About this blog

And here I am, adding yet another blog to the long list of blogs that I seem to be miraculously managing amidst all my daydreaming. This one, however, is for the mundane day to day happenings

Tuesday, 2 July 2013

To the man who taught me to believe in Superman

You taught me never to allow failure to seep into my heart or let success climb into my head. You made me realize that kindness and tolerance are the only things that make us human and this world worth living in. You are the biggest influence in my life and your story continues to inspire me. You've been a remarkable sailor, a charming gentleman, a wonderful sportsman, a reckless adventurer, and the world's greatest grandpa. Now that you've set sail for a world beyond the horizon, all I can do is continue my own life's journey along this shore, and hope that every fragment of memory evoked on the way will somehow lighten the void you've left behind . I love you... and I miss you already

Monday, 4 March 2013

The Big Three OWWW!!

So, I turned 30 on the 25th of Feb, and still, like every other person who has lived before me, and perhaps like every person who is yet to be born, I too am haunted by that very basic of questions: "Where did it all begin?"

None of the scientific or theological explanations seems convincing enough, because they all point to a starting point, with something already being there. But how could that something have always been there? Wouldn't that something, at some point in time, have had to come from nothingness. Then again, nothing can possibly come out of nothingness. Not even that small, infinitely hot and dense point called singularity where all of the matter in the universe is compacted into

How can there be anything at all that does not have a beginning? I can understand something not having an end, but how in the world can anything not have a beginning? For that matter, how can sheer nothingness exist? Because nothingness is, after all, the non-existence of anything, which in itself does not exist

Are our thoughts being restricted by the limitations of our language? Or is it our understanding of space and time that is wrong? Why is it that every time we attempt to answer this seemingly simple question, we are left even more confused than we were, when we started out?

As trite as these questions have become over the centuries, I find myself asking them again three decades into my life

Tuesday, 12 February 2013

Cupid, hearts, flowers, and a steaming cup of coffee

It's 7 am, and here I am, yet again, brimming with words at an airport. I still haven't figured out what exactly it is about terminals that gets me all chatty. From inference, it has got to be the bad coffee.

It's Valentine's day in two days, and no offense s'il vous plait, I don't give a flying eff about  that or any other lie that the greeting card companies want to feed me. As far as I'm concerned, Feb 14th is just another day. Just another day UNLIKE Feb 13th. And I'm sad that I am having to fly so far away from where my heart truly is

Yes, I'm in love. Nope, not getting philanthropic here. To hell with mankind! Actually no. Peace be with it! Because I'm in love, and I've only been more so everyday since that Feb 13th, that doesn't seem as long ago as it actually is. God, How time flies! Incidentally, it's time for me to fly… or so claims the sultry voice coming from the speaker that I did not know I was sitting so close to

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Sitting inside Flight AI668 with a stream of wispy white cirrus clouds gliding below me, I now realize the reason behind that conniving smile - the one that I got from the woman at the check-in desk when she readily gave me the window seat on the left side that I asked for. From my left, an emergency exit fixes me in that classic deadpan gaze that all emergency exits are renowned for. Nothing ever comes without a catch. I'm sure that somewhere 17,000 odd feet below me, there still lingers a trace of that evil smile. Crafty bitch! Now my backpack will have to vegetate in that overhead compartment. Thankfully, this time around, the coffee is better, and as the saying goes (if there is one at all), no matter where you are, peace is always just a caffeinated cup away (provided it is an artfully caffeinated cup, of course)

Doubling back from that tangent… yes,…
1) I'm in love, as (if not more than) I've been for almost a decade
2) our big day is right round the corner;
3) I will be spending it hundreds of miles away from where she is
4) And that sucks more than I've ever imagined it would

Work beckoned, and I left her behind. I could perhaps have stayed (I know she would have, had she been in my shoes). But I didn't. Now the guilt trip has begun, and here I am, desperately trying to ease it by writing about it. Deep down, I already know that it isn't going to help. Yet I go on. We are, after all, devotees of pointlessness

One would be lead to believe that my first priority has always been my career. Yes, I spend countless hours on my craft, and I do lose track of time while I am at it. I go on, sometimes forgetting sustenance, slumber, and social life. Yet, from the day I started out on this road, she has seen me through every story and every piece of art I've created; sometimes by giving me feedback and sometimes by just being there.  I get inspired often by her dreams and sometimes even by her nightmares. Many a time have ideas sprung out from completely random conversations that we've had. We spend most of our time together just bumming around with no plans whatsoever and yet have so much fun.

I do not know what tomorrow has in store for me, (literally! - Bad weather up here. Thankfully, we don't have any oxygen masks dropping down just yet) , today I am happy because I have her in my life.

Alright then, It's getting a bit too rough up here to continue rambling on. So off I go. If you are reading this, then it means that I am back on terra firma, safe and sound

P.S: Yup, that's my tattoo you see on my forearm - the closing lines of the poem titled "Inventing Aladdin" by Neil Gaiman. It continues to see me through the worst of creative blocks. And I am waiting for the clock to strike 12 tonight, so that I can listen to it in the voice that has saved my life in the unlikeliest of ways

P.P.S: Come to think of it, this here emergency exit does give one false hope and a falser sense of security

P.P.P.S: Mumbai....Starbucks.... here I come! 

Starbucks paper-cup photo, courtesy: kikn.com