Genuine Inspiration.

There have been very few works of art that have moved me, a lot have me left me in wonder... but few have actually moved me. Its not very hard to move me... all it takes is melodrama and some overdone mush, however fleeting. I have great respect and love for cinema, i also hate cinema... it is a digressor of coherent thought, a meaningless display of vulgarity we are too eager lap up.

An overdose of useless and incoherent trash tailored to keep us from actually using our braincells.

There are times however where i like it for exactly that. 

Once of those times has been the last few Months. I have been feigning that i'm alright... i've been putting up a manufactured facade of non-chalance... whilst the undercurrents have been tugging at me, bringing me close to the edge... and knowing all this, i almost willingly threw myself over. And in this time came to me what in my life will go down as a significant turn.

[Edit: I know this is sucking... there is a reason i decided to not write, but i guess i have to try]

I choose to go a movie which people called a good remake of an old melodrama, it is supposed to be a modern version. I accept i had high expectations and i can't deny that one of my major reasons to go to it was to wallow in my self pity... and see it on screen. I intended to go there and hate the women who made the central character miserable.

And as usually happens in such situations, a volte-face happened... i hated the guy and loved the women.

And that brings us to what this post is About... This post is about Kalki Koechlin. This is going to be a maniacal fan's narrow, all forgiving view of the most beautiful character in the movie.

And the most wonderful onscreen character i've seen in long long time, and as good as any. Trust me i've seen enough art movies to have the aukaat to say this.

Where do i begin? 

When i try to sort through the various different scenarios that left me spell bound and glued to her character throughtout the movie, and pick one... i get reminded of my days in the classroom and the age of 14 where we used stick our hands up hoping to get the attention of the teacher, and our teacher used to take her time to pick the next person to have the "honor" of reading out loud.

Dozens of images, like flashes in a pan light my vision...

Let me start with Grace. Its very easy to be graceful when you're wearing the right gown and the right shoes, with the perfectly done hair and the oh-so-perfect makeup. That's easy, as easy as getting a donkey to be graceful for an animal fair.

The talent of blending in, of giving the audience a feel of comfort, whispering almost... softly like the sirens of the high seas... "its okay, my love... just relax... it's me on the screen now..." lulling the audience into believing that its not make believe. And all this while wearing a Pink Wig, in a school girl's uniform which is designed to be screaming at your senses "I'm a WHORE!". That is grace. Madhuri? with all her jewellery, and pretense of being a "courtesan" and hiding under other kinder words like "hand-maiden"... she didn't come close. 

Strip away the greasepaint, and you see a Chanda... a chanda stripped of all the nonsense that t.v. likes to make us believe is happening out there... with our oh so obedient kids. You see a real girl, a real girl in a real situation. It happens, Wake up. Chanda was the most realistic potrayal of a 17 yr old that our cinema has to offer.

The beauty they say, lies in the detail. Lets talk about detail.

As a School girl, small details like Chewing gum, because it looks cool... having an "older" boyfriend on a hot bike, skipping classes, folding up the band on her skirt. This was the beauty of the character, the finer strokes that distinguish the master's work from that of a novice.

I've been appreciating the character so far, yeah? Could anyone else have done a better job? the question is as ridiculous as asking...could there be a better joker than Heath ledger? we don't know the answer and its best not to speculate.

The only avatar of Kalki i've seen is as Chanda. So to me... she is chanda, nothing more... nothing less. It is possible that the interpretation of Chanda is more of a director's dream than the actress herself... but creating a character is always easier than playing one.

Now, getting back. Chanda's potrayal, from the way she interacts with her family about the issue to her outburst against her dad, is masterful. Her angst against the fact that it wasn't what she was doing, but that it was filmed was the main concern. Her rage towards everyone else's hypocrisy... these are the emotions that fill up the character. To be locked up in your own house, for fear of shame... to avoid facing reality is hell.

Usually we're treated, with the "she doesn't eat her food, and the continous crying" that is the extent of the ability that typical actors have. But on the other hand, going through something like that is much worse, it is the constant heaviness which you don't want to be weighed down by... but will for always change the way people will look at you. You don't sit around crying, you try to do your work, get MOVING... but no matter how hard you try... the walls will NOT budge. They will be stubborn and eventually when enough tears have been shed, when enough time has been allowed, they budge.

And that was the brilliance of Chanda's character, she doesn't blame herself for her father's death.. as we are so used to wathcing these days. She looks at it like a real 17yr old. 

Now, Lets talk about the real Chanda.

Chand the Whore, the randi   or as she quotes a customer "C. S. W"

If i had to pay money to have her company, i'd proabably part with it. And definetly not for the sex.

Using foul language on the screen is an overrated activity it generally generates so much hype and the way actors deliver it... make it sound so... FORCED. usually. 

Not this time... words smooth as butter, which would as the saying goes, make a salior blush. Are delivered with such ease... they fit right into the dialouge, there is nothing fake or dramatic about it.

And i can go on. All i can say is... i'm still reeling from the acid trip... that was kalki's performance as chanda.

Issues

I thought i was quite fine, but i get it now that i have issues and a lot of things are quite wrong.

I shall therefore be not posting for a while.

Not that anyone actually cares, but i thought i'd rather say it... it would make the blog look less... abandoned.

--

TP

The Elixir of Life

I am an Addict and i accept the fact. But it isn't the effect that i am addicted to, its the purity and the divine aroma and taste of it. The richness and smoothness of the brew. 

The single greatest contribution of the arabs to world. Coffee.

Its taste is unlike anything else in the world, and totally inimitable. Its a gastronomic Orgasm.

I LOVE my coffee. In all its forms, the ability of brewing it well requires such skill, that it is nothing short of an a art... and its brewers artists... and magicians, for there is such a high probability of being scorned and cast aside.

Which makes the finest brewers the greatest magicians, for those who can weave magic into the few drops of a drink are great indeed. A great many things have happened over coffee. A great many wonderful things. 

If there was such an elixir, as those foretold by the great socerers and witch men of old.

This is it, this is the elixir of life.

Happy New Year!

This post is a wee bit early, but anyway... Happy New Year!

This has been one of the most eventful and unforgettable years in my life. I fell in love. I found out what i care about... and i had faced few of my darkest moments. I faced questions about my future, and found courage to see those through.

I found the strength to fight my silences.

I also lost love, fought sanity and fought reason. Only to find Sanity and Reason... my thoughts have cleared and i have finally come out through the other side, mildly bruised but much wiser.

It has been a magical year, a complete fairy tale... with its dragons and witches, Hero's and princesses. It has been a journey i'm thankful to have had. Forgive the randomness of this post, this is happening extempore.

I am thankful for the new friends i have found and mournful of those i've lost, i feel it has made me... Me for all those who were a part of my life this year, Thank you... for you have been a part of what i've finally defined myself as.

I used to be a lost romantic without direction or coherent being, now i know who i am and know what exactly i'm doing... and what i seek, you have been a part of it... and i say it again thank you.

There is no use looking back, for The Past has happened and the Future awaits us.

This happens every second, and every moment of our existence... but for this once... let us celebrate a year which has added to our lives and brought to us that greatest treasure of all...

Wisdom.

Thank you 2008. Farewell, you are a friend who's memory will not fade.

And 2009! You have a lot to live up to my dear friend!

Happy New Year all, i hope this year is as magical as it can ever get. Reach for the Stars.

Love,

TP

The Oldest Drug

First you're just curious about it, you've heard people saying some nasty things about it... and those who've tried it have given you mixed reviews. Few of them tell you to NEVER try it but they stick to it all the time.

Then you decide, maybe you want to try it too, see what it feels like. You hang around... and try it. It overwhelms you, its something you've NEVER felt before and has suddenly opened up so many doors, the world is a brighter place. And you're (on a) high, while the feeling lasts nothing seems impossible. Pink Floyd starts making sense and so do the lyrics in death metal. you start singing along to gay songs like truly madly deeply.

And then, you start wanting more.

Hmm, now that i look back at what i've written i guess any intoxicant, booze or ciggarrette might have fit the same pattern.

What i'm actually talking about is Love.

The Oldest drug known to man. Love.

That thing just fucks you up. Love even though not classified as harmful, or as an prescription only consumable. Definetly follows the pattern, typical of any other intoxicant.

Lets continue our story.

You Start wanting more, and more... and then suddenly you stop getting any. It drives you crazy, you become hormonal.. become exposed to spontaneous bouts of anger followed by crying. you start avoiding your friends... and piss off those you do care about. You start either eating nothing or too much... suddenly you've either lost or gained 5-6 kgs.

You start asking why, and then when you realise you arent going to get any... and when the source lets you know, there isn't going be anymore and that its over. You rebound onto anything else, as long as it keeps you high, you'll take anything alchohol, a joint, a blue pilll, a green pill... anything. or In this case, since love involves people instead of consumables... you'll start wanting to be with any random stranger who smiles at you.

finally, years after its over... after you've rid yourself of it, and weaned yourself of it.

All it takes is a slight chance encounter. And just like alchoholics, all you'll need is a little push.

And you'll be thrown back into Madness.

Written from the heart.

P.S This Being in Love thing Blows.

Open Letter to The Pro Chancellor

Dear Sir,
I'm a Student of VIT, and am in my fourth year. I decided to Stay back during my Winter Vacation primarily to work on my B.Tech Thesis. However, it seems the University has a higher priority, becoming a movie set for example. I have no objection to or care for the shooting in progress on our campus... what i do care about is how this is coming in the way of what i stayed back during a time of my vacation to do.

I have no access to the Labs, i have been denied access to the campus premises. The hours i intended to spend learning, are now spent whiling away i can't even access the library. The Canteen is off limits, and the campus gate facing the hostel has been put under a lock. therefore if i want to go to the library, i will have to walk 2kms around the campus and enter it from main gate after being harrassed by security guards. and Having to explain what I'M doing in campus, i'm a STUDENT and it is my RIGHT to be in the campus.

Why has this "shooting" given you the moral right to close off all the gates? and not allow any students in? Why does it happen Repeatedly that you alienate students AND faculty by doing things like this? All the above, are as applicable to faculty as to students, in that manner we're being treated equal. Equally bad that is.

I don't know about being Student Friendly, but this college is DEFINITELY Shooting Friendly. The university will proabably declare a holiday when the next moviestar comes to shoot here. It is this behavioural aspect, that clearly shows the priorities of the college and the way they treat "their own" (in case there is a misunderstanding, i mean the faculty and the students).

I really expect no action, or corrective measures. But i would feel ashamed that i had to endure such ridiculous behavior, and i didnt speak up.

Yours Sincerely,

Tejapratap .B
IV year ECE.

My Picasso Moments

I've talked about them before, but only with Aditi. They are the special section of my book of memories.

How do you remember your past? As knowledge? a few words and facts? as a series of events... or a set of smells? Have you paid attention to how you keep you memories?when something triggers your memory... that memory comes rushing back...ever cared how?

My memories are flashes of images, heavily distorted, a few colours dimmed and a few exaggerated in their brightness, over done. The Red too Red and the non descript sky like sterlised cotton... white, thready and never ending.

The Clarity of a few of these images fades with time, a few borders going fuzzy, the photograph getting a tinge of the sepia tone. A few lose all meaning and are relegated to the archives, and like all archives will probably be forgotten about, until something happens that will push you to extract the musty old memories... stale as sand.

A Few will remain on the fringes of your consciousness, the smell of home you left behind, the whiff of familiar perfume... the predictable pot holes in your street. People's faces as you'll always remember then, the Uncle with the funny moustache, the man who had looked immensely proud when he bought his first car, the mohalla kids who you played cricket with. These are your everyday memories, significantly redone to fit your perspective and since then unchanged. 

This makes up most of my memory book, these and the innumerable afternoons i spent chatting away with my friends when i should have been studying. :) 

However, these aren't the memories which make me feel privileged and special to have witnessed them. These were just the ordinary ones which give substance of which i'm made of, but not what defines me per se, what makes me... Me. The ones that do, those are My Picasso Moments.

These images will forever be burned into my consciousness, and each time they surface, they bring an extraordinary amount of... feeling? i guess is the word... with them, each detail, bright and clear as it ever was, each smell, the mood... Everything... it just RUSHES in. These will be the ones that'll define me, the ones that i'll always cherish and each time, be honored and happy that i had a chance to have them.

And if i could relive them, i'd give the world.