />
O my loved one<br />
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-67413668204699531412013-01-24T09:37:00.002-08:002013-01-24T09:37:57.279-08:00Yesterday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US">I was reading a couple of articles I had
written early 2008, (one of which is the first ever pieces to be posted on this
space) and was astounded by the irrelevant use of adjectives, the complete
going overboard with the hyperbole and the lack of cohesiveness in writing. I
was appalled by my own earlier writing. (Not that it’s any great now, but the
quality has toned down considerably. In a 180 word movie review I did of
Revolutionary Road, I used 6 exclamation marks. 6!) On the same day I was
talking to a colleague who wistfully remarked that life she was so happy in the
past and now her life is a complete mess.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US">All of that really got me to wonder,
were things really good in the past or does history always seem better because
you don’t have to face it anymore? We've often heard of how simple things were
in times gone by or how happy we once were, but was it really so? Isn't looking
about the past and thinking how wonderful it was merely an exercise to divert
attention from today and the odious everydayness it carries with it? Getting
wistful about the past is alright but the sort of starry eyed-ness is nothing
but escapism, an epiphany we have perfected over the years.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US">We look back at that which has happened
only because it’s easier to deal with the past than the present, you can
negotiate with it, believe that it happened your way and term it easy because
you no longer have to face it or fight it. Past is important but present is
sacrosanct. It is, because it allows you to shape your ideal of the future. While
yesterday withholds you to ransom, today releases you with reason.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US">Today is a bright wonderful day. A day
looming large with possibilities, enticing you with its exuberance and brimming
over with the euphemisms. Allowing you to marauder alongside the margins, simmer
in the silence of the known and covet the credulous innocence of the unknown.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-84727316504798461082013-01-19T06:00:00.002-08:002013-01-19T07:18:24.592-08:00Influx and Redux<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On a day spent watching old Telugu movies, I am feeling
alternately wistful and wasteful. Thinking about the relationships which are
the way they are and are not, brooding about the people who are around and who
aren’t, longing for things which have happened and have not, wishing for the
future which may or may not happen.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I sit alone unreachable by those around me, I feel alone
unmoved by those who can reach me and I dream alone unmindful of those who are
a part of those dreams. My thoughts are in a flux- angry, agitated and annoyed:
at everything which dares to become involved and anything which dares to be too
distant.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
Unable to want any of those who are around and wanting
those who will never ever be around again, my distant daze is confused by its
own terror and the terrifying tenacity of its thoughts. I am tired of waging
the same battles over and over again with the expected variations resulting in
the expected results. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
I am desperate for calm but will shatter it once it comes
closer. I want to run away far and wide but feel shackled by the air that surrounds
me. I want to make true all that my heart wants by am engulfed by a wave of
despair which sinks me each time I move. Desire and despair, Querulous quiet
and lost loves, all battle silently together.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
A single tear makes its way through silent sorrow, a
solitary flame stutters in abject neglect and a sole wish is lost in the maze
of confusion. Life, seems at once cheerless, at second glance it appears unrelenting,
refusing to let me go, drowning me with its lifelessness, choking me with its dejection.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
To the glorious grief lording over and refusing to let
go,</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
To sinking deeper into darkness and not caring to try,</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
To how things were and how they promise not to be.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-62057779657958381282013-01-13T09:38:00.000-08:002013-01-13T09:38:18.534-08:00This year<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
will hopefully leave me alone! When I was about to write in my diary on Jan 1, 2013, my curiosity got better of me and I read what I wrote on the first day of last year. I read that I wished I for a kind and compassionate year. That most certainly didnt happen, what I got was a year which was merciless and mostly cruel, draining me in every way possible- personally, professionally and financially. That shock of a year I guess, is the reason I dont wish for much. I have always found that keeping your expectations abysmally low helps, always. I only hope that it bloody leaves me alone.<br />
<br />
This year didnt exactly begin on a great note but I made my peace with it already. If at the end of the year I remain just as I am right now, I will take my blessings and leave quite happily. Another bloody big disappointment last year was that 2012 was when world was supposed to end and was quite the high point of the year for me, sad that didnt quite materialize the way I hoped it would.<br />
<br />
The only wishlist for 2013 would be...<br />
- Leave me alone. Period.<br />
- Finally making that trip I've been meaning to.<br />
- Reading more non-fiction. Reading more of anything actually.<br />
- Writing in something else than the one I currently do. Also, getting a raise where I currently work.<br />
- Not losing any more money.<br />
- Buying the bed I want to, not doing it because the one I like is ridiculously expensive.<br />
<br />
Will not be overtly ambitious and wish for more. But then wishes sometimes grow wings and want to soar far above, what does one do then?</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-68145434212192474032012-12-08T06:12:00.002-08:002012-12-08T06:13:05.301-08:00Who would've thought<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US">that Aa would commit suicide. Was my
first reaction when Sa told me that a school mate of mine recently passed away.
I did not know Aa well at all, she was the coolest girl of my school. Good
looking, fashionable and someone all of us had a crush on. I still remember
everyone discussing a dress she wore on one of her birthdays (a white churidar
with see through sleeves) which was a scandal back then (honestly, we were so
repressed!) but Aa was someone who defined cool quotient and whom everyone
wanted to be or be with.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My own interaction was restricted to a
polite nod or a smile whenever our paths crossed in the corridors. But, over
the years whenever conversation veered around school, Aa was a part of it
because you wanted to know what she was upto, what she was doing and what was
going on with her. That’s the trouble with benchmarks of childhood, you never
out grow them, you never can.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So, when news came in that she committed
suicide leaving behind a two year old son, I was thinking…what makes people so
despondent that they think that the only way out is death? How could someone
who had the proverbial everything be reduced to such a state? Looking back, I
see a bright young girl who had the world at her feet and knew it. It’s
astonishing how things come full circle. The whole incident reinforces my
belief that what you see isn’t always the truth.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The tragedy brings to fore the simple truth that tomorrow is unseen and how life can come to a standstill in the turn of a second. There was a girl who, everyone thought was going to reach the stars, little did we know that she would become one of them.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US">My thoughts go out to her family and to
Aa, who will forever remain the most talked about girl in the batch of 2000.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-37030174476011601052012-11-28T06:01:00.002-08:002012-11-28T06:02:23.756-08:00Turning ten equates going crazy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
November is a busy month for me. The magazine I work with
will turn ten in December and that for the editorial team means a crazy month.
I had an absolutely hectic month, throw in Sa birthday, a cousin’s wedding and
Ra’s engagement meant that it was only yesterday afternoon when we signed out I
could breathe a sigh of relief. I did 26 bloody interviews this month and at
one point, while working on three different stories I had no clue what and with
whom I was talking. With all of us getting increasingly angry and worked up
each passing day, it’s a wonder we closed the issue, even three days late! All
said, it has been a productive month and I can happily lie low for a month or
two before my editor again turns the heat on me.<br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
Was reading Tavleen Singh’s amazing book “Durbar”, which
has been receiving mixed reviews but I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was the first
time I read non- fiction so quickly and the book offers a decisive as well as a
different insight into the Indira- Rajiv years. Most people I discussed with said
that it relied heavily on hearsay and gossip, and as a journalist I would say
that they are more reliable than people at times. I also loved her interview
with Abhinandan Sekhri on Newslaundry, a highly amusing episode in which the
interviewer and interviewee cross swords and Tavleen was ruthless when the
actor tried to be condescending.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
Caught the lovely Bombay Jayshree in action after two
years and was still as amazed at her grace and voice. Timeless performer.</div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-73275164971962365002012-11-13T08:14:00.001-08:002012-11-18T06:34:28.313-08:00Festivals<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Its Diwali and as I'm writing this post people are going gaga bursting crackers. I've never really been a crackers person and the few I got this year cost a whopping 1700, but I'm both sad and happy that people are showing lesser inclination to burst crackers, be it due to increasing costs or declining interest, atleast in Hyderabad the festivities have been tapered down in the past few years. I'm sad because that's become the same with all festivals, no one has anytime to celebrate them and almost everything has become perfunctionary, Sankranti, Holi or Diwali.<br />
<br />
Diwali when my grandfather was alive was fun, great fun and growing up as my siblings left the family nest I realized that festivals were fun only with more people. How many crackers could I burst alone or how many kites could I fly all by myself. Festivals like most things tell us about the importance of people and how sharing is okay once in a while. Unlike the innate consumerism of festivities, the fact that they offer a break from the routine makes them worthwhile.<br />
<br />
This Diwali, for change I had two wishes and though I dare not hope too much, I do hope that they make the screening test of the powers that be. I have to hope for the best....time for me to enjoy some delicious food along with Hyderabadi spciality, phirni...<br />
<br />
PS: While a friend of mine got 40 bloody thou as Diwali gift, I got a measly half kilo sweet box and when we opened it today they were totally dry and tasteless!</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-68479509377919652102012-11-01T07:16:00.001-07:002012-11-04T08:42:02.811-08:00November Blues<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br />-<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US">It’s November again and it has
started on a beautiful note today, with a heavy down pour due to the rains.
Feels wonderful to be up and about.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"> -<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US">Watched , the terrible “Student
of the Year” yesterday and felt that I deserved what I saw because I knew it
would be disastrous and still went along…Karan Johar seemed to have directed it
in between his many reality shows, no sense cinema and the three leads were
such funny faces! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"> - I am so hooked to the Rekha
Bharadwaj song from Barfi, <i>“ Phir le aaya dil”</i>. There is something so magic about her
voice that it manages to enchant you each time you listen to it. I wish it was
used in the movie though…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"> -<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US">November is a busy busy month
as far as work is concerned. There is so much to do but I really don’t know
where do I start, worked really hard on two stories and did 1 interviews last
month and that story was chopped…so am a little pissed off and am taking it a
little easy right now.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"> -<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US">Everyone I know is getting
married, big time. Friends, the last remaining single friends of my siblings
and to top it all, juniors from colleges. It’s getting so annoying that I have
been off facebook for a while, cant face another status which says…”Starting a
new life” or “can’t wait to get married!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"> -<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US">While I am on it, everyone I
know is either getting married or if they already are, getting their first
flat, car or baby and me, am still where I saw 6 years back. It doesn't bother
me that much but I swear I cannot handle one more conversation about growing up
finally or finally finding their feet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"> -<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US">Read the amazing book “Book
Thief” by Markus Zusak which I have been recommending to everyone I know, it’s
written in such a brilliant way that it really tugs at your very core.</span></div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-64062411998347925252012-10-17T11:00:00.001-07:002012-10-17T11:00:08.041-07:00Say Sush<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">A long standing wish came true some time
back when I interviewed Sushmita Sen. She was as dazzling in person as I
expected her to be and the thing about her is that when she turns on the charm
it really hits you in the face, there is no way in hell<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you can escape it! Surrounded by beauty
queens half her age, Sush really managed to hold her own and that’s really
quite something. For one, I didn’t write down any questions and was really
tongue tied in her presence. Two, to her credit she never shied away from
giving any answer however personal. My personal favorite was when I asked her
if she felt that her Bollywood career never really took off, the lady replied,
“ I only fight when there is a position and two times in my life when I had to
fight for the top position I won, the Miss India final and the Miss Universe
final.” Amen to that.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Watching “English Vinglish” was such a
treat. I cannot remember the last time, when I wished that a movie was longer.
Sridevi remains the undisputed actress she always was and I just hope that she
chooses scripts which do her justice! On the same note, Aiyya had to be the
worst movie of the year, I really don’t know why I would spend 150 bucks to
watch such nonsense.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Hoping to meet Yuraj
Singh in a few hours from now, the PR is notorious for being flippant, so let’s
see if Yuraj actually turns up! Will be back with that...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">PS: a later update, did meet Yuvraj Singh...didnt like him much, very standoffish...</span></div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-53698107286918564172012-10-15T07:49:00.002-07:002012-10-15T07:49:38.442-07:00The journey of a bibliophile<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">A recent story I did and loved....</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">A staircase leads to a comfortable room which
is bursting with books and is embalmed in a quiet that is hard to find
nowadays, BS Prakash’s library is a book lover’s paradise, intimate but not
intimidating. Rows and rows of books spread across genres of every imaginable
kind greet the discerning visitor, from history, literature, poetry and
classics neatly stacked according to author and genre. The elegance of the
library is compounded by the old world charm of the house replete with wooden
rocking chairs and spacious seating areas. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US">Prakash’s tryst with reading started at
the age of 3, when his mother gifted him a copy of the book, “The tale of two
bad mice”. As he shows us the book which was presented to him in 1950 he says,
“I have always been reading. I still have the fairy tale books gifted by my
parents. It’s been a deep and abiding interest all through my life. Since I
wasn’t an athletic type and we had no radio, reading was the natural
alternative during childhood. My father and grandfather were avid readers and
in fact, a quarter of my collection (about 2000 books) was inherited from
them.” Today his collection has grown to roughly around 8000 books, and he
admits that cataloguing them is a huge challenge.</span></div>
<span lang="EN-US"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">The book collector remembers his
childhood days where he bought books at many stores in Abids (a street in Hyderabad) with great
fondness. He recollects the many times he bought classics for a steal, “I used
to buy a lot of books at AA Hussain in Abids apart from that there was a second
hand book store called Ilyas down the same road which had a great collection. The
second hand market at Abids was a great haunt to buy different kinds of books,
I once got 16 volumes of Charles Dickens for 32 rupees!” </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US">Also a part of a club of theater and literature enthusiasts, Prakash says that reading
opens up different worlds to the reader which is an experience in itself. Showing
us the first edition of Charles Dickens’s “Pickwick Papers” which was published
in 1837, a book<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>which has withstood the
vagaries of time for almost three centuries, he also narrates many anecdotes
which he says only enriched his love of reading, “I once bought a book of C
Rajagopalachari’s writings for the Swatantra Party, in which two pages were
stuck. Later I found that he had gifted the book to his biographer, Monica Felton.
In my father’s books I have come across his thoughts on the ideas expressed by
the author. All of it makes the process of reading very intriguing.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US">Lending his books to very few people as
Prakash believes that most books which are lent never come back; he also
strikes a chord with many people when he says that he prefers reading novels in
paperbacks to reading on an Ipad or a kindle. Currently planning to write a book
on the social history of a middle class South Indian Brahmin family he brings
the interview to a close by saying, “Books for me brings out solitude from
loneliness.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-53336212934363005852012-09-21T11:27:00.004-07:002012-09-21T12:04:00.244-07:00A song that raised a thousand bogeys<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Last week while driving to work, I saw a
sign which said 360 degrees, inexplicably that reminded me of my Yahoo 360 blog
which was my space to ramble in around 2004-2007…while I was thinking of it,
one of my favorites blogs there wound its way into my mind…a post there with
the following lyrics from a Johnny Cash song is one of my favorites pieces I
have ever written and brought in a sweeping stroke of nostalgia, both for the
song and the times gone by. I rushed to office and spent the whole day listening
to Johnny Cash. Though I often think about the times in which I was in college,
it never really succeeds in wearing me down as much as it did that day…</span></div>
<span lang="EN-US">The lyrics of the song go something like
this</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Save my love through loneliness,<br />
Save my love for sorrow,<br />
I'm given you my onliness,<br />
Come give your tomorrow</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US">I am no fan of English music but for some
reason Johnny Cash’s songs get to me like no one ever has. Read through the
above lines and there is so much you see, such angst, such abundance of love
and so much suffering that it calls out to your own pain and forms a bond. That
day brought in so many memories of so many particular things. Memory is
sometimes so fickle, you feel a pang for the past but the past as a whole, you
never think about the individual entities which made the past a whole. This day
and that song brought back such individual memories that I was lost the whole
day: the way I used to read Harry Potter every day for years, the way I used to
snuggle on the bed with those no longer here and was so content, the way I was
so hopeful about things, the many long walks to muse about life, the way life
seemed such a huge possibility when I used to talk with friend, the obtuse
passing of times at bus stops, the thrill if I actually went to a place I liked…much
of that hope is exhausted now, much of that warmth missing and most of the
optimism misplaced.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">The journey from your early to late
twenties changes so much of you that it is hard to believe that you shed so
much of yourself and still are you. As I pause, while I am writing this…it is
difficult to believe that so much has been slowly lost over the years…an
accumulated angst has occupied the place of hope and has made it home…I know
not what is worse, that it refuses to fade or that I refuse to let go.<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span></div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-59716118789392183422012-09-08T22:38:00.002-07:002012-09-08T22:38:51.257-07:00Books I recently read and loved<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Reading is a getaway for which I’m
immensely thankful, allowing me to know more about life, people and experiences
in such a vicarious and voyeuristic manner. Though my reading has come down, I
have read some immensely wonderful books, in the past which have enriched and
touched me in so many ways.</span></div>
<span lang="EN-US">A suitable girl: Vikram Seth</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US">This book is so huge that you cannot lug it
around, I placed it on three pillows and read it just like old ladies read out
from Ramayana at a <em>prayer meet</em>. It also
amazed me (again after An Unequal Music) about the unrivaled genius of Vikram
Seth. I fell in love at the contents page itself, instead of names of chapters,
it has couplets with a tantalizing hint as to what you can expect in that
chapter. The sheer number of characters and the exquisite detailing which went
into it numbs you. Full of characters you can relate to, an old world charm
which no longer exists, it was a marathon of a book and the fact that it has a
sequel coming out is just the icing on the cake! My family heaved a sigh when I
finished it in five wonderful days and was brought back to the world.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US">The help: Kathryn Stockett</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US">Gifted by Na, on my birthday this wasn’t my
usual book. Narrating the journey of black maids in 1960’s who raise white kids,
it opened my eyes to the sort of exploitation we thought was limited to our own
country. Full of humor, pain and courage it describes an inhuman human in an
incredibly humane way. Two days after I finished the book, the adaptation came
on TV which was good but was nowhere close to the book!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Em and the big hoom- Jerry Pinto</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"></span><span lang="EN-US">This touching book, which by the way is
simply gorgeous to look at, with its black bound cover and colored pages was a
gift from Pt and was so engrossing. A story about a mentally ill mother and her
two kids who try to decipher the reason behind her illness, it shocks you with
its crudity and makes you wonder about the concept of life itself. A
semi-biographical account of the author, the sarcasm, lyrical humor, the love and the grief
really affect you. I, for one didn’t want the book to end even though the
despair in its narration was heart wrenching. A wonderful, depressing book!</span></div>
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103270063551926328.post-62950892924561955732012-09-03T07:17:00.000-07:002012-09-03T07:17:13.449-07:00On a rainy afternoon...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s been raining nonstop for the past
24 hours and feels absolutely wonderful. On days like this I wish for nothing
but a good novel, a bed and my old quilt. To do nothing but laze around while
the gentle pitter pat gives you company is the stuff my heart yearns for. Add a
bit of Ilayaraja’s music in the background and some piping hot chai, and I am
officially in heaven. I don’t have so much on me right now, I am at work but am
thankful that I can see the rain and enjoy its gentle smells, feel the company
of the drops and soak in the constant comfort it brings. The many memories it
coaxes out of me and the many people it reminds me, rain is unparalleled for
evoking nostalgia.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">What is it about rains which makes me
long for monsoons every year- is it the fact that life comes to an absolute
standstill when it holds forth, is it the feeling of tranquility it invokes in everything
it touches or is it just another thing to hold onto, one not threatened by
change or confusion? Rains have a wonderful way of making me feel at peace with
myself, just to watch, just to be, just to be a part of something so serene. Every
drop bringing in the same force and fervor, touching everything with the same
passion while ensuring that everyone is a part of it, that everyone is a stake
holder.</span></div>
<span lang="EN-US"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Everything about the rains hold promise
and beauty throughout its stay, the overcast gloomy clouds which herald it or
the green green trees which it leaves in its wake. The cool breeze which sways
with the rain drops or the many pretences it washes away. It brings such simple
joys and so many myriad thoughts.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Rain. A gregarious friend, a gentle
lover, a great companion.</span><br />
</div>
obssesorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12874684049009659315noreply@blogger.com1