Drabble 2
They discussed movies and books and drank a lot of coffee. She loved him, dreamed about him. He once said he loved her. She wasn’t sure of it now. They never held hands, never sat for hours looking into each other’s eyes. ‘Isn’t that a part of being in love?’ She wondered. She had a million questions- for him, for herself and others about Love. She always tried to make sense of his each move and once asked him, ‘Do you really love me?’ He just smiled. ‘Now, What does a smile mean in love?’ She was back to uncertainty.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
1
Drabble is a extremely short work of fiction exactly one hundred words in length.
Tried out one. Don't forget to count the words!
She looked at her wedding ring and thought, “It’s all over”. They had no choice but to part their ways. She let out a sigh as memories filled her mind and tears filled her eyes. More tears ran down as she removed the ring from her finger. She walked to the study silently. The door was half open and lights on. She was firm with her decision and felt she was ready to speak to him. She opened the door, stood in silence. She wasn’t ready for what awaited her. All that she saw were feet that hung in silence.
Tried out one. Don't forget to count the words!
She looked at her wedding ring and thought, “It’s all over”. They had no choice but to part their ways. She let out a sigh as memories filled her mind and tears filled her eyes. More tears ran down as she removed the ring from her finger. She walked to the study silently. The door was half open and lights on. She was firm with her decision and felt she was ready to speak to him. She opened the door, stood in silence. She wasn’t ready for what awaited her. All that she saw were feet that hung in silence.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Who is sHe?
I have been very much influenced by poetry. Mostly shayaris. I have made an effort to write a few as well. To those who do not know what shayaris are, those are mostly Urdu and sometimes Hindi quadruples. The most common themes being love, separation and life.
I came across a blog where the blogger’s identity wasn’t disclosed. The blog had hundreds of shayaris. I was deeply impressed reading the various themes reflected, the language and the gracefulness in which the shayaris were written. I wish I could share with you the link but unfortunately the blog is now open only to selected readers.
There was some kind of a smooth flow and seemed to make things so easy. Like everything was so pleasant in the world and there is nothing beyond hmmm.. ah! I fail to even express my feelings in a mere sentence and that person so carefully and beautifully has knit lovely poems out of his feelings (lovely is an understatement).
I have rarely been influenced by a person to THIS extent!
Anyways, I was overwhelmed by the way it was presented and started liking the anonymous writer and for some reason assuming it to be a HE.
One of my friends thoroughly enjoys poetry. He writes some great stuff and is too humble to consider himself to be good at writing.
I shared the link with him as it was something of his interest too. I glorified the poems to an extent which might have seemed unreal but I had a reason! It WAS that good. My friend enjoyed it very much. (Stress the ‘very’)
We were so swayed by those writings that we spoke to each other in similar tones for a few days. Sounded filmy to be speaking that way on a daily basis.
Coming to the point why I wrote this post was, after reading the poems in the blog my friend texted back to me and said, “Whoever it is, she is a complete person, the most beautiful of them all.”
What struck me was, he assumed it to be a SHE. There was nothing so evident in the blog to have implied by either of us that the writer was a male or female. I asked my friend as to why did he think that it was a ‘she’. A shrug and he said he assumed it to be a lady and it didn't strike to him that there is another possibility. I had a similar explanation. It dint occur to me at any point that it could've been a lady.
I still am in search of an answer. Any inputs?
I came across a blog where the blogger’s identity wasn’t disclosed. The blog had hundreds of shayaris. I was deeply impressed reading the various themes reflected, the language and the gracefulness in which the shayaris were written. I wish I could share with you the link but unfortunately the blog is now open only to selected readers.
There was some kind of a smooth flow and seemed to make things so easy. Like everything was so pleasant in the world and there is nothing beyond hmmm.. ah! I fail to even express my feelings in a mere sentence and that person so carefully and beautifully has knit lovely poems out of his feelings (lovely is an understatement).
I have rarely been influenced by a person to THIS extent!
Anyways, I was overwhelmed by the way it was presented and started liking the anonymous writer and for some reason assuming it to be a HE.
One of my friends thoroughly enjoys poetry. He writes some great stuff and is too humble to consider himself to be good at writing.
I shared the link with him as it was something of his interest too. I glorified the poems to an extent which might have seemed unreal but I had a reason! It WAS that good. My friend enjoyed it very much. (Stress the ‘very’)
We were so swayed by those writings that we spoke to each other in similar tones for a few days. Sounded filmy to be speaking that way on a daily basis.
Coming to the point why I wrote this post was, after reading the poems in the blog my friend texted back to me and said, “Whoever it is, she is a complete person, the most beautiful of them all.”
What struck me was, he assumed it to be a SHE. There was nothing so evident in the blog to have implied by either of us that the writer was a male or female. I asked my friend as to why did he think that it was a ‘she’. A shrug and he said he assumed it to be a lady and it didn't strike to him that there is another possibility. I had a similar explanation. It dint occur to me at any point that it could've been a lady.
I still am in search of an answer. Any inputs?
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Attempt 2
The actual poem i meant to write
I sit in front of the piano and wonder
why does one need colour
when there is black and white and white and black
and they are so musical?
Why does one need colour
when the colour of the eyes
themselves are black and white?
Why does one need colour
when we are all destined to walk,
someday, the lonely path of darkness?
Why do I need colours when I know
you wont be back
and all I wish to see
is your silhouette...far far away?
I sit in front of the piano and wonder
why does one need colour
when there is black and white and white and black
and they are so musical?
Why does one need colour
when the colour of the eyes
themselves are black and white?
Why does one need colour
when we are all destined to walk,
someday, the lonely path of darkness?
Why do I need colours when I know
you wont be back
and all I wish to see
is your silhouette...far far away?
Attempt 1
I started writing this poem, was indeed very serious
I didn’t know how it turned out to be something like that in the end. Here it goes...
I sit in front of the piano and wonder
why does one need to see colour
when there is black and white and white and black
and they are so musical
Just then my soul screamed at me saying
“who is gonna solve this goddamn Rubic’s Cube!?”
I didn’t know how it turned out to be something like that in the end. Here it goes...
I sit in front of the piano and wonder
why does one need to see colour
when there is black and white and white and black
and they are so musical
Just then my soul screamed at me saying
“who is gonna solve this goddamn Rubic’s Cube!?”
Disaster master
I want to write something. I don’t have anything in mind right now. I’m sitting with a cup of lemon tea which my mum just prepared. Smells great and tastes greater as always.
That reminds me of the first time I prepared tea, without mum’s help. Dad had said ‘it tastes like a donkey’s pee.’ I had asked him ‘when did you taste THAT?’. After that I never got such a comment, even if did taste awful.
My latest kitchen calamity was quite recent. I had baked chocolate cookies. I had worked really hard for it. I had even given up my precious afternoon nap for that. In the end, I couldn’t even taste it as it came out of the oven with a melted plastic topping! I swear on god that it was a microwave safe bowl and which was used quite a few times and still intact. I saw the cookies right there in the bin. It hurt me to see it lie in there. Coated with plastic. World can turn out very mean to you sometimes. I wait for a right opportunity to give the meanness back to it in some way.
I could hear mum tell the disaster story every person she came across. Even on the phone and to the guests who visited home even after a decade after that event took place. I don’t know if that gave mum any kind of a pleasure, I never asked her not to do so b’cuz every time she narrated, I thought that would be the last time and that she would forget it forever.
The goddamn microwave ruined my probable masterpiece and mum’s pricey bowl.
I hate technology!
That reminds me of the first time I prepared tea, without mum’s help. Dad had said ‘it tastes like a donkey’s pee.’ I had asked him ‘when did you taste THAT?’. After that I never got such a comment, even if did taste awful.
My latest kitchen calamity was quite recent. I had baked chocolate cookies. I had worked really hard for it. I had even given up my precious afternoon nap for that. In the end, I couldn’t even taste it as it came out of the oven with a melted plastic topping! I swear on god that it was a microwave safe bowl and which was used quite a few times and still intact. I saw the cookies right there in the bin. It hurt me to see it lie in there. Coated with plastic. World can turn out very mean to you sometimes. I wait for a right opportunity to give the meanness back to it in some way.
I could hear mum tell the disaster story every person she came across. Even on the phone and to the guests who visited home even after a decade after that event took place. I don’t know if that gave mum any kind of a pleasure, I never asked her not to do so b’cuz every time she narrated, I thought that would be the last time and that she would forget it forever.
The goddamn microwave ruined my probable masterpiece and mum’s pricey bowl.
I hate technology!
I study Marketing but not to be a sales-girl
A family get-together. Dumb as it sounds. Why get together when there is phone, there is internet? Why should I get together when I have no such intention?
I find it of no use. First of all there are these inestimable uncles and aunties whose names you have to remember. Here is the reason. A lady comes to you, ‘You remember me don’t you?’ ‘Yes aunty I do.’ But trust me they don’t trust you when you say that. They want proof. You are asked to name them. If you are fortunate enough and remember their names the talk ends there. If you are star-crossed then the entire ‘aaj kal ke bache’ saga starts off.
Secondly because you need to be ready to answer their everlasting questioning extravaganza.
At one such get-together, an aunt comes up to me and asks her name, my lucky stars were probably had travelled towards the other end of the universe and I couldn’t come up with her name. She introduced herself unbinding her relation with all the possible persons I knew in that room. I wanted to get out of there, as much as expected. She then asked me what I study. I was giving her one word replies when my mum gave me a cold stare. Like one of those ‘be nice to the guests’ kinda stare. The lady asked me ‘what next?’ and a smirk. When old ladies give young girls a smirk, it very specifically means that they have some wedding stuff in mind. I replied saying I will work for a year after masters and probably study after that. I can still-very clearly visualise that shift from a smirk to a shocked expression. ‘Higher studies? How much more higher?’ she asked. I looked up. I don’t know if that crazy gesture was appropriate, it was spontaneous. She was not convinced and threw a few more questions on what I was planning to study and how ‘higher’ I wanted to go. I said, ‘probably will get into some marketing and ad stuff.’ A better quality expression appeared- like there was something churning somewhere deep inside her gut level. She said something which ended the talk abruptly. I dint wish to talk to her anymore, as I found her nowhere in the far vicinity of my intellect. She asked me ‘You are going to abroad to be a sales girl?’
My mum still gets mad at me sometimes for rushing out without replying. Things would have gone too far if I stayed there a moment longer. I would perhaps reply to her saying, ‘No I’m going there to learn if it possible to market some cheap useless commodities like you’. That silences my mum. :P
Yes, very true. Common sense is not so commonly found. WHEW!
I find it of no use. First of all there are these inestimable uncles and aunties whose names you have to remember. Here is the reason. A lady comes to you, ‘You remember me don’t you?’ ‘Yes aunty I do.’ But trust me they don’t trust you when you say that. They want proof. You are asked to name them. If you are fortunate enough and remember their names the talk ends there. If you are star-crossed then the entire ‘aaj kal ke bache’ saga starts off.
Secondly because you need to be ready to answer their everlasting questioning extravaganza.
At one such get-together, an aunt comes up to me and asks her name, my lucky stars were probably had travelled towards the other end of the universe and I couldn’t come up with her name. She introduced herself unbinding her relation with all the possible persons I knew in that room. I wanted to get out of there, as much as expected. She then asked me what I study. I was giving her one word replies when my mum gave me a cold stare. Like one of those ‘be nice to the guests’ kinda stare. The lady asked me ‘what next?’ and a smirk. When old ladies give young girls a smirk, it very specifically means that they have some wedding stuff in mind. I replied saying I will work for a year after masters and probably study after that. I can still-very clearly visualise that shift from a smirk to a shocked expression. ‘Higher studies? How much more higher?’ she asked. I looked up. I don’t know if that crazy gesture was appropriate, it was spontaneous. She was not convinced and threw a few more questions on what I was planning to study and how ‘higher’ I wanted to go. I said, ‘probably will get into some marketing and ad stuff.’ A better quality expression appeared- like there was something churning somewhere deep inside her gut level. She said something which ended the talk abruptly. I dint wish to talk to her anymore, as I found her nowhere in the far vicinity of my intellect. She asked me ‘You are going to abroad to be a sales girl?’
My mum still gets mad at me sometimes for rushing out without replying. Things would have gone too far if I stayed there a moment longer. I would perhaps reply to her saying, ‘No I’m going there to learn if it possible to market some cheap useless commodities like you’. That silences my mum. :P
Yes, very true. Common sense is not so commonly found. WHEW!
Not until I received a very ahem..insightful text from a friend did I ponder over the way we have simplified the English language- or better say- Indianized the English language. The text read thus- ‘If breakfast literally means breaking fast, shouldn’t the past tense of breakfast be brokefast?’ At first I chuckled reading at such a doubt. I didn’t have an answer for that though. Instead I asked him to use the word if he wishes to but not to hold me responsible if he receives any kind of unwelcomed response from the other person.
I don’t know if it is the same for everyone but the very base for its existence is its bizarre nature. I personally find myself full of life when I am amongst my friends. Absurd lingo was one of the outcomes of such a group. One important aspect of the ‘private’ lingo is adding a –ing wherever necessary and not so necessary and some new words of our own. We strongly believe that ‘humour lies in absurdity’, which gave rise to some murky and questionable words.
Thus, internetting, facebooking, breakingfast and brokefast, recording (completimg my practical record), matching (watching a match) and millions of other such words were the new entrants to the ‘private’ dictionary.
I have gone through this stage of creating words, in other words, the neologism era. And of course its circulation is restricted among only a few friends ‘cuz out there are many people who do not possess any kind of sense of humour.
Well, that was the fun part of neologising. Is there actually a word like ‘neologising’? Or is it that my Ms-word is adapted itself to my ‘private’ lingo, as I don’t see any sort of wavy red line below the word :-/
I take a public transport vehicle to my college. Once, I overheard a conversation between two college going kids. Did I just say KIDS?! What IS wrong with me?! Alright.. Yeah, one of them said, ‘...I tried calling her so many times but she dint lift the call...’ Lift the call is a direct translation of any Indian language- Phone uthao in Hindi means pick up the phone. Since lift and pick up somewhat mean the same, the ‘kids’ preferred to use lift instead of pick up. Fair enough but not smart enough :P
Since pick is used as a substitute for lift and vice versa this is how Indian English would probably sound. Pick up-drop service=lift-drop service. Or something like - Pick a sentence from the book=lift a sentence from the book. I have to pick my dress on the way=I have to lift my dress on the way :D Alright let’s stop it there. ;)
There is one more thing that I would want to discuss about. It’s a habit of Bangaloreans (maybe in a few other parts of India as well) to address any elderly person as ‘uncle’ and ‘aunty’. It requires no blood relation with the other person-any sort of relation for that matter; you just have to be a little older than the person to be addressed as ‘uncle’ or ‘aunty’. Guess Indians strongly believe in the phrase Vasudhaiva kutumbakam (the whole world is a family) :P
This post does not necessarily mean that I’m grammatically correct always. When I am not amongst my friends I try my best that the ‘private’ lingo doesn’t get in the way of my normal English. And I frankly confess that MS-Word was sweet enough to underline words and sentences with its red and green wavy lines while I wrote this post.
Okay gotta go. My phone is ringing. I hate to lift the call when I am busy blogging or facebooking! I would rather talk when I am breakingfast ;-)
I don’t know if it is the same for everyone but the very base for its existence is its bizarre nature. I personally find myself full of life when I am amongst my friends. Absurd lingo was one of the outcomes of such a group. One important aspect of the ‘private’ lingo is adding a –ing wherever necessary and not so necessary and some new words of our own. We strongly believe that ‘humour lies in absurdity’, which gave rise to some murky and questionable words.
Thus, internetting, facebooking, breakingfast and brokefast, recording (completimg my practical record), matching (watching a match) and millions of other such words were the new entrants to the ‘private’ dictionary.
I have gone through this stage of creating words, in other words, the neologism era. And of course its circulation is restricted among only a few friends ‘cuz out there are many people who do not possess any kind of sense of humour.
Well, that was the fun part of neologising. Is there actually a word like ‘neologising’? Or is it that my Ms-word is adapted itself to my ‘private’ lingo, as I don’t see any sort of wavy red line below the word :-/
I take a public transport vehicle to my college. Once, I overheard a conversation between two college going kids. Did I just say KIDS?! What IS wrong with me?! Alright.. Yeah, one of them said, ‘...I tried calling her so many times but she dint lift the call...’ Lift the call is a direct translation of any Indian language- Phone uthao in Hindi means pick up the phone. Since lift and pick up somewhat mean the same, the ‘kids’ preferred to use lift instead of pick up. Fair enough but not smart enough :P
Since pick is used as a substitute for lift and vice versa this is how Indian English would probably sound. Pick up-drop service=lift-drop service. Or something like - Pick a sentence from the book=lift a sentence from the book. I have to pick my dress on the way=I have to lift my dress on the way :D Alright let’s stop it there. ;)
There is one more thing that I would want to discuss about. It’s a habit of Bangaloreans (maybe in a few other parts of India as well) to address any elderly person as ‘uncle’ and ‘aunty’. It requires no blood relation with the other person-any sort of relation for that matter; you just have to be a little older than the person to be addressed as ‘uncle’ or ‘aunty’. Guess Indians strongly believe in the phrase Vasudhaiva kutumbakam (the whole world is a family) :P
This post does not necessarily mean that I’m grammatically correct always. When I am not amongst my friends I try my best that the ‘private’ lingo doesn’t get in the way of my normal English. And I frankly confess that MS-Word was sweet enough to underline words and sentences with its red and green wavy lines while I wrote this post.
Okay gotta go. My phone is ringing. I hate to lift the call when I am busy blogging or facebooking! I would rather talk when I am breakingfast ;-)
Whose prediction is it anyway?
My train was scheduled to arrive at 10pm at Bhopal station. I was there a little early around 9.20pm. Keeping up time is one thing I have inculcated from my dad. Hmmm...to an extent. He would probably reach by 8.45 :P And I really hate when people (and things) make me wait for no/silly reason. Posh, Doi, Setoo and my internet providers! Re-read the sentence. Twice!
Well yeah, I was seated when the announcement came in that the train was going to be an hour and ten minutes late. (Dear Indian railways, I recommend you too to read the ‘I hate when people... silly reason’ sentence a hundred more times) So I precisely had an hour and fifty minutes to waste at the ever stinky, ever crowded station. I couldn’t fiddle with my phone or ipod as I had to ‘save’ the charge for 32hrs or maybe more. Of course, trains do provide plug points in all its boogies but you have to be very very lucky to get hold of a boogie in which electricity actually flows through those plug points.
I sat doing nothing casually looking everywhere. My eyes fell upon a person who was inserting a coin into one of those jhang looking machines to check his weight. For those who haven’t travelled much by Indian railways, those are the sort of Future Predicting Weighing Machines (whatever they are called, I prefer this name) which are found in abundance at all major railway stations. I was anyway jobless for almost two hours, 1hr 46mins to be accurate. I thought I would waste a coin on that machine. I wasn’t really keen on knowing how much I weighed but was sort of curious to know my future. I stood on the machine and inserted a coin. A thumb sized card popped out. On one side appeared a picture of Deepika Padukone. Somewhere in my mind I was sure she was unquestionably not endorsing the future predicting weighing machine AND I knew I wasn’t as tall as her (no one is :P ) nor did I weigh as much as she does. So I had no idea and still don’t have as to why SHE appeared on MY card!
Anyways, I turned the card and it said I weighed 57.5kgs which I earnestly don’t. I was more interested in the next sentence which was about my future. So that made the machine an inaccurately weighing future predicting machine. Hmm my future, it read thus, “Previous good deads will do good today”. (deads = deeds) What kind of a prediction WAS that? I rolled my eyes at my grammatically wrong and a misspelt future. I just had two questions.
1. Whose good deeds will do good to whom?!
2. Or is it that the deeds done some time ago will turn out to be good today?
I came back to where I was sitting. I showed the card to my mum who held out her hand just as I came. “57 kgs!?” a slight shriek came out. “I weighed 46 when I married your dad. You are 57!?” she asked. She continued, “All because of your dirty food habits. Burgers pizzas etc etc. If you keep putting on weight it’ll be difficult for us to find a groom for you”. I KNEW that was coming along! I knew it! I wanted to say, ‘Don’t take the trouble.’ How I wish I could say that. But I knew that would lead to a not so comfortable 32hrs journey. So I kept my mouth zipped. Mothers! Bizarre in their own way!
Luckily the conversation ended there but she had a self satisfied smile on her face. She usually does that when she thinks she uttered something profoundly brilliant. I repeat, when she THINKS she uttered something profoundly brilliant.
The train arrived. On time on the new time which was one hr 50 minutes late. Co passengers-not the type I would converse with. There went to drain another chance of encountering the ‘good’ part of ‘today’. It was already past eleven so I hit the bed. Nothing good happened until morning. Took my phone out and found out that the charge had drained out as I had accidently switched on the music button and my phone kept singing all night. The train did not have a pantry and thus no proper food. Had to live on water and peanuts and Lays for the rest of the day as anything else was considered unhygienic. 24hrs passed like never before. Hungry, snappy, frustrated. No trace of the ‘good’ yet. Stopped expecting anything. Maybe the inaccurately weighing future predicting machine was in reality an inaccurately weighing plus inaccurately predicting future machine or another alternative- I have never done even one single good deed in the whole 22years of my life!
Which of these do you think fits in better?!
Well yeah, I was seated when the announcement came in that the train was going to be an hour and ten minutes late. (Dear Indian railways, I recommend you too to read the ‘I hate when people... silly reason’ sentence a hundred more times) So I precisely had an hour and fifty minutes to waste at the ever stinky, ever crowded station. I couldn’t fiddle with my phone or ipod as I had to ‘save’ the charge for 32hrs or maybe more. Of course, trains do provide plug points in all its boogies but you have to be very very lucky to get hold of a boogie in which electricity actually flows through those plug points.
I sat doing nothing casually looking everywhere. My eyes fell upon a person who was inserting a coin into one of those jhang looking machines to check his weight. For those who haven’t travelled much by Indian railways, those are the sort of Future Predicting Weighing Machines (whatever they are called, I prefer this name) which are found in abundance at all major railway stations. I was anyway jobless for almost two hours, 1hr 46mins to be accurate. I thought I would waste a coin on that machine. I wasn’t really keen on knowing how much I weighed but was sort of curious to know my future. I stood on the machine and inserted a coin. A thumb sized card popped out. On one side appeared a picture of Deepika Padukone. Somewhere in my mind I was sure she was unquestionably not endorsing the future predicting weighing machine AND I knew I wasn’t as tall as her (no one is :P ) nor did I weigh as much as she does. So I had no idea and still don’t have as to why SHE appeared on MY card!
Anyways, I turned the card and it said I weighed 57.5kgs which I earnestly don’t. I was more interested in the next sentence which was about my future. So that made the machine an inaccurately weighing future predicting machine. Hmm my future, it read thus, “Previous good deads will do good today”. (deads = deeds) What kind of a prediction WAS that? I rolled my eyes at my grammatically wrong and a misspelt future. I just had two questions.
1. Whose good deeds will do good to whom?!
2. Or is it that the deeds done some time ago will turn out to be good today?
I came back to where I was sitting. I showed the card to my mum who held out her hand just as I came. “57 kgs!?” a slight shriek came out. “I weighed 46 when I married your dad. You are 57!?” she asked. She continued, “All because of your dirty food habits. Burgers pizzas etc etc. If you keep putting on weight it’ll be difficult for us to find a groom for you”. I KNEW that was coming along! I knew it! I wanted to say, ‘Don’t take the trouble.’ How I wish I could say that. But I knew that would lead to a not so comfortable 32hrs journey. So I kept my mouth zipped. Mothers! Bizarre in their own way!
Luckily the conversation ended there but she had a self satisfied smile on her face. She usually does that when she thinks she uttered something profoundly brilliant. I repeat, when she THINKS she uttered something profoundly brilliant.
The train arrived. On time on the new time which was one hr 50 minutes late. Co passengers-not the type I would converse with. There went to drain another chance of encountering the ‘good’ part of ‘today’. It was already past eleven so I hit the bed. Nothing good happened until morning. Took my phone out and found out that the charge had drained out as I had accidently switched on the music button and my phone kept singing all night. The train did not have a pantry and thus no proper food. Had to live on water and peanuts and Lays for the rest of the day as anything else was considered unhygienic. 24hrs passed like never before. Hungry, snappy, frustrated. No trace of the ‘good’ yet. Stopped expecting anything. Maybe the inaccurately weighing future predicting machine was in reality an inaccurately weighing plus inaccurately predicting future machine or another alternative- I have never done even one single good deed in the whole 22years of my life!
Which of these do you think fits in better?!
A sadist, a superwoman, a joker and a something else
I had been to an audition. A western music audition. Hard core Hindustani classical music singer going in for a western music audition. I don't know what I was thinking going to project lotus. I knew I was going to be rejected as I knew something was not right but I had to give it a try.
Firstly, when I saw the crowd, my initial reaction was a gasp. I certainly knew I was at a very wrong place in a very wrong outfit. The website said ‘dress appropriately’. That’s a very subjective term indeed- ‘appropriate’. Well, don’t picture me in a salwar or a kurta. I was in a decent pair of light blue denim and an ALMOST plain but a cute purple tee. (Well...to me, anything purple seems cute) I thought that would be ‘appropriate’ enough to go up on stage n sing. Others seemed to perceive it a little differently. They were in ‘we-are-already-famous’ outfits and their hair carefully done. So that was the second 'why-am-I-here' experience.
I was sipping at my coffee when cameras, lights and other recording related stuff started entering the cafe. I freaked out as I had not told anyone except four very close friends that I was going to give an audition- not even my folks mind you. On top of that I was gonna be shot n probably be telecasted on tv which I majorly detested cuz I knew how I was gonna sing and having watched 'idol' shows, I was aware that TRPs are high when they telecast the auditions. I sat in a corner wondering if I should really give it a shot. Needed some strong motivational power which would walk me till the stage. I saw girls with their guitars, keyboards seeming confident enough to grab the prize. I continued to sit in a corner with a cup of cappuccino, followed by another cup and one more.
I grouped the participants into 4 main types. Its absolutely a wrong thing to do when you are not sure why you are there.
a) Girls with beautiful voices AND with a good taste of song selection (which according to me is quite rare a combo to find)
b) Girls with good voice with a very bad taste
c) Girls with crappy voice making the most beautiful songs sound as crappy as their voices
d) Girls with crappy voice and crappy taste
C & D make me feel good. Sometimes sadistic. That’s the main reason I watch all these American/Indian idol auditions and go on with my ‘destructive criticisms’. And that's one of the main reasons as to why I didn't want to sing. Yeah I know I’m sick but it’s pleasant in its own sad little way. I'm a mix of a sadist and a masochist.
I sat for roughly an hour and a half listening to all sorts of singers. There was this sudden superwoman-ish feeling which sprung up and made me move my ass from the warmed up cushion. I took the application form from a volunteer, filled it up. Was asked to show my passport which I humbly declined as I did not own one(I have applied for one now). Instead showed my driver’s license which made them clear that I wasn't a kid below 19years nor a lady over 25years. After waiting for another half hour I was sent to the backstage still having 7 8 singers ahead of me. I could faintly hear a random above mentioned type C girl singing. A guy standing beside me asked ‘what are you gonna sing?’ I stared at him to confirm he was talking to me. He continued, ‘hmm? Which song?’ I said “oh umm... I was practising my lines. Sorry Didn’t get you..”
He repeated and I answered. I don't know why but he made me feel 'why on earth am I here' once again. He turned out to be one of the volunteers and happened to ask me if I needed an instrument to back up my singing with the chords. I wondered if he was being that nice to the other girls as well. I found out later that he was. I told him I couldn’t play any and he was being super nice to me and offered to assign someone to play the chords.
He went up to a guy who stood with a guitar and exchanged words. The guy with a guitar came to me and asked what I was planning to sing. I answered. I was asked on what pitch I was going to sing. I said ‘black 2’. He looked at me in great amazement. That’s when it dawned upon me the fact that I was NOT at a place where people understand Indian classical terms. By then he had reacted saying “what IS that?!” “C minor. I think.” I corrected myself, still in doubt. By then I was feeling out of the place for the 894657th time.
I went up the stage, had a strange feeling. Sort of nausea. One of the judges warmly greeted me. He asked my name and I answered in the James Bond style. "Rao, Amrita Rao." He then asked a question I have answered (sometimes not answered) a hundred- if I was the bollywood actress Amrita Rao. Duh! I said "No, I'm Amrita Rao the singer" god! How I wish that conversation never happened! Sigh! I started to sing. They stopped me mid way. I knew I was gonna be rejected but had hoped they would atleast listen to the song if not select. The judge said, "Amrita! Why are you so sweet?". I wanted to say "No drama please just say no and send me out." I didn't. I smiled. He continued, "you have a sweet voice, you look so sweet and you sing so sweetly!" (I thought to myself, yes go on. You are on a roll) "..BUT, we are looking out for something...mmm... spicy." So I was at a very wrong place, in a very wrong attire, singing a very wrong song. :-/ I smiled and thanked them and took a leave praying to god that there would be some technical problem and the camera missed out recording all of these. I still am hoping. I thanked the guy who was going to play the guitar who infact didn't play for some reason.
On the whole it was a new experience. I somehow did impress the judges though they were looking out for something else. That is what they said. I have no idea if they really meant it but I'll continue to be a 'sweet' munchkin and believe whatever was told. No regrets. Was happy that I wasn’t being a timid duckling to have not sat sipping at my fourth cup of cappuccino and warming up the cushion a little more. Instead went up till the stage and attempted singing.
A little worried that someone might have put me under an E or an F or a Z category :P
Firstly, when I saw the crowd, my initial reaction was a gasp. I certainly knew I was at a very wrong place in a very wrong outfit. The website said ‘dress appropriately’. That’s a very subjective term indeed- ‘appropriate’. Well, don’t picture me in a salwar or a kurta. I was in a decent pair of light blue denim and an ALMOST plain but a cute purple tee. (Well...to me, anything purple seems cute) I thought that would be ‘appropriate’ enough to go up on stage n sing. Others seemed to perceive it a little differently. They were in ‘we-are-already-famous’ outfits and their hair carefully done. So that was the second 'why-am-I-here' experience.
I was sipping at my coffee when cameras, lights and other recording related stuff started entering the cafe. I freaked out as I had not told anyone except four very close friends that I was going to give an audition- not even my folks mind you. On top of that I was gonna be shot n probably be telecasted on tv which I majorly detested cuz I knew how I was gonna sing and having watched 'idol' shows, I was aware that TRPs are high when they telecast the auditions. I sat in a corner wondering if I should really give it a shot. Needed some strong motivational power which would walk me till the stage. I saw girls with their guitars, keyboards seeming confident enough to grab the prize. I continued to sit in a corner with a cup of cappuccino, followed by another cup and one more.
I grouped the participants into 4 main types. Its absolutely a wrong thing to do when you are not sure why you are there.
a) Girls with beautiful voices AND with a good taste of song selection (which according to me is quite rare a combo to find)
b) Girls with good voice with a very bad taste
c) Girls with crappy voice making the most beautiful songs sound as crappy as their voices
d) Girls with crappy voice and crappy taste
C & D make me feel good. Sometimes sadistic. That’s the main reason I watch all these American/Indian idol auditions and go on with my ‘destructive criticisms’. And that's one of the main reasons as to why I didn't want to sing. Yeah I know I’m sick but it’s pleasant in its own sad little way. I'm a mix of a sadist and a masochist.
I sat for roughly an hour and a half listening to all sorts of singers. There was this sudden superwoman-ish feeling which sprung up and made me move my ass from the warmed up cushion. I took the application form from a volunteer, filled it up. Was asked to show my passport which I humbly declined as I did not own one(I have applied for one now). Instead showed my driver’s license which made them clear that I wasn't a kid below 19years nor a lady over 25years. After waiting for another half hour I was sent to the backstage still having 7 8 singers ahead of me. I could faintly hear a random above mentioned type C girl singing. A guy standing beside me asked ‘what are you gonna sing?’ I stared at him to confirm he was talking to me. He continued, ‘hmm? Which song?’ I said “oh umm... I was practising my lines. Sorry Didn’t get you..”
He repeated and I answered. I don't know why but he made me feel 'why on earth am I here' once again. He turned out to be one of the volunteers and happened to ask me if I needed an instrument to back up my singing with the chords. I wondered if he was being that nice to the other girls as well. I found out later that he was. I told him I couldn’t play any and he was being super nice to me and offered to assign someone to play the chords.
He went up to a guy who stood with a guitar and exchanged words. The guy with a guitar came to me and asked what I was planning to sing. I answered. I was asked on what pitch I was going to sing. I said ‘black 2’. He looked at me in great amazement. That’s when it dawned upon me the fact that I was NOT at a place where people understand Indian classical terms. By then he had reacted saying “what IS that?!” “C minor. I think.” I corrected myself, still in doubt. By then I was feeling out of the place for the 894657th time.
I went up the stage, had a strange feeling. Sort of nausea. One of the judges warmly greeted me. He asked my name and I answered in the James Bond style. "Rao, Amrita Rao." He then asked a question I have answered (sometimes not answered) a hundred- if I was the bollywood actress Amrita Rao. Duh! I said "No, I'm Amrita Rao the singer" god! How I wish that conversation never happened! Sigh! I started to sing. They stopped me mid way. I knew I was gonna be rejected but had hoped they would atleast listen to the song if not select. The judge said, "Amrita! Why are you so sweet?". I wanted to say "No drama please just say no and send me out." I didn't. I smiled. He continued, "you have a sweet voice, you look so sweet and you sing so sweetly!" (I thought to myself, yes go on. You are on a roll) "..BUT, we are looking out for something...mmm... spicy." So I was at a very wrong place, in a very wrong attire, singing a very wrong song. :-/ I smiled and thanked them and took a leave praying to god that there would be some technical problem and the camera missed out recording all of these. I still am hoping. I thanked the guy who was going to play the guitar who infact didn't play for some reason.
On the whole it was a new experience. I somehow did impress the judges though they were looking out for something else. That is what they said. I have no idea if they really meant it but I'll continue to be a 'sweet' munchkin and believe whatever was told. No regrets. Was happy that I wasn’t being a timid duckling to have not sat sipping at my fourth cup of cappuccino and warming up the cushion a little more. Instead went up till the stage and attempted singing.
A little worried that someone might have put me under an E or an F or a Z category :P
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
in the hope of...
It made me a fool
resting my life on hopes.
That subtle obsession,
what we call Love.
Love pushed me in a direction
where there is no air to breathe
and I wish I had
enough to fly.
Still ensnared in the desire
for that illusory emotion
Death appears as the only answer,
the certainty.
resting my life on hopes.
That subtle obsession,
what we call Love.
Love pushed me in a direction
where there is no air to breathe
and I wish I had
enough to fly.
Still ensnared in the desire
for that illusory emotion
Death appears as the only answer,
the certainty.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Moccasin is not a crazy drink!
I have never been a shopaholic. I barely go out just to shop. I also dreadfully dislike being anyone’s purchase pal. I consider it as one of the worst jobs in the whole universe. Accompanying someone to buy stuff, waiting until the person tries on a hundred clothes in the trial room and the most sickening of all - your choice being discarded but their own being chosen! What’s the whole point?
Now for a person like me, for obvious reasons, good knowledge about new trend and fashion might be something out of my league.
A friend rushes to me one day.
She seems pretty excited and says (almost screams), “Guess what my boyfriend got me for my birthday?!”
“Hmmmm...er...mmmm..umm..aa... I don’t know. WHAT?” (Sounding as much excited)
“He got me this lovely blue skirt, shades and moccasins” she continues to scream
“Oh Wow! That’s awesome! That skirt looks beautiful on you. And the shades too! And what is this Mocha-sins? Is it some kinda crazy drink available at Mocha?”
“Are you kidding me? Moccasins is NOT a drink. It is footwear!” Screaming at a higher pitch this time.
“Oh! Okay” I said and wondered why the dinosaurs are extinct and not here right now to gobble me up!
That shouldn’t have happened. Especially for a person who knows that sometimes not talking is the most legitimate diplomatic option. A squeak and “awww so cute” and a few blinks would’ve done the needful.
I felt so guilty of not being aware of such ‘simple’ things. I came home and the first thing I did was text all my friends asking them what Moccasins meant according to them. That was to get a general picture as to how bad was I compared to others.
These were some of the replies I received
1. “People who sin by drinking too much Mocha coffee” (too close to my answer :P)
2. “What is it? Some kind of exotic cocaine?” (this person is too much obsessed with matters relating to cocaine these days :P )
3. “A sin committed by wearing Mochi chappal” (this mentions about footwear. not too far! :P)
4. “Shoes. In leather” (bingo!)
After all, I am not the only one who gets these strange meanings out of unfamiliar names. I was no longer guilty about my stupidity but I, somewhere in corner of my mind was feeling not so good about being so uninformed. I decided right then. I should at least be aware of things which are “in” if not shop those. Ndtv Goodtimes and Travel and living have been my ‘homepage channels’ since that day.
Now I’m not just aware of Moccasins but also am good at identifying Skimmers, Clogs, Espadrilles and Mary Janes...but I still believe that chappals and shoes are the only categories of footwear which exist and the above mentioned are chappals with the different (sometimes weird) shapes!
Who gave shoes such a whacked out name? Doesn’t shoe sound sweet enough?
P.s Please excuse typos, spelling mistakes, strange grammatical choices and bizarre shifts in tense.
Now for a person like me, for obvious reasons, good knowledge about new trend and fashion might be something out of my league.
A friend rushes to me one day.
She seems pretty excited and says (almost screams), “Guess what my boyfriend got me for my birthday?!”
“Hmmmm...er...mmmm..umm..aa... I don’t know. WHAT?” (Sounding as much excited)
“He got me this lovely blue skirt, shades and moccasins” she continues to scream
“Oh Wow! That’s awesome! That skirt looks beautiful on you. And the shades too! And what is this Mocha-sins? Is it some kinda crazy drink available at Mocha?”
“Are you kidding me? Moccasins is NOT a drink. It is footwear!” Screaming at a higher pitch this time.
“Oh! Okay” I said and wondered why the dinosaurs are extinct and not here right now to gobble me up!
That shouldn’t have happened. Especially for a person who knows that sometimes not talking is the most legitimate diplomatic option. A squeak and “awww so cute” and a few blinks would’ve done the needful.
I felt so guilty of not being aware of such ‘simple’ things. I came home and the first thing I did was text all my friends asking them what Moccasins meant according to them. That was to get a general picture as to how bad was I compared to others.
These were some of the replies I received
1. “People who sin by drinking too much Mocha coffee” (too close to my answer :P)
2. “What is it? Some kind of exotic cocaine?” (this person is too much obsessed with matters relating to cocaine these days :P )
3. “A sin committed by wearing Mochi chappal” (this mentions about footwear. not too far! :P)
4. “Shoes. In leather” (bingo!)
After all, I am not the only one who gets these strange meanings out of unfamiliar names. I was no longer guilty about my stupidity but I, somewhere in corner of my mind was feeling not so good about being so uninformed. I decided right then. I should at least be aware of things which are “in” if not shop those. Ndtv Goodtimes and Travel and living have been my ‘homepage channels’ since that day.
Now I’m not just aware of Moccasins but also am good at identifying Skimmers, Clogs, Espadrilles and Mary Janes...but I still believe that chappals and shoes are the only categories of footwear which exist and the above mentioned are chappals with the different (sometimes weird) shapes!
Who gave shoes such a whacked out name? Doesn’t shoe sound sweet enough?
P.s Please excuse typos, spelling mistakes, strange grammatical choices and bizarre shifts in tense.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Why I hate my study holidays
Here ends the preps, here ends the preps!
Just as I finish writing my last pre finals paper my face lightens up assimilating the fact that I have completed writing it. There is a sense of satisfaction which slowly crawls all over my body. BUT… like all bollywood movies have a villain who pops up at inappropriate times, the thought that I still have to write my finals pops up. The earlier feeling is probably what is called as the irrational exuberance!
To give you all an example of heights of mixed emotions, I finish my preps= happy; got my finals still =sad; got study holidays in between = happy; things which I do +things which happen to me during these holidays makes me sad all over again.
Here’s the whole thing…
The foremost reason why I hate study holidays is because those are ‘study’ holidays. The word ‘holiday’ when preceded by the word ‘study’ brings in a lot of dissatisfaction, guilt, frustration and deserves all the generous negative feelings I can find. Although a lot of times I do tend to bifurcate ‘study’ from ‘study holidays’, there are a few omnipresent things (like books, photocopies of notes) and people (like mum and dad) which/who predictably remind you of the impending (probably a disastrous) examination.
This might sound strange to many ears but studying makes me hungry. The innumerable cups of coffee and innumerable cookies my mum gets to my room door step makes me feel all the more lazy and sleepy and I decide to take a nap which perhaps will go on for an hour or two and sometimes three. All these collectively makes me put on weight which is another strong reason why I hate study holidays. So that makes it the second reason. (I guess being a girl this reason should have been the primary reason :-/ what do you think?)
Reason number 3: The “I-am-so-addictive-to-TV-soaps” mum watches TV all day long and my “I-work-all-day-so-I-deserve-to-watch-TV-in-the-night” brother leave me no other option than to watch the mind-numbing soaps or a better among the worst options of not watching TV at all.
Hmmm…that’s about it. I don’t usually whine about things. But stuff like exams really makes me go bonkers!
Just as I finish writing my last pre finals paper my face lightens up assimilating the fact that I have completed writing it. There is a sense of satisfaction which slowly crawls all over my body. BUT… like all bollywood movies have a villain who pops up at inappropriate times, the thought that I still have to write my finals pops up. The earlier feeling is probably what is called as the irrational exuberance!
To give you all an example of heights of mixed emotions, I finish my preps= happy; got my finals still =sad; got study holidays in between = happy; things which I do +things which happen to me during these holidays makes me sad all over again.
Here’s the whole thing…
The foremost reason why I hate study holidays is because those are ‘study’ holidays. The word ‘holiday’ when preceded by the word ‘study’ brings in a lot of dissatisfaction, guilt, frustration and deserves all the generous negative feelings I can find. Although a lot of times I do tend to bifurcate ‘study’ from ‘study holidays’, there are a few omnipresent things (like books, photocopies of notes) and people (like mum and dad) which/who predictably remind you of the impending (probably a disastrous) examination.
This might sound strange to many ears but studying makes me hungry. The innumerable cups of coffee and innumerable cookies my mum gets to my room door step makes me feel all the more lazy and sleepy and I decide to take a nap which perhaps will go on for an hour or two and sometimes three. All these collectively makes me put on weight which is another strong reason why I hate study holidays. So that makes it the second reason. (I guess being a girl this reason should have been the primary reason :-/ what do you think?)
Reason number 3: The “I-am-so-addictive-to-TV-soaps” mum watches TV all day long and my “I-work-all-day-so-I-deserve-to-watch-TV-in-the-night” brother leave me no other option than to watch the mind-numbing soaps or a better among the worst options of not watching TV at all.
Hmmm…that’s about it. I don’t usually whine about things. But stuff like exams really makes me go bonkers!
Another random poem
A path less travelled
invites me to explore the unknown
which resides beyond
I start to fear, I cry, I pray
None to guide, I walk the path
alone
listening to the melody of silence
and tuning a little
I start to think, I learn, I discover
I experience the beauty of pain
Sweeten the rich bitterness
inside me
I start to breathe, I smile, I hum
I reach
the Destination
experience the unknown, which is
the Life
I start to Dream, I Love, I Live
- Amrita
invites me to explore the unknown
which resides beyond
I start to fear, I cry, I pray
None to guide, I walk the path
alone
listening to the melody of silence
and tuning a little
I start to think, I learn, I discover
I experience the beauty of pain
Sweeten the rich bitterness
inside me
I start to breathe, I smile, I hum
I reach
the Destination
experience the unknown, which is
the Life
I start to Dream, I Love, I Live
- Amrita
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