Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Surrealism had a great effect on me because then I realised that the imagery in my mind wasn't insanity. Surrealism to me is reality.
I live in two worlds, one that we all live in, day after day, without a real choice really. The other is in my head, and is mine alone, to destroy, create, love, loathe, admire, despise and to create stories. I grew a mango tree in my mind, then I saw a lawyer I know riding a bullock cart dressed in court uniform, then I saw a monster which looked eerily like a real person I know as well... Imagination is what keeps me going... What about you?
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for - in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car, and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it.
- Ellen Goodman
So that is what we silly humans do, make money for the things we can only enjoy once we are too old to enjoy them. That is equally sad and true. However, I can't claim to make money, being paid as much as I am... So we are the intellectuals and the givers of the society, using our expensive education for the under privileged- bridging the gap between the "have's" and "have nots"- while we solemnly stand on the side of "have nots" ourselves. Sigh.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Missed holidays, forgotten friends, pending chores, unfinished paintings, ignored pets, books gathering dust... Life is about uncertainty, no matter how detailed our plans, it’s uncertain because other people make plans too, and their plans interfere with ours. Like jumbled cross connections on cellphone networks, like radio signals when we park in the basements. These cross connections can be annoying and rarely, stimulating. We may meet amazing strangers in places least expected and carry their print on our minds forever.
Sometimes we lose a track of who we were and omissions become a pattern. Sometimes we get on the wheel to look for a new beautiful avenue to admire but the brakes bring you back to where you started, because sometimes it’s meant to be.
On perfect mornings, sometimes I wish I was cycling through a sun kissed green field, sprinkled with pink and red paisleys. Perfect. I hope the wheel in my hands brings me back to this... Over and over again.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
- What is the ghutna of a madhumakhi called?
- When a madhumakhi loses a war what is it called?
- When a madhumakhi is in pyaar what is it called?
- When a madhumakhi is a boy in pyaar, what is it called?
- When a madhumakhi is sick what is it called?
- When a madhumakhi loses her job what is it called?
More later :-)
Friday, October 03, 2008
My phase jumping decision holds good and looks good so far. I shall stick to this phase till all reserves of patience are exhausted.
The nomadic wheel is craving for the unknown and soon it shall receive its due. I wish to explore in galore.
She picked up the last piece of the burnt manuscript from the hearth and tried to read the 3 or 4 lines which were visible. Sometimes, she does that, burns her own writing, sometimes out of dissatisfaction and sometimes due to sheer anger at someone else. This time, it was anger. But then she read her own words, beautiful as they seemed to her… “Hope is a flower living in oblivion, surviving in a field of shattered dreams…”. The anger dissipated and a smile floated on her tired lips. She sat down to finish her story, the story of a lonely soul wilting away in hills, the story of hope, the story of a man who is a savior and a lover…
Our hearts constantly challenge our resolve and more often than not, they beat our heads at it.