Him..

Metal was life, until i met him, I was always anti-bhajans, anti-old Tamil songs, and anti Enrique's girly vocals.. For the life of me, i couldn't understand how a man could strum Opeth one minute and the next minute switch to an old Tamil song, which i would have some vague recollection of.

He was not perfect. He had the temper of a rabid dog. When he got pissed, God help me, and God help the people around him.

He had the maturity of a 50 year old woman. His words of wisdom, were priceless. They still linger in my head when things go screwy.

I have a lousy memory when it comes to dates. But, here are some dates i can never forget.. 29th September 2006, the day we met and spoke all night. December 25th, the last message i read from him. He sounded unhappy and worried.

We fought like animals. We'd say the meanest of things to each other, hurt each other to the T and in less than 2 hours we'd patch up.

To say I cant live without him, would be absurd, because i lived 19 years quite happily without knowing of his existence. And I'm quite sure i can live the rest of my life, quite peacefully, without him in it. But, life just doesn't seem right without him around. I don't like waking up at 3am, and sobbing into my pillow on random nights.

I remember distinctly, one of our BIG fights, i told him.. "Just stay away from me.. Don't talk to me till your stupid exams are done with" And i logged out of yahoo without saying bye. In less than 15 minutes i called him, i got his voice inbox. I didn't hear from him until his exams were done with. After 3 days, of cold war, we logged onto yahoo messenger, apologised for 1 hour to each other. After which i called him, and he strummed a cheesy Enrique song for me.

Him : Would u dance, if i asked u to dance?
Me : No
Him : Would you cry if you saw me crying
Me : No
Him : Would you tremble if I touched your lips
Me : No no and NO..!!!! Grr
Him : Alright alright.. *chuckle*

Looking back now at that very moment, I wish i hadn't stopped him, because whenever i listen to that song now, I break down.

Script Approved..

In the movie, Pursuit of Happyness Chris Gardner's only aim was to get the internship at Dean Witter's offices, get a job there and lead a happy and peaceful life.. He eventually achieved all that and more, but NOT easily, he had to go through a zillion hellish experiences.

When i woke up, this morning, I felt nothing like Chris Gardner. I was a calm, composed woman with an air of an ice cube, IE chilled and brain dead.

As a part of my curriculum, i have to do a 10 minute Documentary. I figured, 10 mins, no biggie. Should be fun. And i left it at that. I got busy with the motions of gym, movies and the occasional bouts of self pity/depression.

Back to this morning, i had to go to college, for my Editing class and i figured, i might as well meet the old hag, who is in charge of approving our shooting scripts.

When i walked into the room, my friends and classmates were already seated around the table, with her at the head. I grinned sheepishly at her and took a seat near my friend. I looked at her script, synopsis, outline, treatment, research, and a 4 column script of ten pages. I gave a her a "Dude, what the fuck?" look. Whats the difference between outline and treatment anyway, I pondered.

I turned to look at the hag, she was being her stuck record self as usual, harping on the same sentences over and over. She has an acute case of verbal diarrhoea. She just loves chewing people's ears off. Suddenly, dad seemed like the lesser evil. I wished i could trade places right then. I preferred listening to Dad's nonsensical chatter about the Nazis,aeroplanes, shares, forensic investigations, Attila the Hun, his security agency and god knows what else, to this woman's yap-yap-yap.

Finally after a few dragging minutes, my chance to flaunt my 2 page 'script' was 'bestowed upon me'. (Oh joy) She grabs my Stic file, looks at me with a shocked expression and asks me, "What is this?" I answer back calmly, "My script ma'am"

Her : Where is your research work? Have you done your homework? I cannot accept this.
Me ( slightly worried now) : But ma'am THIS is it.
Her : Please wait
Me : (stares into space)

10 seconds later,

Her : How is it that you have missed out on all this while all your friends have done their work? Please take a look at their work

Me : Wokay ma'am.

And i walk out of the room and run to the editing suite where i find two of my friends already seated on plastic chairs. I narrate to them my tale of woe. They look more worried than i should've been at that point of time. One of them shoves at me her stic file and the other advices me to go to the nearest Internet cafe.

The walk from college till the cafe was nerve-racking. The details had JUST sunk in. If i don't, get my script approved TODAY from the hag, i wont be able to shoot my documentary, and i wont get the college equipment on the actual shoot date.

As soon as i reached the cafe, and sat down opposite a computer, my fingers shot out like a Rocket post countdown. I was done in 15 minutes. I ran back to college, with my "many more pages and details now" script.

I waited once again, for my chance to come, she took my stic file from me, after giving me an 'Oh no, not YOU again' look.

Her : What is the objective of your show?
Me : Ma'am dream big, achieve bigger
Her : I don't want all this blah blah blah of words in your synopsis. I want to know what your objective is. You say you want to do a profile on these 4 women. But their professions have no connection at all. What exactly are you trying to say?
Me : Ma'am why should their professions have a connection at all? I'm just trying to show a few well established women in their respective fields of work. Plus, I'm trying to say that WE are the future. WE have to tap our hidden potentials, stretch it to the maximum and eventually the world will be under our fingertips.

(Argument Continues)

Her : You're a lazy person
Me : Sure, what would that make YOU? (not out loud)

(Argument Continues)

Her : Okie, your script is approved, but you have to work on it further. Please mail it to me
Me : Thanks a lot ma'am
Her : Good luck ma.

During the whole arguing process, i was nervous and tense. The blood on my face had probably flown to other parts of my body. And when i walked out of that room, I was still cold, partly with fear and partly because of the strong air conditioning in the room.

Honestly, productions, shooting, handling a camera, NOT my cup of tea. I don't have my heart and soul into it at all. But after this morning, I realized, I HAVE to make a kick ass documentary. I want the hag to watch it and think to herself, Oh my, that girl has talent.

My Dad..

My Dad.. Ex- Army Officer. Social butterfly. Workaholic. Sweet tooth. Chatterbox. The Multi tasker. The ladies man. Soon to be kickass Salsa dancer. There are one too many phrases to describe my dad. And whatever I write about him, would be saying too little.

Growing up, i never saw too much of him because he was always posted to some exotic location or the other, so i pictured him as a Superhero, the annihilator of all evil in the world (he fought a war when he was 18!! how cool is that?) some-one who i caught a few glimpses of, every once in a blue moon, and he always came loaded with goodies. And before i could blink an eyelid, he'd be gone again. And my wait would continue all over again, for him to be back again next year or the year after that.

Finally when i was 10, Dad got posted to Chennai, and i was made to pack my bags and bid adieu to my grandparents and my home of 6 years, Trivandrum. Finally, we were a family. Dad, mom, me, big brother. All under one roof.

Mom was always the disciplinarian and dad, the eternal fun train. If i want something real bad, i just have to say the word 'Daddy' in the most school girlish, i'm the apple of your eye way possible and he melts. ALWAYS. Victory is mine. ALWAYS.

Now you'd think, I'm a spoil brat. Yes, I am, 105% spoilt through and through. Despite the fact that he does things for me constantly and makes sure that I get my way, I have a short temper around him. I scream and yell at him, for the most pettiest of reasons.

Just an hour back, he asked me to heat a huge sandwich for him in the microwave. The sandwich was neatly packed in a plastic transparent foil. So, naturally, I undid the foil, placed the sandwich on a plate and set it inside the microwave. No sooner, had I done this, dad walked into the kitchen and said, "Don't put it in with the plastic foil". I didnt say a word, i merely gave him a disgruntled grumpy look. So he switched off the microwave and took out the sandwich. I did'nt hesitate to chew his head off. "Do you think i'm 5 years old? Why did you have to take it out now to see if the wrapper was on or not?" With that, I walked away, muttering curses under my breath.

I settled down with my sandwich in front of the TV, 10 seconds into the munch-munch, I began to feel guilty as hell. Why did I have to make a big deal of something so silly like that? Could'nt i have just let it go?

So, the minute I finished my sandwich, I ran to dad and apologized for being a rude bitch. He looked up at me from the book that he was reading, smiled and said, "You're a girl after all, you're entitled to your mood swings, it takes a lot of effort for a person to say sorry and plus i've known u since u were that small. So vent out all you want on me"

I felt the tears stinging in my eyes. Why do parents put up with us eternally bitter selfish breed? I think, they deserve much better children.

Musicians..

I think it's a universally known fact (okie not universally, I'm exaggerating, just my friend's circle would definitely NOT comprise the whole universe) that i have a thing for long haired musicians.

This post would explain why..

I was 15, he was 18. The HE in question was my first brush with the long haired musician variety. I had an elephant size crush on the lad. He was wild, completely mad, uber talented with his strings, chubby, curly haired and bloody exciting. I was probably more in awe with him than boing boing over him. Nothing happened between us of course because either he was out of my league or i was out of his. And we abruptly lost touch with each other.

My 15 year old brain began to loathe him. (Remember the story of the grapes and the wolf, when wolfie boy couldn't get to the darn grapes he started loathing it and called it sour, same principal was set in motion here)

Now, i have this really bad habit of NOT letting go of things. I somehow can't seem to forget, move on and let peace reign. I let petty things gnaw me inside out. The musician in question, is really famous now and i hadn't heard his music till half an hour ago. I was flicking through some music channels and this band caught my attention. I instantly began tapping my feet to their music. After about 2 minutes, i looked close at one of the members and i saw a familiar looking round thing.

It struck me then, that, to hate musicians is one thing, to NOT appreciate their talent is a whole different ball game altogether. Respect talent, put aside personal differences, give music a chance to do it's thing and life can indeed be, something on the lines of, happily ever after.

Final Note : Musicians, pig headed or mature, applaud their skills and walk away politely.

The Downs..

It's been 7 months and passing
The rawness of pain has been replaced by a numbness of acceptance..
The acceptance, of a cold reality.

Where did we go wrong? Where did I go wrong?
How could you walk away from it all?
Was i living in a web of lies, spun so perfectly by a master craftsman?

I want to hate you. I want to hate you with all my heart..
But i can't bring myself to feel anything, but respect for you.
I fell in love with you, long before i'd seen your face
I heard your voice filling my senses, much before i ever spoke to you
You were all that i needed, all that i wanted..
My world was YOU.

I miss you, would be saying too little.
You took away from me, my best friend, my teacher, my love, my better half.
You left behind a flesh and blood body with a scarred empty soul.

And then there was a solitary tear which rolled down my cheek..
I cried. I cried with all my heart and soul. Angered by the injustice of it all.
I do not deserve this.. I do not deserve this.
I want to forget. I want to let go.