FICTIONAL INTERVIEW OF SATYAJIT RAY

https://weeklyscribbler.wordpress.com/2017/06/16/dead-celeb-interview-satyajit-ray/

How to be around people - Lessons in Stupidity

I've known myself to be a colossal bungler of conversations. It's not a newly-acquired skill or trying to be that much more relatable but it's just something essentially missing in my head. Common sense, is what my gut says, and I've never really doubted it. From being casually funny to being an in-house embarrassment, my personality is a combination of most features a clown might die to have. Last night, our boss's place, I dropped a measly tomato piece next to his carefully placed plant and a fork eerily close to someone's shoes. When you do these things, you must always ask yourself - do I belong here? Try and quietly move to the other room before someone even notices the lettuce at their feet. Or, when you happen to tell people what others have named them. Strike that. Don't do that. It's not welcome. Back in mid-2000s, people may not have noticed with too much smoke in the room, but now you're probably earning more than you should and someone's bound to call you out. Or put it on the social media, but you're not in U.S. and in India, half of us are busy taking selfies anyway. Yes, you don't do much of that too unless you know how to crop your colleagues from photobombing pics with "Wtf are these two up to?" looks. You also don't, may I emphasise, tell your colleague's girlfriend that he skipped work to bring her to the party or tell her that he made her sit next to you in case there was a food accident waiting to happen. You don't mess with people's relationships. You take it easy and take a rain check for office parties.

Meditation Day 1

Let me tell you something about pain. It is something one often finds at the end of series of wrong turns and moves. Once it makes that entry jab into your life, you're required to endure, fight and unlock a vast ocean of patience. Sometimes, pain can be a test of your ability to remain calm and sometimes, the ability to maneuver varied situations. It is also a disturbing reminder that you need to change.

Now, recognising the need for change itself is a painful task. It's arriving at an understanding that you've taken the wrong turn, you need to alter course. It means several things and the most important of those is that it means you're strong enough to make those necessary changes.

The Unprotected Life BY DONALD ANTRIM

http://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/the-unprotected-life

"I write because writing is the hardest work I’ve ever done. It is slow and painstaking and frustrating. I do not begin with an idea or a theme, and I don’t make outlines. I don’t have a plan for the ending or, usually, for the next page or the next line. Even short pieces might take shape over years. Everything that I have ever seen, done, or felt, had, shared, or lost, is in play, and the word of the day is, on most days, confusion."

let me conclude...


let me do this for you
for you would frown
as if it would spoil,
your emphatic progress
to new lives, meanings
a dirty ol' memory
must be hidden
must not be touched
concluded as it were
in memory alone
but since when did silence
and time together
weaken truths and bonds like these
for you, i'll wish the same as i did then
don't be ridiculous, and get some peace!

Writing

Is always a fun experience. The jostle for the right words, the inner tussle to get "it" right. There is always a sense of shrewd detachment when I'm writing. I am very intrigued by different styles of writing. But, being the lazy ass that I am, I haven't been reading that much these days. In fact, the last time I seriously read something was few pages from this book I'm currently reading on Indian national history. So, as I lumber on with my writing, there is little I am doing everyday. Nothing seems to be heading anywhere! The plot looks thin like some pathetic worn out tee, while the tone feels like I could puke if it were food.

The world seems to have slowed. Obviously. Okay, I am not humoring myself anymore with some blog entry, while the draft stays unattended to, right?

When I look at my room

What do you see when you look out the window? The world. What do you see when you look inside? Yourself. You see your clothes hanging loosely by the shelf, your books like a haphazard puzzle with Oscar Wilde, and Sparks touching odd ends. Then, you look a little closer, and you find tempted to find yourself in this maze. This maze that belongs to you, for you to uncover, for you to play with, for you to keep, and to lose.

The 'let go' moments are the hardest, when you are keeping things for a dismal day, to fondly look back and smile, you make a small mental note that in itself is a puzzle in the mind. Like a piece jutting out of your senses, the assorted memory breaks down into coinciding dates and time and weathers of your life gone, the impulsive moment hanging like an expensive scarf, or a broken heart peeping through a book.

What do you see when you look in the mirror? I see ghosts of the past, staring, leaving. I see transcendence and an odd pimple dotting that creased line, and you realise childhood is over. Vanity, is one of the traits we acquire like a territorial right on the body to remain as it is. I fail to see the youth sometimes, the mind's functioning so adept at spotting the unaesthetic parts of life that it is so difficult to remain where you are even while your body stays immobile. Then I see my life, how it is, and I move away.

I want to know what it is that drives us, what is it that keeps us, what is that breaks us and how we function in everyday lives as individuals trying to get that elusive piece of yourself. That, I find the most odd. The elusive piece of the self, petered out in the world in the form of humans, relations, brief heartbreaks, loves, and losses.

for those apples..

Entertaining randomness has never been more fun. Like today, I was struck by this thought, scrolling down to see Woody Allen's face that his quotes usually go well with his shrivelled, narrow face. Imagine the late David Shepherd and some of Allen's quotes attributed to him. What grossness! Anyway, I think sharp, witty quotes don't sit well on roundish facial features. You might just strike me off as a readable, believable blogger. I think long faces tend to carry a certain seriousness, and the round ones, some hidden comic relief.

We will discuss this, or I will state my case better when senses permit in better earthly hours.

The culture shock at My Bar - Pahargunj

To many, this might not seem new, with the whole parallel culture theme being explored before in the bylanes of Delhi. But, My Bar, this quintessential bar of multiple realities (ours included) is one of the many truths that a common Delhiite does not see elsewhere. For example, My Bar, located in the heart of Pahargunj market area, is a three-columned bar, boasts of the newest Bollywood numbers, with waiters donning T-shirts that say 'My' at the back. The bar, where you can sit, smoke, drink, lech, among other things, offers cheap liquor and food. One can spot students, pimps, well dressed wobbly middle aged men, tourists sitting in groups, and loners sitting with their books, is a whole new underworld right in the heart of the city. Apart from a little disquieting ambience, as outside, pimps and drunkards line the street, once inside, enjoy the cheap booze, as they say, and forget everything else.

How to spot malice

You need to have a trained gaze, to spot. This is merely an effort, so to speak, to spot a vibe headed your way, melancholic, slow, works its way through your mind, and leaves behind anger. How to spot malice, is perhaps one of those much awaited books for me this season while I continue to shed some skin. (interested ones contact me separately to know what shedding skin means)

I guess it's time to write. And, not by any mature reasoning, it's just my poker-faced last ditch effort to stay awake, and by any stretch of imagination--ABSOLUTELY AWAKE. Lot of numbers at stake aside, my own presence is threatened to be reduced to a dope bag. Why must a pencil pusher make so much effort? Now, now, let's not be queasy over someone's job. You have precious little anyway these days of those 'job' kinds.

So, somehow, I have managed to engage myself for the last one minute writing this. An alarm-diary? You might call it that. The background story goes thus: I was at the doc's last evening, explaining her my bouts of facial allergy over the last some weeks. She recommended a drug for 10 days, every morning, post breakfast. Now, you know. You don't yet actually. It's an anti-allergic drug, for all of you who haven't yet been pricked or tickled by all wrong measures.

To cut a long itch short, I am just trying to beat the sedative. I tried reading Michael Lewis, who helps me laugh sometimes, now that I am a..oh, but OH! I was happily interrupted by a SMS from a friend that goes like this : (had me AWAKE just the way I wanted! :)

Victoria's Secret has launched a new bra called Holland: "A lot of support but no cup" :P :P

Happy Wednesday, people!

Dunno what gives

Labelling thoughts and emotions, wording thoughts, stringing together memories, what a way to be. A few years ago, I would pick up my fat diary, open it with my pudgy fingers, gingerly remove the dog ears, and pen few alphabets.

The online space is numbing, very not-me kinds, somehow the idea that has developed and found favour in all these years is that globally, people are connecting faster through internet, and now with technology such as hand held phones keeping you connected all the time, is a puzzle.

The idea of digitising thoughts and punching keys to make yourself heard. Or, in this case simply, read.

So, the grammar, intonations, everything has to be fashioned as per the demands of the technology we seek. We cannot scratch and overwrite or spill ink on the page anymore, or feel the guilt of bad handwriting.

Past

The painful, wrenched sounds were all gone. What remained, was dust.

Saturday Night

What can I say, really! It's been a sort of an oddish week, with more of introspection than anything else happening! I guess I'm too exhausted too. But then, sitting at home on a Saturday night is not such a bad idea, when last two very good days have been spent in the company of my dost logs, and this afternoon as well. However lame it may sound, the evening had to be sober, because of some much-missed time at home. Last night, I reached home tired as usual, between here and there, so, I was kind of feeling the pang for not spending enough time at home.

And, what an evening spent with the ladies at home today! Totally fun! I painted my nails in three shades of pink, my maa mimicked my dad n bro when they watch IPL and how we laughed! Then, me, maa and bhabhi watched portions of Life in A Metro, chatting and humming songs as they came. Now, I guess it's time to hit the bed in a bit, and I would say, peaceful, joyful Saturdays are such :)

After 30 years what should my biography read? (Epitaphs r glib)

Thanks to a nose job, by which I mean, catching a cold in summers, I can patiently review a few realities surrounding me. This is entirely personal, and might not catch the dust off your nose.

This day, while chatting with an old friend, a not-so surprising question came within touching distance and kind of made a blitzkrieg appearance. Where am I headed in life?
Sniffle!

To save myself some unprecedented sneezes later on in life (sinusitis is a curse!) I have thought about doing something. Now, that something is more precious than a sleep over it approach. Everyone knows that.

So, where am I headed in life? Perhaps, if I can finish a book by the time I hit 33 (as reads item 1 on my bucket list..ref. notebook) I think I will do reasonably well. If not, I might consider a watchman's job and do some serious soul searching.

For now, at least, getting equipped with the process of writing is foremost on my mind. And, for this, my biography's first sentence should be: This woman did nothing except write about everything. And yes, that very ironic question about choosing a biographer instead of applying one's own nuts on it, is something you might want to overlook. And who will I hire to write about me? That reality has a bearing on how well the book I propose to write fares. Although, the idea of having a biographer is nothing more than just a fancy report card, I'd rather concentrate on getting my act together for now, and rubbing my nose again!

Catch you peeps later, for now I'm caught up with a virus.

How To..

In my invisible little series of 'How To(s).." I propose to start something new. I might sound geeky gawky, nutty or seemingly confused here, but there's lots more to me than just silliness. I am in a post-whatever dilemma, a sort of dead man's last wish kind of thing, where people who have come out of the forest are adjusting their glasses to new-wrangled realities. Ahem! Talk about being simple!

In a way, I cannot be precise about the situation at hand, and I will wager all the pens in my pocket to anyone for saying he/she knows the answer to such matters. Without sounding even more stiff-Brit, let me cut straight to the story.

I think I know when and where to draw those little lines of zigzag morality and sense. But, when it comes to personal thinking, as in thinking for my social, financial benefits, the lines droop down to form little vicious circles.

Where in the world do you find such confusion? Watch this space for more (if your (in)sanity persists)

And, here's why I liked MNIK...

For the simple theme of love, which is not retarded, the kinds one believes in the growing-up years. Not the kinds which later regresses into retarded love of superfluous relationships and passing whims. The V-day generation, take a walk!

I think the movie does a lot of justice to the idea of man-wife relationship, and why things can work out. Well, even if the Prez of US is not involved, things can work out, can't they? Yes, that's the bit, I found v v v hard to digest. The largerrrr than life bit, but that's okay cos even Harry Potter made history, right?

Moving on, to be fair to K-Jo, as he is commonly called, he infuses a lot of colour and immaturity in his screenplays, but this one he did differently. I picked up a few lines on my way home, 'cos I liked them, pure and innocent, as they come. And, may I also add, I liked KANK for the screenplay too.

And, finally, to SRK's acting, job well done. I don't know about Asperger's syndrome much, and I do give him the benefit of doubt, despite some inconsistencies.

Love means, never having to leave each other's hand

My Last Duchess

A sort of an afterthought that the poem just doesn't leave despite having read it some good five years go, it stays there, among my personal favourites. Not, that I claim to having read many so far, but, this one is just close to the heart, let's say.

After having had a hearty breakfast, and some serious pondering over the unfairness in life, the poem comes hauntingly back as a reminder of how entrapment is not just physical, mental, emotional, or material--it is indeed, in an invisible heirarchy--that cannot be broken easily.

You're either denied freedom, or simply cast away. And, this is not a tale of fantasy, it's us, the living, breathing organisms who strive together for an obscure, invisible gold, amidst the invisible trappings.

The ones who buy polish from money, refinement and pedigree from material wealth, and somewhat meekly bow to the superficial challenges in life.

So, what becomes of you, my love?

So once you think you're in, you're out,
'cause you don't mean a single thing without
The handbags and the gladrags
that your poor old Grandad had to sweat to buy you

And, don't we all face this kind of deathly blow almost everyday, where our souls are nailed to the wall, without a masterly stroke of talent?

I am not seeking, fuck, I'm not even close to seeking anything besides some afterthought after breakfast!

Eventually, you let go...

When everything settles down, including the dust, it's just you and your abode that's remaining, like a scene post party, you know you're safe and home. When you know someone's going, someone you like to be with, someone who makes your world a little better, and someone who's made you laugh, is now going away, how does that make you feel? A sudden, unexpected change is thrust upon your life. Sadness? Yes, of course, quite natural. And then, one should retreat, to the safe inner sanctum reflect on it, and eventually, let go...submit to change.

May I add a disclaimer that this is not about a certain someone who thinks it's about him?