So, I met a musician

Musicians are flamboyant people they say. Vibrant, classy, full of inertia, charming, crowd pullers, all in all an intimidating specie, if one could say. So, I met a musician today.
A small trek of 600mts and I was on the top of a small hill next to anjana beach. Boasting a cross which gleamed under the orange light of setting sun, peacocks which  jumped around like metro hookups, the geography was scenic to say the least and boats crossing the pathway of laid back sun rays, made it further suger coated.
At such a wealthy, yet an isolated place, you don't expect to hear the music exhaled by a saxophone, and here I did. One nervous peek and I saw a man in white lenin shirt and black shorts, sitting on the adjacent cliff, faithfully indulged in his own musical serenity. The man continued to play with no audience, no applause driven hands and no definite purpose, apparently. I chose to settle down on the next cliff, far from his site, yet close enough to flirt with his music. The sun did set in the same direction, with the same plight, but the music, the music just made it sleeker. The  moment stayed with  me, so in my camera, my instagram, my whatsapp but not the feeling , so much for technology.
The musician got up and walked off,  as darkness was almost knocking our door and that's when we made an eye contact. I was already having a fan boy moment by then, so I smiled and told him, how good a musician he was. He smiled back and believe you me, he must have been 45+, but that was the most good looking smile on a man I have ever seen. He said thank you in return, which probably should have been the least of my ode to him, for making this evening what it was, I thought.
My fan eyes shamelessly stared at him till his last glimpse as he walked down shaking his head as if he was dancing to some non-existent music. His right sleeve, hanging in air, kissing the breeze, flowing like a heart empty of inhibitions, while his left sleeve, occupied by his only hand, held his musical instrument.
Intimidated by his arena, I sat there, feeling lucky to be at that very moment, at the right time.
Inspirational, motivational, overwhelming, would be understating the encounter, magical probably would be the closest word.
To modify and quote from one of my favorite movies;

"Magic is all around us, all you need to do, is immerse"

(original quote) music is all around us, all you need to do, is listen. (August rush)

P. S; It's a small but gorgeous trek, the place has a white vintage cross, dark honest rocks, peacocks all around, and nice panaromic view of the entire landscape.

Colors Of Life

I took an empty canvas; I had the thought of painting something beautiful, something refreshing, something colorful. The constant honk of horns, the blazing fire of economy, the silent fears of failure and madness, madness of people, in people, to succeed, to defeat, to earn, to learn, to show off, to blow off whistles, it was everything that prompted me to take an empty canvas, a canvas where I can paint things, create my own world, create a colorful world, at least bare minimum, a black and white world and just not grey. I splashed colors on my white piece of paper, but nothing came upon, it remained colorless or in other words, sober. I tried paints, crayons, imaginations, definitions, everything, but nothing, absolutely nothing worked. In sheer accumulated anger I took out the ball pen from my pocket and scratched the entire paper and surprisingly it worked. I saw lines, blue, wide, bold lines. The paper responded, may be this pen was magical. I recalled from the faintest parts of my memory and I realized that it was a cheap, unsophisticated pen, which I didn't even intend to buy. The purchase was forced onto me by a kid who was selling pens on a traffic signal. To keep his assumed dirty hands off me, I bought the pen without any resentment, though I remember a smile, a little piece of smile decorated on his lips, on a 12 year old boy’s lips, who just made a sale, which might just feed his family and suddenly I realized why the pen worked. The canvas of life is actually full of colors we just choose to see through them. Colors born from passionate hearts, colors born from motivated souls, colors born from carefree smiles, colors born from innocent hearts, colors born from smiles of relief and so many more colors that we breathe rainbows every day. So just smile and open the windows of your heart, there might be a rainbow peaking in.

Young and Carefree

Sitting in balcony, sipping on his usual winter sun and keeping a track of every passing human being in order to not to miss a chance to greet the one he knows, unlike his friends who tend to tilt their heads down when they spot a known person just to bypass an extra second spent in conversations and bonding, which in fact really confuses him. A butterfly, colorful as rainbow and sparkling like a materialistic ruby catches the attention of his wandering eyes. Drawn to its beauty like a film star to his fame, he moves ahead forgetting the fact that he is barred by society, oh! Wait, by the grills of his balcony, attached to his house, located in his society, though still the same.

Anyways,  mesmerized by the little beauty, he runs out of the balcony, into the living room, the balcony door shuts back with loud noise, almost sounding like an explosion, an explosion of anticipation, mother shouts from inside, reacting to the large loud step. The boy nevertheless runs across the room, faintly tipping the glass table, grasping for breath, he unlocks the latch on door, the metal makes creepy sound, as the door opens and white light fills the entire room, light of eternity he thought in his head or he should have thought, but his mind was too occupied by anticipation that he virtually goes blank as he runs out, out of the house, out of the house situated in a society, marked by rules and orders, tradition and judgments, he runs, he runs to discover the lost visual of a tinny little beautiful butterfly, still so complex that it seems like a miracle. His head goes in left and so does in right, his mind goes in despair and heart goes in desire, his thoughts fluctuates between withdrawal and persistence, torn by the choice, his absent nervous system registers a blink of a movement on RIGHT side, it was the butterfly. He jumps in joy but as he lands his left knee hurts, his vision not so pristine and the power with which he cuts through the polluted air to reach as close as possible to the desirable creature seems like a faint sneeze. He notices that he actually aged while running behind his choice, his desire, and his adventure. But he is happy, he went against the rules, he was not bound by judgment or bruises, he ran like a wind, a free wind, he followed his heart like a child. It doesn't matter how old was he and what religion he followed, doesn't matter what day it was or which phone he owned, what matters, is his heart, his heart remained young and carefree.

“Hai guzarish itni tujhse, karun jab aankhein band mein,

Uss pal suraj ko thoda bhigo ke chamkana,

hawa ko befikra bahana,

fullon ko thoda aur rijhana,

lag jaye pata har jigre ko,

jaye na kabhi woh, jawan hai jo zamana”

Always Ass(istant)assinated Director

Why do you want to join films?

:Sir, since I was a child I wanted to make films, I have seen all your films, I am a big fan, I want to join you and one day under your guidance I want to tell a story hence make a film.

:First thing first, stop thinking about films, stop thinking that you can and you will make a film, you are just a kid, what 25-30 year old, na you can’t make a film, think of becoming a good assistant director, be my 23^rd assistant director, you will learn a lot.

This is what you hear when you first share your dream. Beginner’s luck they say and if this is luck, what would be the “un” part of it. Kindly stop reading here itself, if you have a weak heart or if you are below 5 years of age ( and damn these 5 year olds can actually ride phones, I already feel like fossil). This is not gonna be a fairy tale considering even if you lose your shoe or even if the watch hits the sweet pain removing, above 1 and half shift, 12 midnight, it will not end.

For the brave hearts from here on; they say you need to be a good assistant director to become a director one day. It is like training, you see, something which various governments across the world are considering to implement, to get the truth out of convicts. If and when you survive it, you can even be the president of this country, tackling bombs and blames every day.

Well it is true to a point, it is a ladder, which you gotta climb but the only problem is, this ladder is longer than the persona of bhai and tantrums of a newly married “lughai”( bride). The moment you believe you are getting close, somebody’s uncle’s nephew, director’s sister’s son, actress’s little brother, producer’s outdoor schedule and indoor schedule son, cameraman’s hi-bye sister and many such extremely talented people present themselves in your path, generating 2 packet cigarette smoking worth, healthy competition and you slog and slog it till your nose hair turns white.

Apart from little tiny hostile environment, there is one success mantra for becoming an amazing assistant director, which is, hold your breath as we are not going to mention talent but one single quality of accepting that you are NOT RIGHT. Yes you read it right but hey you are not right, you suggest something good which might even be accepted but wait you are not right, you arrange the entire scene, put everyone in place and suddenly director changes his/her mind and guess what, it’s your mistake, you off course Mr. are not right. You take the temper of producer, as actress is late, you take the temper of director, as producer is cranky, you take the temper of actress because hello she needs time for make up, you take the temper of associate producer, as shoot is not on time and wait, a shoot which you are not even heading, but guess what you gotta accept it, as my dear friend your bloody freaking hell not right. I wonder if Dhoni feels like an assistant director when Ishant doesn't make runs and Dhoni gets fired for it, oh wait! Ishant Sharma is a bowler, yeah! What is all that about.

And by chance if you finish your script, which some talent less people say, is good, you better not listen to them because the mighty Godly producer will rightly say, “first of all your script is crap, no item songs, no fight sequences, it has nothing, what are you making, a film or government’s five year plan and second of all, I see your resume and you have done good amount of assisting work but not directed any.”

Well sir did you produce before actually becoming a producer, did anyone direct without being a director, did cameraman shoot without a camera and did a child come alive without being born. Oh! Wait sorry, you are a MASALA FILM fan, how foolish of me to give you LOGIC sir. Utterly my fault, how can I forget, we are never right.

So if you are thinking of making a career in films, I am not gonna discourage you or either provide you illusions, but will surely tell you one thing, if you are here, imagine yourself sitting in a car, being driven in a Rohit Shetty film, it will jump and pounce every second but when it lands and how it lands, there will be applause, huge ear deafening applause.

No reason whatsoever

Today morning, the wind was blowing on its usual pace, messing with large fluid saree of my neighbor and prompting it to almost peak into my window. The sun was bang on its position, playing the usual sensuous hide and seek game with the dark clouds (it’s almost September, whats up with that ha!), moon was still trespassing from his last night’s instinct, I wonder if he gets overtime payments or he just had an eventful night and now trying to sneak out unsuccessfully unnoticed (I am using “he” because "chanda" mama is suppose to be male and apparently that’s the only rhyme I remember from my non-voting days, so why not flaunt it). These guys must really love what they do, the wind, the sun, the moon, the rain, the life, the death. These are those nerdy kids who are always bang on time, without any reason, without any perks, no lucrative offers, no alarm clocks.

I tend to wonder why do WE need reasons, reasons to work, reasons to be certified successful, reasons to get up, reasons to marry, reasons to live, reasons to be happy, reasons to be ashamed and forget all these “important “ things, in my country I even have to give reason to eat different cuisines. I am not allowed to eat egg today reason being its Tuesday, I cannot eat wheat it’s Monday and more so I cannot go out of the house in night, even just to take a walk under the beautiful night sky as they speak I have the “acche ghar ka ladka” tag ( guy belonging to a nice family)  and “acche ghar ka ladkas” don’t do that, I wonder if moon and stars doesn't belong to a nice family.

I am tired of giving reasons and more so I am bored of giving reasons. Let’s get one thing out of the way; we are “born to die”, nothing can change that, you may die of heart attack or an accident, you may die in sleep or while taking a poop, it really doesn't matter apart from the fact that the news paper ad carrying your death info will have a hard time printing, how you died while taking a poop, (shreeman/mati, chole bhature khane ke baad, shochalaye par dhavsta paye gaye, bhagwan unki aatma ko shanti de, gharwale iska zimmedar angrezi toilet ke galat prabhav ko mann rahe hai, yeh hamari sanskriti ke khilaf hai ), nobody will care if you died as an architect or an engineer, a waiter or a driver, a writer or a fashion designer , what really matters is that you are dead and in the same way what really matters is that you “LIVE”, how and what you do to live doesn't really matter.

Sun doesn’t give reason, wind doesn’t need reason, stars don’t require reason, happiness doesn't crave for reason, sorrow doesn’t munch on reason, adopting a child shouldn't require a reason, being gay doesn't need to marry a reason, following your heart shouldn't be a slave to any reason, being yourself is not about a reason. From now on I want to say and say it very proudly that I am an unreasonable man and I am proud of it.

“khud ko na de saza, khush ho le bewajah”

(don't punish yourself in any season, be happy without any reason)

Yes Ram Gopal Verma was right! (Darna Jaroori Hai)

The moment you are born, your life becomes a time bomb, you know the clock is ticking every time, racing towards the blast or so to speak in our case death (that might be a blast as well, at least for some people), forget when you are born, from the time you are conceived, you know that you gotta vacate this flat in 9 months, do whatever you can. So forget the rat race that we reserve for the “JAWani” of human beings, it starts right there when even our “jaws” are under construction.

Sometimes I feel fear is injected in our bones even before we become the brand ambassadors of huggies, ultimately we all know that we are born to die, some might say don’t fear the death, well but ask yourself, is that the only fear you live in? what about the fear of not scoring good, yes it’s a fear raised by society and their so called acceptance laws, what about fear of not getting a conventional job? What about the fear of choosing a non-conventional job and not succeeding in it? What about bringing home a spouse of your choice and your choice not being approved on popcorn grounds? What about driving in lane with all so called papers and still monsooning your pants after seeing a traffic cop? What about calmly taking a nap in afternoon and being fearful of not waking up at all?

No wonder during my off days I do have some huge amount of respect for Ram Gopal Verma, he was such a visionary to state the obvious, yes darna is jaroori, no please don’t count my emotions about the quality of the film, I am purely or bislerily(branding is important) referring to just the title. I had the same genre of conversation with one of my old branches in the family, their reasoning was yes life will end, but you are born to experience and live. Experience? What the sreesanth? (yeah I do have a hobby of discovering new and relevant slangs :P) experience what?, blasts, scams, rapes, religious hooplas or more tinier, family dramas, society pressures, career flavored suicides, under paid jobs, molesting taxes or to just become a sheer witness to a piece of paper, tattooed with some varied gentlemen depending on the country ruling the world. And dare you say I was meant to experience chirping of birds, breeze of love, freshness of dew drops, shadow of tree, comfort of water or any such travelling channel content type shit. I pay for the water I drink, I find love on internet sites, which again I am billed for and forget about me standing under the sun and enjoying, even my car cannot stand under the sun, they always give me a parking ticket when she does that.

I do know my arguments are all subjective and doesn’t have enough cheese in it, but the surface (problem) remains the same, create a bread in circular shape, it will always be called pizza (at least in India) doesn’t matter if it has cheese or not. I don’t know if the world was always like this or it has become like this, but I do know that death has become a better brand then living( I mean even in clothing, skull sells more than pigeons on tshirt), may be its time we change the trend, may be its time we celebrate the fear, may be its time we unhook our dreams and desires from the shadow of society and age, may be its time we celebrate life so much that death actually does become a set back and not just a pay slip from the insurance company.

"Darna jaroori hai, jarurat nahi"

Senorita Takes a Rain Check

Irrelevant to the title I will start by informing that I am really angry or more so frustrated and disappointing your expectations, no I will not give melodramatic hoopla about my failed love life or my dog’s not so usual greenish poo. My traumatic mind stage could be because of my broken leg and my not so fancy affair with the bed, but it hurts much more then my resting ass that the country I am resting my soul in, is so filthy in its functioning. Every time I have come up on a social medium for any sort of amusement as such (elaboration on that later), I left pregnant with rage and anger. I feel molested from the first thing I wake up to do to the last thing I do before sleeping (offcourse peeing).

I sweat off to work because I can’t put on a.c in my car considering increased fuel prices, sometimes even takes train only to get grabbed in wrong areas to pay taxes which are not used to built roads or more tracks but to provide home theatre facilities in parliament to screen various adult clips or to grab shirts in deciding who wins the corruption game. Again I don’t want to crib and all, considering I myself haven’t done much for the country but my self questioning trips involves question marks such as what if I was born in a normal country (normal can be debated), I probably would have a lifestyle of paying taxes, electing government and going to office, similarly a politician’s lifestyle would “ideally” include paying taxes, electing government and going to office (here office means taking care of country or so people). So was it a curse to be born in this country, because no matter what my heart still beats, weeps and beeps (censored) for this country.

Anyways diverting to more glamorous issues its monsoon time and what a wonderful time it is, flooding cities, people dying, dams over flowing, wet songs in bollywood and numerous diseases. Quite a vibrant and busy time of the year I must say. From wet desires to wet dreams to wet crops it involves all. Internet crashes much more then usual, electricity plays hide and seek, roads become more of a puzzle to be solved and cricket matches get washed away but still this heart pounds for a quick rain dance with some sizzling pakodis on the tunes of some long gone A.R.Rehman’s composition. If its your lucky day then some senorita might get out in this rain, on some surviving street with some raging courage (considering recent Noida based headlines) and by making some less smart decisions, can ask you to share your umbrella. So what the heck if it floods, if it kills, if it gets you ill, if it is filmy, it still is well worth to get out in this rain and who knows some senorita is just waiting for you take a rain check.

Meanwhile one urges all the power holding, khakee bearing senors and senoritas of various tehsils, districts, cities, states and country to get a rain check and probably burn some rightful 'coal' for providing warmth to the wet and shivering country,

 “kyunki senorita bade bade desho main, aisi choti choti baatein nahi hone chahiye”.