So I Learn…

For I stand to watch the fire burn,
I stand to watch and maybe, learn.
I stand and see why they fret to find,
The hidden lessons in the flames of time.

I see the mild blow of destiny in my face,
I love divine affection and grace,
I hate the scorch of human hate,
And I keep learning as I wait.

I smile at sorrow for he is my teacher,
I call on angst, my homely creature.
I look up to see the moonless sky,
The stars are clearer so I wonder why.

I cry when I hurt that, which I love,
I cry when I hate the heavens above
And ask them Gods their reason to test,
My choice of what I thought was the best.

I bundle myself in pain as I see,
My freedom being taken away from me,
And when I find my space in time,
I can open up and begin the climb.

I worry for those that worry for me,
My faith but lost in false company.
I seek answers and question them too,
Who am I? Who are you?

They seem to see no sign of sense,
In watching me sitting on the fence.
They feel I can not judge the world,
And then at me, a question is hurled

“You only see the black from white,
And never see the grey inside,
And never loath or love you show,
Forever saying ‘let it go’”.

“There is balance”, I do reply,
“In every step of the walk, through life
And when you see that balance go,
You will find yourself fall and so…

Know that not all are the same,
And each one plays his own game.
And for what they do, we are none to judge,
They may balk when they want and budge when they budge.

We should give each one their space to learn,
For each ones road takes its own turn,
And why be pointing at the passers by,
When YOU can’t be perfect, however hard you try”.


Then they say that the world is going to be mean to me
And I’m just too naive to see,
That some things need the skeptic’s eye,
For not in everything does goodness lie.

I never have seen just the goodness in all,
There could be faults in things, big or small.
But all I want the world to know,
Is “SEE” the dark but “WATCH” the glow.

‘Cause there is not just good or bad,
‘Cause no sadness is completely sad.
For there is failure in every try,
And in every stone does a crystal lie.

So live your life a moment a time,
For the niche is found in each step you climb.
And there lies beauty in every person you meet.
A different smile each time you greet.

So, I stand to watch the fire burn,
I stand to watch and maybe, learn.
I stand and see why they fret to find,
The hidden lessons in the flames of time.

Party On!

I always held ‘cousin weddings’ in utmost contempt. I always hated the idea of ‘plastic smiles’ that were a mandatory requisition for any such function. I hated old aunts that I last met in 1761 and now they talk to you as if your mother was less bothered about your future than she was. I almost throw up when your most distant cousin wants to keep you company for the entire time that you are in the said party and not step out of the circle measuring 3 cm in radius, around your body.

But surprisingly and fortunately, last night was a different story. In fact, this cousin who is getting married is one of those who I respect as a person because he and I are similar on many counts. So I did want to voluntarily go for some of his functions (three out of ELEVEN bleeding functions that the rich family has organized, to be precise). The good part is that these were three very well thought out programs that only money could buy. One being a sangeet night… now on a normal day, a Sangeet night is one where the kids of both families dance and their steps have been choreographed by professionals. It usually takes place in a nice hall with food and drinks. But mama dear, went and booked The Grand Intercontinental out… the entire hotel. Then he invites Falguni ‘the Dandia Queen’ Pathak to come and perform with her band there. A good twenty, thirty lacs blown up. Nevertheless, it was a lovely party. The energy was tremendous and the performers loved it. The next one was where he booked out an auditorium in Bandra and invited the entire team of winners at the Great Indian Laughter Challenge to come and perform. Now these guys (for those ignorant of such shows) are a bunch of stand-up-comics who compete to win the crown of the Laughter Champion and do so by audience poll. This was a mind-numbing show. It was the first time that these guys were performing for a private audience and they went on for four hours. It was so hilarious, people were rolling off their seats. The third, which took place, last night, was not an innovation as such but a good break from the normal eat-heavy-food-and-die-of-acidity scene. He organized a “DJ Night” at The Club in Andheri. It was complete with a DJ and booze and psychedelic lights and masks (like the one used by Zorro). I discovered that my mother was a great dancer. I mean, when was the last time you went clubbing with your mother? The old aunties were scantily clad, to much shame, and the uncles that were otherwise pious looking souls, were found grabbing a glass of Smirnoff and Pepsi every thirteenth minute. I had never seen my father shake a leg before this… my cousins and close aunts and uncles looked (as much as I hate to admit this) cute! The sad part was, all the hot women around turned out to be my cousins so I pretty much gave up gazing around for visual-feasts. It’s strange how such parties bring out the dormant devil inside each one. I mean my 110kg aunt was dancing so beautifully on Dus Bahane… I also jived with my mother… How cool is that?!!

So we have come to a verdict, not all relative oriented parties are bad. One should arrive at the scene, sense the energy, examine the food (how could I miss that?), and if any of the above are acceptable, stay; or complain of a stomach ache and scram. Oops! I am not supposed to blurt these views out aloud now, am I? :-p

Clickety clack

We have learnt the fine art of holding a camera…

I’m not being sarcastic there… cameras are not easy to handle. Think about it, we have spent about eight hours in a classroom trying to understand what is the purpose of a bloody camera and why is it more important a tool than being a box that captures memories. Eight complete hours of understanding what a ‘good picture’ is. Eight hours to know how a camera works, how to operate in conditions that are unfavorable to the photograph’s beauty, or shall we say, potential beauty. I have been a half-decent photographer for a while and have loved capturing frames that seem slightly wasteful to the Scrooge who wants a family member in every photograph clicked. But this program just gave all those funny frames a meaning, a name even. Concepts like composition, symmetry, light angles, geometry, pattern, color composition, the rule of the one-thirds, color temperature, sharpness, blurring, focus… a million things that go into making a picture perfect. My recent trip to Raigadh, with friends, was one hell of an experience and gave me a lot of scope to explore this sublime art with a twist. The other three with me, looked at me funny and whispered amongst themselves, doubting my mental state, as I bend over a patch of grass with stones and stare into my camera lens for a while before clicking an absurd composition. They were quite cynical about my new found hobby and kept asking me indirect question so as not to hurt my feelings, while expressing their subtle disgust towards wasting damn good snaps. But let us not digress. I always used to wonder why photographers are gaga over some monster of a camera called the SLR. It is a digital age and the era of ‘smaller and lighter’ but these professionals or aficionados were always swearing by SLRs. It is only after this session that I want one for my own and trust you me, I am ready to part with my savings for it. The kind of things one can do with a Single Lens Reflex is only a figment of fantasy till you actually hold one in your hand. It is fantastic to be able to manipulate a natural frame in your mind and then actually capture it the same way you pictured it. I am so thrilled by the fact that this module on photography is actually making me learn a new form of art and in turn appreciate it too. I was so shocked the day I was standing in an art gallery with my finger on my chin making sense of pictures taken by a professional in a heaven like place called Kashmir. I was with fellow classmates and I caught myself staring a a picture scratching my cheek as I said, “the depth of the picture is so amazing. The pattern of the v right here in the center is totally giving an amazing dimension to the whole frame. Oh and check out the juxtaposition of the red and yellow, amazing!”

I am quite disgusted by the fact that I have been using a Yashika single shot, no frills camera all through my life and now a Sony Cyber-shot that belongs to dad (which is also not good enough). I want an SLR and I want it now! Any one ready to sell me one or give me money to buy one? I also accept gifts with a lot of gratitude.

Excuses to squander and how...

Mumbai has officially gone insane… I don’t even know where to begin. This evening of November 1st, Van and I decide to take a ride to either of the sea faces to watch the fireworks on Diwali day. All is nice till we pick up our parcel of pans and start riding to Marine Drive. Now, there was name calling happening. The traffic thickened like milk to butter. The cars just looked like they were on a mission to block roads up. Once we entered the Chowpati area, the only expression on my face was, “what the F**k”. The traffic grew and the crackers sounded like WMDs. To add to the noise were the constant horns. I swear, Van and I felt like we were in the middle of a war. Rockets zoomed past our heads, hit cars and people on the side-walk lit those sparkle showers in the middle of the bloody road. The entire area was like a time bomb ticking and ready to blow. I was worried about the cars getting it in the petrol region and if there is the slightest leak, I don’t want to think about what could happen. The minute we found opening, Van zoomed as fast as possible and we finally made it to the Sydenham lane. There too there was enough traffic to keep the honking alive. I couldn’t hear myself talk. I couldn’t think straight because the crackers were so loud. The sky looked like it was being shot every second and it bled thirty different colors and screamed and wheezed and did not have anyone listening. We had to move to a quiter place or I would have got a migraine attack. We found some peace at Charmichal Road where we stood and spoke about this very insanity that the city is dealing with. The number of fireworks was mind-numbing. I mean, you might as well pick up a stack of hundred or five hundred rupee notes and set them ablaze. Why bother giving that money to some poor who can’t afford a sweet for his family on Diwali. Blow it up instead. Why donate a hundred rupees to a blind school when you can see five hundred rupees being shot into the air to display colors that lasted three seconds. Ridiculous to say the least. If not donate that money, get yourself a CD player, or cake or chocolate or have a booze party with friends or just drive around in the city for the equivalent in petrol. But this is downright insanity. We crib about the roads being unkept. We crib about them being dirty. We crib about flyovers not coming up. Traffic, pollution and Mumbai wanting to be Shanghai… where does it all go when nights like this come around? You should see the roads the next morning… breathe the air and I will lose any amount if you don’t catch a cold or cough your lungs out.

I know it’s a matter of likes and dislikes and all the jazz about subjectivity in democracy but this night defied all logic in its basic form. It gave a whole new meaning to the word, ‘waste’. God bless all. Happy Diwali to you too.