In the mood....

It seems that I am in the mood...

Sometimes I really really hate movies. Mostly because they all end with everything 'working out'. It never seems like that in real life. My Summer of Love is proof. It's not that I am unhappy. I guess I'm just looking for familiarity. Movies are unfamiliar to reality. Good movies push those empathetic buttons. People should make more good movies.

A good movie is like a good friend. An even better friend is a good song. I remember as a seven year old, spending hours sitting in front of my dad's Technics amplifier, with his expensive Sony headphones plugged in, listening to Dr. Hook. It was my junior sanctum. Just sitting and listening to that CD over and over and over again. You know how if you listen to a CD enough times, you know what song comes after the one that's just finished. I sat with the little booklet that comes in the case, reading the lyrics and singing along in my head. It's amazing how lyrics of a song can stick in your head clearer than your most important memories. I guess good songs make memories too, just like good friends.

I love to complain about this era of music, and the dying radio that succumbs to big names, big money and big masses. I wonder if seven year old kids still get the chance to find their sanctum in this iPod age. Maybe it's a different kind of sanctum, however progressively unromantic it tends to become. I think that's why we love to hold on to the past. The past is always more romantic compared to this present. Like a transformation of soft, comforting silk into a tough plastic.

A little bit of color never hurt. An unreasonable whim, or a surprisingly soft spot for a love song. A secret love to write poems under candle light, or a song that you cant resist closing your eyes, getting on a table, and making orgasmic faces and vulgar gestures to.

So today's exercise girls and boys. Drown in cliche. Become that day dreaming fool that people make movies on. Walk around in naivety, and find romance.

Extreme Rant: End of a Beginning...

A lot has happened in this Summer of Love. I can say with a mild lucidity, that I did indeed fall in love. I went through the drama of it even though it may not have been apparent to me at the time. For now, my Summer of Love has been like a mud path, as many are, with a winding sort of direction, and pretty flowers on the way. And as always, I encourage naivety with your thoughts, for then we can forget about the more unimportant, yet necessary physicality at hand (as it were), and focus on the rest (however less impressive, and entertaining, and interesting, and in all, just plain boring) that might be. So for the lack of anything really of substance to show off about, or rather to bother writing about at all... read on.

So yes, The Summer of Love has brought me to a number of conclusions, let's call them the 'utter rubbish' findings, about well, people in general. The most interesting of them is that as individuals, we all choose our personalities. That sounds pretty obvious, I know, but what I found peculiar, is how often those personalities, or rather, portrayals, are almost always in one way or another, disconnected with who we really are. Maybe it is a wanting to become that personality that drives us to be the artist or the intellectual or the mystery or the lustrous, but how close to our bare nakedness is that true to?

Or maybe it works the other way and I've got it all wrong. Maybe you choose a personality to channel yourself to reality. Because otherwise you would be too bare and trivial to feed your existence. Hmm...

It happens though, in a haste of subconsciousness, that a tone or a look or a bunch of words leak out of your personality. It's like a moment of public nakedness, that you silently and shyly realized too. Like speaking before you've thought of what you're saying. And that reflexive glimpse is so harsh sometimes, that you might surprise yourself. But It is in that moment, that I can see you. That moment has made all our conversations and interactions worth while. Because that glimpse tells me the truth that is hidden...

**********

We all love beauty. We all want to be around beauty. We all want to be beautiful. And we will manipulate our ideals and our decisions to tailor that need. Beauty is comforting and exciting and unpredictable. It's almost like a drug that takes us away from the true reality of things. Beauty, even in the most obvious sense, is never real. Not this beauty. Not the beauty I was looking for in the Summer of Love.

There is a beauty though, that lies beyond our personalities. It is shameless. It is clueless. And it is naive. It is often mistaken for the sleeping, but I know now, that I need to be woken up.


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Earthed

It seems that I keep trying to find a reason not to write, and end up finding no reason to write. But either way, words are for free, and time is in abundance. So as they say, let's fuck... umm

This post was initially going to be about a lot of things. And then I realized that all it really was, was a string of YouTube videos. And sometimes it's funny how the most trivial things can sometimes express and reveal some of your most intricate feelings. Like a drunken thirty second sob in a friend's arms, or a shy glance from across the room.

And sometimes it's the other way around, when the most trivial things can spark epiphanies and symphonies within you. Like the warmth and smell of a hot cup of chai, or a Christmas card with a story of what could have been, that you come across while cleaning up your room.

When I think about it, everyone or everything that I make part of my life, is like a string of twine, tying me to someone or something else. A song or a drawing or a kiss or a bracelet, or even an ideal, a thought... they all act as strands of attraction, binding me to this life, and keeping me in this place. Keeping me earthed.

When I started this post, I wrote down that I would not spew out some spiritual bs rant rubbish that's pleasing to hear... so I think I should stop now before this get's ugly. Comment people!!! I want some TLC!!! Also, if you think this post has ended unjustly, here are some youtube videos that express what I was going to say anyway....

Masala! Mehndi! Masti!

I think it all started when I flew off my bike in a very action-movie-slow-motion-explosions-in-the-background-type setting. Well nobody was really around to see the flying... and the after-moment was like one of those extended "I banged my knee... ssssss aaaahhhh" scenes from Family Guy. Little did I know that that little adrenalin-injected moment would be the perfect kick-off to what would be a weekend filled with thrilling highs and anxious lows.

My first glimpse of what was to become MMM was a storage room filled with boxes. Boxes that seemed ordinary enough but were extraordinary in effect. The colors and pictures that had collected in those boxes, held memories that I suddenly longed to be in. If I could fill one of those boxes with these words, I will know that I mean something too. Those boxes gave us the river of color that the weekend sailed on, bobbing happily at the delight those colors brought to our eyes.

And then there were those oars, that sweated tirelessly to keep us all from drowning. Angels in 'MMM 10th Aniversary shirt' disguises, keeping a watch over everything and everyone. Some were rockstar angels too. Bald lawyering rockstar angels. Some were young and bored. But they all held their own, and together they held each other, arm in arm, like brothers and sisters. Their walkie-talkie crazed leader was like a knight in shining armor, leading his troops into a flower-flier war, all the while providing them with food coupons to keep their tummys' from grumbling. He had his generals, who were no less capable of being brave commanders, armed with comforting direction and good looks. I salute you all.

My Main Man always seemed to be around. He was 'Bob The Builder', disguised as long luscious Goldie Locks. And like all great men, he was making dreams a reality. He amplified a single voice to be heard by thousands, and he spot-lighted a single pair of feet to make waves under the feet of thousands more. He was the voice of words whispered. He had a team of men who spoke in code, making sure that they made everyone else around them seem idiotic at the least. And together, they gave the weekend its solid trusses.

The food was royal. The henna, the saris, the churis... the paintings, and the really cheap DVDs. They all ran under the watch of one Dada of Dadas. Like an architect, creating a civilization, he molded space and time into life. What a magician. Musicians in this kingdom,were provided so fitly, by the coolest man on set. A smile that never really faded, and a tranquility that matched his very sexy black Mercedes, this man always looked like he knew the answer to something.

There were a bunch of girls, I think I saw them frolicking around in the grass. They ran circles around egos and tended to the weekend like one would put together a million piece puzzle in two minutes. Armed with sticky notes, and Blackberrys, they put each piece in its proper place in space and time. They crushed crises and disorder with their twinkly heels, and managed to do it while looking sexy. Now there's some multitasking I could learn from.

There was no doubt though, that the hottest couple on site, were also the mum and dad of MMM. They were to be seen everywhere, especially at Maro, where they single-handedly got the party started. Dad walked around coolly with a camera in his hand at all times. He made sure that his baby was being seen by everyone, and that he had another album he could add to the collection. Mum was a statue of serenity and understanding. She was always there, asking people if they needed help, or giving out hugs if they didn't. She was so selfless, it was daunting, and somehow she gave me enough faith to believe that we are all good souls. I hope I can one day be a fraction of the person she is.

I have one tiny confession to make. I think I might have a puppy crush on you. I don't know why, but I feel kiddish and immature when you're around. Stumbling with words and not knowing where to look. Every time I saw you, you met me with that automatic grin, those wide bubbly eyes and a lingering thought written on the grooves on your forehead. I will always wonder what that thought could be. I owe you a parking pass. I'm sorry I didn't get it back....

To Abhishek and Jyoti, the only names that ring in anyone's ear at MMM. They didn't eat until everyone had eaten. They didn't sleep until everyone was tucked away. They broke clouds with their sunshine, and they brought a bottomless well of hope, faith, belief and whatever else you needed to steady yourself at that moment.

Abhishek has a heart so much bigger than his head, that it's starting to make his accountants a tad bit nervous. And just when you think that he will stop giving, he will have room for one more smile, or one more thought, or one more hug. He might not have time for two back to back sentences for you, but he will have time to drop you across town on the dawn of his biggest production ever. What a guy....

The only scene I can remember from the entire weekend of Jyoti is when she was trying to make those kids dance on stage. I don't think I've seen anyone smile like that before. If I could live off of your kisses and hugs, I would do MMM every weekend, every month, every year, all the time...

So as they say in the business.... WRAP UP!!!

Self Knowledge

And a man said, Speak to us of Self-Knowledge.

And he answered saying:

Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's knowledge.
You would know in words that which you have always known in thought.
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.

And it is well you should.
The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.
But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.
For self is a sea boundless and measureless.

Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path."
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.

- Kahlil Gibran