We all take different paths in life, but no matter where we go, we take a little of each other everywhere.
- Tim McGraw

The Equilibrium of Absence

Watching the fine contours of your face,
I tremble at the beauty of your perfections.
The sight of you, in front of me,
Seems unreal like the floating pearls in the sky.
Feigning indifference to your breathtaking presence,
Would be like to ignore a jasmine in the slums.
When can the inequalities of our statures be balanced?
Is our love enough to bring us to a state of impassioned equilibrium?
Is that enough to face the world and keep us bonded?

Utopian Nightmare of a Pale Symphony

Who are they? They are singing in my ear.
The sound they produce hurts me.
They are singing of a different world.
That world, they say, is filled with people,
Ruled by a single dictator.
They say his name is God.

They say he forgives, I don’t know.
They say He helps the needy. I am not sure.

Because they still sing of famine and drought,
they still talk of an evil power, which they try to ward off with incenses.
What world do they live in? I don’t know.

They are still immensely patriotic. They love their homeland.
They fight with all their might for it. Strange, yes?

I don’t know if I want to visit that land. They are inviting me there. They say the water is sweet, the fruits are juicy and the people, warm and friendly.

My ears hurt, but they don’t listen. They still sing.
The song has no notes. The song is a little more than a hum. It is a unique composition. My ears are hurting; I feel they may just bleed.

This distant land seems more than a dream. It seems like the perfect blend of the disastrous mix of black and white, right and wrong. It is everything we feared; it is everything we never could understand. Our fear of this ‘utopian’ land ends not at the scene when He, the dictator, exits, it begins when he enters and begins his autocratic hold on our lives with powerful forces of karma and dharma, entwined in a way that bedazzles yet frightens us. I don’t want to hear that song of his kindness and his greatness. Perfection is wonderful to strive for, but how can we expect this tyrant to seize our lives and fiddle them thee? Shan’t embrace the blasphemy darling, take your band and go home.

2009, Be nice to me!

Oh myy babyy, my new year, the ninth year of the 21st century!
What shalt thou bring for the poor soul these 365 days?
Bring me those cups of joy, oh bring them jugs of laughter and love,
Ahh! I'll wait for thee to arrive yet again, be nice to me!
Thy victim lies in the pools of uncertainty, the future seems bleak,
Tainted, 09, paint me a sun, won't you?
Grey areas dominate the picture, paint me a heart won't you, darling?
Oh can't you see what you're doing to me,
Like keeping the lover at a safe and unbearable distance!
2009, baby, baby, baby, be good to me,
I'll be lovely to you too!
Keep thy troubles locked in a cage at the beach,
Keep my future nice and clean,
I'll do what it takes, hard work and sweat,
My new year wish, honey just don't forget.
Keep the killers and murderers away from us happy souls,
Keep the bombs and the terrorists away from us happy souls,
Keep the war and the grenades away from us!
Ahh I pledge, dear, I'll make a change,
I'll drive with patience, I'll forgive,
I will love, 2009! Be nice to me!
I stand here, wooing you like an old, lost lover 09,
The things people do for love, humorous no?
But, I know that you will love me, if you give me a chance.
Let they parents be happy, let aging not happen to them young birds!
Let children read, be the new revolutionaries!
Bring the smiles back on the innocent faces of the sad little mice in the slums!
I will forgive, 09, I will love, be nice to me!
I pledge, i shall be thy harbinger of change,
I will try, try and try to be all things good,
I will try, try and try and eliminate all bad things,
I will try, try and try to make me sister smile!
I ask of you, silly favor, show some sympathy, no?
Be nice to me, 09!

Say B for Technicolor Dreams!

Bollywood (Hindi: बॉलीवूड) is the informal term popularly used for the Mumbai-based Hindi-language film industry (Hindi cinema) in India. The term is often incorrectly used to refer to the whole of Indian cinema; it is only a part of the Indian film industry. Bollywood is the largest film producer in India and one of the largest in the world.

What can we learn from the most extravagant, larger than life, cultural and a riot of colors kind, superbly expensive and bling bonanza that we lovingly call Bollywood?
What irritates us about this "field" or rather what entices us into it?
Are we drawn to this miraculous place that produces "demi-gods" in the form of King Khan or Queen Bee that is the pretty-face-no-personality Mrs Rai-Bachchan or are we repulsed by it? An eternal question plagues this creator and destroyer of dreams.
The larger than life, happy, colorful love stories are certainly misleading. The occasional burst into a song even during extremely tense moments is certainly strange. I mean, try imagining a very tense moment in your life, like maybe when you are fighting with your mother or husband or someone, and in the background a fast paced, increasing momentum songs pumps up. You would probably die of surprise and you'll be caught in a dilemma, "Would dancing now be inappropriate?".
I am fascinated, yet repulsed by this monster. It seems that this make-believe world, does exist on another planet. In the words of the All-Knowing Wiki Uncle, "However, unlike Hollywood, Bollywood does not exist as a real physical place."
I beg to differ, Bollywood physically exists, in ANOTHER galaxy. Only recently has it begun to pick up themes that are remotely close to the average Indian. It is a bubble that never pops. Unaffected by the economic slowdown, terrorist attacks, political trouble etc etc.
I am amazed. All the glitter, the no-way-isolated happy endings, the always-happy love story. There's something that is just beautifully impressive about it, it gives you hope. And hope is important. Its rare. There are so many flaws in B-Wood, so many mistakes you could point out in a single 70 mm shot, but there's just the feel good thing about it.
It makes you wish, makes you want to claim your nonexistent happy ending. After the end of a particularly sobby love story, I think back to mine and wonder what went wrong and just for that moment after the credits roll, I can feel the emotions welling up. And as I walk back to the car, sit down, criticize the obvious drama, I feel lighter. I think with shame, "I am a hypocritical cynic." And then, I forget about it.