Tuesday, August 17, 2010
When I'm with you, I feel what you say, I say nothing at all
When I'm with you, I want to remember, I want to forget
When I'm with you, I want to surrender myself, I want to be free
When I'm with you, I reveal myself, I hide their true lies
When I'm with you, you understand, they interpret
When I'm with you, everything's clear, reality is blurred
When I'm with you, I rise in love, I fall from grace.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
You know how, in movies and music videos, cab drivers are always friendly? Well, that’s what’s on my mind right now. In the video of Dido’s song ‘Let’s do the things we normally do’ the cab driver in question is a woman (ka-ching!) and not just any woman but Shahana Goswami (once again, ka-ching!). She happens to be a witness to the lives of all her passengers. When one of them gets a call confirming a job that he had applied for, Miss Goswami joins him in a little jig of joy on the beach. In another instance of cab-driver-friendliness she leads an old woman into a coffee shop whose trail is littered with memories.
In the movie ‘Bong Connection’ Parambrata Chatterjee – the latest Sector V employee to be shipped off to ‘Aamerika’ – befriends a Bangladeshi cab driver who, despite being an illegal immigrant, gets to sleep with a bevy of gorgeous women. His story is supposed to be heart-breaking…He’s always on the run from the cops and all he really wants to do is earn a living ‘honestly’ so that he can go back to Bangladesh and see his daughter again.
But in real life cab drivers aren’t anything like that. They never tell you that life is a loom. They only play stupid bilingual Punjabi-English rap numbers when you’re desperately unhappy, dying to get home and take a hot shower and craving for some time to be alone with your thoughts on the way. It just breaks my heart.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
I don’t want to weep.
Just tell me of passionate strangers who rescue each other from a lifetime of cares.” - Joan Baez
They met like any two strangers. She decided to close her eyes on the world that she used to live in. They built an alternate reality together. She found reasons to smile about. It wasn’t love. It was the satisfaction you feel in knowing that someone will be there to bear witness to your life, laugh at your jokes, make you dream.
Then he moved away. He lives alone in a forest now. He misses her. She lives in a world where, everyday, someone wants to serve her oblivion on a sugar cube. She misses him. She knows that life is beautiful – as beautiful as teardrops on a pillow in the light of the moon. She still laughs. Lately she’s been restless. She’s been muffling the screams that almost escape her lips when she lets her guard down.
A month more must they keep the matchstick alight. A month more. And then they can bathe together under a waterfall as if they’re free. Then can she be who he wants her to be again.
Oh, Time! Listen to the silence. Let not the west wind rise yet.
Friday, March 19, 2010
After her friend Janet’s funeral, while she and John were driving back home, she got restless and panicky and threw herself out of their car. John immediately got off to look for her and ended up falling as well. While rolling about in the dirt, he bumped into a heap on the ground which turned out to be Iris. Iris then laboriously said, “I...love…you”.It made me laugh.It made me cry.And that’s what makes a scene truly powerful.
Iris wasn’t your conventional novelist-and-philosopher. She was openly bisexual. She believed in free love. She was fiercely independent. She didn’t care what people said. In one particular scene, John woke up in the middle of the night and asked iris who she was with then. He claimed to hate her. Iris just touched him lightly on his upper arm and he calmed down.
John always remained in awe of Iris (like the rest of the world) , even when she died a peaceful death with him at her side.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
I'm still pretending to know the answers to the questions that people ask.
Well, I'm only deceiving the flowers in the breeze.
I'm nobody's true north,
nobody's reason to change,
nobody's season to change.
I'm only the blind man's blackness,
the deaf man's silence,
the sick man's cancer.
And one day when I don't roll anymore
I'll reach that place no one knows how to find on their own
and I'll know how I gave forever to the ones I touched and kept.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Yesterday was everything it promised to be-
I saw you again accidentally.
You called out to me with that voice I once knew
And it brought back memories hidden from view,
From the farthest spaces of my mind-
All the thoughts I’d left behind.
I thought you’d always be there to catch me when I fall,
You’d always be there to answer my call
But when I wept for you that night in the dark
And I realized all of it was falling apart,
You closed yourself up like you always do
And I knew for sure I’d lost you.
You never touched me, I don’t know if you wanted to
But as to what it is you wanted, I hadn’t a clue.
You gave me so many subtle signs
But the truth is you failed to define
What you wanted me to be for you.
You weren’t perfect but I can’t blame you
I was too late; we both know it’s true.
You screamed out when I hurt you, but I turned a deaf ear
Now all that is past, it’s been about a year.
I still think of you suddenly in the middle of a crowd
And back to haunt me come all my doubts.
But I steady myself; I’m not as weak as they say
We’ll always have our memories; no one can take them away.
If we meet again, say, ten years from now
(I don’t know where that might happen or how)
I promise you this; once again we’ll find ourselves-
The way we used to be-on memory aisle’s dusty shelves.
We’ll make those moments special and they’ll get me through
The rest of my life without regretting my encounters with you.
P.S. You punctuate me!
Monday, February 8, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Awards do not make life worthwhile but I’d like to live a few years more to see how people react to my receiving this one. Crazy is each of us, amplified. I’ve been near my highest truth for as long as I can remember, only I haven’t known what that means. I would like to thank everyone who has handled my Veronica-isms over the years. I wouldn’t have, so the fact that you did means a lot to me. This is my chance to be heard and I’d like to say-don’t believe the truth and make the world a simpler place. Goodnight.
Monday, January 4, 2010
I just finished reading ‘The Catcher In The Rye’ by J.D.Salinger. I don’t see how it could have made anyone want to kill anyone else. Supposedly Lennon was assassinated by someone who read it and wanted to preserve Lennon’s innocence. I can’t, for the life of me, remember the name of the movie I saw that in. All I know is Philip Seymour Hoffman played the killer. He was fantastic in ‘Capote’ too. I really wanna call old Phil up and have a conversation with him. Somehow I’ve been trying hard to understand the inside workings of psychopaths’ minds since last February. I guess it’s just my way of trying to figure out what I have in common with them. They’re special. I wish I was too. I wanna read the lyrics of ‘Creep’ by Radiohead. It all makes sense now.
I can’t really identify with Holden Caulfield too much. I mean, I get the fact that he finds almost everything boring. But other than that, there’s not too much in common between us. I wouldn’t want to have a conversation with him. He wouldn’t wanna have one with me either, I’ll bet. Hell, he doesn’t even exist! But it’s nice to be naïve once in a while and think about non-existent stuff. Non-existent people too. Sugata Da, I miss you. Did you know that? I bet you think I’m lying. I wish I could have caught you when you jumped off the edge. I wish I could’ve been the catcher in the rye. I wish I’d known how to save a life. Those Monday night conversations keep coming back to me. And your five-word suicide note. It was so you. It’s been 13 months. I’m still angry. There may be just one good thing that came about because of your not taking me along-I got to read ‘The Catcher In The Rye’. It made me realize stuff. I don’t wanna say what. It’ll depress you. Anyway, it’s been nice talking to you after so long… One last question: Were you the one who made my head spin in bed last night?