The Minimum Energy Level

It seems to me that there are two phases in which we all exist.

One – where everything is proper, where one moves about with check valves highly active in the brain. One stifles yawns, sits upright on chairs, politely declines third helpings (even if it’s a favorite dish) and resigns to second (for fear of insulting the cook).

And the other – where one sits with one leg thrown around the backrest of the chair (my pose as I type this), gluts on chocolate cake, whistles out of tune, jumps on newly made beds; etiquette be damned.

Most of us would say the second happens when one is all alone. Or maybe when one is with family. And a few close friends to whom one has nothing to prove. Or when one is working or too engrossed in something to care.

So why care the rest of the time? It seems to me that for every act of “good” behavior one tries to accumulate credit in the onlookers’ mind. Just so that one is taken seriously by them later. Then there are others. Those who appear to do anything they want to do. Why some of them still retain their claim to good opinion while others are alternately ridiculed and despised remains a complete mystery.

And there are still others. Those that are so saturated with genuine sophistication that it seems inconceivable that they could be otherwise. Wonder if they’re missing out on things or the other way round.

Teetotaler Anonymous

Nights on end without a wink
Days full of empty marooned time
Now and then, a feeling of hope
A sense of despair in the mean time


‘Have one, just one before you leave’
‘Never have, besides, I’ve brought my car’
‘Really, I insist, have one for the road’
‘I’ll down the cola and hit the tar’


Amidst screeches and tears
The ambulance wails its way on
They stare at me full of rage
Verdict announced; conclusion foregone


Trying to remain sane
But I’m on the brink
One thought persists
What if I’d taken the drink?

Epics of the Kalyug

There is either inordinate reverence or deplorable scarcity of originality or simply the lack of courage in the minds of filmmakers who find they must resort to the Ramayan or Mahabharat to make a saleable flick.
I strongly suspect the latter.
Raavan, following closely on the heels of Raajneeti just left me confounded. Why two obviously intelligent directors with excellent track records made films that were so obviously shallow, pointless and implausible beats me.

Agreed that these epics are deep wells to draw from, with intricately woven characters and social backgrounds relevant to all eras; but surely there’s a reason they were television serials, to quote Mayank Shekhar.

Exploring deeply into a particular character or relationship is always fascinating, as is depicting a particular portion of the narrative. But to reduce entire epics into two and half hours of banal travesties, well, that’s something else again.

All I can hope for is that others take a lesson and don’t go that way.

Just disgruntled, I guess

What happened? Why did you get so late?

Oh, I was just thinking of leaving when I found a new voice message saying that there was to be a meeting at 6:30. So I waited back n guess what? At 6:15 the guy calls to say that it’s been rescheduled for tomorrow. Man! I could’ve been home by then!
Ask someone what time will they leave from someplace and the reply you’ll get is “Can’t say. I’ll give you a missed call when I actually leave.”

Sound familiar?
The thing is, we’ve lost control of how our day will proceed ‘cause it’s too dependent on external factors liable to sudden changes. And if you are one of those “boring” people who like to stick to original schedules, you can bet you’ll be left out of everything. Or worse, be disgruntled about having to shelve other things abruptly, and you’re not committed enough to the current activity. Plans, in the unlikely event that they exist, rarely fall into place.

There is as usual another side to it. Back in the, say, 70s, you could have unexpected visitors. Housewives would cook extra meals just in case. People would travel across the country without reservations. Unimaginable!
The sheer lack of communication channels made people think ahead and be better prepared for “un”forseen problems, while we don’t know a bridge exists until we’re halfway across.
We’re also very commitment phobic because of this unpredictability.

But all of this holds true only for personal and everyday matters. Bands have their shows for at least the next 6 months chalked out. And while we’re at it, ask someone who got married recently how much in advance they had to book the venue.

As usual my post is dichotomous. And I leave it at that.

Be Gone

Why does everything so dear
Like living in memories?
A moment’s slack, and it’s no more here
Reachable, you might argue,
Perhaps more than it ever was
But I’d rather have the real one, thank you.

You’re letting me stay for now
But you’ll push me there one day
Maybe then I’ll get to know
What it’s like to live in a memory
Or wait, may be you’re already doing it
All those friends from KG and nursery …

What choice do I have
Except to let you go on?
Shoving away the best of my life
Hoping it won’t be forgotten …..


We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.
William Shakespeare

Happy Birthday/Independence Day

WHEEE!!!
I am celebrating ONE year of blogging!
(And I just discovered MS Word 2003 does not know the word. It gave me a red squiggle below ‘blogging’! What nerve!)

Many people would wonder why I’m making such a fuss. Well, let me explain. This is one of the few, rather very few things I’ve started doing of my own violation and stuck to for this long. Let’s hope it doesn’t suffer the same fate as my diary, salsa, soft board……… (All of which I still hope to resume someday)

One person who has played an undeniably vital role in getting me to blog, and is also my steadfast critic needs to be thanked. Even without disclosing your identity online, I think I’ve made myself only too clear. (You’re probably the only person who’s going to read this anyway!)
¡Muchos Gracias Señorita!

Since it IS our 62nd Independence Day (swine flu notwithstanding), I feel obliged to say something on the subject. Reading Ayn Ryand’s Fountainhead the other day, I came across an odd thought – Compulsion is a form of freedom. For instance if schooling is made compulsory, you are actually ensuring people freedom from illiteracy.
This is, of course, a highly debatable thought. In fact, it’s the only definite thing about it.

But returning to the more conventional usage of the term, I wish everyone who is reading this post a Happy Independence (from the Brits) Day!

can't think of a title

So much for poems, for now.

Sitting in the movie hall of a recently opened multiplex near my house, I was chatting with my brother before the movie started (Star Trek, in case you were wondering).We were interrupted by a, ummm… for lack of a better word steward who asked us if we wanted to place any popcorn/drink orders.
Remarking mentally on aggressive selling strategies, I replied that we didn’t want to. He nodded, as if expecting it and turned quickly to the family up ahead along the aisle and repeated the act. As he did that I happened to look up. I started as his expression struck through my frivolous mood. It led me to wonder what circumstances must have made this young man so dejected. It was a strange sorrow, a despondency.
He waited, after one round of collecting orders, along with a co-worker, no doubt hoping for the kids’ success in bullying their parents into placing more orders.
Then, as the national anthem started, he quietly slipped away.

Maybe he was well educated; maybe he had lost a good job during the recent slowdown. Maybe he had been forced to take this up in financial desperation.
Whatever the cause, I couldn’t help sympathizing with him. To bring refreshments day after day, night after night, to people who are probably irritated at your presence anyway, to watch people have a ball with their friends and family while being on duty oneself, to be a nameless faceless utility for their entertainment and comfort is not exactly a dream job. He may have been one of the thousands of kids who say” I wanna be a pilot when I grow up” every time they see a plane in the sky. Or the next Amitabh Bachchan . . .
It’s just one of those things that help me realize how lucky I am to be able to expect dignity and affection from the people I work/study with.




Come to think of it, maybe his girlfriend had ditched him that day!