Few More Pages Left

Its weird. I have been wanting to write for so long, I know this is my oft-repeated phrase in almost every post, but this time it's not because of a lack of ideas for a great lead, but because this is weird.

What provoked me to write was not the usual bad mood or the unusual happiness. It was something I thought I had lost touch with. And once I lose touch I don't go back to it. Good or bad, thats me. This is quite surprising.

Now that I am hoping you want to know what it is that I am yapping about, I somehow seem to have lost track of what I actually wanted to begin with. I digress..(this is what happens when you don't blog and read your old posts and wonder if you actually wrote them).

Cricket. I want to talk cricket. I was flipping through the pages of The Week, getting stuck at the US presidential debate, wondering whether I wanted McCain or Obama and then when the author said Hillary is a great debator, I told myself I was never one.

Then I struggled past Kamal Nath's interview and then two pages of Godhra and the Nanavati report. And finally I came to the cover story: Kangaroo Catcher -- Sachin has a target, so do the Aussies. I know I could have directly gone to the cover story if I so wanted to read it, but I wanted to build the excitement for myself.

I read and I read and I read some more. I am not one of Sachin's greatest fans. Everyone loves him and thats one reason I don't. I admire him, I respect his talent, he is great no doubt, but while I was reading the article, one thought that crossed my mind was that I have read the same thing about him several times over. SEVERAL TIMES OVER. So much so that these reports are as predictable as a wrong umpiring decision!

Such is his greatness and what he has given to the game. The report had one full para on Dravid and what is expected of him. No I am not gonna talk about him. I want to talk about someone who will be covered 'exclusively' on every news channel, in every newspaper for the next few days, weeks and months.

About someone who I have rarely spoken about but I greatly adore. Saurav Ganguly.

And because I am part of the media, I will talk about him on my post. More importantly, cos he pushed me to write.

He is retiring. And so am I. Cricket without him is like Billy Bowden without his weirdness. (I know I am trying too hard) And now I cant write anymore.

Saurav is going and I will miss him. Period.

The off-side is never gonna be the same.

Fewer run-outs are depressing.

That dynamism and energy on the field, that magnetic effect that makes you want to want more of him: I wish.

The aggression that made a so-called timid Indian team realize its potential.

His stance: his stylish stance. Two legs, slightly outside the crease, and the bat comes down. He doesn't defend.

The attacker that gave birth to the killer instinct.

Shall be missed..

Few more pages left to be read..........

In Italics

I put down my book, look at it once more cos I always feel like it is asking me to spend some more time with it. My eyes roll and rest on the pillow next to me. I let myself be led to sleep.

As my head finds solace in the comfort of the pillow, I drift. I can hear the soft sound of the rain outside, a slight drizzle and then a little, slender downpour — like the sound of a pressure cooker, just before it whistles.

I can hear the noise down below, cars honking, autos accelerating, fueled by curses of another victim of inflation. My ears strain to listen to a song from the comp in the adjoining room, I satisfy myself with just the faint murmur of the drums.

And then I let my dream take over. It takes me back in time. Sometimes I feel, I dream just what I want to dream, like its a conscious process, like I am taking myself back to that happy place, to nice beginnings, to that space within me where I truly want to be. To a place that gives me joy.

And to a place where its just you and me and no one else. There is silence and an unsettling din, all too calm and yet chaotic, all too static and yet somehow, the world is in motion. Yes, its just You and Me.

I feel like I am walking with you, holding hands on your favorite lane, brimming with trees, beautiful darkness, broken by golden glints from the streetlights and that soothing breeze that whispers softly, but lucidly, that you belong to me. I smile.

I smile at what I feel for you, content with the fact that you feel the same for me, so what if we don't get to talk, so what if we don't get to express and, really, so what if we, sometimes bow down to circumstances — as long as we don't let the feeling die a natural death, in the process.

I wake up, half-dreaming, half sensing reality, half-wanting to go back to sleep, but in entirety wanting to be with you.

And I float in the happiness, of what I become when I am with you.

Its weird how a dream can make you forget the insecurity, the need for reassurance, the fact that one day we would stop feeling, the fact that you might not belong to me. An entire existence in that one moment.

And then, I wonder how it will be without you.

Will I have the faith to dream again?

As unsure as the 'I' in 'Italics.'

World's Most Boring Post

New Post. Blank page. Cursor blinking, waiting to transform into meaningful words. Something that seems to have become increasingly difficult. Nevertheless...
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I was watching An Inconvenient Truth last weekend. It shocked me. Global warming seemed like just another hot topic for people to discuss when they had nothing much to talk about. It became a part of those intellectual-pretentious conversations when the speaker and the listener both pretend to care. I was one of the skeptics. The documentary, which I consider one of the best, shocks the living day lights out of you. Makes you really think and that I think are signs of a brilliant documentary. We really aren't doing enough. It's definitely more than just a problem. Climate variations, weird weather transitions--cant blame western disturbance anymore. Has Bangalore ever been so hot? If we wait for the globe to wake up to rising mercury, we need to first switch off the lights in our part of the world. Like they say: 'Charity begins at home'!

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I have been working like a donkey. People tell me I am married to work. And that means I have the world's most boring husband! Not that my work sucks, I love it, just that I seem to have no life beyond it. I wish I had. The problem is, I think I have, but I am not doing much to go out there and explore possibilities. I do need a break.

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Cricket season. I am totally out of the 'league'. I used to love the game, I was what they call a 'freak'! But this whole IPL thing isn't as exciting as its being made out. I tried watching a couple of matches, dint appeal to me at all. I somehow felt like its too commercial and that it has taken the beauty away from the game. People owning teams and players on auction--sounds more like a bid-to-win reality show. Not working for me!

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Priyanka Gandhi met her father's killer, Nalini. Or did she? Does it really matter? Is that something worth debating? I am not sure. But I was thinking about all those kids who have seen their parents blowing up in Kashmir, or parents of children who lost their lives in the Upahaar tragedy, or those faceless killers that force farmers to literally go to hell. Priyanka Gandhi meeting her dad's killer is a big deal? Me thinks not.

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I am using my credit card like no man's business. I actually don't know what to do with my salary, so I spend on anyone and everyone who wants something! Yeah right, like I am Richie Rich.

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And right now, I wish I really had something to write about, cos this post is boring the shit outta me.

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Weekends are tiring. I prefer going to work. Well, I have my reasons for that! But then, there's just so much time that I wish I could travel. I wanna go to Hampi and Coorg. I wanna go to Yercaud. And I really don't mind going alone!!!! Simply cos, I don't know who would wanna come with me!

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I am reading this book called the Red Tent by Anita Diamant. Beautifully written. A story of betrayal and trials of women of a time many eras ago. (don't know if this sentence is grammatically correct, but love these words ;) ) Gives a lot of room for vivid imagination. Definitely a page-turner.

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I am also dealing with emotions that cant be a part of this world wide web. Before I give in to the urge of spilling the beans here, I shall shut up.

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I am sorry that I am so boring.

But...

Wanna travel with yours truly??

Its Only Words, And Words That I Dont Have

.... and ..... and some more ....!

I cant write. I am not able to string two words together, I am not able to make a sentence that's cool, that can make the reader go 'wow', that can make some sense, if nothing else. I am so disappointed in me. And therefore, I decided to let the world wide web know. Know that I CANT WRITE.

Not one idea, not a single idea. Was it the story or was it me? I thought and thought. Irrespective of the time of the day, irrespective of company, irrespective of the environment (yuck! environment?? See what I mean?) I only kept thinking, but no, goddess or god or whatever of creativity completely ditched me. I was sure I am gonna be thrown outta work. I wanted to go jump down the tenth floor! (even going to the loo, dint work!)

I actually gave up, well, not jumping, I really wasn't serious about that. I gave up on me. I gave up on the only thing I think I can do. WRITE.

And then I felt like shit. I cried. I know, its kinda whatever to cry. (did i just say whatever?) I pushed the story to my so-called immediate boss. And honestly, I dint wanna ever read it again. But I did, not once, but twice. What he made outta it was atleast readable.

I hate this sulky wordless post. But I had to get my writelessness out of my system. And the best way to do that was to WRITE!!

I dont believe creativity was on a holiday, somehow sounds more like an excuse. I dint try and thats that. Next time, no giving up, I guess. Cos trust me, it feels like, I dont know what it feels like. Actually I cant get the appropriate word... Damn! there I go again...

I want to suffer from verbal diarrhea.

Cluttered Output

Its been quite a while since I blogged. My last post was a month back, technically, last year! I was wondering what to write. I didn't what to do the usual year-end post, cos the year that was, was very very eventful and I wouldn't be doing justice if i were to write about just all that. And this is the worst opening ever!

I was just watching 'we the people' on Ndtv. The discussion circled around the impact blogs are creating in the world and in India as a nation. It was interesting, but there was nothing new. It was not informative in any sense of the word. It kept coming back to sex, being gay, and all those things. One of the panelists actually said "well there are some 'good' blogs as well"..so did she mean sex is bad? Hypocrisy is THE word.

I digress. its been a weird beginning, 2008 seems not so different from 2007. Not yet. I know it just started and stuff, but still.. Damn I sound like such a boring person, maybe I am turning into one. But I am surely turning into an A grade Bitch. I am fighting weird emotions, I am fighting me, I am fighting people. Basically, just not all that great. Why am I saying all this here? Cos I felt guilty about not blogging, about not writing, about not keeping in touch with a very close friend, about getting too close to someone else, about giving in to unwanted thoughts, about just not thinking clearly, about neglecting a lot of things, about being pissed with myself and the world too often.

Not over yet. About expecting too much. I watched Taare Zameen Par. I wont say it was great. It said a lot, it was different, it was moving. But, it was also dragging and too much effort was put in to make it off-beat, and it showed. Aamir Khan is a perfectionist, yes. But he is too much of himself in the second half. Darshan was pretty good, a natural actor. But again, it was a good movie, not great. The subject was worth exploring, though I felt a lot could be done.

I still don't understand men. At all. They all seem the same, but each so distinctly similar! what the hell.. I am also guilty of letting them affect me too much. I will NEVER learn.

I still don't understand if editorial is more important or marketing. is it ok to compromise for the sake of design? Why does the boss always decide how to 'cover' up the 'issue'? Cos thats why he is the BOSS?

I still don't understand how relationships work. Is being single more boring than being committed? Is it ok to flirt around? And then get emotional about it....?

I still don't understand why I listen to the same song a million times and then detest it cos i have heard it a million times..Or am I just really really weird?

I still don't understand why people talk to me and why I talk to them, why cant everyone talk to everyone else?

I still don't understand why I post something as stupid as this...

Anyway, not that my opinion will change the world, not that it is important but somewhere it has to be voiced! ;)

My journo Prof. always told me "a cluttered mind leads to cluttered output!"

Therefore... Pardon Me.