Books or Movies based on books?

 “And she stepped onto the balcony. Her palms flew to her mouth to muffle a gasp. It was like nothing she had ever seen. The size of the spaceship was bigger than the descriptions in the incredulous reports…”

When you read a book you are instantly transported to a world of infinite possibilities! It’s just you and the characters, all being tossed around by the ingenuity of the plot in the resilient boundaries of your imagination. When you are reading something like the above paragraph there is so just so much that your sinfully excited brain can comprehend and imagine.

You can picture the girl to be anyone; she could look like you if you fancy that!

The balcony? Hmm…maybe it is like the ones they show in those ridiculous Beverly Hills mansions in TV series..

Spaceship eh? Like the conventional ones that they show in all sci-fi movies or something more sophisticated?

All this for just one tiny paragraph, the whole book would be an exponentially more exciting experience.

Now, if you were watching the same scene in a movie instead of reading it in a book the experience would be totally different. Firstly, how much you might enjoy the movie would depend on a lot of factors like the style of direction, the cinematography, the visual effects and of course the actors who play the characters.

The anticipation while turning a page, the multitude images whirring through your head piecing the story together…all this can’t be matched by the experience of watching a movie.

 For most kids who grew up both reading the Harry Potter books and later watching the movies, the movies were never more than an unsuccessful attempt to bring the magic of the plot to the big screen.

The characters, the situations binding them together and their feelings; everything feels so much more real when you read the books. You feel like you are in Hogwarts, watching everything unravel in awe; or better still, you feel like you are one of the characters, actually experiencing and feeling everything around.

Movies based on books have seldom appealed to real fans of the books. Your favorite part gets left in the editing reel or your favorite character is played by a pathetic actor or the worst nightmare of all, they decide to tweak the plot a little! Oh, it’s a blasphemy!

Twilight series may not really classify as great books, but they are any day a great deal better than the movies. Whoever told Kristen Steward that the character Bella Swan must look eternally constipated should have considered reading the book first and saved us an ordeal.

We can’t deny that all the movies based on books have excellent sets, amazing graphics, most outrageous budgets and larger than life actors…yet something doesn’t add up. The enchantment of a book is far too precious to be replicated probably.

The recently released movie Cloud Atlas has an extremely surreal concept about our actions in the past and the future affecting our present. How much one can grasp by merely watching the movie is questionable. The book that it is based on would definitely give a much better insight into the bizarre theories of the plot.

Movies based on those books that don’t involve fantasy or magic or out of the world themes usually turn out pretty decently.

All the movies based on Nicholas Sparks’s books like Walk to remember and Message in a bottle have many admirers. Even Cecelia Ahern’s P.S I love you was made into a cult hit movie that managed to catch the essence and the beauty of the book. (Which probably had more to do with Gerard Butler’s mere presence than anything else!)

Not all movies made from books are terrible. Many are just as good as the book, maybe even better. It’s just that the experience of reading a book is much more captivating than that of watching it on a screen.

Freedom

He felt as though someone had physically jolted him out of his deep slumber. It was the alarm on his phone, ringing incessantly and formidably; with an unusual sense of purpose. Every cell of his body urged him to snooze it and go back to sleep. But he knew he had no choice.

His firm had flown him down to Singapore on a consultancy project for one of their biggest clients in South East Asia. He landed at 10 PM the previous night and got no more than 2 winks of sleep.

He groggily looked at his phone, it was 4 AM and he had to be on a yacht in Keppel Harbor by 4.45. He knew that meant 4.44.59 to Singaporeans. He was to be whisked away to Sentosa, a beautiful island nearby, which his client was planning to transform into a luxury getaway resort. He used to find these kinds of projects very exciting, but that was 3 years ago, when he still had the energy and enthusiasm to live out of a suitcase.

He rubbed his eyes and pushed himself out of the cozy hotel bed. He felt like a reluctant kindergarten kid. He just didn’t want to go! He dragged his feet to the plush bathroom and started brushing his teeth when his phone rang sharply, making his woozy head hurt. It was his chauffeur, reminding him that he would have to be downstairs in 7 minutes, if they had to make it to the harbor in time. He grunted an ‘Okay’ and hung up. He then powered up his I-pad to cross check the distance to the harbor. Damn, his chauffeur was right. 

He finally hit the panic button and half ran to the shower but stopped in his steps and grabbed the I-pad again, he checked the weather in the Islands so that he could dress accordingly. Before he could close it shut, he had 2 email notifications.  One was from the client, with 3 new documents attached. He quickly downloaded the docs, determined to read them on the yacht. The other one was from his boss telling him that he was expected to do a brilliant job on this project and that he had to fly to Spain the following day to meet a textile client. He gave a courtesy 2 line reply and turned off the I-pad.   

He was dressed in no time. As he knotted his tie, he simultaneously started to pack a day bag. He grabbed his laptop from the bed side table and checked the battery backup- 7%! He cursed under his breath; he forgot to charge it over the night. What was he to do on a wretched boat for 2 hours without his laptop? He decided to console himself with the I-pad and put it next to his bag. 

By 4.12 he was downstairs, where the chauffeur was waiting to drive him away. He munched on a nutri-bar and read the news on his phone while he drove past the beautiful sky scrapers of Singapore. He checked his newsfeed on Facebook and sent a string of unrelated stickers to his girlfriend with a short ‘I miss you’ message. He checked every single one of his WhatsApp groups in spite of having no new notifications. This cab ride was making him sleepy; he started rummaging through his bag for his ear phones when it suddenly hit him - he had left the I-pad next to the bag and never put it in.

Oh lord almighty! What a waste of 2 hours this boat ride was going to be. He made a mental note to be more careful from the next time. He did have his phone for company though.

They reached the Harbor by 4.46. It was a small white yacht, with a wide deck and shiny railings. 

The crew of 3 was expecting him and they welcomed him with broad smiles. The minute they left the harbor, he descended below the deck to one of the two cabins on the yacht. It was fully furnished and had an inviting recliner sofa. He took a juice box from the fridge and settled down into the sofa. In spite of being somewhat sleepy, he felt restless to be sitting idle. He switched on the T.V and unlocked his phone screen. He felt an incessant need to check his mail. That’s when he realized, he wasn’t going to have any signals in the middle of nowhere. He swore out loud. This was so ridiculous. He had no laptop, I-pad or phone. Just bloody ridiculous!

He slowly walked up to the deck. The sun was just beginning to rise and the breeze was not too cold, not too warm. He took off his shoes and sat down on the wooden floor of the deck. He wished he had a camera to capture this.

The sun rose a little higher and he watched the sky change color. In a fleeting glance, everything looked orange but he could notice a multitude of other shades, which lay hidden amidst the majestic orange. All the shades- from the palest of yellows to the brightest of reds.

The clouds seemed to be playing hide and seek around the rising sun and he could hear the chirping of the birds. He diverted his attention to the waves playfully hitting the base of the yacht. The sound of the water was strangely calming. He closed his eyes and let the sounds fill him up. He had not felt this peaceful in a long long time.

The cool salty zephyr washed over his face. He felt the shackles of the mails, the likes, the documents, the tweets, the notifications and the e-commerce discounts let go of him. 

He didn't need any interruptions while he was on this intimate date with Nature. He wanted to soak in more of this unadulterated beauty. The vast expanse of seeming infinity reminded him that he was just a small part of something mighty.

For the first time in days, he felt free.

And boy was this freedom sweet.

She was home (4)

This series is dedicated to some people I love and what defines them..

It had been only an hour since he left. But it felt like an eternity. The bitter-sweet emotions surging through her were too much for her tiny heart. They had spent a glorious weekend together and the memories were fresh and vivid in her mind.

She could still feel his presence around the room. The flowers that he got her had started to wilt. But to her, they looked as beautiful as ever. The wrappers of the chocolates that they had fought over lied strewn on the table. She looked around- he had sat right here on this chair and stared at her googly eyed while she picked out matching shoes with her new dress. It was on this big fluffy beanbag that they squeezed in together and watched that ridiculously cute animated movie.

She snapped out of it and decided to open a book, hoping it might distract her from this heavy feeling that was weighing her down. But nothing seemed to help. She felt lost and disoriented. She felt like a small part of her was no longer with her. The longing that she felt for him felt like a heavy boulder on her chest, churning her insides and causing her physical pain that she couldn’t quite place.

She didn’t know when she would see him next. It hurt so bad to even think about it. She could close her eyes or open them, it made no difference. All she could see was him – the hair that she loved to ruffle, those eyes that could melt her into a puddle, and the smile that she could feel on her back even when she was looking away.

It was too much to take. She got into bed, in a futile attempt to cajole herself. She felt herself curling up, trying to fill in the invisible void. She needed his arms around her – to make her feel safe and loved; to lull her into a peaceful sleep.

She started welling up and before she knew it, she was choked with tears. It was so unfair that she could have so much love and happiness and then have to bid it goodbye in no time.

She was parched with thirst. She pulled herself out of bed, fetched the bottle and dejectedly opened the door to make the trek to the nearest cooler.

 And there he was. Panting and out of breath.

“I just couldn’t leave” was all he managed while he caught his breath.

As she melted into his arms, she knew she was home.

She was home (3)

This series is dedicated to some people I love and what defines them..

She double checked the door to ensure it was latched. She needed some privacy- she didn’t want anyone to witness her doing the sinful thing that she had in mind. She hoped the door was sound proof, lest someone in the corridor hear her while she hit the peaks of ecstasy. Maybe she should play some music to drown it out. She sat down on the floor, she knew girls got messy when they did what she was about to do. And then she slowly took it off.

The wrapping, of course. And she looked at that glorious-melty-gooey-stairway-to-heaven in her hands. When she put the first cube in her mouth, she thought she might die a little. It melted slowly on her tongue. To say it was delicious would be the understatement of the century. It was earth shattering, it was life changing and it was better than orgasmic.

 She was lost in the texture, the smell and the taste - it was as though everything good in the universe was collected over the centuries and packed into a small piece heaven. She was filled with a warm and fuzzy sensation. She could just give up these worldly material pleasures and float up into air. She was almost out of breath. It was Moksh.

She spotted some drippy bits on her shirt, she lifted it up and licked them clean. She attacked the wrapper next; leaving even the tiniest morsel would be just blasphemous.

Her fingers were brown by the time she was done. She would be foolish to use a napkin. She attended to them one by one, teaching them a lesson. Aaah, she was done.

She was in Paradise.

She was home (2)

This series is dedicated to some people I love and what defines them..

She looked out of the sliding doors that were perpetually in an identity crisis of whether they were windows or doors. The view was too good to be true. It was pouring like nobody’s business. The trees were swaying moodily, dancing reluctantly to the breeze. The lake, on the other hand was ecstatic, the ripples gushing forward gaily. 

She held that tiny miracle in her hand, the piece of magic that could play music anywhere. Her head was leaning against the pillow and she sat on the huge beanbag which was so snug that she knew she needed someone to come wrest her out of it.

 She was tapping her feet to the slow rhythm of the song. Music moved her like nothing else. She could feel every beat percolate into her very being. She felt it filling her up with an emotion so intense, it was overwhelming to say the least. She didn’t even realize the goose bumps sneak up on her. How could something so beautiful come from nothing - something that could fill you up with bliss or move you to tears. Every word so magical, strung together seamlessly to tell a story.

She turned up the volume, till all she could hear, feel and think of was the music. And then she started singing along. At first slowly and soon like she was the only person on this planet earth, like nothing and no one could stop her in this trance.

Why did she have to do the mundane things of life. When she could listen to music instead, when she could breathe it in, soak every tiny bit of her in it and feel more alive than anything else could make her feel.    

She was home

This series  is dedicated some people I love and what defines them..

She was never the kind to appreciate too much physical labor. She believed in the comfort of a book in a nook or a hot mug of drinking chocolate. She couldn’t believe that she had been trekking with very few intermittent breaks for over 14 hours now. She didn’t understand where the energy came from. And even more surprisingly, not once did she complain about the biting cold or the murky soup.

Why would she. She was in paradise- the embodiment of everything beautiful, of utopia and of bliss. The miles and miles of snowcapped mountains around her were more breathtaking than anything she had ever witnessed. She could touch the clouds, she could feel the strong yet loving zephyr brushing her face and making her scarf flutter. She could feel every pore of her body feeling relaxed and at peace.

This place here, she could stay here forever and never want anything else. The beauty of the mountain was that it made her feel tiny and insignificant, but somehow she enjoyed that feeling. The vast expanse of seeming infinity which reminded her that she was part of something bigger.

She breathed in till her lungs were joyfully filled up. She had never thought breathing in itself could be a joyful experience. She watched the setting sun play hide and seek with the clouds, its rays bouncing off the melting snow. Her cheeks were flushed pink with the cold and the exercise; and her lips were chapped. It hurt when she smiled, but she couldn't stop smiling.

She was almost glad that she didn't have mobile coverage here. She didn't need any interruptions while she was on this intimate date with Nature. She wanted to soak in more and more of this unadulterated beauty. She thought of what her definition of beauty had been all her life and laughed at her ignorance.

She was home.

“Change is the only constant.

Change is necessary for human race to outdo itself.

Change pushes you out of your comfort zone and forces you to experience things you would never otherwise try.

Change is refreshing and entertaining, it is a necessary evil…” blabity blah…I can go on forever.

Well, I don’t have anything against change. It’s just that- it can suck sometimes. You don’t want a new blanket just because your old one is ragged, faded and smelly. Maybe you like the fact that it’s ragged, faded and smelly. Maybe you like the memories associated with it, the comfort and familiarity of its softness against your cheek. “Why should I change it!” I remember arguing with my mum when she was after my life to get a new quilt.

Change- be it moving to a new city, taking up a new job, buying a new pair of shoes- can be exciting on one hand and downright annoying on the other. The worst kind is the change that sneaks up on you before you have any time to digest it. I transitioned from Undergrad to Postgrad in a day. Exactly one frigging day. I was done with my Engineering on June 13^th and June 14^th, my scared ass was shipped off to Kolkata for an MBA. Just like that- kaboom! And I suffered from what I call ‘The Fresher’s syndrome’. You see, the guys who join a B-school after a good 2-3 years of work experience would’ve long forgotten just how chilled out B.Tech is, they would also be mentally prepared to join a course and make new friends. Poor little me, on the other hand- I felt uprooted from my life, I missed my favorite Mess paranthas, I missed not having attendance and most of all, I missed all my besties. I so wanted to kick Change in the nuts.

The thing about eventual change that happens to people is that, it’s harder for the people around them than for themselves. My school friends who had watched me gag over anything that had the tiniest amount of cheese in it, now stare at me in utter disbelief when I very eagerly order a cheese pasta. They can’t believe that my tastes, habits, attitude towards things etc. could’ve changed over time.

Long term relationships fall apart. People get fired. Stars lose their ‘stardom’. Siblings fight- all because people change with time. People suddenly become alien, even to those who have known them all their life.

The inalienable truth about change is that- you can’t fight it.

You are going to become fat, You are not going to have the same 4 AM friends you have now, You are not going to have your hair forever, You are not always going to live in your favorite city, or even country, for that matter. Some things you choose, some are chosen for you. You can complain, fall belly down on the floor and kick your hands all you want; OR you can give yourself time to like the new things coming your way. Embrace the change, if I may patronize you with the cliché.

The thing is- I don’t totally hate the new quilt my mom got me. I love my new friends in college now and I don’t mind the fact that I can finally eat cheese like a normal person. Change is like a new pet, it might not be potty trained initially and might be the biggest all-consuming-pain; but soon enough it becomes a cherished part of your life. You don’t mind the trouble, you in fact enjoy it. 

5 reasons why you must never pass out of college and stay there forever and ever

1.     Do you like laughing, shouting, creating some original music on your computer desk, or maybe even talking?

Beware, office is quiet, very quiet. So quiet that you can’t read a funny book or enjoy a pack of crunchy choco chip cookies without garnering some unwanted attention in your direction.

2.     As a student, social relations are already worked out for you-

You have your ‘gang’, some acquaintances and of course lots of enemies (the large categories of Profs, juniors, nerds, guards at the gate etc. fall here by default, reducing a lot confusion).

At work the dynamics are so messed up, you never know what your relation with the next guy is.

You have three to four levels of bosses. You can ‘sir’ a few, but not all.

You have teams and divisions and hierarchies.

And if you are intern, then well you belong neither here nor there.

 You are just one little confused kitten, unsure of whom to get a back rub from and whom to give the *all teeth baring* scowl.

3.     College is a whole world in itself, you walk from the Admin Block to the hostels and you might be on a different planet. You have some people discussing an assignment at one corner of the mess, screwing their faces in concentration and giving the air of people rewriting the Constitution of India. Meanwhile just two tables away; some guys are rubbing their eyes and trying to string words together in an attempt to gain some semblance of real life after playing video games for 18 hours.

 At work?

 It’s just cubicles, more cubicles and some more *equally fascinating and cold enough to freeze you though it’s a 45 degrees outside* cubicles.

4.     Remember “Big Brother” from George Orwell’s 1984?

He reins over all offices, and he is watching you. Constantly. Right now too.

Do you get that feeling of eyes piercing your back? That’s him.

You can’t call your girlfriend, or share memes on Facebook or check out the new Sponge Bob boxers collection on jabong.

5.     You must listen to people, like actually listen.

You must listen, and nod along and give intellectual insights.

How do people go so long without some gossip and the occasional soul cleansing process of bitching is beyond me! :O

So kids, Stay in college. 

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall

For my Creative Writing course assignment, we were asked to write a short scene on this cartoon---

After two weeks of looking for a new place to rent, I finally saw a to-let board outside a quaint looking little house.

A hefty woman with an exasperated expression opened the door.

“Ah, the room..” she said after I stated my purpose of visit.

“C’mon in boy, I’ll tell you more about the place.”

I was seated on a tattered sofa held together with what looked like medical adhesive and soon a cup of muddy brown liquid found its way into my hands.

I looked around, trying to grasp the strange details of the room around me and thought it was safer to simply start some conversation “What does Mr.Dumpty do?”

“Sigh…Mr.Dumpty, what can I say. He runs a little shop down the lane. But does he stay there you ask me? Oh no, he doesn’t.

He has to go about the town, doing the things that ‘make him happy’ as he says…and Ah how mad they make me.”

I could see where she was headed, so I said “We could see the room now may be?”

“The room! No boy, there is no room. You see, Mr.Dumpty, he is the rough kinds; he can’t sit cooped up in one place. He sure loves some adventure.

I’ve seen almost all his bones break and heal in the 20 years of our marriage. And last week he came home in one of his usual disarrayed states. He fell off a wall he said. A wall boy! But I wasn’t surprised, the man is an adrenaline junkie, he has to do everything he can to fall off places and put me through hell.”

Now I was beginning to lose my patience, “So what about the room?”

“Oh yes the room. Now I have permanently converted it into Mr.Dumpty’s own hospital room. And he keeps it occupied a fair amount of time and you know what….”

I looked at the board again on my way out, and grabbed it and threw it in the trash, to save some other unsuspecting soul from a ruined afternoon.

A fraandly reminder

Dear boys we know, don’t know and probably will never know,

All we are asking for is some respect.

Remember all those times when you casually observed that we are physically weaker than your lot? Well, you are right.

But also try to remember that we have tremendous strength that helps us cope with the many physical pains owing to the gender we were born with and the unaccounted suffering owing to the society that we were born in.

Remember that friend who suggests “let’s go to some mall and check out chicks/colors/papas” (and whatever other disgusting references you make towards women)?

Next time around, find out where his sister is, and take him to that place and leer at her.

Remember all those times you have either witnessed or heard of some girl at the bus stop/ on the train/ in a shop, who was called offensive things while walking by or whistled at or touched inappropriately? Well…all of us have lived through many such experiences, some so terrifying that we choose not to recollect them but they  keep coming back to us in haunting memories.

Open your eyes and ears dear boys, it might seem like a lot of fun…the casual teasing, the harmless ogling, the ragging etc. But it is anything but harmless.

We have some great men in our lives-our friends, brothers, cousins and neighbors. They go out of their way to protect us and treat us well. But I’ve seen the same men “ogle” at some random “chick” that they come across, forgetting that is she is just another girl like us, someone with feelings, someone who should be treated the same way.

 All we are asking for is some respect.

Love from,

All the girls you know, don’t know and probably will never know.

That little something

Why is it so hard to come by? I wish I could pay for it.. or trade some of my sister’s pretty outfits for it.. or give away my Civil Engineering text books for it (not that I need much pushing to do that)!

 Artists, writers, directors, for that matter creators of every kind while away a whole lifetime searching for it in vain. It’s like a deceptive little devil- lurking around the corner, waiting to unleash its voodoo on you.
 But you write it off, you turn a blind eye to it, you brush it away as an insignificant detail in the world that is so full of everything insignificant! And then you whine that your mundane life has a dearth of the ever so elusive- INSPIRATION!

 Inspiration, not karma is a bitch I tell you. You expect it to wear fancy stuff that catches your eye and draw you to it…but it masquerades in discarded rags, and hides in crevices that you royally over look! I tell myself- It’s been oh so long since I’ve written something. And I promptly sit down to write. I start pondering: What should I write about- love, politics, entertainment, day-to-day events that would mean little to any soul other than me? Then I look around…what inspires me? What inspires me? To tell tales of little consequence. To share an anecdote. To throw my head back and laugh maniacally. To sing myself hoarse along with the tv. To shout from roof tops. To perceive things that have always been alien. To create. To give words to my emotions. To delve deep in to my thoughts?? Err…I don’t know! Honestly, I wish I knew where I could find a cupful, maybe a spoonful, or even a teensie weensie sliver of Inspiration! I detest it…that feeling of being uninspired, of not having a passion stemming from something precious, something meaningful, maybe even life changing!

 Behind the beauty and majesty of any creation, idea or innovation there is Inspiration- Something that pushes you over the edge to finally piece the little things together and give them newfound splendor. Anything could inspire you- the glint a child’s eye as she devours an ice cream; the stars shining happily, oblivious to the mayhem happening down here; the simple silence on a lazy Saturday. It could be just about anything! And when you find yours, well there is no stopping you..

panic room.

Every part of her body was quivering uncontrollably. She had to hold her palms tightly over her mouth to keep herself from screaming. She felt transfixed. Her instincts were telling her to flee, but her feet felt glued to the floor. The fear pulsing through her made her immobile.

She knew that there was no escape; she would have to face the inimical situation. She was struggling to fight back the tears. She couldn't breathe properly. She could feel her heart pounding erratically. She was crouching behind the sofa; waiting for some approaching sound, some sign, some warning before she would be face to face with her biggest fear.

She always believed she was a fighter, a survivor. She would have to live through this. She would have to. This couldn’t really be happening to her; maybe it was just a nightmare; maybe it would be over soon.

She could hear the footsteps now. They were getting louder. There was a pause and the door creaked open slowly. He was just a few feet away. She couldn’t budge, she couldn't utter a world. From under the sofa, she could see his black shoes approaching.


He peeped behind the sofa- “What happened Priya?”



She jumped and clutched him.
DADDY…….Lizard near the bed!

CONVERSATION OF UNSAID THINGS

It was one of those beautiful days when you just had to be outdoors. The weather was at its pleasantest best. The breeze was cool and light. The sun was bracing itself to set. We were all sitting on the grass, doing the same things we always did at ‘our spot’. My hair was dancing wildly in the late evening breeze. I was straining my ears, trying to concentrate on the faintly audible chirping sounds coming from the Neem tree.

There are a lot of things about this place that made it ‘our spot’- The dense trees all around, making it almost impossible to guess that it’s just a 10 minute walk from the road. The little brook, which always made a reassuringly soft gushing noise. The vast expanse of non- pricky grass. The beautiful open sky.

I was sitting cross legged on the grass, nibbling at my brownie. Nina was passing around the paneer rolls, and I could hear Nayan groan and complain about the ‘all vegetarian’ menu. Riya was laughing her high pitched laugh, probably at the text that she just got. As usual, the very much in love Drishti and Asif were whispering to each other, giving the air of two people who were up to something fishy.

Everyone seemed comfortable and relaxed. The exams, which seemed to go on forever, were finally over. The summer had just begun and for a whole week, we did nothing other than catching up with all the new movies and simply driving away to the outskirts and lazing around. The Bolero that Nayan got for his 21st birthday was honestly a god-send to all of us! This summer was going to be exciting; everyone had grand plans about how they were going to spend it.

I bit into another brownie and looked at Arnav, who was sitting with his back against the tree trunk. Suddenly, the strange feeling of despair and gloom that I had been feeling all day intensified. His I-pod was on shuffle mode and his eyes were closed. He was swaying his feet slightly to the music. He was leaving for Mumbai the next day. He was the only student from our university to be selected for a prestigious 3 month research program at TIFR. As though sensing my glance, he opened his eyes. He gave me a smile; the same smile that had brightened many of my difficult days; the same smile that was as familiar to me as the back of my hand.

Arnav was really excited about the program. All the hard work that he had put in finally paid off. I remember the sleepless nights he spent before his telephonic interview and the many hours he spent on writing his paper. When he finally got through, we were all so thrilled and extremely proud of him. But the moment he told me it was in Mumbai, I couldn’t fool myself into feeling genuinely happy. I couldn’t really understand why I was reacting the way I was. How could I, his best friend since he was 6 years old, not support him?

I tried to pacify myself by thinking “It’s just a matter of 3 months, not eternity! Riya, Asif and I are going to be busy with our summer internship in Ahmedabad, so I probably won’t even miss him.”
My train of thought was disturbed by Dhrishti, who thrust a bottle of orange juice into my hand and said “Ask Arnav if he wants some”. I turned around and offered it to him. As I looked at him take his characteristic tiny gulps, I realized something. The very prospect of not seeing Arnav throughout the summer wasn’t something I could deal with. We had never been anything more than friends. Yet, this overpowering sensation that engulfed me when I thought about him leaving the next day was something I wasn’t used to.

Nina was planning to throw him a party that night and I couldn’t even bring myself to say I would help with the preparations. The very fact that he seemed so nonchalant about going away was making it even harder for me to accept it. Why couldn’t he just say that he would miss me? Why was that too hard?

Most of the food had disappeared by then. Asif and Riya, the die-hard BBT fans, were playing rock paper scissors lizard spock. Aarnav’s eyes were closed again and he seemed to be lost in a world of his own. Nayan yawned pointedly and checked his watch “It’s getting dark, I think we should head to Nina’s place for dinner.” Everyone mumbled in agreement. Nina had a lot of fun plans for the night. It was going to be the last time we would all be together before the new semester started.

Everyone got up, gathered their stuff and started walking towards the car, which was parked near the road. I looked around and saw that we had left a mess behind. As usual, nobody seemed to bother cleaning it up. I kneeled down and started collecting all the trash and stuffing it into a cover. It was our spot after all.
Drishti seemed to be describing something about her modern art project to the others. I could hear her voice become faint as they walked farther away.

When I was done cleaning up the mess, I got up and picked up my bag. As I slung it on my shoulder, I saw Arnav standing behind, tucking his earphones into his pocket. I thought he had left with the others! He slowly walked towards me. His expression was calm and peaceful. Didn’t it hurt at all to leave? I looked away, silently pleading him to say something. He came closer and gently took my hand and gave it a slight tug, prodding me to start walking. By then, the rest of them had disappeared behind the dense expanse of trees.

He did not say anything, I did not say anything. We just walked on, having a conversation of unsaid things.

When we reached the car, he just let go, looked at me and nodded.
As I got in, Riya looked at me strangely and said "Why are you smiling?"
I just shrugged-"Oh...its nothing! By the way, is it possible the weather became more beautiful since we got here?”

so much drama over hair???

I'm someone who strongly believes that "You're only as good as your last haircut". And you can imagine what would qualify as the worst nightmare for someone like me. Now that I've given you a heads up, you can truly appreciate this post which starts on a certain eventful day last week-
I decide to get one of my usual haircuts. I go to the usual parlor, sit at the usual chair and stare at my usual hairstylist. She asks me the usual question- “Do you want to go for something different”?
Well, Do I? I think I do! I need a change, Don’t we all?
“Change is the only constant” I decide, and tell her- “Sure, let’s try something new”. Now “something new” could mean infinite things but did it strike me to be more specific? Sadly not!
She nods her head enthusiastically and takes a chunk of hair just above my forehead and then the scissors happily go snip snap. She is done before I realize something is happening to me! I look into the mirror, and I stare at a scary/ amusing look alike of mine with hair that would look great on a 6 year old. As I sit there, digesting it, she finishes with the rest of my hair. No change of style there, just a little length reduction. (Phew! There is still some normalcy in my life).

I pay her and leave the parlor. As I walk back, my brain is whirring, trying to decide how to react. I’m screeching in my head-“I have that typical Chinese fringe which looks atrocious on Indian girls!” and “Please God let me just die right now, I can’t live through this nightmare” etc.

The prospect of coming back to the campus was daunting but I didn't have a choice, did I? Immediately after getting onto the bus, I tied a scarf around my head. Which, I now feel was a really juvenile attempt!
The next few days were initially depressing, then frustrating and finally simply amusing. I had to endure the most freakishly stupid comparisons and the rudest of comments.
Here are some of the things/people I was compared to:
->a poodle (being told I look like a dog did make my day)
-> a UKG kid (I heard a lot of this one in different variations, all as amusing as the next)
->‘Chinky’ (whether or not that is offensive is debatable)
->Katy Perry (wherever did that come from?)
->Cleopatra (I knew I was bound to hear that one)
->some pokemon character (I don’t know which one and I honestly don’t care. I hate them all)
->Wilma from Scooby Doo (she looks soooo geeky!)
I don’t even remember the rest of them.

Whatever I felt, I should say, there is one important thing that I learnt over these past few days. As long as you don't accept your shortcomings (in my case short fringes) people will crush your confidence and be extremely rude and vindictive. Just gracefully accept it and save people the trouble of laughing at you, simply laugh at yourself!

“An intelligent man is one who builds a wall with the bricks that others throw at him.”

True Story.

To jinx or not to jinx, that is the question.

If I was gifted with the super power to secretly jinx/hurt random people who do annoying things, my first targets would be-

1.People who pee on roads.
2.People who play blaring, irritating music in public.
3.People who eat like pigs but never ever put on weight.
4.People who think cheating, smoking, stealing etc. is COOL!
5.People who just can’t stop honking even when the damn signal is red.
6.People who handle their contact lenses like they don’t mind becoming blind.
7.People who think being rude is simply being frank.
8.People who think that getting out of India is the only solution to EVERYTHING.
9.People who think all south Indians are dark and ugly.
10.People who can never truly appreciate what they have.

"Alas! Ear wax!"

Some of you might have guessed what the post is about after reading the title.



Here's the thing- I've always been a die hard Harry Potter fan. As I kid, I adored the books and the movies and simply worshiped J.K.Rowling. The word 'Harry' was enough to grab my full attention to the person uttering it. I made friends based on whether or not they were HP fans! I know, hard to believe! Every latest up-date about the HP franchise and about JKR had to reach me immediately- I made sure of that. I used to prowl around Mugglenet.com and leakycauldron.com like a demented hippogriff. I was meticulous to see to it that no link in any of the popular websites was left out.

I ordered the 7th book a month in advance and got it the minute Walden (My favorite bookstore)opened the morning of the release.I remember having lengthy discussions with my fellow obsessed fans about the intriguing aspects of the plot from different angles. None of the predictions that we had earlier made about the book had come true. (Trust JKR's genius to do that). I also remember trying to persuade my friends to wear a black wrist band after Half-Blood Prince released, as we were mourning Dumbledore's death.

Till today I have the collage of 70 pictures cut out from newspapers and magazines, which I made 7 years ago. I still own some stuff from my 'Harry Gallery'- things like Harry Potter stationery items, coffee-mugs, post cards, t-shirts etc.( Its a wonder my obsession did not drive my parents to disown me!.

My favorite past time was to play Harry Potter quiz with friends. If you still aren't freaked out after reading all this, now you will be- The year I got the Chamber of Secrets DVD, I watched the movie 13 times. I drew a lightning bolt scar with an eye liner and yelled 'Expecto Patronum' at everyone in the house the week Prisoner of Azkaban movie released.Well, I could go on and on with such stories...

Growing up with Harry has been truly amazing! Understanding about choices, about death, about love and about courage is as much a part of the books as is the incredibly interwoven genius plot. It really saddens me that the 'epic conclusion'- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II is also out. Watching all the cast and crew getting emotional on the last day of filming Harry Potter made me extremely nostalgic.Once a Harry Potter fan, always a harry Potter fan I guess!

I'm grateful to JKR for adding magic to my childhood and for teaching millions of kids about the pleasure of devouring a book. I think I will tell my grand kids the story of Harry Potter like my Gran told me the Mahabharata and Ramayana!

Here are some of my favorite quotes from the books:

Harry Potter:
"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher. There was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head!"

"Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life?"

"Dumbledore's man through and through. That's right."

"She's Ron's sister.
But she's ditched Dean!
She's still Ron's sister.
I'm his best mate!
That'll make it worse.
If I talked to him first-
He'd hit you.
What if I don't care?
He's your best mate!"


Albus Dumbledore:

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love."

"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally the whole school knows."


Ron Weasley:

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,
Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

"I'll make Goyle do lines, he hates writing," said Ron happily. He lowered his voice to Goyle's low grunt, mimed writing in midair. "I...must...not...look...like...a...baboon's...backside."

“And what in the name of Merlin’s most baggy Y Fronts was that about?"


Hermione Granger:

"Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed - or worse, expelled. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

"Grawp's about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me," she snorted, "as Hermy."


Fred and George Weasley:

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

"You don't want to bottle your anger up like that, Harry, let it all out," said Fred, beaming. "There might be a couple people fifty miles away who didn't hear you."

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid - we know we're called Gred and Forge."

OVERRULED...

Rule...its a funny word, you know. If you really observe, it has so many dimensions and categories to it. Take a minute to think of the last time you broke a rule. Some would, without even having to think, tell you in one breath. While, there would be others who will scrutinize and analyze every little 'not so right' thing they have done lately.I guess this is because the phrase,'breaking a rule' can be relative. What some may consider as an offense may be nothing but 'out of the ordinary' for others.

Is signing in for your friend at the hostel entrance considered as 'rule breaking'? What about cutting the queue in the mess?
I'm not talking about legal rule breaking....you know just normal stuff!

As we grow up, so many rules which used to exist at home, slowly fade into the oblivion (either for the better or for the worse). For me, it has been things like "Don't skip breakfast","Don't stay up all night before an exam" to "No ice cream when its raining". We obviously need to change as we grow older and move to different places. It as though we are constantly writing and rewriting the set of rules we live our life by. Don't tell me you are the kind of person who sticks to his/her value system no matter what.I'm not going to buy it!

I always wonder-Rules are rules right? or are there kinds that can be overlooked and kinds that can't.I mean, we can't exactly lead the life of a Sadhu, doing all the right things all the times. We do falter.
Chetan Bhagat said- "To be successful, be sincere, not serious" and yet again we are left to decipher for ourselves what the precise meaning of 'sincere' is.
So many times in life, I find myself caught up in an internal conflict- whether or not to do something which everyone else thinks is right but I seem to believe is wrong.

Its true what they say, nothing is black or white...the varying shades of grey is all you get.

SHADES

The water felt neither too cold nor too warm against her ankles. It was just perfect.

She loved the sweet-salty smell of the ocean. The sound of the waves against the rocks always filled her with an inexplicable calm. The beach was deserted and the zephyr was cool and playful. She felt at home there, like she always did. She could sit there for hours, with her knees close to her chest and her feet in the water.
The sky was still bluish-black. The faintest hint of orange began to appear. She came here often to watch the sun rise. With the sun there was no waiting, no anxiety and no hide and seek. It will show up soon enough, rising in its full glory and engulfing her in its warmth.

She watched the waves approaching with a slow melancholy. She stretched her palm out, waiting with an almost feverish excitement to feel the water against her palms. She closed her eyes as the cool and tingling sensation of the foamy water overpowered her. It was the shortest of moments before she felt the water recede away hastily, leaving her pained and abandoned. She didn’t know why but it made her think of her dad. She did not want to; so she quietly admonished herself and diverted her attention to the sky.

The first rays of dawn started to appear. Though she had watched the sun rise many times, it never stopped taking her breath away! She shared her happiest moments and her deepest anguish with the sea. She could clear her head there and have some respite.

The sun rose a little higher and she watched the sky change color. In a fleeting glance, everything looked just orange but she loved observing the multitude of other shades, which lied there hidden amidst the majestic orange. All the shades- from the palest of yellows to the brightest of reds!

The clouds seemed to be paying hide and seek around the rising sun and she could hear the chirping of the birds. The feel of a new day, with its infinite possibilities usually excited her, but not that day. Again she thought her dad. That silly fight they had earlier had been playing on her mind. Why was he so hard on her? When will she ever totally grasp how he felt about her?

She knew about all his unsaid feelings. He had loved her mother very dearly. When she died giving birth to her, he was left with a child whom he could never completely accept. It was not like he was nasty or hurtful. He did everything that was strictly expected of a parent but she always yearned for more. She constantly overworked herself to impress him, to earn his love, because she did not want him to think of her as a curse, as the monster that killed his wife.

He was not the kind of man who let his heart do the thinking. He did not believe in good night kisses or birthday rituals. He brought her up with all the values that he staunchly believed in. He treated her accomplishments and failures with the same composure. She felt that their relationship was full of complexities. It was something she always tried too hard to analyze.

She looked at the horizon. Yet again she was powerfully drawn to the scattered and thin lines of yellow, red and magenta. As she watched them slowly lighten and merge into the orange, she was suddenly overwhelmed with a strange feeling. Before she knew it, she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. The ocean always gave her answers and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it all along. It was like all the missing pieces of her life were coming together. She didn’t try to control the tears.


They were comforting tears of happy realization.
Now she could see it. It was all in her head and it had always been. Her constant need to earn his affection and the trepidation with which she treated every step in their relationship had blinded her from seeing the truth. Beneath that strict façade were the wonderful shades of affection and concern- the subtle shades that her fear and apprehension had hidden from her. Instead of accepting his ways of expressing his love, she assumed it was hatred! How could he hate her, when she was the only reminder he had left of his wife? How could he hate her when he had devoted his entire life to making her life comfortable?

The sun was shining bright now and she wiped the tears away as she got up. She had to get back home quickly; she had a lot of amendments to make!

"Reality"(?) shows...

The room is not very well lit, you feel suffocated and cornered. Try as hard as you can, but there is just no appeasing the demons. As if one of them wasn’t good enough, there were two of them. The twin shiny bald heads don’t seem quite as amusing once their owners start to make you strip, dance, cry, beg, scream…

Why are thousands of people thronging to the auditions of a show that has captions like ‘Hell Down Under’ and ‘Shortcut to hell’? Why would you agree to make a fool out of yourself on national television and push your physical, mental and emotional limits to no end? Is it the money, the fame or just the opportunity to prove your worth? Though many participants cite the third, I guess it’s the cumulative enticement of the first two that makes many reality shows awfully attractive to today’s youth.

Those of you who follow Roadies 8 would definitely know Dev, the guy who has been auditioning in every damn city, every year, for six years! Now what would you call him- crazy, obsessive, determined, or simply possessed?
Roadies is just one among the several reality shows that have consistently been gaining popularity since the last decade. Now several channels are literally inundated with as many reality shows as soaps. Reality shows came as a refreshing change to the average Indian television viewer, who had long become accustomed to tear jerker TV serials. The inspiring display of talent, the liberating sense of achievement, the acceptance of failure, the possibility of a world where you could be whoever you want to be- all this and more captured in a reality show makes people connect well to them. Several people get carried away and forget that these programs just show “a slice of life portrayed by people who simply act like they are expected to act.”

Some old shows like KBC and Khulja sim sim (my favorites as a kid!) are actually quite amazing. They award the deserving (or the lucky) and are quite exciting to watch too. Also, reality shows based on talent like Jhalak Dhiklaja, Dance India Dance, Boogie Woogie, Indian Idol, India’s Got Talent, The Great Indian Laughter Challenge etc. provide a great platform to budding artists. But, I just wish they would tone down the drama a bit. Trying to show a romantic angle between participants, or judges screaming their heads off at each other or worse still, judges breaking down while praising a performance- there is no end to what they would do to add masala to the show and shoot up the TRPS. I’m not saying all of it made up, but there is no denying the fact that some of it is. I guess, as long as it is not overdone, it is good to watch.

Some of the adventure based reality shows like Khatron Ke Khiladi and Iss Jungle Se Mughe Bachao have quite a few takers. Personally, I would rather watch some crazy guy jump through a ring of fire or down a bowl of cockroaches than endure shows like Rakhi ka Swayamvar or Big Boss. It truly amazes me how pointless and pretentious some ‘reality’ shows can get!

What some shows portray as acceptable and maybe even ‘cool’ behavior is quite alarming. The more abusive, uncouth and twisted you are, the more attention you get and the better are your chances of winning. Young and impressionable people following such shows devotedly seem to think it is alright to back stab your competitors, manipulate others and use abusive language. Shows like Splitsvilla and Truth Love Cash show dating in such a nauseating angle! ‘Couples’ pledge their undying love after being on the show for 2 days and the double standards that most participants have/portray is beyond belief.

Though not everyone might agree, many reality shows make it a point to choose only good looking people to be a part of the show. Now, how fair that is for a show based purely on your talent or your survival skills is definitely arguable. The producers should try to be unbiased and give a great platform to the most deserving candidates. Also, I never really got this concept of viewers voting to decide who wins a reality show. Isn’t it obvious that the guy with a bigger social circle and whose friends and family try hardest to scrounge votes from everywhere would win? Then the whole point of the show is lost!

Many Indian shows are total rip offs of foreign reality shows (Most of them have copyrights). I just wish they would choose better ones to copy. Maybe shows like While You Were Out, 30 Seconds To Fame, What Not To Wear, Whose Line Is It Anyway or Project Runway.

From the look of it, Reality shows are only going to get bigger, better and glitzier. Whether you love it or you hate it, brace yourselves- because Reality TV is here to stay!

SUPER RANDOM

-> I hate chauvinists but I love Barney....dunno why!

-> I love my name; probably that is why sometimes I feel like killing all the 12 other shravyas in the campus with whom I have to share it!

-> The amount of time I put in planning something is directly proportional to the chances of its failure.The best things that I do, happen spontaneously and out of the blue.

-> I think ‘jeggings’ are the bestestest invention by the fashion industry. I mean seriously, ‘jeans+leggings’-- how ingenious!

-> I will NOT watch a horror movie even if you pay me to do so.It’s impossible to find a bigger coward than me. You could try, but you will not succeed.

-> Will someone please tell me- Why are all Oscar winning movies so yucky?

-> I’ve learnt french for 5 years at school and Ive always wanted to speak to a native french speaker. That wish finally came true a couple of months back, but stupid me, in my excitement and anxiety to make an impression, I asked him-“Vous avez francais?” (You HAVE french?) when I meant to ask- “Vous etes francais?” (Are you french?)!!!

-> I can sing all the ‘Tiny TV’ title songs! (Anyone who doesn’t know what Tiny TV is, in Madhu’s words-“Go Die Somewhere”)

-> Why is ‘The Hindu’ so boring? Why do they even publish it!

->Where are all the ants when there is no food around?