Kind of sorted

A soundtrack perhaps from the film Drive, or 50/50. High frequency trance like treatment to the background, and echoey, blurry vocals. Think it's 50/50 only when he goes for surgery. Or maybe This Is Where I Leave You or The Royal Tennenbaums (will get back). Kind of refreshment like the smell of crayons and colouring books. Instant worry lifter. Ambitions first start occurring. Like the first wagons of a train - you have no idea how long the take actually is: you're just happy it arrived. Things pushed under the 'underachieved' make a mountain, eclipsing the sun. Like a superstitious tribe causing it's own unreal doom. An apocalypse of sorts - giving bad interpretation to any situation, washing away the long cherished precious.

Only if we refuse to deviate from the simple path - one that brings us happiness - and have the confidence to not let go of what made us thrive to the current state in the first place and cures us in the dark times, we can enjoy life at any stage...enjoy it like a colouring book. This is the key. Find it now.

Worry, conflict, embarrassment, disagreement, depression, stress or melancholy is nothing but our own perception. It's never too late, indeed, to climb up a hill which has just one narrow trail. There may be a whole meadow- almost unbelievable.

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#night, not #dark, #thoughts

Nothing can kill you before your time
Nothing can keep you beyond your time

#fear is a #perception
#intothewild

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Random Dose #551

Believe in yourself! Have faith in your abilities! Without a humble but reasonable confidence in your own powers you cannot be successful or happy.

- Norman Vincent Peale (Who He?)

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Social stuff: Part 1

Socially, problem with marks of people’s achievements is that you can’t talk back to an artist through the product of his art work. Even though initially the whole idea of creating art is to communicate. You can’t pause your video player at your favourite shot, to take some time out to call the production team involved in the project to say, “Damm! You guys just made me cry (for real)”. Socially, you’re just a fan. Mentally you might be a little more or less but the whole point is- society is about delivering- what you don’t deliver, doesn’t even exist.

Significance is a big deal. You did some good while hiding- brings joy to yourself. But ‘social joy’ is a different thing. Sometimes we own nothing joyful or praiseworthy (on a very individual level) still some people get to serve the food better than they can cook. Another chef cries at home thinking why he didn’t take that “extra social” shot to not only get some money, but a whole big lot of credits in the areas of joy (personal and social!), happiness and the areas of general (pointless but great!) celebrations of life.

Stiffness to do right all life long and grow white hair for a cause is one thing. Courage to do small wrongs knowingly to bring yourself That Extra Piece of Joy is another. Life is a cycle, no doubts. I say it’s a ****in Not So Steady Sine Wave!

Emptiness is caused by lack of or excess of deliverance. “OMG I am not known.” “OMG I can’t get lost.” “OMG am I changing with or without someone.” “OMG am I too off the line or too straight on the line?” Confusion barely needs an excuse. “OMG am I saying OMG?” Depression is seeded in us excessively. To sterilize a certain thoughts or parts of mind is an art. Art is to communicate. Artwork that makes one known with a blast makes regular great people harder to communicate back. Life is a cycle. A loop of small uncertain things occurring in different colours and shapes.

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Another step

One foot sinking in green water
Other thinking about another step
I think about myself
And everyone I have left

One eye blinks in my memory
Other rules me in the outer world
I need everything I don't have
When I'm to choose I cant make it work

Fearless everyone is but I
Think about our time ahead
Clocks always outrun the mind
But being timeless is another threat

Let's speak it out like we used to
When no hurt stopped us any day
Pain was only physical
Nothing else could hurt us anyway

-

Woke up in the middle of a dream
Voiceless, thoughtless, suffocated
Escaped everything the whole day
Choice less, pride less, jaded

I am back but back to gravity
That my weightless head pulls me to
Priceless moments are happening
But I lack the fear of losing you

I think I am not sick or infected
I am a pure disease myself
One heart beats when I see sweetness
Other pumps in thoughts I cant tell

One soul moves ahead seeking life
Other keeps looking for another world
Going back is impossible but then
Why going forward just doesn't work

-

I am not sure if I'll be screaming
Believing I'll be spotted out
Till one day wakes me from dreaming
Relieving me from my own doubts

Will everyone be here or away
I am not sure but I'll be around
Setting up theories and algorithms
I'll move forward till I am found

...

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One way glass

Cleaning the numbers of white telephone..
Sorry didn’t tell I was imagining you home..
Was ready to never make a sound all way through..
Slipped out of me I was thinking about you..
So is the pressure of being a good guy..
But what does a good man ever acquire..
So is the light that’s just driving me mad..
All I wish still is still all I ever had..
So are you having a slow time fast?
I ‘ll stay watching you through one way glass..

Speaking out everything just not my voice..
Feeling the fear will you forever rejoice..
Hanging upside down by a free will ladder..
If you just go ahead you ‘ll surely feel better..
So is the tension seeing the sun so alone..
Radiating signals for a child who left home..
So is the blanket suit I feel wrapped into..
Through rain or fire I ‘ll stay listening to you..
Am I still winning in hiding till tricky time lasts..
I wish I was on the wrong side of one way glass..

I don't have a poetry blog anymore because I think I was wasting a few KBs of the web. But you don't get over your bad habits so easily, right?! Even if it looks misplaced, I don't care, I don't have anywhere else to put it. So just

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Days that should never end

A speedy round trip to Manesar [[Haryana]] to pick up some stuff from a factory (how entertaining);
One eying at beautiful heavy rain of the evening through changing lines of a screen door and getting immediately back to sleep;
Waking up in the evening to realize its a Tuesday and on The Tuesday me and my two friends (Parmeet Singh Ghai & Moirangthem Ranjan Singh; since the names aren't at all friendly let's keep it Pammi & Ranjan!) were supposed to go to Salvation;
Driving to PVR Saket with Ranjan's "Why so serious" head outside the window and my wish to get rid of him; (Gandhiji said thinking bad about someone is as bad as doing bad, so I didn't say a thing..!)
Going to Salvation;
Driving back home shirtless (but Pammi wouldn't take his shirt off, maybe because of his ultra hairy shirtless profile (how do I know that?!!???!) or maybe because of Ranjan sitting right behind him in the back seat and his never dwindling Guys Gone Wild nature!;

[Yes! I admit that I dont have "regular" friends and this is as good as it gets]

Getting beered..
Trying to get us all killed in a three sum on Pammi's Pulsar;
Running our rest of the way to In n Out after leaving the bike at a roadblock to find chewable things;
Walking and riding back home and trying the killing action one more time;
Cooking Top Ramen;
Finishing our beer bottles and feeding Brownie (A dog that sleeps forever but always wakes up for a party!) with ketchuped potato chips;
Seeing Pammi off at 0545 hours;
Saying "over and out" to myself;
Trying to sleep;
Thinking;
Sleeping.

--
That was PM of 31st June and AM of 1st July. Ranjan and I, once again, "slept together"! Pammi evaded his way out, suffering from Fight or Flight condition and rapidly acting on his adrenaline. Ranjan was asleep anyway, not "wild willed" anymore but who knew if Pammi slept and Ranjan woke up?!?! After all, the whole evening Pammi got Ranjan to pay on whatever he demanded.

Once in a while, I dont mind a strawberry-banana-chocolate-mango shake.
Its like a friendly bonus! Hey, but is this getting controversial?! I was only talking about a day with everything: - ear fitt-fatting 'cuz of speed, rainfall, near death experiences, naked (partially) windy drive, salvation, American Style Lays (cuz I won when Pammi fought for Tomato Lays), Berry Jelly ice cream instead of Cream Bell Triples that makes me think about girls and relationships, realization of Berry Jelly ice cream too being as miserable as Triples, waiting outside Audi 4 as Salvation started about 50 minutes late, avoiding Pammi's ex-Dell-friend and party.......................

My friends are retards and so am I.
But in Kurt Cobain's words, "that's okay my will is good.."

;)

--
PS: Btw this is what Brownie's up to right now:

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Ever changing life..

Everyone is wandering around. In hope for something good, in hope for something better, in hope to fix something, or in the deepest of urges to get things simpler. Everyone is fine. Everyone is sick. Life's a cycle, a drama full of characters. Homes are the best. Schools are even better. Homes are asylums. Schools are jails.

Life is a cycle. One moment something is damm right and everything's gone the next moment. Again and again you find a bit of your heart's wishes, and again every now and then you lose your happiness in a way or the other. Everyone's perfect. Everyone's damaged.

Life is a treat. Life is a threat. Its like a heart pulse. One beat is this.. Other is totally that.

But that's the thing! This fricken painting is made up of all colour combinations- this, that, sweet, sour, pretty, ugly, pretty ugly..............

You can't say just once, permanent enough, that you _ _ _ _ life because it just changes all the time with speed of light. Maybe that's the speed of life. Or maybe even faster!!

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2006 recognises still

Saurabh Arya- That's the person I met when I was in Aravis (A Haryana based NGO). I was the one and only sound recordist/sound editor of the NGO. I and my anchor friend Saurabh were under Prof. TK Thomas' vision to make Chetna. Seems a bit serious this way when you say that we "produced" a "program" that was "broadcast" on "AIR" Rohtak. We had a fifteen minute slot, so each program was about 14:30 minute long.

But was it so serious of a deal really?! We laughed. We wrote. Our voices echoed more of jokes than reverb free recordings. We wrote some more. We tore off A4 sheets. We improvised each others' Hindi. Especially Thomas Sir's quick recipes of Ka Ke Ki mixup!

We worked. We celebrated small things of our Chetna scenario with Samosa parties. Thomas Sir trained many batches of the marginalized children to speak on the radio; for the radio. We assisted him. We spoke to the "kids". The kids of our age. We connected with them each time Thomas Sir ignited the "radio connection".

We talked sound. We wrote sound. We saw sound. More than just I, as a recordist, recorded them, we all recorded ourselves! We all were audience of our own voices. We improvised. We became better.

Saurabh met me first in such a group of radio students only. At first, I didn't know he had already done a couple of programs before. He had done Gandhiji Ki Laathi in which he voice played The Laathi. Gandhiji Ki Laathi was one of the hottest phrases that we used everyday in our Chetna age.

Chetna hadnt started then. Thomas Sir and I patiently and sometimes impatiently waited for about a year for Chetna to start finally. After a few weeks of having a female voice to anchor the program, Thomas Sir got Saurabh to do the job. That was when Saurabh Arya became the official Saurabh Arya!

I, in my two years at Aravis, painted a lot of tunes, a whole bunch of loops electronically. Chetna's signature tune was initially one of my ultra personal (but still sharable with Prof. Thomas) electronic instrumentals. In no time, we made a signature tune out of it when Vinay Koshy (Prof. TK Thomas' son) sang a couple of instant variations of Chetna vocals over a compact evening!

We built Chetna. Thomas Sir helped us in the beginning to get our grips on something we had never had our ears upon ever before. But then, when we got the flow in us, we became addicted to the process.

Each episode was a topic, a quick discussion (over no-particular-reason tea cups!), a write up, finalising of a script full of criss cross patterns all over, a smooth recording session, a quick but clean editing session, recording of the master CD, printing and cutting of labels, packing of the CD in a bubble pack, pasting of labels, mailing the CD, pinning the courier slip in a file!

Chetna became a routine. Honestly, I never heard Chetna in Haryana, on a real rural radio and in a real broadcast. I could never manage that even though I wanted to.

This process I am talking about, wasn't messy at all. But still we enjoyed to act like we were messed up. For our teacher, Thomas Sir, it wasn't a big deal ever, as he was too experienced always to get messed. It was only us, not messed up ever, just playing like kids in a bath tub!

Chetna was our that life!

--
Sometimes I think I have cut out a time. In fact, most of the times I think that, if I think about time at all.. But I met my friend again on 7th June, 09- a Sunday! A Sunday, maybe to connect weeks and months and years.

We talked nonsense again, like we used to do. We talked about Oda and Rossi, the bikers we always bullied in MotoGP 3: Ultimate Racing Technology. We finished our scripts wisely and got on playing videogames. I always took the first turn! :)

In fact, Saurabh always gave me the first turn. Maybe because he was, after all, Gandhiji's Laathi! ;)

We haven't changed. Not at least in the ways we're still filled with the potential to kill time. Not at all about how we think about Chetna, if we think of it, when we think of it. But I know I have changed. I know how I have changed, in my heart.

And its not a bad news in any way as I am still spotted by my people from a couple of years back! ;)

It was a life, a moment, a season, a kind of dream that you always remember. Even though we joked about it all, we were into it! [Yeah! That deeper kind of shittiness]. We marked something way bigger than lines and dates in our CVs.

It was a life. A complete packet. A packet to remember life long!

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Is this fighting against passion?

Today, I have an exam at 2 pm. Its 9:25 already. I was tired yesterday, or if it was an excuse delivered inwards I am not aware, so I slept, leaving all that had to be read for today. This is not a new thing. I had lost the part of me that got scared academically and stayed awoke to “complete” things long back. I am not that me anymore. And its been almost three or maybe four years like this. No feeling bad because you don’t care; and you don’t care because you never feel bad, not anymore.

No matter how good you have moulded yourself into a person who looks deeply into long term reasoning and goes on with it like a man- sound and stable, there are times (even if it’s for a day in a year, or for a second in a week) when you do feel messed up. If not totally then at least a bit, which is enough to disturb in the most annoying ways. Well, this is that messed moment for me right now. And I better talk it out as understanding your own self is too, a mission- a never ending one.

Why now? Because I screw things up by doing acceptable things just in the wrong time? Maybe yes. Maybe no and my physical existence is a toy a retarded head is playing with- maybe my own head. Where is the happiness? And if it is with me all the time as I convince my head to go through something and seek goodness in it (which works actually) then why this pause for a self-demoralizing session? Its strange that you need a mirror to make sure you look good and you don’t need it to realize you are messed up inside out.

Why this sudden urge to leave out all the rest and just run to what you want? Where is the passion of completing my Computer Applications degree right now? The kind of passion I just had two years back recording rough but honest voices of Haryana for a radio magazine. Or the kind of nice craziness in editing sound in a small studio while laughing hard at the most quick and breath disturbing jokes shared and continued on with your anchor friend on the other side of the glass. Or the kind of passion I had, freezing way up in Himachal while natives ran around in T-shirts, carrying a tripod and walking on till the best frames were found.

Where am I? Where I was? Where I should have been? Where I could have been? Honestly, I don’t love this study that much. Its like a girl I forced my head to feel good about, and once in a while I have to force parts of my split mind to form into one and don’t let her know. Probably I wont leave her because I shouldn’t and moreover, because I am sick of leaving things to find something I love fantasizing about. But then is “loving to fantasize about something” passion? And if I am trying to fight against my passion, that’s the worst one can have. And at least, I am glad, that even for a while, it hurts that much. Maybe my passion is that strong!

Maybe, as I was trying to be a recordist since ever and the tries didn’t go well, I should try harder, again. But the calendar keeps turning and my birthdays too, so I should go on with the theory I started again with- of having something to fall back on as a good man does. Maybe this part of my life, is actually the one teaching me the most. Maybe after sorting this graduation aside, I would give my fantasy another fine try.

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