The long short journey of making a film

I've been erratically writing this blog since sometime now and I've always felt something missing. At times, I've felt that I've had nothing to say (which would explain some of the mind numbingly pretentious boring posts). The blog vehicle, until now, was used by me to hop, skip and jump between creative pursuits. To keep the fire burning, as they say.

But now I feel that this must have some continuity. Some kind of chain.. some kind of connection. So, I've decided that from now on, I will detail and illustrate my everyday struggle to make my own film. Many books, quotes etc etc simply put it, 'If you want to make your film, make it'. And that, in some sense, is true and wise. But when you go about setting a certain standard for yourself, you just cannot go and make it...

Anyway, so begins my constant documentation of maneuvering my way through the underbelly of making films in Mumbai.

Having written this, I now feel if I really do want to make film. Do I have a story to tell? Only one way to find out....

Me and my loves...

I love things and people alike so it doesn't affect me if my girlfriend complains that I love my apple computer more than I love her or (in one of the weirder moments) my pen complains that I love my girlfriend more or my car complains that I love my pen more..

Trailing off from that thought, what I would really like to talk about are my loves. Lets start with the pen.. When we were in class 4, we graduated from pencils to pens and I can never forget the exhilarating feeling of finally getting to write with a pen in school. It was so magical. I looked at the pen for hours, tried it out on various surfaces, made drawings with it, protected it with my life. And our teacher, a lover of fountain pens somehow managed to make it a rule in class for all of us to write with fountain pens while other sections would write with cheaper, sturdier and faster ball point ones. But no one was complaining. Ours was the cooler section (as everyone feels about their own class). That was when the love affair started.

My tuition teacher eventually managed to force me to write with a ball point pointing out that I will surely flunk my exam if I combine my bad handwriting with a tortoise of a pen. School ended, my scores were just okay (so much for the ball point) and I never went to college and I suddenly realised that I never really had to listen to anybody, I could live my own life my way and thats what I decided to do. I returned to writing with fountains pens and haven't left them ever since. 

I love the way the nib bristles over the paper forming letters in the most organic way, almost taking a shape of their own. One can almost feel the ink flowing from the plunger and making its way through the needle thin mechanism onto the paper. Over a period of time, the pen takes to your hand, it becomes one with you. It will only write properly when you write with it. Only you will know, most instinctively, the correct position in which to hold it for it to write most smoothly. The process of maintaining the pen in itself is so charming, although painstaking. 

Guess I should stop talking about my pen before the living creatures who love me start getting jealous. I haven't changed my pen since the past three years now and when and if it dies.. it shall get a funeral similar to what a family member would get. 

Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.....

A thought just entered my head from the air around me. Am I happy, it questions? Funny... I never thought I would ask myself this question. I've always done what I've felt like doing. And simply doing what one feels like doing makes one happy by default. Isn't that so?

After some careful thinking... apparently no. I've always judged my happiness level by the manner in which I get out of bed every morning. Its always been energetic, almost as if I'm dying to wake up and get on with what's on my mind. Lately, with great sadness, I have to say that such is not the case. I miss the excitement.

Should I change my profession? Should I do away with the very organic way in which I live my life? Has my life become monotonous? Have I become like many of the people around me who keep whining about their life but still go on living it? Is it time to take charge and lead my life in a certain direction rather than letting it loose and go where it takes me? Is it okay for me to manipulate my own destiny?

Only questions for now as usual. Lazy answers will take their own sweet time.

ek tha raja, ek thi rani, donon mar gaye, khatam kahani

For the hindi illiterate the title translates to 'There was once a king, and a queen, both die, story ends'

I've been trying to write a short film since quite some time.. Its about a guy and a girl for starters, no not like the childhood story of, 'ek tha raja,ek thi rani, donon mar gaye, khatam kahani'.

No matter what I do, how I weave the story, how I go to the depths of my soul to find some inspiration, my conditioning does not permit me to separate the couple in the end. My mind, heart, soul... demand a happy ending. I have decided to make a decided effort to not make them come together in the end, they will part, they will seperate, because the way they are, they are not meant to be together...

THE END

Everyone has a right to be stupid..

Of the many things people have tried to teach me about being wise, sensible and worldly, the one thing which has come to me as a combined realisation of all that knowledge is that everyone has a right to be stupid. Everyone is, in their own way, in their own situations. And that is something I really love, the right to be stupid.. I hope my mind and heart retains that right always.. it makes life much more interesting...

Poem.. after a long long time... preachy as usual but still puts what i felt in words..

The past forgotten
the moment felt
the future uncertain

life takes another turn
heads or tails
go one way

is the decision mine..
or is already made
Cant see the way

wait.. i see a light
its very bright
it brings another way out

its no more this or that
This IS
should I go for it

but I cannot
I have a life
promises to fulfill

But this is tempting
What should I do
Should I go for it..

I've done it again

Yet again, in the measly little life i've lived, I've managed to put myself in a self destruct situation. Here I was, with the perfect life, a good job, making good money and one decision, which I'm still to make, can ruin/change it all. My whole life will reset itself. Now, I am rational enough to think about this decision but I'm also dumb enough to put myself in this situation. The decision can go either way. It only depends on the circumstance.

Such a dilemma. If only solutions were as simple as that.

Too bad I don't want to care either way.. I want to just live....

Falling in Love

It is now 9 P.M. and I'm still sitting in office, looking out of a window at one of the busiest roads in the city. A very repetitive uninteresting sight but if one goes out to find meaning, it can come out of anything. I've been trying to write a short film which is as of now in just a series of cluttered thoughts, ideas and situations in my head. To start with, I thought the film I make has to be about love. It is one of the best feelings ever and it would be amazing to ignite the same in someone watching my film.

So love it is.. and the search for a story starts..

Scene One

Background song plays: 'And I still haven't found what I'm looking for...'

And I still haven't found what I'm looking for...

Everyone seems to know what they want, things, jobs, relationships... some have a long list. I was confronted by the very same question yesterday and I... did not have an answer. Now, either this is a sad testimony to my flavorless life or it is proof of my enlightened existence. My mind and heart reject both logical reasonings.

So then what do I want, well I certainly do want some things in life, but they're not as significant as the seriousness with which the question is posed. Let me make a list of the things which I currently want and let it rest in internet history:

- more playstation games
- finish my script
- jazz up my car
- get a new phone

now i'm just forcing things out.. maybe creating more wants along the way... Lets play

- make a feature film
- get a life
- get a fully loaded entertainment center
- buy a house
- gain enlightenment
- have a house in the hills
- never have to worry about money again
- accomplish that secret task
- send a lot of money home
- learn to fly a plane, learn how to sketch, learn how to play the guitar and the piano

Ok.. now I'm bored... i'm going to revisit this list after maybe 5 years...

NOW I HAVE SOME WANTS...

And I still haven't found what I'm looking for..

Of how women are taking over my world

The day had just passed by like a blur as I rested my head on my pillow after months of slave labour. My mind was experiencing one of those few moments of thoughtlessness. I brought my hand towards my face. I realised I hadn't shaved for months now. Going a little further towards my hair, I figured the state I was in and made an instant decision. I had to go the salon... immediately. The thoughtlessness was broken... for a good cause of course, but the blissful feeling or whatever its chemical equivalent is called remained.

I walked down the sea lined road, admired the palm trees lining the road, happy faces, beautiful women enjoying the breeze, even the slum dwellers seemed to be having such a good time. It was truly a happy day for the world and I was aware. Pushing the front door of the salon open like I owned the place, just like I owned the world for the day, I walked in to face a smiling girl at the reception in a smart black body hugging uniform. This was a first, a girl receptionist in a men's salon. A good way to increase clientele, I told myself. After explaining to her what all I wanted to get done, I went towards the usual services section to my usual chair looking for my usual guy who knows the detailing which goes into cutting my small but delicate crop of hair.

Change was the theme for the day and I, as usual, was just going with the flow. The first look my eyes gathered was a woman getting her eyebrows done. I settled into my chair, taking another look at the woman getting tormented by another woman with a thread. Well, my favorite salon had become unisex. Another one of my manly escapes had been lost. A flurry of thoughts were flowing through my blissful thoughtless head when the smily, not so beautiful in close-up, receptionist showed up and introduced me to her new staff. A young beautiful girl was to give me a hair cut.

Whhaaaatttttt.... seriously. No woman is touching my beautiful hair..

'Where's Rakesh I asked', I asked. 'Oh! We had to let go of him as we were restructuring', the now ugly receptionist replied, still smiling. With that, I heaved a huge sigh and surrendered myself into the hands of an untested woman with beautiful hands. The battle started.

The phone rang. I had thought of leaving the big black thing at home but had to carry it out of fear of my supposed not-so-legalised but very dangerous when angry better half. It was not her, it was my kind-of-legalised sweet-poison dangerous woman colleague from office wanting another task executed. The world became all grim, the happy faces started to disintegrate, everyone was rushing to get somewhere, the city was suddenly at its busiest best. I was no longer the ruler, the special one. I was just the random guy next door. Well, the girl got over her haircut, suggesting facials, massages etc.. Maybe she even offered to sleep with me but I was too bored and lost to listen to her ranting.

Getting out of that paradise now under the spell of a black witch, I gathered myself and started the process of taking an auto-rickshaw to office but guess who decided to steal the rickshaw I was about to take, another woman. There is this thing about 40 plus women in India, especially the ones married with children.

They think it is their natural birth right to get first right to everything like they're disabled or something, ready to fight over everything and anything. Guess who always wins and is always right in their head..

My mom called me. She wanted to know about when I was sending her favorite painting print, meeting her friend in Mumbai, calling up some other random relatives, getting my hair cut (I had just done it.. one point up!), when I was coming to Delhi myself.. and the usual everyday q & a’s. Sometimes I think our conversations are like a never ending loop.

Where were the men, I was asking myself. Looking around, I could not see any, just imagine, not one man alone walking with his head held high. The only ones to be seen were the ones looking down and walking behind their wives or driving their wives or convincing their wives. For that moment, that was the state of the world. The hardcore psychotic feminists had won. Not that I’m not for equal right, I’m quite a feminist in my own right. But this… this was simply taking over.

It was no longer about equality, it was war and the ones with the vagina’s had won.

The office work finished, I scooted out of there, waiting to get back home to a film or a book or to my beloved laptop. The phone call source I had dreaded earlier woke up my phone from its slumber and I answered the call with a manly baritone Hello. A couple of sentences down and I was reduced to a squeaky mice like voice. I was commanded by her majesty to come to a particular restaurant where her friend wanted to meet me. Had to go. Her friend, apart from having a fake name, convoluted stories of her earning sources, weirder stories of friends and many more pieces of info that made her truly unbelievable had just got herself a boob job and wanted me to check her out. This was a first, a woman actually wanted me to sit and ogle at her breasts. I happily did it and even commented on them, although there was no real difference actually but of course I couldn’t say that for it would only prove I knew her exact shape and size from before and my blonde is intelligent enough to catch that. Of course, I’m smarter.

Got home, had to sit through a film called ‘How to loose a guy in 10 days’. Wonder how I allowed that title in my house but was not a bad film after all. In comes our house mate with another girl friend of hers. Before I knew it, I was in the company three ‘very drunk' women. A situation close to one of my school time porn video’s almost etched into my memory was just coming alive when one of them decided to puke on my favorite satin sheet. To hell with the memory, they had just broken sacred law and were to be banished from the kingdom without trial. As fast as was physically and politely possible, I switched off my light and was fast asleep, the party off to the other room.

Then began the dreams…

Searching for the unknown in the known... Amusing ourselves.. are we??

I constantly meet or hear about people who're searching for the unknown, trying to unlock the mystery towards happiness and self realisation. First, why does one want to attain the unknown, enlightenment, moksha etc etc.. One reason I have noticed is to have an edge over your neighbor, to have something which very few have, to be part of that exclusive club.. Why do we constantly want to make ourselves better people.. better people for me... simply means more 'socially trained'. Even I am constantly looking for what I don't have. I wasn't born with what I have anyway like all of us, just picked up stuff instinctively along the way and when I became aware and confident enough to question, I started questioning my own 'self'. I use whatever I have picked up to question what other people have. All this leads me to a very suicidal tendency, one which tells me that whatever one comes with, covets, attains or does not attain.. mokha, enlightenment, samsara etc etc, are they all just terms we use to look forward to something in life, which in itself gives us the drive to live. Does it all actually exist or do we just amuse ourselves with something invented just for the same purpose, to make us all live, to survive, to carry on this race.. reproduce, fulfill your purpose in life and perish...

As of now, I feel that Death is the only enlightenment, the only moksha, the only salvation...

Which, of course, does not in any way mean that I'm going to die and get over with it. I still believe in that nameless energy which runs it all. It would not be possible for this planet to survive without it. But I feel that me and people like me, people who keep searching, are all blind. Because we keep searching for the unknown in the known. We don't, or at least, I don't want to let go of the reality I hold onto. I don't even think of venturing into unknown territory. Its like sitting in a cinema hall and getting involved in the reality of the film and after two hours, coming out safe and sound. I know that for any real transformation, I need to venture out into that unknown territory, open the blindfolds of my consciousness and stop kidding my own self or whatever I am.

Maybe I'll go out of the hall and see if I have courage enough to try some popcorn for a start...

'Unlearning' the learnt

As I learn and grow, I have begun to realize that I'm having to unlearn whatever education, literal and social, has been given to me in the form of school and general social skills. Of course, 'unlearning the learnt' for me applies to my life in general as well but that debate is one my heart chooses not to get into. All I credit my general education for is making me historically aware and giving my basic principles of various subjects, which I could've learnt anyway (And I think would have loved to learn via the nature way of learning things (like someone discovering fire, yet again). Having not been to college, dropping out after some six months or something, I think and feel that I have learnt much more in three years than I ever did in my 12 odd years of school life. The turn my thought process takes now is towards letting go of whatever conditioning and notions I have developed about ideal lives, relationships, knowledge. Memorable experiences which I can still remember at 23 include the joy of cycling halfway through the city, the fear of not being able to get back and then the 'freeing' journey back. For me, this experience taught me more than I did sitting in my class. As far as I can remember, I loved to learn and create and loved the very idea of creation, then why did I not love sitting in my class listening about history, or solving exciting problems in math. I love doing that now, then why did I not then. Maybe because I was told that I 'had' to do this and I told the world to fuck and not tell me what to do. I don't remember any of my life in class in school and I've selectively forgotten most of the knowledge gained from there (Whatever has seeped in my sub-conscious is obviously there).

I thank my father, who was actually quite stupid and intelligent at the same time, to challenge a 15 year old with a history of rebellion to go out and try earning a single rupee. He actually wanted to prove to me of how difficult it is to survive and earn and feed a family (a lesson which I learnt the very hard way later) but of course I started earning and at one point was earning enough to lend him and be fully self-reliant. It was obviously super cool at that time and I applied for a call center job, got a good pay packet, fell in love with someone 11 years older than me, moved out of the house and got a bachelors pad with friends and respective girlfriends, got broke hungry and homeless at one point, moved to Mumbai then and blah blah blah... So much has happened and all this struggle, both external and internal has taught me a lot or at least I would like to believe so but what I now think is that I constantly want to keep something inside of me, something which assures me of my identity, it replaces itself as I press the reset button of my life every some years but there is always something there. I keep unlearning the learnt and its turned into a cyclic exercise. There is never any emptiness...

Emptiness which I so much desire but never get... or my self rejects it because its something which is always in reach. I refuse to let go of the chains of reality because that is what gives me my identity. Even if the idea of emptiness seems so calm and something to covet, I reject it and fight it. Such a dumb paradox.

So as I continue to replace my inner self with more replacements thoughts which keep one going and satisfied with the idea that there is some change (fake growth) happening, I still yearn for that emptiness which is for a time I have courage enough to say 'fuck you' to the world I call my own.

My thoughts find themselves wavering towards questioning the very existence of spirituality and that higher energy which I so believe in.. Do we just invent things to keep ourselves happy and satisfied about the continuity of life by constructing these myths around us. But that is for another day..