virtually real

While my extensive experience as an Indian Cinema viewer has lead me to a disdain for flash backs and flash forwards, and all such tricksy gimmicks, I believer that if you, dear reader, can extend your patience for just a moment, you fill there is a method to this tale of madness. A Kind of retrospective reflection of the past that all just comes together, just for you , just in one moment, just the kind which will make you, dear reader, to agree with me. I presume so..

I was looking at my dried, but once not-so-dried mashed potatoes, sitting right on a nice wooden plate. The cabbage was floating in the air, burnt into the wind, light in light and heavy in smell. I never knew a full piece of beans, which is just boiled with salt, could taste so good. Yes, not as good as that parupusili cut-beans, which are conjured by mylapore witches. (Yes they do come with the broom, but they use it to whack you). The cabbage. Yes, cheap leaves of a flower so large. If, cabbage had been small like say a jasmine, would it have been eaten like it is now? i checked the time.

"one last question"

"yes?"

"hmmm.. would you know where to score in mumbai?"

"what do you want to score?"

"the halfling's leaves, you know"

"no"

"ok, so where do you get"

"i think a person in my office smokes, i can ask"

"can you ask now?"

"now?"

"Yes, right now. i need to have one right now. Also can you tell me where in this dirty big city, can i sit, roll around and sleep?"

"i do not know"

"oh, back home we had that beach and the small road along it. stop any where. roll around. sleep. no problem. and then in the other city, there was a 6th century Muslim ruler tomb, some famous ruler who i can not recollect now. and a big wood and lake near it. we used to roll there as well. there's got to be a place in this city, some where"

"i can ask the same person you know"

"ok, thanks"

"well the person says, the leaves grow in the person's house. You can go there, i can take you. You stand on the road, i will go and get it from the person"

"that will do. and the place?"

"the person denies the existence of such a place"

"ouch. can i smoke in this said person's house?"

"no, the person does not want to you to know who the person really is"

"ok. all i need is 5 minutes and am gone, i have work to do"

"in that case you can come to my place, my room mate is away"

"cool"

"your place is cool.way too clean"

"you are here on the annual clean your room day. you are lucky. so here it is"

"ok thanks. btw will you join as well?"

"me? i got some small office work to do"

"so do i. and i enjoy working after this"

"ok i can try. i have did this before, just that i have this work"

"yeah dont worry. i do it all the time"

"ok this feels weird"

"woah, have you actually done this before?"

"yes, but it felt weird the last time as well"

"ok, no problem. this is your place"

"yes, but i got the work. my boss would kill me"

"ok i actually have no where to go and i have work to do. i was going to sit in the park opposite,  the king's park. So you can bring your laptop with me and work"

"oh no i cant come out. need papers"

"ok then let me sit here and i will work. that way you will feel like working as well. I will be gone in some 20 mins, once you get working. then you wont stop"

"ok thanks"

"you were right. it felt good to do it, right now. like this"

" i told you"

"and the music was good"

"yes, just the kind of music that was needed. nothing more. simple songs. you seem to read a lot"

"yeah, but i have not managed to read a lot of late. i work a lot"

"ah yes, the old i started to work and don't have time. you are just lazy"

"no, i am actually exhausted"

"then it might not be actually love"

"get out. right now. get out"

free

so it starts

i had a tub of black Belgium chocolate ice cream. a small bucket cost 300. it still lays open. like a half finished love affair. why would anyone compare a book to a love affair? i have a book half open.. or rather a page some where near the half way mark, is now open on a cheap muffin tablet. it was chance that brought this cheap tablet to me. this had originally belonged to a company which tried to sell hotel feedback software in tablets to India high class hotels. obviously the company folded. and it payed it employees in ipads and cheap android tablets. two such android tablets ended up with a Chennai sales man, who in turn started up with my friend and is now my new room mate. and he said these were use less and now its all mine. revived. am using it to read books. i had read a small quantity of books earlier in school. but frankly, i have never been a book kind of person. they take time, patience, slowly unraveling over 300 or 400 pages. its the unraveling which keeps the bookies to the books. and the other bookies to the crooks. i do not have that kind of patience. because when i do, i rather write. write such possible pages. there is a joy in being able to write so clearly in a language which does not belong to my land. no sir, we have our own language.. yes just our state.. our small race of people.. so that our failings and sadness stays with in our people.. but we built good temples, so that the tourists saw only happy things. the sadness lay in the words. and that's the problem with books. with books you can describe sadness in all the dimensions you want to encompass it in. and so you can get depressed with books. generally people who read a lot, they are introvert kind of guy or way too hyper. you don't see normal guys like us read books. yet i am suddenly hooked to books. i am laying down and reading. thats how i used to read. i remember very well, when i was in 9th standard i got hooked to a book my aurbindho..have never read anything that complex.. on the corner of the bed, with my legs vertically up against the wall.. and my upper body being my lower.. i keep the book cover facing the ceiling and read on.. or i lay in my living room floor and keep my feet on the sofa and read on.. but i hate going out to buy books.. i always borrowed.. i have read so many football biographies, but all was borrowed. and i hate books. no feel.. no smell.. and you need to read it sitting, from my desktop.. aargh it kills.. but now the tablet.. i am back to my old legs against the wall and tablet screen facing the floor.. and the ciggarrette lay in my mouth.. it has lay there for the last 4 hours.. unlit.. i am trying to cut down.. before it cuts me down.. the last three years have been as toxic as a man drinking grease every day morning . but smoking is an art.. an experience.. and i believe everyone should go through the smoke,addict and quit cycle. and i read this catcher in the rye.. and then i shall read woodhouse or what ever he is called.. whats all the hype about.. i still prefer movies. not as much as music, but just after music. but books might not be bad, as there are so many original stories already for a lifetime. whereas music and movies, the ones you see usually suit your taste. it takes 2 minutes to find out. but a book. even if its a bad book, you will read on for alteast half an hour. and may be thats a good alternative to ciggs, when i need a break..a half finished book is a half finished bath. you dont feel sad like you feel with a half finished love affair. you feel dirty, for not finishing the author. not respecting his effort. yes, he dint ask you to read. but now that you have picked up the book, as well as finish it off no?

so now i am in a new room, with a new room mate. i like this constant shifting. the room is perfect. its on the terrace of an independent house. loads of big windows which keep the room bright. and the left of the terrace is covered in false roofing. and then the solitude. i always wanted to experience this. no human contact for a week. but i think i need people around me, all the time. loneliness sucks man. and here go the pictures, of the old and new room. never leave behind anything or anyone without saying good bye. you own them that much..

Delhi is beautiful in the winters..

the view from my old room..

its raining again..

the shop in my old apartments

the view from my new room..

 old neighbor..

new neighbor..

And all this becomes clear. too clear that it is annoying. the separation between idealism and realism is just an illusion. as RF says "My life extends far beyond the limitations of me". Change has to be. Change it for all. Change it for him. Change it for her. And change everything.

here....

the f&b industry is utterly disappointing. everyone some how has come to the conclusion that loads of sugar= loads of sales in India. 5star. tcha..dairymilk..worstest sweet.. even hide and seek strawberry flavor is just hide and seek sugar cream flavor. there is so much artificial sweetness in India and its kind of making you numb.  its holi today. i never understood the whole color throwing business  i know its fun, i have been told. but no thank you, like Bilbo i refuse to go for an adventure. life looks good from behind my desktop, thank you. Yet, you know sooner or later this limbo will automatically die and one will be forced to go out. without knowing where to go. like pi, struck in the ocean. there was so much life around him all the time, but in the ocean. and Pi felt alone. I was fucking bored in my demo yesterday. When i say it aloud it feels nice.. sit in a cafe in hauz khas with your laptop.. you keep getting requests from the portal and i keep manually clicking and playing them.. thats like 30 secs in 5 mins.. the rest of the time i was free to sight the birds.. fight the mosquitoes.. and read absurd articles.. one was sent to me by an idiot, the article was how indian start up guys never get girls for kalyanam ouak samandham..back to the cafe, and i also get free good food. nice job. yet i am so bored. i know i just wanted to do something. but it feels.. kind of forced. like i just sat sat and sat till all my options expired/rejected automatically and was left with all but one choice.. to face the long dark of moria..its supposed to have some breath taking moments.. but mostly dangerous and boring and hard.. when life was all comfy and simple, you wanted something exiting.. but just when you are about to try something, you feel the cold feet. all this comforts need to be given away? and all i am going to get is satisfaction? i totally now understand how all the guys get either money/girl for satisfaction and use the other to get more money. it makes sense. and coming back to pi.. what a cruel book/movie that was.. show us all that is beautiful with the world.. construct it.. and then in two minutes to the japs, break that so cruelly.. i mean i was imagining Tabu's body floating in the ocean, bleeding and shark approaching the body and pi shutting his eyes.. now if only, the movie had shown the actual shark eating human scene.. common be bold, dont let us imagine such a gory scene and make us guilty.. just describe the whole tore here bit by bit.. frenzy feeding.. the murder's face changing from gory to human, before he is about to surrender to pi.. fucking morons these writers are.. no one ever accuses them of spreading violence.. there is so much hate that, stopping its propagation might be beneficial.. its the coward's choice, but hey who cares.. just let us shut out from it.. as i was climbing the metro today, i remembered a lady was shot in the same metro station yesterday.. there was no mark.. just gone.. and she was someone was a distant shitty toi article, who will be promptly forgotten.. you know all this twitter.. real time sharing.. its just to make you consume more.. consume, not understand.. you just keep on reading so much that, it becomes just reading.. there is no time to reflect.. to learn.. and you start having standard responses.. outrage.. no one in india accepts if you tell them that you are arguing it for the heck.. i mean people want you to take a stand that you support the idea and hence are arguing for it..why cant one just argue for one subject, knowing very well its the wrong one? its amusing no?

free

red and white

there is nothing like a well made theratipaagu... made on a wood fueled stove. imagine the heat, on top of the madras heat. and you boil freshly... is extracted the right word? the cow never gave us the permission, did it? so fresh milk it is.. boiled over hours.. being slowly stirred all the time.. lest it should leave a taste of fire in it.. and after 5 litres of milk, it comes down to a small ball of pure white moon like thing..on a green plantain leaf.. shining in ghee and melted sugar.. no its not that sweet.. just the pure taste of milk, given the correct amount of escalated sweetness..and 4 hours of work from a diabetic 60 year old paati.. and you will finish it in exactly 40 seconds.. when its hot.. and easy to just swallow..

there is nothing like a well made kajar halwa..carrot shredded to the right thickness, so that you know its own big heap.. but its thin nonetheless..and then cooked in freshly minted milk.. now wait.. can milk be minty? i mean like always . imagine cows eating only mint leaves.. podra bussiness planna.. rightu.. the fresh milk and carrot cooking in it.. and at the exact time you drain the excess milk. all the time watching it, braving this cruel 2 degree gurgaon cold..the carrots are cooked so that they look like rice.. but they are softer.. and sweeter.. extreme sweetness.. but a neutralizing agent of mawa, which has now lost its raw annoying smell..and all these held together by the just the right amount of desi ghee.. and of course nuts.. and thats another 4 hours..and hot, easy to swallow food..

maybe its not all that different?

free

this time when i was returning from chennai by train, we had a 27 year old bengali ponnu who was doing some research and a sardar with us.. now this girl got on the train and slept.. slept all the 40 hours through to delhi.. but our sardar made sure she had to wake up atleast once.. first he snores like a.. like a..helicopter taking off.. audible above the beat of the train.. on the track.. with the leaking windows acting as wind instruments..and this fellow snores.. i feel so sorry for his wife.. btw can you search matrimony websites, filtering out people who snore? i wish we could filter room mates based on that.. anyways bad bad snoring.. and then at 4am he played some punjabi devotional songs.. from his walkman.. in full sound.. fucking woke everyone up.. then the bengali girl woke and first scolded him in bengali.. and then hindi.. and the sardar switched it off.. next day when i woke up i coudlnt find my slipper.. slipper lost in the sleeper.. tcha kavidhai.. kavidhai..

i still cant understand how cloud atlas dint even get near the Chinese factory where the Oscars things are made. it is way too awesome, just because of doing so well with such a complex concept. and less miserable was well, less miserable. on first watch. but i loved it the second time i watched it. and that pichakari lady who gets shot, she is tharmar jingli. but sadly in other photos outside the movie shes attu. that reminds me of every other girl i see on facebook.  anyways both movies had awesome music, but of course no where near what Yann Tiersen did. how can anyone be that much genius like he is, total thalai-var only..

how hard is it, if you just keep travelling.. like with no home.. just a bag.. basics.. you cant be robbed.. or so i presume so... now thats dangerous because the idea is to set out to know what desperate is.. travel along.. wash cups at corner tea shack.. make ten rubees and take the bus to the next location.. and shoot.. shoot a lot of people.. you might need a 300 wala lens.. and thats it.. no plans.. just set out.. fix the period you are going to come back for the first time.. lets says pongal'14.. start where you last left off.. it was in erudapetta.. kerala-tn border.. that blissful place.. where road side waterfalls and pope-sanctioned saint churches were common.. where the house was big and had 2 streams of clear water converging in the back yard. a garden which yielded rubber primarily and hence life.. then there was the pineapple, jackfruit, cocoa, coffee and cardamom plants... and honey combs.. and coconuts, loads of it.. the pineapple's ancestors were buried in the earth beneath... pineapple wine for christmas.. the rest of it all comes together beautifully, to make up 2 breakfasts. one when you wake up, the other after you finish your 3 hour swim and come back all hungry..and the feeling of being silently carried away by the gentle stream.. noiselessly.. it was like rajalakshmi said- pin drop silence, finger on the lip.. that much silence.. that much awesome..

and its free!!! i loved that trip... the last trip before i was called back to hell by my respected current employers.. actually its not their fault, just that corporation culture and me dont get along well.. infact we might need to be pulled apart at times.. but then like any hungry husband who goes back to his laptop for more porn, i need to get back and get my salary..but like sendhil thalai told me in my dreams, infarmasion is velthu.. you should know where to beg, other wise you are a normal beggar.. i mean how awesome it will be if you are THE best at something? like being the best beggar in india.. ok thats tough competition , lets say madras..right thats also too much, considering harris jeyaraj lives there.. what about say, mylapore.. no that is the harvad of respectable pichakara thanam.. but i might have to reconsider, when my mind goes to t nagar, west mambalam .. the t stands for thanni.. the h2o thanni.. thats the only thing which gets offered in that area.. but you have to understand, water is the most precious commodity there.. i still remember that moment when i first used a west mambalam kakoosee..in  my pati's house in west mambalam.. it was in a street called baroda street.. i never understood what baroda has to do with west mambazham..and the road was narrow.. and considering the people there, it should be called buruda street.. anyways i was 7 or 8 years old.. i went through my ritual and when i opened the tap..aaragha.. the tap infact farted.. now this was the first time i have seen this miracle, i was then in pondi.. and in pondi every one had so much water that they used to use yelaneer to make lemon juice..i was astonished when they told me that the moving railways toilet and the stationery west mamablam where one at the same.. later after seeing those numerous housing units, where all you had was a hall. common room and a small kitchen.. and a common bothroom.. i guess west mambalam is infact the indian railways.. imagine if west mambalam people can book for water bottles through irctc only.. or infact book viswaroopam tickets through that only.. no moon ki ban.. ban the un..