when you care , it shows

We consume various forms of entertainment in our daily lives and if you’re like me, there’s always the desire to hunt out brilliance in movies/plays/music/visual arts etc. Movies play a pretty big role in my weekly fare (albeit commercial most of the time). I’d like to get more arty with my cinema but the access to such films is sparse to say the least. Anyways, I saw a couple of movies over this past fortnight and the reaction to them was different to say the least.

Eastern Promises: a brilliant account of the Russian mafia (based in London) and their relationship with an unfortunate midwife unveils a dark and highly intense series of events that had me and T (well me atleast) spell bound. The almost gritty shades of violence merge superbly with the fragile relationships that exist within a family that is angelic on the outside but clearly the very re-incarnation of societal degradation on the inside. Viggo delivers a phenomenal performance as the driver with a twist. The ending is heart wrenching and leaves one almost begging for more. Well done.

american gangster : the latest offering from ridley scott left MUCH to be desired. A story that held a tremendous deal of promise (for storytelling purposes) along with access to arguably 2 of the most brilliant actors of our time should have had cinema-goers on the edge of their seat. Instead, we got a loosely packed hum-drum effort with bits of violence, disconnected story telling and characters who you don’t fall in love with or hate with intensity as you might expect to with a theme of this sort. What pissed me off even more was that I saw the ceiling mic (used to capture dialogues) about 4 times during the course of the movie. Just goes to show the lack of care taken in the project. Denzel is powerful but that’s almost expected now. Crowe tried but failed miserably to get my sympathies or attention as the misdirected integrity-driven cop. His philandering nature was shoved in for effect and that led me to further irritation. What is terrible though is the fact that I was really really excited about this flick. The ingredients could not have been more perfect but the dish turned out to seriously disappoint. The saying is true: when you care it shows.

Discovered a new blues artist.. Got a mailer about the one tree festival happening in Mumbai randomly, saw that Robert cray was playing. Sent an email to the organizers whining about how they never bring greats up to the capital and saw that this guy was also performing. Curiosity forced me to check out his website and a couple of his songs. 1 day later I had both of his latest albums sitting prettily on my desktop and ipod along with a burnt mp3 cd for my car. Sloe gin is quite a brilliant piece, even if Mr. Seth doesn’t quite think so : ) How much I love the internet. How much I love you.

speaking of the internet, I got a few minutes of air time on ndtv’s x factor where we discussed the recent internet downtimes taking place in india and Egypt. Friends and foes as always had a good laugh about it but like I said “great way of killing an idle Thursday evening”..I also bumped into an old old friend along with a bunch of other acquaintances which is reason enough to swing by for an interview here and there…Niel ofcourse worked very quickly post the meeting and we spent Saturday chilling in the balcony of tabula to some half-decent music. Dj Hamza has skills although I think he could better. I wonder when I’m buying myself the mixer and console 'cos I honestly think I would love to mix a set once a fortnight. Another to-do that gets added to the list. DJ Chitgo in the horizon?

Mehr was in town as well last week along with her friends from LUMS and beyond. Despite an insanely hectic week, I knew I had to meet these guys for multiple reasons. A quick round of drinks at TGIF followed by a last-minute trip to a club that turned out to be fairly shady was to be the series of events for the evening…they enjoyed themselves and the messages received on their return brought a smile to my face.
The wall read

“hey! just got back home safely.
its been a great trip to India, although I do wish we had more time!
Thanks for everything Dhruv! All my friends are in love with u : ):)”

All the fatigue and coordination is so worth it.

T’s homeboy J was in town last week as well. A brilliant photographer, we took a killer trip down to chandini chowk to check out the sites and allow him a click-a-second opportunity of anything and everything that caught his fancy. Visit number 2 at the paranthe vale gali was enjoyable as we scarped down the deep fried delicacies, including a sinfully phenomenal rabri-parantha that had me and T feeling like bowling balls. Lots of walks into the by-lanes and exposure to sights and sounds that are otherwise alien to our everyday life. There’s so much out there, we sometimes forget just how lucky,unlucky or different our lives are. Me and T spoke of the day and how the evening would be spent at a swanky night club. Beautiful people and their beautiful smiles…some fake, some real- but certainly removed, for those few hours, from reality. Who’s to define reality though? Who? Lots of conversations on life, relationships and more for T; difference being that they weren’t with me and it was interesting to see her tackle the situation in a manner that was unlike her normal approach. What is stunning though is J’s brilliance at his art. I call it art because anyone who can take pictures like the one below (look carefully to understand the talent) inspires , nay demands respect. Thanks man- I’m sure we’ll be walking through a gallery displaying your work sooner then later.

Conversations of immense importance have taken precedence this last week. They will lead to decisions and these decisions will lead to consequences and journeys. I’ve always sought out new journeys and for the first time I wonder if I’ve got the legs to carry me. Time will tell. Insecurities of a certain nature crop up from time to time. Will it work? Will it happen? Will it continue as it has been? Will things change? They plague the mind…and I, like any other superhero- grin and bear it. The manner of release surprises me though. There are miles to go before there is complete and total control. the modern day meditation is dogged determination, there can be no greater concentration then a focused effort.

Kanu and Adi get married this weekend. I rejoice in their union through my presence, smiles, hugs and recollection of stories from our shared experiences. I realize that it’s a new phase. I realize a lot.

A lot of excellent elements to the routine have been ignored this past month. The sustained period at home with the creators has been a vacation of many sorts. The phenomenon returns within the next fortnight and the search for a new abode shall begin with gusto. I look forward to it. Health needs to take priority once again and the ability/time to work it all out of the system has been sorely missed. The weather changes ever so slowly and the day is not far when we speak of manic heat waves and sun-burn. I learn of a good friends’ return to the city, I learn of a friend’s disgust with her job. I celebrate the former and I try and look for solutions for the latter. Sometimes I think I should stop looking for solutions. It’s caused a bit of heart burn in the past, but as I told T..’noone I know has benefited from taking the passionate and loving side of a friend for granted”. I’ve left many by the wayside in the past…with no chance for their return. It still hurts- just a little bit though. Are expectations too high? I don’t even know what that means. Equality and balance is the secret. If I don’t feel it, I know my objectivity promises me that it doesn’t exist.

The fingers fly
The pictures form
The belief rings true
The future is you.
Don’t question
Don’t judge
Don’t wonder
I’ll live it my way
And like no other.

Good night. This has been cathartic.

is this the greatest song of all time?

this is devotion, this is indescribable, desperate..a complete offering. I heard Rocket house repeatedly in times of endless soul searching and reflection last year. Times are different now, but the whirlwind still surrounds - tempting my efforts to pacify. It's works of art like these that are my armory.

Thank you Chris for having added so much to my life. I wonder which divinity it was that inspired you into writing this. I would have asked her to have mercy on you, on me...
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The horizon pales
when she hits the ground
sirens and scaffolds
all coming down
under the weight of heaven
if only devotion
could rise on a word
then you could stumble
never be hurt
you could let go

Breaking your fall
Breaking your fall

The pilots of pleasure
your weatherman
never could push you
far as I can
they just let you fall
while buildings and bridges
just crash and burn
it's only a cloudbank
bursting in turn
they were made to come down

Breaking your fall
Breaking your fall

Fault lines and failures
angels and all
follow her footholds
breaking her fall
it's alchemical

Chris Whitley - Breaking your fall
from the album Hotel Vast Horizon.

a friendly reminder

Hey dhruv
This is just
A friendly reminder
That I’m watching..

Ensuring
you never forget
the results of your mercurial temper
the maudlin outcomes
of your destructive heart
that ruthless atelier

A friendly reminder
that it won’t always be perfect
you won’t get there that easily
you won’t ride smooth
it won’t be all that breezy.

A friendly reminder
that she will hurt you
for your not god’s gift
as you claim to be
you will propitiate
for your actions
supposedly supernal.

For you too
shall indurate
love demands
proportions that
commensurate
your bellicose afflictions.

Just remember,
I’m always here…
by your side

take a picture...

It was one of those nights. Tossing and turning, I found it difficult to achieve the blissful feeling one gets a few minutes before venturing into a deep and long slumber. Maybe it was the irritating pain in my legs from the lack of a proper warm up before the basketball game. Maybe it was the clash of thoughts and worlds that my mind often flitters in and out of. They come from having seen a lot of different people in a lot of different situations. Maybe I just wasn’t sleepy enough.

Grumble out of bed. Lights on, I sit and stare into the nothingness of the ceiling of my room. Look at my desk and think of how I should clean up the damn thing at some point. Open the sliding cabinet containing all the papers from my dad’s meticulously arranged bills, investments and strategic financial planning. Smile to myself at the sight of my college graduation mark sheets. With a good friend now in Vikhroli, I refresh the memory of the nervous phone call made to a class mate from Bombay inquiring fearfully of my 3rd year results. “Dhruv, I don’t know the exact number but your average is coming to a mid second division”. What sheer and utter excitement. I hadn’t studied anywhere near as much as I could have, should have. Irrespective, my way with words in subject matter that allowed for grandiose explanations and name-dropped theories saw to it that I pulled through. I recall with happiness the relief in the creator's voice in hearing of the result.

So you see, this is why I can't find it within myself to provide motivation and drive to you during times of academic duress. My academic duress was limited purely to all-nighters before the damn paper, cramming in every possible word in the most selective of studying possible. It was like a damn game of russian roulette every single time. Anyways, I also think I don't give myself enough credit in that regard. Doesn't matter because I give myself a hell a lot of credit for everything else.. HA HA.

I start shifting through some of my old books. From Gerald Durrell to a series of yellowed Jeffrey Archer's. There's also my old Asterix collection. Darn I loved those. I could read and guffaw my way through half a dozen even today.

My fingers feel something soft, a picture. Delicately and carefully (as delicate and carefully one can be at half past midnight in a dimly lighted room) I remove the objects from their hiding place. Its in fact a series of pictures; with a couple of cards thrown in. I go through them and read some of the words.

Instantly, a sea of memories and vague recollections of intense conversations overtake me. Some had scribbled and angled scripts, others large and loud fonts categorizing their efforts to emote on paper. I think to myself 'some more additions to the memory box'

Introducing, the memory box.

A shoe box once belonging to a fine leather brown pair I picked up in Bern, now containing footprints (how ironic) and words of the past 4 years and beyond. Past relationships, conference sugar cubes, short-lived liasons, leather bound diaries and more. I take the shoe box down and peer inside. It's already packed quite near to the top. I realize as I go through (only cursorily) the contents, ' there's a lot of writing in here, not a single picture'

Not a single picture Not one.

'A picture speaks a thousand words'. Bullshit.

Words speak a thousand pictures. Every card, every tiny piece of paper, every book with an inscription brings me back to a time, place and memory that now has an era attached to it. The present streams on in infinity till it too gets bounded by words once written, and thoughts once shared.

A picture plays a small, momentary and futile part.

Hey, we are celebrating...so lets take a picture! Say cheese.."snap snap"...ohhh that's gorgeous, you guys photograph so well!

That's it, captured in time, for a supposed eternity.

Show me a picture from our arguments, from the time I saw 200 people cry, argue and emote in a room with me. Show me a picture of you waitng at the airport to pick me up, or the time I sat down to tell you I didn't love you anymore.

Show me those pictures. What? don't have any?
Too bad. I have them in words.
(I know this is hilarious coming from a guy who loves taking pictures...

Which is why, I at times, fear those words. In that box there are 'what ifs and if nots'. In that box there are speculations and heartfelt expressions of devotion and passion. In that box there is blood, sweat and tears shed to achieve where I am today. I'm not always ready to face them.

Bring on the pictures. The snapshots are of the finale. The finito. They captured my success, my happiness. I collect my past in a 2x2 box that breaths softly from the wisdom it contains.

The pictures are displayed proudly across my room. I don't need a box for those.

once

For you were once
insecure
yet I scoffed
ridiculed
cajoled
threatened even
for you were once
insecure.

You heard me say
i've had enough
and your eyes welled up
with tears
with fears
unmapped
by your inexperienced
heart.
for you were once
insecure.

How cruel was i
to take advantage
of the innocence
in your touch
in the way your tiny hands
clutched
curled their way
around my arms.
I slept soundlessly
as you wept
siently.
For you were once
insecure.

Time slashes
through bloody wrists
the result of
affections obviated
harshly,
for they were once
far too clingy.
and now
i faintly,
silently,
reminisce
of devotion
dedication
pure agonizing emotion
for i was once
secure.

today i know not
where you are
with whom you dwell
no longer needing
my sense, my voice, my being
by choice.
ofcourse
by choice.
i still remember those
dimpled smiles
those twinkling eyes
for you were once
secure.
---------------------------------------------

bad with words

repeatedly
the string of words
regurgitate at my feet
over and over
for no other pattern
exists.

you struggle to express
communicate
mention even
what it feels like
how much it affects you
but fail
and fall
dissapointingly short
of what we need to hear
what we need to hear.

For i am listening
every single day
hoping
assuming
that your actions
will not be
as disjointed
as sparce
a farce
as your words

I observe
I study
the double standard
you employ
and I pray
furiously
that you're not another
to suffer the loss
of losing me
forever.

...

parallel to once...

if there was ever a night when you felt you could sing the saddest song, this would be it. not because you feel you could do it justice, but because in split, piercing seconds, you feel the see-saw of your heart aching and your heart wrenching in unsympathetic waves.

it's true. at the end of the day, you've got to be able to count on yourself, because noone has your back. noone. good friends going through tremendous turmoil in their life would understand this. i respect you my friend. if you're reading this, know that i respect you.