A Catty Memo

So,

Just because you are handsome

(Read MOST GOOD LOOKING)

Just because you like your space

(READ DOESN’T GIVE A SHIT)

Just because you keep to yourself

(READ ARROGANT)

And just because you are most adorable

(READ SPOILT)

Doesn’t fucking mean you can have your way in and out

(READ YOU ARE GROUNDED) 

1 Nibbling Evening

Restless

Over the mundane

A few proses to be written

A few thoughts to be undone

And one hammering  thing to be decoded

Words, spoken, tire you

Wish could read the thinking

Travelling at a speed

Which I can catch

Beneath the never ending laughter

And bunch of exceptional antics

Someday

Maybe while you are sleeping

I will read you

Cover to cover 

Obituary 2

Dear Red Hood

I was looking for
Getaways
from remnants
of Lost Love

I found you
midst the wonder
of online flea market

The brown ol hag
paved way by the matte red
Became the home of
All things plastic
paper
and metal

Red Hood
we were inseparable
Until that Sunday evening
when the devil
caused our seperation

In a few days
Still in mourning
you were replaced
with orange green and several other hues

But I can never replace
the spirit you brought
Dear Red Hood
my little miss muffet
Rest in peace, wherever you are

(RED KARA WALLET AUG 2012 FEB 2013) 

COLOURED PAPER AND TECHNOLOGY

She was sure, the stars werent right!
But in the cities, you cant even see them, so how can the stars be upset and go all over the place?

Perhaps like everyone else they also have a mind of their own!

Nothing helps! That twitch in the heart is too annoyingly there! Stagnant and Stoic
Only to realize the loss of living and non living things have the same impact. (Good or Bad...debatable)

In the last three months, there were three obituaries waiting to be written and since she decided to put an end to losses, one because inflation is hitting everyone and two, she really needs a mind to not be absent,

here it is....
Obituary 1 
the little black book

Rest in Peace my little black book.
I will miss you
And the faint white light you adorned my corner with

A lot of memories you stored
Putting a numeric like 700 GB is just not enough
Of the numerous series, scribbles, seasons, sketches, supers
That warmth will always be missed

Little Black Book
You were the farewell from the capitol
Perhaps it was time to
Really say goodbye
My little Black book

(WESTERN DIGITAL 1 TB HDD - 17TH APRIL 2011 TO DEC 2012)
 

MARCH ENDINGS

After some time, when you are already walking towards being senile, and at the same time come in terms with the fact that you are cynical, life should not throw such water balloons at you.

Its not fair because Holi became synonymous to a loss that can never be recovered

Because the sunrise and the sunset is missed because you are caught in some invisible cage

Because when the sea is so close by, u still would stick to the sitcom when you feel like crying out loud

Because the cat you loved and owned was never yours

Because you find 150 characters always so less in idea, but so much in reality

Because Sunday doesn’t mean doing nothing

Because love is lost and revenge is the new avenge

Because space is not a concept to breathe but to get choked with

Because that speck of dust on the window pane has cleared up, only to pave way to nothing

Because Calvin doesn’t inspire you to press the “last minute panic” button and go and rip it, you just procrastinate further

Because you hyper-analyze about every small thing and the nerves cringe

Because the world around is strange or you are just turning more cynical and blaming it on the world.

A DAY BEFORE 3 DECADES

Finally this is bliss

Damn I will be 30 in a day….hows the feeling?

A little worthless, a glass of wine at this hour and getting ready to hit it.

I am amused how I contradict myself….

To be calling it bliss and worthless at the same time.

The mental space is screwed, for existential reasons. The bliss is being able to sit in (my) our own done up study which is near to perfect and write!! Does take care of the screwed part a little.

So looking back, an eventful meaninglessly meaningful three decades.

The current quest is to find a new avenue.

The present bit of satiation will come from fixing internet, buying two pair of shoes, ordering 1 pair online and cooking some thai green curry.

Shall get there soon.

As of now lets explore this infinite mess!

In love with the Artiste

This was hovering in my mind for a few months, since Promax. This was the first one in India that I attended. Well three years and first one….most of them had a surprised look, but when in Delhi there were more important people to be sent.

It was a great experience, and helped me to declutter, like what the hell it is to complain about systems and processes, let’s turn on to the creative process, meeting Rob Middleton and Justin Cone was the best of it all. And Petes Café….the wonder of the different kind of work happening all over.  Its not mundane, its different….and one of my favourite things, keep doing some thing constantly.

And then I met an old colleague who’s been around for a while. Even that felt good, the fresh perspective always helps and how veterans still are enthused with a lot of passion. And the negativity also goes out of the way. So therefore the story takes a different turn.

Someone told me long time ago, if there’s pain, do things you like and it will be different, not conventional, then that pain can create wonders! It’s about time maybe.

To start off with, let’s not romantize with the artiste within. It’s difficult to come in terms with the odd, not pleasant side of an artiste, a creator. The problem within me became clearer, trying to merge the regular and the non regular worlds. That man was very quirky, but his percentage of the regular world took a better of him. I just wish the love for the quirky bit doesn’t die. But there is no point being judgmental about the artist. That might end up clouding the verdict about what they create, thus being unjustified about the piece of art. Well, I can’t hate the art, because the artist in his/her persona evokes not positive emotions. All the abuses I think are manifestations of the whirlwind of emotions.

The conflict thus reaches the next layer. So is the emotional or the physical trauma inflicted on the other party, here partner, is that justified? Do we artistes get a levy, as Andy Warhol says art is what you can get away with. The trigger point personally that helped me to get over the never ending unhappiness was the trauma of the abuse. After all these months I am thinking objectively. Did I also somewhere inflict emotional abuse of any sort? No….not even at the cost of my creations being compromised on. And that’s why it was important to breakout. I was compromising on my art, not that I have achieved anything except what my profession entails me to. But I was losing the quest. I had stopped getting enthralled at the world of creations. I had stopped looking out for inspiration, I was getting stale.

Coming back to the layer, being twisted, defying norms is one thing, but what my observation tells  me is that we are at a point of transition. As independent creators and also as a race, we cannot figure what is it that puts our mind at rest. It takes a lot of self awareness and training to rise above the obvious. There is beauty in everything we say and see. But what happens to it when reality takes over. Why do we lose track of the basics?  What happens to true art, of the intricacy of creation, the turbulence of trial and error? It is a personal journey, often lonely, then why do we end up making the memory of creating that piece of art so painful for the other person, who is trying to support us through the quest? If we only pain ourselves why is it not enough? That means the whole expression of being liberated as an artiste is just to sound cool. We have not really evolved to be by ourselves and the creation.

The realization and the experience helped me for one thing, I have stopped expecting and looking for  artistic inspiration from the “significant other”. Its as personal as it gets between the creator and the created. If we both love each other, being in love with the artiste will be as romantic and thrilling as I always envisioned it to be. The times that are rough in the pathway to create, you will always have like minded artistes or experiential personas who will walk that patch with you. Art is personal, art is a reflection of my inner self, it cant be abusive to others in any way. Yes for those of us we do some form of commercial creation, we never raise our voices against commoditization of our sensibilities. We know it’s a cruel world and we despise it. Why then bring out the cruelty onto people who mean something to us, to the extent that we could walk miles with them.

From the time we write the first letter, to draw the first line, to splash the first stroke, creation is beautiful and constructive. Lets not use that to hide our own devils.

I don’t know if I will succeed. As of now its the Sunday tea and breakfast spread and being honest to what I create each day.

Salt Pepper and Crowded Lanes

I am alone,but not alone enough
I am terribly lonely but loneliness doesn't befriend me
I don't understand the politics of relationships
And the relationship of convenience
The economics of care makes no sense
Neither the geography of silence
The history is too heavy to carry,but too hard to let go
Abused in every little ways,every day
I fool myself with a mind of my own

I am homeless
But cant turn and scream at the heartless dog
I am lying to myself and crushing something like respect they say
I am pretending every smile
I have nowhere to go, while an open world ticket lies on the desk
Nowhere do I have a shoulder to rest on
Coz I always am on the go
I am urban, educated, apparently independent woman
But I live in the anticipation of the darkest hour
Midst millions of faces
I often find teary eyes
And I am waiting for someone to trigger the gun

I am alone
But I am not alone enough

Swinging between Planets

It feels like living the life of an alien. Swinging between planets.
It makes no sense to me how and why the already complex things need to be layered?
And why do I have not been able to keep my cool!
Just yesterday and till the afternoon today I was happy as a wild flower and then came in memories and then trouble with folks....

Need the holiday
Till then,Saturday Nite time....a midnight in paris kinda film with some fresh fruity cocktail or maybe wine!

Before the blues set in

So, I am in the next 30 mins going to wash clothes....
Didnt do the complaince training, was just toooo bored even thinking of it.
I did manage to do the opening of the wound and will dress it after I take a shower...sunday,I am allowed to not be clean....but the best part is....I broke the kitchen jinx and went out there....hash omlette and then the chinese sausage nonsense....with vodka.

It did hit me back a little again when Dadai called to say hello and then Dad called,but guess gradually I need to put myself back together. So the more I acknowledge, the better it will be.
For starters....Whatever you think,think the opposite is helping and planing the Goa trip in August.

And a little overwhelmed by these two friends I found in this stint.....it feels I was here all my life.
Stoney conversations,lazy afternoons and random musings.
For the rest, the mind travelled a little off the ground.
I thought of Ray a few times today and smirked at myself,I was just stupid to think of it as something meaningful.....I have cried there too, so what was the difference...not the men but what I was looking for in them. I guess a friend said it right, for some men its difficult to handle these women who are just so clear about somethings and so smoky about most of the others.

As of now, Bandra Boy saying...Move in, so that we can cook good bong food or just waking up to say...Abhish,my love...the question mark was gone today,brings a smile.
For the rest of the story, lets go with the flow.

And I said I would come back in the evening which is what I did.
So lets tick the rest off the list then...What say?

Sunday Morning

I woke up to a friends BBM alluring me to hot shot bengali food. Thanks to toe and a few other things cant do that.
The weekend has been laziness personified,but then I needed to rest, the toe..
Almost sounds like I am cooking excuses.
But the good part was,I switched the comp on and decided to not visit social networking sites....ok except for Mark Zuckerberg's timeline and went to check some print stuff on desi creative....havent done madness with fonts for a while...must do...the Stars @ 12 promo has all the opportunities...what say?

Anyways currently its the Star Plus show about which I am in two minds,in principle and in reality.
And then hit the doctor and do the washing clothes thing as well. And damn the compliance training.
Looks like a busy sunday, but what the heck?? All of Saturday I refused to leave the bed!

And maybe I will comeback here in the evening, if I finish the book m reading,lotza thots on that one

Pledge

Here and there,quite all over the place. So time to get some good and not so good pledges to be made -

I pledge

1. to live well,from within
2. tell myself its OK to feel low,after all when was it love enough if it didn't pain enough
3. write more regularly  and finish reading books
4. work, a lot smarter and not let people command my head space
5. travel to new places
6. get up and go for my jog (but the toe has to be fine,cant start before)
7. be smart about my finances, save some money....keep tab of expenses
8. laugh more often and feel it
9. watch more films and less tv
10.not be lazy,get disciplined about life
11.not be afraid to acknowledge that sometimes it will hurt beyond belief,it doesnt mean I escape
12. not make life like instant coffee,buy a coffee machine instead :)
13.cook for myself and have a glass of wine with it
14.listen to old hindi songs and rabindrasangeet and watch a lot of rom-coms
15.meditate and find peace within myself

The universe is as quirky as I am, and this time as well, it will still keep conspiring
To life....with love

Mom turned 50 yesterday,seems like time is on a mission! I am glad I came back home. It feels good to be somewhere, where fears are protected. I slept without the need of noises and woke up, sometimes with a sinking feeling,sometimes normally. Spoke to Blue and Mom, they seem to be in conversation with my inner calling..... 90% I am prepared to let go of it, the 10% is just remnants of long summer evenings and stories of half a decade fleeting love and nameless things. Just tried calling,don't know why but letting go is my biggest weakness. But like we learn everything, this is something I have vowed to learn, since it will be a source of survival. The man from villages around the capital has been around, rather weirdly, its almost like two leaches needed one another to sing the night away. Strange ways we have! But yes no one can take away the Cinderella story from me, I am a director after all,I will make it come alive :) To long woeful nights and lost in translation days, bye broken promises, welcome new dreams

The Bat-tered story

They killed the bat, and I stood there midst the chaos.

Wondered how would the bat must be feeling.....but it had attacked us, and refused to go out and someone had to die in the struggle to survive!

Yes I witnessed the death and celebrated the victory, till I realized that life is just a matter of that moment.

In the memory of the bat, who would have either killed or died.....The Battered Story

This is a veryyyy old post - which was an experience in Delhi in 2009,Novemeber

What happened then?

I was wondering what happened? There's so much to write, I am writing notes on my phone,scribbling on my notepad. Kept everything stored, like the shots and short notes of the trips in October and December but have done nothing about it. I am guessing its gotta do with my lack of initiative and attention When there is time the easiest thing to do seems to be switching on the tv and watching that, what I watch is also not something that I know because its mindless and just keeps my screams inside my head at bay The best way to describe,thanks to Damon Albarn (songwriter for Blur)sings: sorry but I'm not really listening, I've got my mind on something. He adds: the whole world could have passed through me but I don't know that it means much to me. This is a transformation of sorts, I don't know if anything is genuine, not even pretension. Anyways, off to the city of joy for a few days, I hope to be at peace with myself.

Entry 5 - A little more or less

And exactly how much more is less, or how less is more?
Somewhere it struck me over a random dinner conversation with a couple friends. Sometimes it so happens,that we miss out on or maybe never get to know little details of closest of people in our lives.
Just thinking of a string of fictional incidents
The drunken calls after spicy soup
The fish on the footwear
Or the retaining the symmetry behind upside down

Feels weird to start with but true, we do take things for granted and not know favourite colors or films or whatever. Takes me back to college when the quantity of sugar for that cup of coffee still remains intact in memory but not the persons existence, or the Lebanese non veg platter with Kalhua shots at Pebble Street, or brunch menu at 32 milestone or chicken cartilage at 26 AG or Keema Ghotala at Mocha has people associated with it. I know the kind of coffee that’s Sedas alarm or the yummy eggs and sausages roger cooks on a wasted day or the cold coffee at manis jus when u are ready to storm out for conquer another long day or the crabs that light up Irenes eyes.

What does it mean? Knowing these details definitely means you care, but is the perfect judge for setting the chart-topper. Don’t know,but ya, with some people it makes all the difference,like the little princess knows everything I like or don’t like and vice-versa. Thank god for some people like that….knowing that you are sharing them with other people but what you share with them is copyrights reserved, and is an extremely limited edition.

2nd Sept 2011

Entry 4 - Chor Baazari

One of those monsoon mornings where u sulk to have woken up at 5 in the morning but still have the butterfly in the stomach to go explore, first of its kind in this stint of Bombay and the agenda was to experience it. Google came handy in trying to discover the feel of it, and then it happened…the Friday clothes bazaar,midst small galis and hundreds of people in motion. They all looked focused about their destination though it was the human sea that kept them moving through spaces.

The architecture was tactile, old mossy houses…dented walls and broken window panes. And one could also get a peek into some houses, rusty grills and old, greasy ceiling fans…blue or dead yellow walls adorned with tacky wall hangings and bright frames. And some of them like almost all Bombay houses, did have a string of clothes desperately trying to dry themselves. But one frame that remains in my head after all these days, is that freshly painted Mughal archetype building on both sides if the little lane and they are joining hands with the help of the tin sheet roof and tattered tarpaulin, its so old that that there are fully grown plants on it. It feels like a living time travel static on your face.

Since it was a Friday the other artifact shops remains closed but what one could see through the glass openings and making efforts to catch a glimpse was old lamp shades and wooden chairs and it did smell of antique stuff one could afford  I am very hopeful about the chest. There was this shop called Bollywood bazaar, can’t wait to lay my hands on it.

However the paya was disappointing to the extent I wanted to throw up, and knowing that I can eat anything, please imagine how bad!! And there was the chai stop, in the butcher hall, and the kid with the tattered t-shirt smeared with meat blood. Something stung me, its not always by choice…..often by compulsion. Not so nice,but true. Did we ever know there was second hand, fourth hand spare parts of Bentleys and Mercs . This country in the most familiar spaces doesn’t fail to surprise me.
Oh before I sign off, was there for a friends quest to find miniature insects, but we came back empty handed but hearts hankering for more, just that someone zoomed into work at 8 am in the morning while the other bindass, didn’t get to work till 2 in the afternoon.

30th August 2011

ENTRY 3....Subtitle

Yes I felt I enjoy titling posts, like its almost like the kickstart
The rains here have started getting under control.
But the buzz in the head is more of Test 1, Test 2, Test Signal,This is test Signal
Its a good high, and madness. My threshold of patience has gone up,its almost like after a point of being crazy you say to yourself.....let it flow.

And currently its almost a mad house, the inhabitants here are all basking in the mad-test disease. Varying degrees, so its a very at home feeling. But personally would have preferred a nicer,defined cliche as creative madness over random-ness.
Yes random is a quirky,but not whimsical,n not often fueled by negative emotions.

Lost teh zeal,basically got bored trying to recreate emotions!

ENTRY 2

I am hoping to carry on with Bombay dairies for a while...
Damn I can whine right now,but honestly,I am not worked up...and that tactic feels good :), one guru taught me so.....
What else....rains practically drained the city and then what happened....one random encounter,like do what you want to do phase,hoping across to some good conversations and colored liquid

The rush gets higher....touch,feel,believe ;)

BOMBAY DAIRY

ENTRY 1


It feels great to be back, specially that day when I was waiting for r for roger by the sea and the long drive to nariman point, serene…..if I could change anything, subject of conversations. The sea looks amazing and so does the salty taste in the mouth but then the mundane took over, battling freaking daily lives and people with inability to find happiness in the smaller nuisances, like flowers or rain clad kali-peeli taxis or just waltzing across roads. Found an antidote to that – smoke, and not coloured smoke!

What’s with the attitude?
I mean this is not what/where I left. Yet another blast, and taking it as if it’s the way of life, being numb about it and saying back with a vengeance.

Chaos is the way of life, but what happened to the rhythm to madness

Tantrums has a new meaning, like the Bollywood dream is full of it, is that survival or sheer boredom?. How fast are we running that the whole deal of waiting to smile has disappeared? Haven’t stopped to say hello to the rains or say hi to the sudden sun burst, or just being temperamental because it frees the captured soul

However textures feel nice…something that was so tactile was created on a big canvas.
And then the lights and the sound and the camera angles
The best part however was of the zillion characters on which one could write a story, and make films on them or the thesis about the disorganized labor in the industry.

Its buzzing,and whatever is negative is just fad,and not real except for spaces
And it just takes an imagination to bungee jump from the top of the sea-link straight into the sea

Till next time