The storm

There was a storm raging outside yesterday. Well, not just outside. My family was spending time together, all four of us, after a long time. That proved to be too much tension for us, as in a span of an hour, a terrible fight broke out. It was much more than a fight, more like confrontations. Took quite some time for it to become calm, infact calmer, as all of us chose to become silent. Somehow, that in itself became an acceptence between each of us. Nowadays, I cant bond with anyone in my family. I tried, but I looked like an actor trying so hard. Pathetic. I dont think I could ever have a family, a happy one at that. Before I kept doubting myself, sometimes even getting scared to think what if that also hits the rocks. Cos I dont have the strength to survive one more of these make believe "happily lived ever after's". Cos I have not seen something like that to justify that such a relation exists. I felt all my relatives were just acting out their parts in front of a crowd/audience and then getting back to reality when they were alone. Everywhere broken marriages, families.. Anyway yesterday's thing just strengthened my belief. I am so tired of believing in somethings just to see it getting broken down. I am so tired of fighting. I am so tired. What is life, when you live it like death?

the moment of truth passed by
cannot survive it's intensity
i would have to stand alone
not of choice but of lack of company

tears dries up stand still
vision becomes blurred
eyes stares blank
into the oblivion

thought comes to a standstill
thinking about the past, present
future seems so far away
do not want to reach out for..
for fear of what it might hold

a high wall is built around me
strangers are welcome here

going in every direction
coming back where i started from
the square one
the road goes round and round

all colours are black and white
greys seems to jump around
and play with me
but i have stuck to dark white

dark light everywhere
everywhere
curtain has fallen down
to separate me from the crowd

100% Natural

"I would like a natural setting", how does it sound to you.Is it an oxymoron? Years before, when I was more younger and when my thoughts, more simpler, when I used to spend a lot of time chasing the crows and the butterflies and sparrows in my grandparent's place, and finally out of breath and lying on bare earth, little did I know that I would be actually missing out on such things. Nature seems to be losing on its charm day by day, because of just one reason- Us. How much we have exploited it. Those things that I mentioned before are seemingly growing insinct. I dont even think we would be able to give atleast half as clean world to our children, as we were given by our ancestors. I just imagined what it would be like, if ever I have a grandchild(GC)[who would be bereft of the knowledge that such things existed] and how my conversation around nature would be.

GC : Grandma, what is nature?
Me : Dear, A long long time ago, we had something green and growing called the 'Plant'. Several had beautiful stuffs growing on them called 'Flowers'. Now when these were growing in large numbers they were called 'Forests'. Several livingthings flew around them called 'Birds'. And several more lived on land called 'Animals'. We had a blue dome over us called 'Sky'. At night, we could see the 'Stars', that would be some thing that twinkled. Then there was the 'Sun' and the 'Moon'. These constituted nature.
GC : I know about all those, my teacher taught us in History.
Me : Yes, all that is history.
And then maybe I tell her about my stories of the past. Those would be fairytales. Maybe that her grandfather used to get those stuffs called flowers(!) to woo me!
GC (after listening) : Oh, look Grandma that is the butterfly you told me about. It is not extinct!
Me : No dear, that is the Ultra Sonic security bug looking out for Transcontinental Virus attacks.
GC : What about that thing Mom kept in her kitchen, that surely matches your description of flowers?
Me : No dear, those were Vaccumed Perforators with room freshner to drive out fowl smells.
GC : Oh Grandma, But I definitely think that the sky is what i am seeing, with the stars. Look up!
Me : No dear, You are looking at the Artificial Ozone Layer, painted blue constructed by human to keep out the UV Rays from the Sun, which is why we see blue colour Sun rays, during day time.
GC : And the twinkling?
Me : Those are Space Transporters with lighted antennas for Communicating with the extra territorials and to transport a gas called 'Oxygen' for us to breathe.
GC : Grandma, will I ever see the sky?

Reliving night shoots

My classmate(SRM), Arun was doing a presentation on 'History of Cinema' and wanted me to get some information for him. After sending him off with whatever he wanted, I was feeling quite drowsy, as I had not slept properly for past two days. Was about to sleep, when he gave a call and wanted me to do the presentation( he was shooting the whole stuff). Though feeling drowsy, it had been such a long time since my involvement in late night shooting since 'That Four Letter Word' and one Aachi masala stuff. Cinema seems to have a magic of its own, cos I was ready in ten minutes and on my way to the location.They had no props. So the first step was to set up a table, a chair, throw some books and CD's around- we got a study. Gave him an idea, to shoot it like a three camera set-up, with one cam(thank goodness he had atleast that and lights). 'Arun, where is the script, I'll stat rehearsing what I have to say'. Arun takes out this utterly crumpled paper from his pocket. 'This is what I have- Balaji Sir's notes'. I look at him, incredulously. 'No script?' , I say."No script.', he says. And to be frank, I was actually not surprised. No props, no script and no idea of how to start. This was something that brought back fond memories. Something like, this was were we belonged, everything was decided in the last few minutes or during shooting! I digested the idea, that I was supposedly to form sentences of my own at 11.30pm, and then rehearse it and finally have a go at it. God only knows, how many takes it would take of me. So there, we took a book out, wrote the points, then started. Our Prestigious Sir, had made a notable mistake naming someone else other that Eisenstein as the director Battleship of Potemkin (Bronenosets Potyomkin). Frankly even I would have also accepted that, but thanks to Sathyam Cinema and my french classmate Ajay(both of us had caught glimpses of the film when it was screened, the film was actually impressive in editing and for its crisp and fast story line, considering the fact that it was shot in 1925), that I had that knowledge.
The shoot actually went well! We were ourselves, quite surprised, what we achieved with the most minimalistic requirements(Nothing great! Just that we had as much practice doing such stuffs). I was at home by 1.45am. And I actually learned more about World Cinema, in that one and half hour than those three years I spent at SRM.

Birthday Double

A beautiful lady(21st October) and the most handsome man(20th October) were born. Both extremely talented, patient. Both love nature. And both dont stand injustice.
Starting with my mom, there are a lot of things that i have been wanting to tell her for so many days, but never spoke up. Something that each of us have always held back as at that time truth would have seen more dangerous. But now, nothing matters. The song that comes to my mind "U2- with or without you". Somehow, somewhere, I feel I have failed. Happy birthday ma.

Now back to the other person. Viggo Mortensen! Quite a few things that I learned about him. He is a painter, photographer and a poet. I read one of his poem. Very inspiring. The murals from the film" A Perfect Murder" were done by him. He is also a jazz musician, has released 3 CD's so far! Bravo! Happy birthday Viggo!

“So much has already been done and there’s not much that’s new,“ he concludes. “You can’t let that stop you though, because the actual exercise of just poking around the debris is worthwhile. Even if you produce stuff that’s interesting to nobody but yourself, the activity justifies itself. Making things is a way of finding out.” - Viggo Mortensen

An ode

What is war really about? Ego clashes between men of power?
Men have fought all along to prove their might. How egoistic? If they really believed in their might, why try to prove it? Understood that when evoked, one need to take steps about it. So fight one on one. Why rope in thousands as soldiers and expect all of them to believe in the same lines as you do? Who gives them the power to command? The one who does, how is his judgement justified? Are the soldiers trained in each country taught to hate the other country alongside their training in artillery?

Patriotism is it? Loyalty to one's country or loyalty to the person who occupies the seat as the highest official at that particular time? I came across this sonnet while exploring the net. Was stunned by the power of its simplicity.

when i was torn by war
i took a brush
immersed in death
and drew a window
on war’s wall
i opened it
searching for something
But i saw another war
and a mother
weaving a shroud
for the dead man
still in her womb.

By The Iraqi Poet Sinan Antoon

Starters

Finally it took me a sleepless night to create a space of my own in the world wide web. Something that I have been putting off for a long time. Lots of thoughts have been straying past, these last few days. Strange deja'vu 's (hey, it just occured to me that it means "already seen" in French!) and even stranger dreams and disturbing nightmares demanded that I record them. Other than that autumn in Madras(Madras is actually showing few signs of rain and misty evenings), a rare treat for those juggling everyday life here, is making me think quite a lot-another rare event. So here goes,