sleepless nights, movies, nostalgia etc.

It is crazy, however I can't complain about it either.

Today was the sixth time I went for my Yoga class after a sleepless night. On two occasions, I was watching some movie with bro till 3 or 4 (sleeping after which meant missing Yoga class which I just didnt want to do, so I stayed up all through the rest of the nights just to feel that morning breeze on my face and attend the classes), and the rest of the times, we were chitchatting about I-can't-even-recall-what.

Post Yoga class: a cup of steaming milk, newspaper and then I get the time to sleep.

Not quite healthy, but as far as it helps me stay regular at yoga classes, I can't complain.

Talking about movies, The next couple of things I want to write about are the movies I watched:

Guide: I remember having heard its songs long back on Television.
I remember how during a journey to Delhi dad had said how this movie was a comeback for DevAnand and how he invested almost all his savings in this movie (Much like what RajKapoor did for that Joker movie, but failed miserably)
I remember my mom telling me many times that it's a masterpiece, a great movie and how huge a success it was.
and I remember having really wished that I do get a chance to watch it someday. However, never tried searching its CDs or dvd, because somehow I knew, if it is that awesome, it'll come to me itself.

and it did. Bro's friend had downloaded it from net in US and he copied it from him and that's how it came to me.

we watched it till 5.
I hated its end.
I loved its end.
I loved the dances.
I loved waheeda rahman's role (she has rahman in her name.. just noticed while typing).
and of course the superb direction, story adopted from RK Narayan's novel.

I need to really shut up in order to say how I liked, no, loved the movie. Silence speaks louder at times.

---------------------

I watched Gulaal. Wanted to see it after having listened to the songs. Coming from Anurag Kashyap, with faces like KK Menon in it, it had to be something out of mainstream.
And it was. It's brutal. It's harsh. It's dirty. But it's real.

Watched rab ne bana dee jodi again, just to accompany my bro who I-don't-know-why wanted to watch it. Liked it, had a good laughing time.

Watched a couple of more . Abhay Deol is good. that was wrt oye lucky.
will be watching 13B too.

. silence.
this is not exactly what I wanted to write about when I came here. so what's "that"?

Some scenes of that draught-strikern village shown in the end of the movie guide are still fresh in mind. I don't know what to do with it. How to justify some things and how to substantiate this feeling? Only the "feeling" can't be enough, something needs to come out of it.

Something else too
Nostalgia may be.
Less than two weeks.

a tribute or whatever, may be the last such-type-of-talk

with My Room

Dust loaded piles of paper, decaying on
wrinkled bedsheet and table.

words committing suicide on them

one after the other
in a random sequence.

Smell of some dried ink, and
some spots in black and blue - invisible- suspended
in the air,

thickened by some strong memories.

Drawers containing
old and wrinkled newspaper cuttings,

preserved cautiously over years.
(perhaps to be abruptly abandoned someday)
And some books still wrapped in paper
which must be marked as
"will always stay unread" years back.
An orange colored scissors,
Maroon stapler and some hairpins. well, many of them,
all untouched since long.
Some envelopes,un-addressed,
yellowed by time. They used to be
pure white once.

In the lower drawer,
a calculator, many many CDs
some unused and some burnt resistors, caps and ICs.
Connecting wires of different colors,
Two wrist watches
one in black, one in golden

One of the two-not working.

Don't remember which.


Some yet-to-be-filled forms, Xeroxed notes,
photocopies of syllabus,

stacks of print outs.

A misplaced drawing book containing sketches of
trerss, flowers, dogs and some beautiful houses
grown over years into

paintings of blue sky, verdure valleys
mountains, rivers and seas
unknown cities

unknown faces.
people
abstract art.

Ruins of dried colors,
dried sketch pens,
used up water colors,
brushes of different colors and different numbers
broken crayons.

Walls of a faded shade of color blue,
the shade that was chosen
after hours of thoughts and arguments,and chosen just because sky is blue. Sea is blue.
Walls made up of bricks -cement -concrete.
And walls nurtured with love, patience and faith
built over many years.
with smiles and tears, failures and achievements, shivering heart beats and innocent dreams.

A wardrobe,
Jackets of bottle green and blue
hanging inside or perhaps not.
And jeans mostly of shades of blue.And green too.
well-ironed
will they be taken along?

And this was just the tangible part of this room.
The intangible part is vast.
Too large to be condensed into words.
So I must leave it just like that-unsaid.


A river of dreams, thousands of screams to Him and free verses,
childlike laughter, long conversations with bro and friends,
a strong scent of poetry, and tunes of piano and guitar,

those so many sleepless nights,

Nights filled up to the brim

with music

and nights filled with those

hours of communion with God..
Cold shivering mornings,

fragrance of late night Magi and

the coffee-every-night,
fogged window panes, dew drops trailing down them,
upteen summer rains,laughed with or wept with.
the vapors -

of thoughts, ideas and those The doubts,
the desire to know the unknown,

the desire to know the reasons,

All crammed in the air of this room

All this and a lot more,
would be soon left behind,
abandoned,
for the sake of some unknown, strange place.

A new home?

Don't know.

But the fragrance of a girl
will stay in this room

for a very long time.
it'll play the music, sing the songs of your galaxies
throughout the winter nights

And of this, I'm sure.


.. nostalgia at its heights. bro has woken up finally! tuesday.

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