I can't! Can't write about her!

Why would I want to ruin her happy going life by blogging about her. Let her stay inside me as a memory, forever.
I know that love has the capacity to transform even the worst nightmares into a sweet pastime- but as the saying goes: Only time can heal. I will have to wait.

My Friend... a memory!

The Beatles

We used to listen to the Beatles all the time and try deciphering the meaning in their lyrics and relate that to our lives. We started going out on long mid-night walks on the silent, dark main roads. We sang Lemon Tree, counted the stars and the trees, saw beautiful girls in their balconies and I imagined an innocent life full of happiness. I rejoiced in the vastness of the sky, of Nature and of the heart that could enjoy all of this at once. I had transformed into Tom Hanks of Cast Away when I learnt how to be happy with myself. And my friend was my Wilson. I learnt from Saving Private Ryan that there were only two ways of living life- one is like a soldier and the other is like a chicken in the poultry. Both of them don’t know when death may strike. Both of their lives are intensely lived- every second counting sweetly. But the only difference was that one of them knew what he was doing. For one, death is by chance, whereas for the other, death was by choice. I learnt from Life Is Beautiful that a smile cost nothing and it is worth sharing. I learnt that man has the capacity to laugh even at the face of certain death. Fiddler on the roof taught me that there is music in everything around us- be it God’s Creation or Man’s Tradition! All seemed delicious in my life and there was absolutely no work to do. I felt that I had all the time in the world to enjoy the sweet lessons of life. So, this way ,I started getting exposed to many literary and philosophical resources and movies and my understanding towards life started to change. I started to realize that I was a kind of a Joker yesterday, and I also knew that I would feel the same tomorrow about today. Although many a times our past seems very silly and funny, sometimes dreaded, we should understand that our past holds the key to our future and the code for tomorrow is encrypted in our yesterday. Back to my story, I started understanding that there is more to life than I know and have understood. I also understood that my behavior about hiding my write-ups was wrong. I had wasted a lot of my friend’s time in fear of getting insulted. Now it was high time that I did something to compensate all that I had missed. So, I started revising all my contacts and found that one of my very close relatives- my Uncle was in a printing firm. I called him up promptly and told him what we were planning to do- to write a book. My Uncle was generous enough to offer us printing of the books free of cost. That was a jack-pot. I knew that my friend would be very happy to hear that he had to spend nothing to get his books published. That morning was really fresh and I was all the more enthusiastic to tell my friend about the good news. I called him up and told him everything that my Uncle had told me. I had expected him to jump up in joy. After all, his dream was about to come true. But my friend told me that he’d got sick of staying with a person who hasn’t been able to write a word for months together. He told that I didn’t have the urge to write and that I was a coward. He was harsh and right on my face. I tried to explain that I had written a lot of things and was waiting for the right time to show it to him. He did not believe me. He in fact blamed me of lying. Yes, I had lied to him many times fearing rejection from him, but this time I was true. I was ready. I was ready to write and be confident. But I was, not even in my dreams, ready to leave my friend. But he wanted it. He wanted to walk away. He wanted, in his words, to stay with some one who had the urge to write and the courage to live. He believed that I had none of these. The happiest day of my life turned out to be the saddest of all. My friend walked away blaming me for it and I thought that he was right. I had to be blamed. I had wasted his time and before I could correct, it was too late.

Two people had left me that week. One was my best friend with whom I spent almost 5 years of intense life and the other was my GIRLFRIEND.

To be continued… My Girl Friend

Reading E. M. Forster, Nietzsche, Goethe, Dostoevsky and Ernest Hemingway was like life had taken a shape- a shape that I had never imagined! My life was no more mine. It was alien, more mature than me and had become demanding although my childishness kept me away from becoming a fake philosopher or something! :)

Micro Life continued...

And the list went on. We used to listen to the Beatles all the time and try deciphering the meaning in their lyrics and relate that to our lives. I read Edgar Allan Poe’s collections and was simply amazed by the way he’d handle the reader- getting into too much reality and slowly and consciously drawing them into fancied fantasy. He would bridge the gap between reality and fiction so well that the reader would be mesmerized by it and bedazzled into believing anything he says. I was in fact affected by him so much that my usual language and vocabulary became somewhat novelistic.

Poe, Edgar Allan

Rushdie, Sulman

 

I read a few excerpts from Sulman Rushdi. His way of forming long meaningful, yet hard to understand, sentences in English and his unique-for-him style of connecting many words into one complex word full of hyphens, which when read continuously would give you the sense of knowing English and nothing more, but finally after deciphering the meaning of it, would startle you and make you think of his genius faculty inspired me so much that it got reflected in many of my speeches and sentences (wow, some influence, huh?!)

But Eliza wants something else:

All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air.
With one enormous chair; Oh wouldn't it be loverly?
Lots of choc'late for me to eat; Lots of coal makin' lots of heat.
Warm face, warm 'ands, warm feet, Oh wouldn't it be loverly?
Oh, so loverly sittin' abso-bloomin'-lutely still!
I would never budge 'til Spring crept over my window sill.
Someone's head restin' on my knee; Warm and tender as he can be,
Who takes good care of me; Oh wouldn't it be loverly?
Loverly, loverly, loverly, loverly.

Excerpt from My Fair Lady

Henry Higgins wanted Eliza to learn good English. At the same time he hates people woo (who) pronounce English wongly (wrongly) He thinks:

Look at her, a prisoner of the gutters
Condemned by every syllable she utters
By right she should be taken out and hung,
For the cold-blooded murder of the English tongue...
This is what the British population
Calls an elementary education...
It's 'ow' and 'garn' that keep her in her place,
Not her wretched clothes and dirty face.

Why can't the English teach their children how to speak?
This verbal class distinction, by now, should be antique.
[To Pickering] If you spoke as she does, sir, instead of the way you do,
Why you might be selling flowers too...

Why can't the English teach their children how to speak?
Norwegians learn Norwegian, the Greeks are taught their Greek
In France every Frenchman knows his language from 'A' to 'Zed' -
The French don't care what they do, actually, as long as they pronounce it properly.
Arabians learn Arabian with the speed of summer lightning.
The Hebrews learn it backwards which is absolutely frightening.
Use proper English, you're regarded as a freak.
Oh, why can't the English -
Why can't the English learn to speak?

If I were a Rich Man!

My Journey from FOTR to LOTR!

FOTR

Cast Away

Forrest Gump

My Fair Lady

ET

The Sixth Sense

Bella! Life is beautiful

The Godfather

Father of the Bride

Matrix Reloaded

LOTR

Saving Private Ryan

Saving Private Ryan

If life was as green and Prosperous and Beautiful!

Micro Life

I quote my real life example for this: I was a 90% scorer in my 10th std. (Note that here in India that 10 STD is very crucial for the students and the marks we score here are apparently going to decide our future). My mother wanted me to become a doctor. My Dad wanted me to be an engineer. My grandpa wanted me to join the Police by doing IAS (Indian Administrative Services); my grandma wanted me to earn a lot of money. But me- I always was interested in making movies. Till then, I had watched, say, about 3 movies every day since I was 3 years (that would be 15-years-multiplied-by-three number of movies! Not literally but nearly!) I always wanted to write and direct a movie that would resemble HOLLYWOOD blockbusters. But I never had a chance to do what I wanted. Or did I ever know what I wanted?! Well, I don’t remember what I was thinking then. It’s almost been 10 more years since then. Anyways, I wanted to create a story of my own and live a life of marvel and adventure- making my own rules and feel satisfied. I wanted to do something great, unusual. But it actually began when one of my best friends of my school days came to me and told that he wanted to write a book. And the book he was about to write was supposed to be about true life experiences. The book would picture day to day life and happenings of a typical youngster. The way my friend narrated the theme of his book was very catchy especially for a guy like me whose orientation is towards movies and stories. He had already authored and published a book of poems and was good at it. I felt, “Yeah this is the chance that I should utilize. I should bring out the filmmaker in me and present it to the world.” And for that, I decided to take the aid of stories, write-ups and articles. I and my friend started to write. But I was always shy to show my write-ups to him. “He is a well-seasoned writer. At least he is sure better than me. What if he makes fun of my writing?” I would think and hide whatever I had written. He used to tell me to be less complex and more open in my approach with him. He also suggested a number of novels which could help me in my language and treatment of it. But I always tried hiding the fact that I was not confident about my writing. He started getting frustrated because he felt that I never wrote. He had a goal in his life. He wanted to complete his book within a deadline. And he wanted me to add my experiences to his book. But I have my problems- I would say this to myself and hide all my work.

Time passed and I had somehow managed to stay with my friend without showing him any of my write-ups. I would crack intelligent jokes, speak emotionally, speak about patriotism, speak about politics, responsibility of youth towards progress or matters like teenage love, sex or relationships or worst case give a broad smile to my friend and charm him out from asking about my writings- I would SPEAK anything to avoid showing my write-ups to my friend. I started realizing that this had crossed the limits; that I had become very complex in my relation with him that I had started lying. But my friend had gotten used to my behavior. He started behaving lightly with me. And I became relieved. We started watching a number of classic movies-

Prologue

I have never, I feel, lived in my present. This I say not with cynicism, but with a strong sense of factuality. I have in fact been an observer of my own life- carefully observing the past events of my life and connecting them to the future has always been my way of living. I have in this course seen innumerable situations where I have seen that the past of a man creeps so intimately and undetected into his own future. This is slow. It's so slow that you easily lose track of it. You forget the event that triggered your life to change course into the one that you are currently living. That event of your past leads you to that logical, preplanned, organized, non co-incidental future so accurately that if you succeed in establishing a connection to your past and the future of your past (that is your present), you'll be astonished to find out that the entire design of life is just your doing! But, we must be warned that this is only the first revelation. As you get deeper into the understanding of the flow of events in your life, you reveal to yourself that you are not alone. Not at any point of time! You start seeing and hearing things that others call paranormal, miraculous or even abnormal and then you realize some things that you fear sharing with others. Your deep fear would be that others would feel confused and lost if you revealed what you know and this may result in a loss of their relation with you. They might as well think that you are weird, freaked and cracked. These are not the words that have their origin in a cynical or an ironical heart but are the analytical products of a thinking mind. And understand that these words that I have used are carefully thought and put to ink for they are true and solid occurrences of my life and experience. They have got nothing to do with any religious, institutional, or faith- borne practices or organizations, neither are they the subjects of fictitious thinking. Yes, we write our life out with our own pen without thinking where or to what it might lead to. We do this so often that we simply lose track of our own lives with time and then blame GOD or FATE or LUCK or STARS or STONES or VOODOOS for it.