Of great writing ....

Very few books have the power to hold you gripping on to it for every word. Have to stopping and pausing to think. To evaluate whether you just understood what you read. To make you re-read passages. Have you empathise love and laugh at the characters. And weep with them because you understand their pain. Have you put it down for a while because you want to think about the character's thoughts. Argue his ideology with your own. Map on how you feel about certain situations.

Very few writers can write up a character with emotional depth as deep as any living soul. They give a part of themselves to it. They become the character. They understand his every thought his feeling and action and reactions. They create a life out of nothing. The words start to breathe when you read with even half the passion that the book was written. You become part of another world. Somewhere deep in that world are problems and joys and sorrows and thoughts and dilemmas that have been your own at some base level. And then the book is yours and just about you.

Just finished reading Of Human Bondage by Saumerset Maugham. Needless to say it is one hell of a book. I loved every written word. Some books are just so great that make every word that you write after reading it seem garish, pretentious and worst of all mediocre. So I will say nothing more.

U2

U2 kick of their Vertigo tour today from SD. I had tickets to the show. The day after i got back from india earlier this year I went with Shy and M-Ben to stand and try my luck 7 am on a saturday morning. We managed to somehow get 3 tickets. Lucky draw for a number to stand in the queue and all notwithstanding. Many people think they are overrated, but I love them. I gave my ticket to Shruts. And today I am not going to see them. :-( :-( Just too much work. So much that I dont feel like going. But I want to say "I love you U2. I hope I get to see you guys play sometime else".

Here is one of my favourite U2 songs.

I STILL HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR

I have climbed highest mountain
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you

I have run, I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls
Only to be with you

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I have kissed honey lips
Felt the healing in her fingertips
It burned like fire
This burning desire

I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I believe in the Kingdom Come
Then all the colours will bleed into one
Bleed into one
But yes I'm still running

You broke the bonds and you
Loosed the chains
Carried the cross
Of my shame
Of my shame
You know I believe it

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

MOMS AND BOSSES ARE ALWAYS RIGHT !!!

I hate it. I hate it more when they make an argument that cannot be refuted if you posess even an iota of sense and then I have to swallow my pride and admit it. I hate it most when I dont listen, go and do my own thing and then go back and say sheepishly "You were right. It won't work this way. I totally missed the point." Why why why ??? !!! As my dearest collegue puts it " Its the little, we call experience".

DAMN !!!

Upside : I will be a Mom someday and a Boss someday and then I will be always right !!!!

Blue.

Ever seen the blue gray sky and found yourself filled with a strange sensation. I cant describe it. If you have felt it you would know it. Makes you feel "Blue". Not depressed nor sad, just "Blue". Its not the powder blue. Its the blue before it rains. Its the blue that has hues of silver. Its the blue that goes best with the chilly wind. Reminder that there is so much beyond your reach and comprehension. That your soul seeks to be free like the wind. It seeks to wander like the clouds. Like there would be a downpour and it would just wash away your physical being.

Anyway, here is a poem by Pablo Neruda

Poetry

And it was at that age...Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesmal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky.

Dignified Silence !

Its a commonly used phrase. He or she maintained a dignified silence. Now I think that sometimes they couldnt come up with something clever enough to snub back with so they maintain a "dignified silence". Classic clase of reverse snobbery. What is so dignified about silence after all ? Someone says something really mean about you and you refuse to add value to the comment by retorting ? Is it just that ? That you are trying to show that you dont give a damn by looking the other way ? If you really dont care, then maybe its okay. Or to argue it the other way, if you really dont care you can snap back and say a whole bunch of mean things yourself ! What if you care ? You are seething with rage within and you choose to maintain a dignified silence so that ............... ??? Just say it and be done ! You think the other person feels any remorse if you are silent ? Maybe you dont want to make things worse. So you decide to be the bigger person and hold your tongue and let it pass. Because its not worth your time getting into it. And how did it help. Did the other person ever realise ? You don't have to make anyone realise anything anyways so continue to not say anything. But what if you had said what you felt. What if you spat out all your venom. Then you start clean. You feel puragated.

I chose not to speak coz I didnt think you cared. You had made up your mind already and I didnt want you to change it. I was tired and worn out. I maintained a "dignified silence" because that was all the energy I had left for.

Someone asked me what I write about on my blog ? I wonder. I said though that it was about nothing in particular. But that did set me thinking for a bit. I browsed through my posts looking for an answer.
This little space sets me free. I empty random feelings on here. Vague emotions take shape and come into existence here. Its a projection of me that is often not visible to the naked eye. It is also the obvious. It is my conversations with nobody. And everybody is free to participate. Its everything that is, that I wish that was, a little bit of me, a lot of what could be me, a search, my great find, a mirror, a reflection, my sounding board, a peephole into my world and all that jazz !

Okay came across some of Vikram Seth's poems. A couple that I loved :

Exerpt from Golden Gate :

He goes home, seeking consolation
Among old Beatles and Pink Floyd -
But 'Girl' elicits mere frustration,
While 'Money' leaves him more annoyed.
Alas, he hungers less for money
Than for a fleeting Taste of Honey.
Murmuring, 'Money - it's a gas! ...
The lunatic is on the grass,'
He pours himself a beer. Desires
And reminiscenes intrude
Upon his unpropitious mood
Until he feels that he requires
A one-way Ticket to Ride - and soon -
Across the Dark Side of the Moon.

-------------------------------------------------------------
And this one is just for you :

Sit

Sit, drink your coffee here; your work can wait awhile.
You're twenty-six, and still have some life ahead.
No need for wit; just talk vacuities, and I'll
Reciprocate in kind, or laugh at you instead.

The world is too opaque, distressing and profound.
This twenty minutes' rendezvous will make my day:
To sit here in the sun, with grackles all around,
Staring with beady eyes, and you two feet away.

I loved a couple more. They make me sad. But will save them for another post, another day and another time when my heart is weary and I will read it over and over again till the words become mine !
Today I am happy. Last weekend was soo good. I did everything I feel good about. Hung out with people who made me feel even better. Spent a lot of time watching movies and reading. Laughed a lot. Work is good good too. La Vita E Bella !!!!

:-) :-)

Movie Mania

I wonder how critics watch movies ? To watch it to tear it down bit by bit and analyse the finer aspects must be a terrible job. Must take the joy out of watching the movie completely. Especially since you tend to watch it so objectively. Similarly for all art. Over the last couple of months saw Aviator, Finding Neverland, Sideways and last night Million Dollar baby. I am no movie critic. I am not even well acquainted with the art of movie making. So my opinions may count for nothing. But then it speaks of my sensibilities and me as a person. There is no doubt that all of these are very well made movies. There is no doubt that the actors just became the characters. But ask me to pick my favourite I'll pick Finding Neverland. It is brimming with innocence and I can't imagine anyone other than Johnny Depp playing JM Barrie. And Ill give my reason. It moved me more than any of the others and I am partial to innocence. PeterPan is a childhood friend of mine and I met the man who was peter man in that movie. There, I just threw objectivity straight out of the window. Now Aviator or Million Dollar Baby ?? :-) I think I'll go with Aviator, I dont know what about it , Leonardo and his psychotic character perhaps, gives it that little edge. Maybe coz there was no redemption for him and no justification. You wonder how people stand him and you still look at him with awe. But all the same since MDB is fresh in my mind from last night, I have to say, a few scenes hit you hard and just knock you out. Rarely are characters so well etched as Frankies. I love the way the movie's dark hues and the light fading in and out layering the story and the characters. This is as objective as I can get. Beyond this its personal taste. I may sound like a fool to those who understand this medium of expression better but in the end what does it matter.. ?

People often tend to follow popular opinion blindly. And are snobbish about it. Then there are people who love everything that is not popular and is a cultivated taste. And they are snobbish about it too. I refuse to follow either. At the cost of looking foolish, I refuse to feign or disguise my tastes. You cant really be objective about art. Unless you are a Robot !

Dance Dance

When I was in first std, Amma forced me to go to this dance lesson. I hated every minute of it. On my exam, they showed me a mudra and asked me to identify it, I thought the teacher was pointing towards the door and asking me to leave so I headed to the door when the teacher called me back and rephrased the question. Later on I started taking Kathak lessons. The highlight of those through school was going to the ISKON Temple every year during Gokulashtami to dance in the function there. Hawa hawai and Main se Mina se at school followed suit where I stood behind the main dancers trying hard to keep beat and not look like a fool in idiotic dresses.

It was always just a passing hobby among other things. Never a passion so to speak. Amma and Mami kept the spark alive somewhere buried in my subconscience though by dragging me to various dance programs with amma constantly pointing out "look at her feet", translating music etc. Years flew by and the only dancing I did was shake a leg at vague discotheques in a state of intoxication. Grad school changed a lot of things. Among trying to be someone I wanted to be , a friend and I put together a folk-like piece for the India nite. And then I met S who would order Learn Hip Hop in a month tapes to learn steps for the fun of it. We enrolled for hip hop lessons at school which he promptly quit after they showed a move which involved slapping of the butt. Step aerobics became the only form of workout i enjoyed because of room for improvisation and need to have a sense of rhythm.

I moved here and Salsa dancing became my refuge against the hostility a new place presents. Spent a considerable amount of time and energy and ofcourse money bringing myself to a level where I can walk into a club and not be ashamed of myself. Where I can look at the better ones and say, "Ah, lovely move" without feeling any hurt because i dont know if I can do it.. coz now I now with time I can too. :-) ! Sat eve was the perfect climax to a month of buildup. Every bit of practice was worth the time and effort. To everyone who made that dance so great, Thank you ! Am suffering now from withdrawal symptoms of not not having any practice to run to !!!

And it is always wonderful to see new faces and meet new people. It came like a breath of fresh air. I was almost starting to feel claustrophobic until I met this bunch. Seeing the same people every weekend and having the same conversations had gotten a tad tiring. have been feeling for a while that I need to get away from everything I know too well. B keeps telling me that. I have moved on , I need to move away as well perhaps. K - having dinner with you on sunday was great. I just fail to understand you though. You are right there and I cant reach out to you. Like you don't want to be known or touched at all. :-) Like me ! ?!????

For now La Vite E Bella !! :-) Salute !!!!

Scriverà più successivamente !! Arrivederci !


Hmm.. I started this post as something else and its become something else. Should tell you how randomly my thoughts are hopping right now !

Sound sleep.

I have slept through an earthquake, thunderstorm and now a fire-alarm that apparantly was ringing for a whole hour, I am told. You know but, what never fails t wake me up... The fone ringing. If the fone rings I will get up. Even if its a single ring. Is'nt that crazy !! Funnier still if I ever use an alarm clock, I always, always get up just before its about to ring. So I don't use alarm clocks. I just get up at whatever time. All I need to do is say it to myself before I sleep :-) !!

Yeah, I Like being this weird ! You gotta problem with that ??

Here is another one...

When We Two Parted

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow--
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shrudder comes o'er me--
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee so well--
Long, long I shall rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met--
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?--
With silence and tears.


-Lord Byron

...and now I am falling apart

My stomach has been hurting all day.
I fell doing step aerobics yesterday and sprained my good foot real bad. It still hurts.
I have a vague pre-flu-ish sore throat since a while.

I am grumpy and grouchy. I want my mommy !!!