Moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul

I clicked on the notepad icon, started typing few sentences which made no sense to me. Words failed to flow, sentences were woven loose, ideas were going through commotion.
"Maybe it was never meant to be and definitely not preordained" said a voice in my head.
"Its not that the folks are waiting for the next writeup eagerly. That happens to Khaled Hosseini, not me" assuring the previous voice.
"Its definitely the lowest ebb, but you do go up as a tide. Its never late to make a start or restart" disagreed another.
"The moment you lose the ability to have the seamless flow of words, its a sign of decline"

The riots in my head got stronger. The disorderly outburst of depressing thoughts and a few encouraging ones were fighting their way to the victory. One almost loses faith when a loved activity becomes a feared one. When the quarter life crisis hits, everything becomes questionable. The worthiness of the tasks become important, or not !

Excellence is good, eccentric is even better, sloppiness-a strict no no. With this burden and the pre-conceived notion, we start weighing everything around us. Am either too good for that or I dont even care trying. Its not my cup of tea.

I shifted from a wonderland, nestled comfortably in my innocence, to a practical world where am being judged. Let loose your fear, and it grows to be a gigantic monster who blocks your line of sight. I felt I cant get myself to write again. Reason? Nothing I do will be good enough. Experiences I have had, can never be jotted down or can be done justice to. I hardly ask myself "What do I want?" Instead, am bogged down by "How I am perceived". I heard someone say-" If you fight, you can either win or lose. But if you dont fight, you can never win". This simple truth is so comforting. Its easy for me to not write. Thats my general state of being. Its tempting to give an excuse and convince myself, but hard to talk myself to do it.

If you could find a passion where you dint see clock ticking or stomach grumbling, you are blessed. (You can be paired with the likes of Einstein)
If you cant find a passion, but willing to find one, you are a go-getter. (With the thought that, half the life goes in finding one)
If you had one, left it and want to retrieve it, why are you a cynical? (I feel starting from scratch all over again with little baby steps, has its advantages. There is only one way to traverse- forward)
Thus the post. Call it mediocre or plain hapless, am happy that for once, I can do something just for myself.

Its a perfectly reasonable deviation from my routine.

"A brave one at that", said the voice inside.

And the lazarus started playing... "I survived against the will of my twisted folk But in the deafness of my world the silence broke....follow me ..."

A journey, undefined !

Alrighty..! Hiatus. .. A big one at that. A phase where we are caught up in a spiral where we cant do the very thing we used to love the most. You stop writing and it feels like you can never write again. You stop reading, the mammoth sized book seems scary. Things change, and it comes as a grievous surprise.

Taking the huge leap from one coast to another sure teaches a lesson or two. Good and bad, beautiful and ugly, dreams and realities. I would not have discovered so much about me or the world if not for this change. If its an awakening to realize about yourself, I think that can never happen .You just have no idea how you choose to react to anything that life holds for you.

Be it visiting the holy shrines of academia or doing all the crazy adventures whose names I was unaware of, all the lonely moments with the dawn of a new truth or the triumphant memories, this land has SOMETHING. Did I foresee, NO. Did I learn, Definitely. Black or White? No, its only Grey !!

America-You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains; You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas.....(From Josh Groban)

Beauty ain't skin deep !

Dragging my feet, still revelling in my own sweet world, it was only when the super chilling water fell on my face that I realised I slipped from my dream slot. 'Oh, what a beautiful dream it was'. She was the princess anyone for that matter would envy, a beauty any charming prince would aspire to have. A grace which any opulence can never match. A heaven where nothing is at stake. Everything you name and its there. Lovely ! Is nt it? Beauty as in exact dictionary words.
Alas, only to realise it was just a dream.

Getting rid of my vertigo, after savouring the aroma of the filter coffee, the mind-ignited told me 'Hey, hold on..it aint so bad, things around you and those that happen to you are even more beautiful '. Really? How do we seek beauty !

Its in the new hope with which we get up everyday and the very hope that gives us something to look forward to..

Its in the green reflection of the drop falling off the leaves..

Its in the little pup who comes to you wagging his tail everytime..

Its in the passing thought when you finished your newspaper thinking
'what if you were to be a politician running this country '..

Its in the smile the old neighbour bestows on you every morning when you leave your house..

Its in the eyes of the intense gaze of the baby you saw in your sister's lap..

Its in the nod of your head in sync with your favourite tune whenever you hear it on the go..

Its in the triumphant moment when u did the most stupid thing and no1 looked at it..

Its in the little breaks you look for ,to hold on to the gossip and stuff..

Its in the cheerful hug you give your buddy , when you meet after ages..

Its in the powerful hold of your dad when he pats your back n says 'things
ll be alright'..

Its in the vacation you get after toiling for that grueling exam..

Its in the mindless argument you have with your friend , jus to end up laughing in the end..

Its in the never ending harmless teasing you do and beaming a sheepish smile that you were at your creative best..

Its in the tears you shed when you dint know the reason why..

Its in the conversation you had with yourself when watching the lovely waves on the shore..

Its in the deserving sleep you look forward to when the next day is a holiday..


Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder and in the heart of simple beings. Only if we know how to look for it.
Infact.., its in the very ugliness which makes beauty look more beautiful !

The King's Speech

A movie which takes you to the depth of human emotions- Fear . Set in the times of 1930s, takes us effortlessly through the pages of history. Admitting that I wanted to see it for this movie being nominated in most of the categories in this year’s Academy awards, I could not but help feel satisfied and triumphant at the end of it. Telling the story of King George VI facing the problem of speech impediment and his efforts to overcome his stammering , makes one face the truth that nearly no one is spared of imperfections.

One actor who took my breath particularly is Geoffrey Rush as the speech trainer. An impeccable performance. His character as Lionel Logue trying his informal ways at the task in hand is truly attractive. He just steals the show. The way he calls the king as ‘Bertie’ instead of ‘your highness’ speak volumes as to the promise of friendship. The ways he adopt to teach the king to ‘have faith in his own voice’ is remarkable. Helena Bonham Carter dons a great role too as wife of the king. The dialogues with its poetic stature and the fascinating screenplay is a treat to the ears.



And ofcourse, there is Colin Firth. My most favourite character as ‘Mr.Darcy’ in the famous ‘Pride and Prejudice’, lives upto the expectations. He just speak volumes through his eyes. I do hope he bags the best actor award. In all, a great movie and worth all the nominations.
It takes leadership to confront a nation's fear and it takes friendship to conquer your own.

Apprentice for Life !

He was a writer, so typical of him. The constant flow of rejection slips didn’t add to his confidence. He knew there is something strange about writers. They can almost never get a decent pay-check at the end of every month unlike the Engineers, lawyers or even morticians. He wanted a father figure to guide him to be taken seriously. Thus, began his odyssey of searching for the man.

As if by luck, he bumped into him. A Deja-vu of sorts. You just realize when you find that someone. John, swiveling in his chair, his white mane neatly combed , a tie-knot cravat across his neck, he exuded intelligence, suaveness, discipline. The other writers praised his vainglorious nature all the time.

His intimidating nature dint help our young apprentice writer in the beginning. At times, he shot back telling “ Please do the honors of looking the words up in a dictionary, before submitting your literary piece”. Then used to be the sudden dip in the confidence and ego of the writer. Nevertheless, he learnt to learn. Writing is a craft, to be chiseled through constant efforts to express things sharply.

John expected the article to be in his desk every morning . No talk, ofcourse no excuses. He produced a scowl that mingled with disappointment which made one stammer and sulk in disgust. His stare, so formidable, made the writer to feel as if he is a speck in the immaculate farmland. But, he taught him to ask, to go beyond the screen, to have the spirit of inquiry. Odd it may seem, no one ever asked about John’s background or god-like status. He was just indomitable.

In fear and fascination he learnt the tricks of the trade. Afterall, the monstrous looking dictionary started teaching something to him. Most of the work went in pleasing John, and it was usual to spend an entire day just writing one paragraph only to throw it in the end. When John looked at it stopping his ritual of reading those ancient huge volumes, it sent a chill through the nerves. The highest comment he ever got through his tenure was, its ‘Readable’.

In the process, he learnt that writing was more than just words. The information is superficial, but there should be a symphony inside it which draws the readers and makes him feel good that he read it. Its a performance, wordsmithing.


He got a job in the top most bureau and he was a great success. He met John, after few years. The man he always looked upto. But John had just one thing to say “ I am not what you think I am. This has gone way too far. I had no clue what you were writing or talking about . I was doing odd jobs like washing, cleaning lots and then I entered this magazine. I was hopeless at this and had to go through same stuff 100 times. I had to look up for each and every word in the dictionary. The only way I could succeed was create a persona that cant be challenged. You were there. I helped you by setting you against yourself!!”

Caught in a spin, he looked thorough his piece of writing, it was awful ! So amateurish to break any writer’s heart. But it dint matter to him. For, knowing is one thing and believing is another. Some things cant be explained by any logic. John always remains what he always stood for.


Years after John’s death, the writer still not dare proceed without looking up for the word , if he doesn’t know. He still craves to write a piece which could have made John smile. He is still afraid of John’s scowl. It does not matter if John understood or not, but to him he was the greatest editor of all times. And, the writer remained an apprentice for life !

Namesake

I was skimming through the gigantic holding racks of the library, wherein the obesely beaming books almost looked like falling off the shelf. Looking at the various titles makes you think of a trait which atleast the quarter percent of the population seem to share-creativity and imagination. Suddenly the yellow paperbacked book looked prominent. Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri. I was extremely pleased with myself for having encountered the book which I was searching from quite a long time. The feeling of having a book which you always wanted to read, creates a strange sense of fulfillment .

Having heard a lot about the movie and reading the reviews on the last page of the book set me into a fast pace, notwithstanding the curiosity. The storyline is elementary. An Indian family making their life in a foreign ground. The characters begin to appear effortlessly. The author describes each of them so well that you feel like going through it, all by yourself. The settings beautifully explained to the tiniest detail without making it sound boring. She does not set rules, nor make claims. I had not given much of a thought about what a ‘name’ can stand for. Ofcourse, its our very identity. It takes a hilarious turn when , just a simple act of naming a child is portrayed as a levelheaded deed. Imagine having a name ’gogol’. The throes of having such a name is captured without an excuse. The origin of his name, his misgivings and the final justification comes out clearly. One should write a book as ‘what not to name a baby’! There is no sad hint. The trick is simple! A story told with all its beauty. Pristine as it is, she brings out the fact that conformity to a culture is by no means a pretence. The nuances of the ideological differences make you think a bit. In short, a story I loved for its sheer simplicity and description, not forgetting the thoughts that it will arouse to occupy the mind.

iCon

- The Greatest Second Act in the History of Business

A ringmaster who can direct every move of his fellowmen, inspire them like crazy and at times work them into a frenzy, where no soul is untouched by his aura and yet make them realize where to draw the line, Steve Jobs clearly is the genius we are seeing and still experiencing ! One of the best books I have read recently, which is so riveting till the end and makes you wonder if one human being can do all that. How do you explain being an icon in three major fields of Computing, Music and Animation?
Each of his legions waiting for the story to unfold, are proudly considering their part in this mania. Exuding charisma and preternaturally excellent, he raises the bar for what the leaders of today are made of. For those who just see the bling and success surrounding him, its an eye-opener to announce, he is molded through a tiresome process. Even today he stands for what he stood as a teenager. Mellowed down , maybe, still he manages to pull out the rabbit everytime out of the hat- every magician’s dream.
The book is an excellent read and a better stamp of The Google Story genre. The nitty gritties of the geeky world is carefully woven and it does not painfully teach you to code or create the graphics, it leisurely and unknowingly takes you into the environs of the modern tech era, with so little effort that in the end you can clearly distinguish as what goes into Mac and Windows . Geez ! I actually read through the entire Apple license document to see the craftsmanship that goes into their product. Yes, it runs for pages and never had I ventured into such amusements before!! It made me watch the Toy Story all over again and Woody and Buzz emerged even more livelier. It’s a different feeling to see, hear or read when you know what goes into the making. Nothing comes just suddenly out of the wilderness .
Today I hold the iPod and it feels ever so magical. Who else can give that clean touch and feeling?! I mean here is a guy who is so adamantly confident and has the power to make it into reality. Not all his products are runaway hits, but those which are, are of a totally different clan. It’s a difficult task to even start describing him and that’s the best part of this book- a Biography with a difference. ‘The best of engineers does not fit into any mold’. Even today he looks very much the part and he is not done yet !