Monthly Archives: September 2009

Age for idolism

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Have you ever wondered why you felt so bad when an idol of yours is no more?, or when a favorite singer of yours bows out of the race due to competition, or a favorite actor of yours ages horribly and still hangs around annoying the hell out all movie goers?. Have you ever felt, why on earth didn’t I move and replace the idol the with the current crop of people, have you ever wondered why you never got impressed as much as you had before?. Its not that the new people on the block or less talented, just the could never mean as much to you as what the earlier person meant. Have you ever wondered?.

Recently when I heard Sonu Nigam do his bit with Kylie Minogue, it pained me a lot to see what he has become. He is and will remain my favorite singer for long long time, but then look how limited number of songs he has been getting lately, and the quality of them, least said the better. There was a time when his songs in movie like “Tere Liye”, which never saw the light of the big screen made me listen to them with all my attention, there is something in his voice which just appeals to me. Today its just really painful to see the horrible songs he gets to sing.

Salman khan, the bad kid of bollywood, the least liked actor amongst the intellectual movie watchers, one who doesn’t know how to dance well, nor even have courage nor ability to do different kind of roles, but he is someone who I loved watching on screen.  I just liked watching his movies, period. There was no logic behind that. But lately watched in couple of trailers, which made me think, this is it,  the end is in sight for this fellow.

Whats interests me the most is that, after them I don’t see anyone influence me the way they did, I will never be waiting for an album from another singer like the way I waited for the album “Mausum”, or the way I wanted for the movie “Khamoshi” to release. I just dont see myself that way.

I guess it has to be the age, the age when we are open to be influenced, once we move out of it, we just dont care about these things like the way we did. We no longer form this larger than life images in our head, you listen to you a song its just music, you watch a movie its just an actor. The idea of idolism is long gone with that age.

I now understand how my dad never grew out of Rafi, or why my granny never grew over rajkumar, or for that matter a teenager never gets of Patrick Swayze.

Forever.

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On a spot, that hurts the least,

The one that lasts just a night,

A place he could easily hide,

Yet so special, no one had seen before.

A place, no woman had ever gotten to

He tattooed her into his dream,

for a night,

One which never ended.

The night,

The dream.

The Tattoo.

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Its been a long time since I did Sunday Scribblings, this time around they had a topic, which got me out of retirement. Here’s my take on this weeks topic “Tattoos

In remembrance

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There are times when memories strike you for no reason. Today has been one such day to me.

My grandfather expired when I was in eleventh grade, I clearly remember when I got a message during lunch at my college. Those days I didn’t have a mobile phone, I guess none of us had one. His death was something I accepted very easily, I was sad for that moment, but then never really missed him.

So today, all of a sudden his memories came back. He used to call me “appi”, no one other than him called me that, infact only other person who still calls me that is my grand mother, and that too very rarely.  As he called me Appi, as a kid I used to call him “appi tata”, in other words appi’s tata[grandfather]. It slowly became “appu tata”, and the name stuck till the day he was no more.

I clearly remember when he moved back to Bangalore, I must have been in 2nd or 3rd grade. He was getting his house in Bangalore renovated and stayed with us for a week or so. We used to go go to the empty house everyday to check the progress. The house used to empty, so it echoed. We both used to go into the room and make strange noises, and I used to love the echoes in the room. This has to be one of the most cherished memory from my childhood.

As I began to grow up, he always thought I was one with expansive tastes, he used to always tell me that all my activities were “dodd kudure cheste’, basically not something normal people tried. Some how the equations were never the same, deep down I didnt like the fact that he made those comments, and pretty seriously too.

One thing I admired a lot about him, was his will and the other  principles, he was one of those old time strict people, who didnt like menace, or hardly made any joke or fun, but there were those rare occasions, when he wouldnt stop laughing. I still remember how my granny used to snap and ask him to go to sleep because he generally used to get into that mood late in the night.

Today as I jogged my heart out on the treadmill, the picture of this bespectacled man, who wore a vest with a cross pocket on front of chest, and a pant which was almost half way up his chest, kept popping up in my head.

Its been long since this has happened, I dont know what is the reason behind this out of the blue memories.  Even though I was not sad, nor the memories were sad ones, it would be really nice if I could have dinner with him once again, his favorite bisi bele bath and some chatter would be really good.

This and That

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DYD, it was like a private acronym between me and a very good friend of mine, it was our way of asking  each other “where the hell have you been”. In case you haven’t figured out what it stands for, its short for “Did you die”. We occasionally changed it to AYA, on days when we were optimistic. Anyways the point is that, yes I am still alive, still breathing, just waking up from a well deserved three day break.

I was crazily busy at work whole of last week,that kind of explains my absence from the virtual ramblings, but most importantly its the beginning of yet another change in me which I am waking up into, which I think will help me be the more optimistic myself from the past.

The three day weekend spent lazily at my home has had many of the returns

Firstly I got my sleep back which I was missing most part of the last week, the crazy work had left me with as little as 5 hours of sleep per day, and I was like a walking zombie all of last week. I did get a very good night sleep on all three days, which makes me get back to my original idea of how easy it is to satisfy humans, all we needs is good sleep, and good food.

Speaking of food, that was another thing which made a return into rambler world this weekend. It began with a good pizza and a visit to a frozen yogurt stand on Friday. I really needed that after few long days with crappy food due to lack of time to cook some. Saturday morning, I fulfilled my long lasting desire to go check out this breakfast place in the neighboring suburb. I had heard so much about this place and the famous cinnamon rolls they make, I was waiting to feast on them. Anyways it turns out they make awesome pecan muffins too, and just loved the wholesome breakfast. The place just proved to me, how much of a wrong picture, the fast food joints here in the US paints for us. You just have to let yourself into these places, where eating is a pleasure, more sort of an indulgence, bottomless coffee mugs, thick layers of cheese on your omelette’s, menu’s which begin and end with deserts and sweets. A heaven I must admit. Damn you MacD’s and Tacobell’s for screwing something as good as that. I also had dinner at a Mongolian Grill, it turns out it was one of the best dinner’s I have had on this trip to the US, just loved my own creation.

Anyways another big comeback this weekend was me reading a book in under two days, I finished Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods in less than 48 hours. Even though it wasn’t a great book, I liked it in parts, specially the later part of part1 is what I enjoyed the most. Guess what I guys, I am starting my next one soon, “The Shadow of Wind” by Carlos Zafon.

It has been 4 months now since the major change, and I think I have finally got to terms with it. I think I am relying terribly on my will to get me past things which I really dont want to get into. Demons, be ready, my will is ready to devour you.

Anyways getting back on track, one thing I have rediscovered this weekend is how fun talking to oneself is. Yes guys its back, I like  it when I explain stuff to myself, its like my way of breaking my inner silence, and have never felt odd. Strangely enough, the voices had gone down last couple of months, I think they got shy from the real ones.

A clear mind, meant I could experience things which I love to feel. For example, I saw these two kids at the mall, must be girls of around 5/6 years. One had a typical fake cry face, with a fat lip, the other eagerly waiting with her hands tied to her back, watching kid one complain to her mom, with an anticipation on her face watching how her mom would react. I have seen this so many times in kids, waiting eagerly for the outcome of something they have done, most importantly they never have worried look, they always have this mischievous smile on their face, waiting happily, to see what happens next.

I leave myself with that expression today, as I smile mischievously at days to come, doing things which I like the most.