I should have written this in September: PART two

On september 22nd, we had six hours of theory classes. I always have problems waking up at 6:30 odd and getting ready for class. The good thing about this semester is that impossible subjects like Optical Fibre Communication and D.S.P have been assigned to visiting faculty. Frankly, we couldn't care less. Ironic in a way, since we're most likely going to get 'screwed' in these subjects. We convince them 'faculty' about why we're coming late to class and 9/10 times, they pretty much buy it.

'The Patriots' was scheduled for screening at 12 p.m. The name sounded kind-of enticing, so i decided i'd bunk the elective classes and head down to the cinema screening, only to realise that they were screening 'Decalog-1'. I had enjoyed kieslowski's work in Three colours Blue- especially the score and the excellent acting by Juliette Binoche. Decalog-1 is about the first commandment.

"I am the LORD your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, from the house of slavery. You shall have no other gods before Me..."

In this 50 min snippet, a University teacher trains his son in 'scientific methods'  he himself has verified and found to be foolproof, but fate decides otherwise. I've always been fascinated with the whole 'God' angle to Scientific reason, and how you can't be too sure about anything. Hope is a very dicey equation, and sometimes, God himself doesn't believe in miracles. The ending is truly magnificent, and all i kept saying was- 'shit, shit, shit'.

The next day was bleddy lab at 7.30, which i always hate attending. So i managed to sit through three hours, pretending to process information about SCR's and their associated nonsense.

'The cranes are flying' was screening in the noon. I loved this movie. It is so beautifully shot for a 1960's movie. I especially loved the shots of the two lovers chasing each other on the spiral staircase. 

  Spoiler:                                                            

The female lead- 'Veronica' (who has very sharp features:P) falls in love with 'Boris', only to then hear he's been shortlisted for the war. She doesn't get to say a proper goodbye to him. Boris' cousin Mark proposes his love to her, and they get married. However, she does not forget Boris, and a battle between her 'security' and betrayal ensues. The key element of this movie is a 'doll', and the importance of this is brought out in the end. I love the movie's title as it presents exactly that.

I was particularly annoyed with a few uninterested people sitting behind me. The incessant clutter of keypads of mobile phones, followed by a laser beam directed at the screen. It really pissed me off. Somewhere in between, one said to another- 'macha idu true louu' :P wtf. The kind of characters one meets at a cinema is rather intriguing.

On thursday morning, I went to college, but decided to bunk classes, so basically i wasted some fuel:P

It was a friend enigman's birthday. And also, we heard that the Noted carnatic singer 'Balamurali Krishna' was visiting a friends house. It was hard to believe that i'd be in his 'gracious presence'. But there we were, five of us, taking his 'ashirvada'. He was dressed very elegantly, a simple shirt and a simple kacche panche. He told us to study well. We didn't speak much, mainly because we were too stunned to see him face to face. We tried though.

I'll be frank in saying I haven't heard much of his work, but I do know a little bit abour 'Raga', 'Thala', and know what octaves the man can work. So it was a nice moment for me, considering the ashirvada part, and was already turning out to be a great day for my friend. ( we often tease the chap by calling him sangeeth vidwan. Do the math:P). After this, we headed to the much famed G.T.R, where we savoured some masala dosas with much verocity.

The great U.Srinivas was playing at Ganapati Sachidananda Ashrama at 10, so obviously we headed there:) We thought, to hell with it, and went way up front right in front of the stage and glued our asses. I swear i've never seen such speed in my life. Sometimes, his finger movements were invisible. He literally tamed and toyed with his instruments. He was accompanied by his brother- U rajesh, who i must say is also 'something else'. On of the Thyagara compositions, entharo i guess, I closed my eyes for a moment. I'd say i'll label what i heard as the purest sound. It was legend.... wait for it....dary:P. We spoke about this the entire day. In the night, we hit a dhaba to celebrate with customary 'tanni'. There, we drank to Balaguru, music, life and the day that never was:)

P:S- The next day, i watched ' Coffee and cigarettes', but that does deserve any mention?

I should have written this in september: PART 1

Mysore had a lot of activities in store during Dasara. I've been here nine years but still haven't convinced my ass to check out the wrestling events that are held with much grandeur. Nor have i paid any visits to the karnatic music sessions usually held in the famed Mysore Palace which is now, the second most visited monument/structure in India, after the Taj Mahal.


Anyway, this time, Dasara was to be held in the third week of September, with much hype provided by the media, as this was the first time it was held with B.J.P at the helm of things. I'd read somewhere that the Mysore Film society was having something called the 'Mysore Film festival' and they were slated to play around 20 movies of various genres from 19th-26th. I decided that college was not a 'suitable' sanctuary for the entire week, as Cinema always holds a higher ground for me:)

I missed Kim Ki Duk's Spring Summer Fall Winter... Spring as i didn't realise it was playing on saturday, the 19th. Ki Duk has sort of a cult status in World Cinema, and he's a fantastic Director. I downloaded the movie on torrent, and watched it the following week. It's about a Buddhist monk and the lessons he learns as he passes through the seasons of his life. Very good imagery and attention to detail is prominent. A must watch.

The weekend brought with it the usual mundane activities. Monday morning blues coupled with the fact that 'Wild Strawberries' was playing meant that i was sure to bunk class.
Not many can sit through a Bergman movie without flinching in their seats, but those who can, will realise that Bergman defines the epitome of cinema. His signature move is a close-in on a face painted with emotions.

Wild Strawberries is like a jigsaw puzzle. With each viewing, one is sure to garner different meanings about life's situations. With all Bergman movies (at least the ones i've seen), it's as if each human emotion is a piece of string, neatly interwoven and presented to the viewer in all Complexity possible. I guess that's the best way to describe Bergman's style. Each viewing presents a new layer. The base layer is the base story- An ageing professor feels that his life was useless, and he's forced to come to terms with his emptiness, confront the demons of his past, and find solace in 'something'. The movie really is, about this 'something'.

Towards the end,the music is very soothing. The last shot is the customary close-up:). Perhaps this is the reason the word 'Bergmanesque' was coined. A fitting tribute This movie is best watched alone.

'In the mood for love' was playing next, and i decided not to watch it. The reason being- A first time Bergman fellow with me. Do the math:P. I missed a Kurasawa movie- Throne of blood due to a heavy lunch and i spent the rest of the day at home. In the evenings, I used to pay visits to 'Yuva Dasara', which was happening at the nearby Maharaja grounds. The sound system this time was bad, and the atmosphere was mostly marred by incessant rains, which made the soil all mucky. However, S.P Balasubramanium, Raghu Dixit, Shreya Goshal and a few others still came and sang stuff.

Star of Mysore had an article that read- Goshal enthralls mysore. This gave a whole new meaning to the word 'enthrall', considering that the sound was really bad and her voice was dismal, or so i thought. A friend and myself started comparing the crowd there to the one present for the Iron Maiden concerts we attended in March '07 and feb '09. (the only actual 'concerts' i'd ever been to). Yes, we were that jobless. To top it all, we were scanning the Horizon for so called chicks. I figure the rains kept them at home itself:)

P:S- A lot more happened that week, and i shall dwell about it in the next post.

class trip, part 2:)

Before i proceed with my ramblings on the Mallali falls part of the trip, I'd like to mention a little joke our class guys shared before boarding ze bus. We had decided that the best we could do with the leftovers from food was to feed them to the dogs there:). We then observed how them scavengers savagely gulped down curd rice, with absolutely no regard for table manners.
Someone decided that the pickle shouldn't go to waste, so we left it in the open and joked about how the dogs would have loose stools for months:).
It was a good laugh, and even now, remembering that incident always brings a smile to my face. So much so that, i even do so in the most boring of classes, when i'm not playing bingo, staring at my watch or pretending to listen.
It was almost around 4 odd when we left the pushpagiri base. Just about 3km to Mallali, but we managed to reach only by 4.45, the reason for which is-

1) Our very experienced driver-bhai-saab, whose driving skills were almost obsolete in every sense.
2) The roads, which were mighty fine in that there was hardly a road:)
3) The 'placing a stone behind the rear wheel' method, which i've mentioned in the previous post. 4) He tried convincing us that the brake doesn't work if he doesn't drive in first gear on a down slope.

We stopped the bus about 3 km from the falls, at the only 'homely' home in the vicinity. A coorgi uncle told us that it was hardly a 2km trek. But one thing i've learnt in these places is that
'x' km= '2x' km:)
The trek was through some dense forest. The trail was clearly marked, very wide, mainly because of incessant usage by four wheel drives (who am i kidding). A while into our descent, there were two paths diverged in the green woods. Adhip and myself did not take the one less travelled by, and that did make all the difference:P. However, the others somehow managed to do so, and didn't realise they did for quite a while. (more on this later)
We could now hear the water roaring. I didn't have any expectations from these falls. It's not very well known, it's very remote, and hard to reach. However, I must say that it's quite a sight.









I've seen the Niagara up close in all its glory. But everytime I close my eyes and try conjuring up a vivid Image, my memory fails me. This is not the case with Mallali. It's sight is so mystical, with mountains in the background, Steep rock faces, Mist cover, The tree cover, and the clouds floating just above. An absolute beauty. In a way, the remoteness of this place actually makes it more mystical. Marvellous place to visit. A must.It's really a shame it's not promoted that well. But then again, isn't Niagara all about hype? I definitely think so. I regret us not having gone there in the morning itself.
It was getting dark, Nearly around 5:30 when we got a view of Mallali. It really doesn't seem like a 62 m drop! Bite me. I wanted to take in every moment. It was almost as though I didn't know where to look, at the roaring water, or the clouds above, the mist floating across, slowly covering the falls in a blanket, as if to say- You don't deserve to watch:)

A farmer nearby said that no one had crossed his path apart from the few of us. This was worrying. About twenty from our class had apparently gone the wrong way. (the detour at the beginning). Another very adventurous fellow decided to go descend further down, by making his own paths and inviting his own doom. I'm sure i'm speaking for everybody when i say that we were more tensed than we'd be during exams.
Meanwhile, Bus-driver-macha cantered along from the distance and told us that the Bus was stuck in slosh. The rear wheel was giving us heat. So, only one word now being processed by us.
HOGE.

About five of us struggled uphill towards the bus, and to our horror, considered coming to terms with the impending doom, and make alternate arrangements.
Around seven odd, the girls were back from their other 'trip', they did get to see the falls!( good for em). So a burden off our shoulders. But we kept wondering about the whereabouts of adventurous fellow. (Not using his name).
To our relief, he was back! And soon he found himself at the receiving end of some serious wrath,that went something like this-
#@^@HOGE@#$^@FUCK#%R@^@! THNK@# @@#$!!!!!!

Our bus was going nowhere. Nature had decided to fuck with us:). Our bus driver had a few ideas which he failed to implement. Now i was prepared for the worst. It was pitch dark, so Adarsh and myself decided to walk the girls back to that 'homely' home, and arrange for a tow truck or tractor. Adrenalin was pumping hard. We tried to act all Manly and fearless, but in reality, we were peeing in our pants!
But to our relief, the other ec boys managed to use some logic with inertia and momentum and the bus was released. So on we hopped onto the bus, joking about our little mis-adventure and how easily it could've screwed us up. We finally reached mysore by around eleven, and I soon realised that the comfort of sleep is more joyful than 'beauty' in any form:)

Conclusions and lessons learnt-
1) Life's a bitch sometimes
2) Life is fun sometimes.
3) Don't fuck with nature, it'll fuck you harder.
4) You give the term 'beauty' many meanings, and derive many meanings, but when you're actually encapsulated in something so real and fresh, you take in every moment. That's because you know 'beauty' when you see it
5) some memories are meant to be preserved forever, whilst some aren't:)
6) You try drawing a line between reality and frugality.
7) Paisa Vasool. 275 RS/- per head. Including 400 extra that we ended up paying driver for exorbitant diesel usage.
8) Laughter is contagious:)
9) Stray dogs copulate like rats! Someone please introduce contraceptives:P
10) The western ghats are out of this world.

P:S- Blogger's been acting like a bitch, so this post is still incomplete. Next post- missing parts.

If God plays a fender Strat, would he not sound like David Gilmour?

Then and now

THEN

Get to bed at 8 sharp. Put that white religious powder on your forehead, in order to keep them scary monsters away. Next morning, mom is helping you brush your teeth, she then lovingly tells you to drink milk. Spill the milk because you're still sleepy and you just dreamt that you already finished milk, had a bath and was ready for school. Say 'I love you' to your mom, Kiss her goodbye and hop on the van to school. Ah, you love school. It's not simple, yet it's not complicated. Play bull-run with everyone in the break. Make friends. Keep them.
Back in class,where your teacher is your friend. You respect him. You adore him. Home work.
You say oh why, yet you never fail to complete it. Waiting, loitering. Waiting for the darn bell to ring. Race your friends to the van. Eat ice-cream. Eat junk. Sing songs. Play games.
Ride your bicycles in circles. Make imaginary friends. Have friends who are girls. Converse with them with no awkward silences. Watch cartoon network. Wonder why your parents read the newspaper.
Be perplexed at the sight of skyscrapers and shopping "malls". Have no idea what "science" really is, and what it has done for mankind. Not even care. Stare at the night sky in awe. Not knowing that the ozone layer is a farce. Not caring for sun tan and harmful U.V rays. Not knowing our future, not even caring to know.
Live life like there's no tomorrow...

NOW

Sleep only when you're relaxed. Perpetually dream, both literally and figuratively. Pray to God in times of trouble. Question his existence in the most iffy situations. Read about ghosts, black magic, yin-yang, war and peace. Look at a matter from multiple angles, even when the answer is right there! Marvel at the creation of the universe. How we evolved from those crazy little chimps. Why are we so "complex"?.
Make your own milk, Set your own alarm on. You miss class? Deal with it. Sure, you love your mom. You just don't tell her anymore. Some things needn't be said. Seeing things is different from believing things. Did we ever have this angle when we were kids. Make new friends. Lose touch with old ones. Bitch about people because it's the new norm. Don't have friends who are girls, for they contribute to awkward silences:) Live in this mtv generation cliche. Always wonder why. Always condemn what the heart has to say. Reminisce about the past, but deal with the complicated future.
Life life for there is a tomorrow...

Deal with it. Life is a lesson. You learn it when you are through.

smoking aces

This was way back. I'd say like 10 years back. It was summer(or winter or spring, doesn't really matter). It was late in the afternoon (Maybe six odd, getting a tad dark, a cool breeze, doesn't really matter). Maybe it was the weather.
That cool tropical breeze that never fails to relax you. The kind of evening you never won't to forget (doesn't really matter). We were a bunch of no nonsense kids, doing our thing. Our mothers were enjoying their evening walk. We were enjoying our evening talk:). Okay here's the thing.
That evening was probably the most memorable evening of my priceless life till date. Memorable for only one reason. But highly uneventful. For on that day, i decided that i was never going to smoke ever. There was absolutely nothing that convinced me though. Me friend and me were just chatting away, we were munching on those chocolate rolls that are shaped like cigars.
So then He asks me, Are you going to smoke cigarettes in the future? All I said was no. I made a mental note of this. So very insignificant. Yet so very strong. It was something to do with the wind i'm dead sure. The calming effect it had on me. The only factor of the evening perhaps. I didn't know back then, that i would be so loyal to my otherwise doomed mind. Ten years on, and i haven't even been tempted to puff even once...Ten years from now, i'm sure that doomed cigarette will still elude me. Smoking is injurious to health. Its written on the frigging box. Yet people don't understand. It was the wind, i'm sure it was. The kind of tropical wind that restores a sense of nonchalance.

Ironed by Maiden:)

The date was 15th feb,2009. The place Bangalore.The day was surely not a Sunday, it was Iron Maiden day. The time was 20:00 hours I.S.T. But lets not get started there. The day started with loads of anticipation, expectations and forethought. And i must say that, by the end of it, I felt a sense of pride, and unfathomable joy.
The previous night was spent mostly staring at the ceiling. Sleep was minimal. Maiden Maiden Maiden were the only words being processed by my otherwise doomed mind. Three hours of sleep, followed by three hours of travel to reach the venue. But nope, i wasn't third time lucky. I missed the last time they played, in Mumbai. 17th march was special, it was everything i could ask for, but there was no reason in hell i was going to miss this. The prospect of seeing Rime of the ancient mariner live was a good enough excuse to be as excited as i was. Three hours on the damn bus, a good breakfast in the famed C.T.R and then wham, we're at the venue. There was a pretty large hoarding of Ed force one, and well, this did trigger a few emotions. We were inside the venue by 2, not before some beer circulated in our bellies. That being said, we had some Vodka inside too. It hit me pretty bad. Now the bands.
Frankly i didn't hear much. I didn't give a shit about them. I saw a few mosh pits, and wondered why.That's about it. Lauren Harris came, shook her ass and left. I could catch a glimpse of 'Arry at the sides, and "something" finally sunk in. The guitarist was gay. period. People started pushing, i hurt my leg, used a few curse words, and squeezed my way out.
It was fucking crazy. The crowd was impatient, and lauren and her so called band were at the receiving end of the crowd's version of "wrathchild". Her music didn't impress,but her ass sure did.Period.
I went back, got me some water and made it to tenth or so row by the time Parikrama started. I don't remember much from their set. The violin guy was fucking crazy. Half an hour and soon they were gone too. Shouts of maiden maiden filled the air. OH man it was killing me. The wait. 20:00 hours.
Finally doctor doctor starts playing, followed by Transylvania. I swear on God i couldn't hear Churchill's speech, for it was masked by the clutter from the crazy ass crowd. Aces high started on a high, and man was it crazy. Bruce was at his gracious best. Jumping around, swaying, moving his arms, and the emotion in his voice. Damn. They blazed away with the first three songs. Then Nicko hit the drums for the start of phantom of the opera. I won't go into the details. It was something else. It was better than all the great moments in my life till then. Respect man, respect. The first highlight of the night, one that will be etched onto my mind forever. I'm taking this with me to grave:)
The trooper was crazy. Crowd participation was good. People knew their music. I must mention the uncle ji next to me. He was just staring at the stage. No emotions. I wanted to kick this rat bastard poser in the nuts. But that feeling came and went, for Maiden soon hit the first notes of Wasted years. I must thank the guy who led me away from the mosh. Why Why Why mosh to maiden:O
I was waiting for Bruce to say- "This is what not to do when your bird shits on you". Rime is like the stairway to heaven of Maiden songs.The second highlight of the night. It was something else live. Its equal to Pink Floyd having a re-union of sorts and singing comfortably numb. 13 minutes of madness galore. What followed next were the classics. Dave nailed the solo in powerslave, Nicko hit them drums to signal the start of run to the hills. We sang Fear of the dark for Bruce, and he returned the favour with the unimaginable scream about one minute into the number of the beast. The Powerslave set looked decent, i could only see a 'not so clear' version in youtube. Harris held the bass line really steady. Adrian and Dave were at their nonchalant best. Janick -no comment. His usual self. Brilliant.
The backdrop changed for evil that men do and sanctuary, with Eddie and a starry sky behind him. Damn forgot to mention Eddie. He was damn big. BIG. The third highlight of the night was the high octaves Bruce hit on sanctuary. I've never heard anything so loud. I am a spiritual person, bordering on agnoism. But i sure did see the Gods. My night was incomplete though. To top it all up, dinner was a zinger meal at K.F.C. Divine intervention in all its sublimity.
A sublime night. A night that will hold lots of memories, for many a night.

P:S- One can sense the pride in Bruce's face when he's waving the union jack. If only we could feel an iota of pride with the Tricolour. If not for the tainted politics.

Norwegian Wood

Recently, i updated my Mohammad Rafi collection. I figured I'd play a few songs simply because i used to love this guy when i was a kid.(i could also argue that i didn't have a choice). Anyways here's what happened.

I looked at the names of a few. 'Chaudvi ka chand ho' sounded familiar. So i clicked play and as the first verses played out, i was a different person in the same body. My mind was transported into a parallel world. A world we fraternize with "nostalgia"..

The year was 2001, the summer holidays after school. This was my last visit to Indonesia, the country where i was born, the country that gave me a fabulous childhood, the country that was my home for 12 years. I remember yearning for a mac-burger as soon as we landed. I remember hugging my dad, and yeah, he did have a parcel from mac. These memories are vague. They seem so momentous and meaningful right now, yet i don't know why i don't remember whether my dad bought me a burger or some good old fashioned chicken. I don't remember whether i felt happy or sad. I don't remember the emotions that ran through my besieged adolescent mind, knowing that in few weeks time, I'll be leaving this country for India. Indonesia was home.
All this got me back to reality. For, i realised that something as insignificant as burnt grass may have richness and meaning.
I was sitting on the front seat of the vehicle that was taking the four of us home. As the song played out, I clearly remember seeing grass burning on my left side, beyond the service roads. On the right side, in the opposite lane, a car had met with an accident and a guy was on his cell phone. His expression was frantic.
I don't know why this is still etched onto my mind. I don't remember what i did on my tenth birthday or the day my grandparents died. Why do i give a horse's ass about some random guy or some burning grass??
As the song ended, i was brought back to my senses. Now i realise that sometimes, significance is insignificant, and vice versa. Maybe burnt grass does have significance. Maybe I'll meet the girl I'm to marry standing by the side of the road waiting for a lift, with burning grass behind her. Now does this classify as an insignificant event?:)
One thing is for sure- I'm home now. A home away from home. But the first home was all i wanted, simply because it could invoke such memories.

P:S- Maybe i should write a book titled-burnt grass just like Haruki did with Norwegian wood.

Being content

I've done quite a few things that I'm proud of. Yet, always, for me, happiness is something i keep deriving different meanings from. Hell i do feel good about myself sometimes, but nothing that i ever do gives me a kind of gratification that will keep me going for ever. (this is hard to put in words).
Yes i do have good memories from my past. My first PlayStation, and how i would never leave it's side. How I'd do absolutely anything to convince my dad to shell some cash for a new game. Or how I'd beg him to buy me a new board game for my birthday. And how much I'd yearn for the burger at Mc-Donalds ( i had the privilege of eating one every Friday back then:P) Then of course the stay overs. And how i would talk all night, play those silly kiddo games, scare ourselves to death with em ghost stories, have the liberty to get up late, skip those pain-staking sessions of omelet eating or oat-meal(yuck)(some i remember lasting an hour an a half:D), this of-course possible cause we threw some of it in the dustbin. How we'd ride our cycles in the evening, enjoying the cool breeze and sometimes the rain, whilst our mothers sat home and drank their teas in silence. And now, when i look back on how elated i was in the 'early days', a chilling thought dawns hard on me.... All this isn't a lasting experience. Happy experiences though they may be, and although I've been content with life sometimes, as one knows, the mind does wonder.....
My first PlayStation is at home, albeit covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs. The board games are too childish, it's just not fun anymore. A burger at mc-donalds is a rarity ( yearning i still do), stay overs we do have, although not as exciting as before. Some of my nights are spent wondering what this lesson on life really is about. Trying to define aptly the feeling of "being content" with myself, or what more should be done to come close to this...
I see lots of success around me, people who've done things that even the devil would be proud of.
I study this vtu course ( nil in the practicality department ) and often wonder where it's going to lead me. I know for sure it's not someplace I'll be "content". So then what am i doing this for?. It's that smile on my parents face when i tell them my result. ' amma result bantu-fcd and this smile with an acknowledgement'. So should i be content with myself now that i see that my parents are.? Is my being a millionaire going to be enough?.
Who's going to judge me and say- You've been a good person. You've done it all. Are these magical words contentment.
Bruce Dickinson of the iron maiden fame is a trained opera singer, a lovely writer, hell he flies planes, was selected for the British Olympic team, has his own show on BBC, and moreover has sold more than 80 million albums with maiden, has ownage when they play. Yet He says he isn't content. If all this isn't ravishing, then what is? what is?
Will the day ever come when i sit my grandchildren down for a chat and tell them---your old man did this---your old man did that, with them staring back in awe. Then I'll finally know for sure that i did what i was sent out to do. Only then will i have this solace that god can take me away. Do you agree?

P:S- How can i intimate all this to my most intimate friend.... The heart;)