Revival

I prefer to write on word and save files in my documents, its natural like what typewriters must have been to writers once and perhaps still are, but when I intent to post I write here. It feels like a pedestal upraised just enough that a few curious passing eyes can have a glimpse before moving on. It is sweet, the internet but just like the real world it also has its ghettos.

Film making expression was always admired by me and everybody I knew but I had never seen myself working to make one. Id see myself in the characters, in the plot, in the reality of the story's universe and that inspired me to give life to my own characters, plot and universes. Now that they exist in real-time however in words, I feel that a visual and audible existence of it all is also an intriguing prospect. As Nandu says in The Blue Umbrella,"Atma ki shanti mein nafa nuksan nahi dekha jata".
I feel that contrary to his obsession my approach is one of resignation and intuition. Resignation because to be on the field of this industry would mean hyper speed of action in daily life which was not my initial plan, Id thought of writing in seclusion but in time I also found this thirst for growth,
It was only a spark at first and rekindled my love of painting just enough that I used old poster colors to paint on an A4 sheet; I still cherish that painting to be one of my favorites. Then as college rolled in and I adjusted to the changes I found that music had deep implications on a person and that intrigued me as I delved deeper into the musical universe created by humanity and I was again inspired to not restrict myself to just me. Intuitively and hunting for gratification I picked up the guitar and found that I felt myself expanding not just in thoughts but actions. Soon I found that I could control myself enough to be on the way to completion of the project Id started but was then struggling through because of my hunt for gratification. I wanted to visit the himalayas and I did because I felt that time was lazy there yet invigorating, demanding work from you yet keeping you cushioned in mental comfort. This system is opposite of my system at home and I find that it always shifts my body clock into a balance. Soon after the return I was able to be focus better and picked up several healthier habits. I had much more energy to quench the gratifications through more means and through time and practice I developed kind of a balance which helped me expand into the different things I did and stride ahead in my project. Film making still hadn't crossed my mind as a primary profession rather only a fleeting fantasy of a slow day but films  I had always loved. So when the time came and I reflected upon everything and how far it had alienated from my initial expectation I asked myself,"What should be the next chapter?"
I don't ever remember asking this to myself consciously and I don't know if I was watching The Dark Knight, Pulp Ficiton, Guzaarish, Om Darbadar, Two and a half men, The clerks, Office space, Silence of the lambs, Krishna cottage, The hobbit, Misery, Dr, Who, Tom and Jerry, Ed Edd n Eddy, Dexter, Samurai Jack, How to train your dragon, Cast away, Vantage point, Children of men, Pok'emon, Digimon, Alien, The thing, Oldboy, Back to the future, Dementia, The cell. Lagaan, Jodha Akbar.....I can't even, when I decided but somebody asked me one day," So what're you doing after you're done?" and I answered without missing a beat. "I want to learn how to make films."

For better or worse, Ive chosen my poison and from what I've learned through successes and failures alike is that to complete what you start. Maybe I treat this blog like a diary just because I like to think I talk to the blank white space between the words when I write and even in the case of this blog I'd rather present an unedited retrospective. After writing this Im sure Ill feel clearer and perhaps might give you, the reader, an unrestricted glimpse, you know just because we're here together in real time.
Sohn 

Whimsy

Chilly winter mornings have an intoxicating character,
They sweep in through the holes,
The parts you couldn't hide,
And against your will bind you in their charm.

Perhaps it is the wavy fog,
Descending as if from the nostrils of an iced monster,
Peering at our land, our miserable little lives,
Uncomprehending the indecipherable fragility of human time.

The sun blasts away inevitably,
The monster's simple curiosity,
But not for long, its got more babes you see.
Ice man picks on the earthlings again,
Only trying to decipher the fragility of man,
To him the heavens are empty fields,
And temperature a sense of being,
Poor humans; how will they understand,
Living their tiny lives, blossoming insanity through time.
The monster's curiosity melting it steps over to another toy,
And let's the sun help in completing the short lived existence.

Just beauty

Do the trees sing lullabies to the wind,
Responding to it's caress with a gentle shiver,
Unminding it's latent ferocity,
Perhaps shy of its thrusts.

Do the monkeys grow beyond,
The revolving mud beneath them,
After they've crossed to the skies,
Or is it the mother splitting new life from its body,
To enable witnessing of the glory of this verse.

Is there a song in the perpetual motion,
Of trees, bees, rivers and seas,
Or can harmony only be dreamed.

Do dreams bind us in a plane,
How do you see the insane,
Can minds know what followers never could,
Would in reality you see all as its stood.

It is not for me to answer but a wondering fool I joy to be,
Without mystery and miracles can reality ever suffice to be,
I see;
In gushing rivers, the gurgling sounds,
Jagged hilltops and smoky clouds,
Stride of a lion and flight of a bird,
There's a bigger finger writing our verse.