the one thing a writer must have to be a writer

On one of the orkut communities, a group of some writers was discussing -'what is the one thing a writer must have to be a writer?’ People are people, and were saying a lot of things there..

Sensibility
productive insanity
eccentricity
passion
creativity!!( and he claims to be a writer)
Blah blah
Blah blah
Emotional Baggage…

I read this answer, smiled and logged out..

Need some quality time

There are a couple of things I want to blog about.. Lets see when the other worldly duties allow me some time for that ..:)

Listing down the topic ideas.. So that I don’t forget about them-
1.Today, the Butterflies freed themselves from their cocoons
2.Crossing the road in Mumbai is a team effort
3.hmm ..mm.. see I cant remember it now :(

Tulsi married Lord Krishna

Last night we got our Tulsi married..No she is not my sister.. Remember, I dont have a sibling..She is a plant, basil. And she marries Krishna, in Hindu culture.. Aai told me one nice and slightly romantic story of how and why Krishna decides to marry her.. It goes something like this.. Tulsi is married to some demon character( can't remember the name now) and is absolutely honest and caring towards him.. So, Indra ( Krishna's aavtar) does some trick and somehow manages to kill him..

Now, our Tulsi goes Sati. So Indra is heartbroken and feels guilty. When he is born as Krishna, our lady Tulsi is born as Rukmini.. He sweeps her off her feet..;) nice.. isn't it..

So last night our Plant tulsi got married.. Sugarcane was her Mama, he did get her a yellow saree. Now, she is happy. We wish her a green life..we had a good time.. There was no pandit and we had no clue how it's done. Maushi had got her Tulsi married some years back, That time Baba was to be Krishna's Baba for the event.. That time we had done some systematic puja and all. last night was different.. Maushi is in Riyadh and rest of us had no clue..

losing battles are worth giving a fight

Trust me, losing battles are worth giving a fight.
-jui

With some people, you don't have to know them personally. don't have to talk at all. Yet, you understand their language and they understand yours..

The worst in me

I have seen the best and worst in me. The worst in me is like a rolling stone .. Uncontrollable.

Today is an ordinary day

I am feeling a little tried types.. Maybe because last week was a 7 day week for me.. And, Sunday was like that Monday where you miss your TV program because you were working.. It was CAT on Sunday..No I haven’t reached that level yet.. I did not have CAT for meal.. though I did try eating squid some days back.. I can’t tell you if it was tasting good or otherwise.. It tasted different and looked a little funny..odd to be precise.

Ok coming back to the CAT.. Here, the CAT I am talking about is a taste.. I mean test.. As it’s an ordinary day..and nothing much to talk about .. pardon my sense of humor ..

My left ankle is giving trouble.. It’s swollen and hurting, for a week now.. Aai is taking care of it and it was better for a day. Then I happened to wear my favourite white shirt,bule jeans and insisted on wearing my favourite black heeled footwear.

I like this song

The first time I got to listen to Swanand Kirkire was with the film Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi.. Now I will not speak about why I liked the film so much.. This post is not meant for that..The man in question here is Mr. Swanand Kirkire and his heart rendering voice. This artiste does absolute justice to the songs he sings. Every word lives its meaning..so genuinely once it comes from this man.

It partly is maybe because the guy is a songwriter and the songs he sings are his own poetry.. This doesn’t mean people who don’t write their own songs, don’t sing well. It would be foolish of me to say that. But, there is something about how Swanand Kirkire writes his poetry too. The words aren’t the quintessential ones.. So, for him the song doesn’t have to have Tanha, Fanaa etc. just for the heck of it..The song doesn’t have to sound commonplace. The words are like some abstract poetry which isn’t bound by any form as such..

bawra mann dekhne chala ek sapna,
bawra mann dekhne chala ek sapna...

bawre se mann ki dekho bawri hain baatein,
bawre se mann ki dekho bawri hain baatein,
bawri si dharkanein hain, bawri hain saasein,
bawri si karwaton se nindiya door bhage,
bawre se nain chahe bawre jharokhon se,
bawre nazaaron ko takna.

See, this is what I mean..And, the latest hit for me from Mr. Swanand Kirkire is

Aaj shab jo chand ne hai rootne ki thaan li
Gardisho mein hai sitare baat humne maan li
Andheri shayh zindagi ko sujhi thi nahi kali
Ki aaj haath thamlo ki ek haath ki kami khali ( how can someone write like this?)

Kyun Khoye khoye chand ki firak mein talash mein udas hai dil
Kyun apne aap se khafa khafa zara zara sa naaraaz hai dil
Yeh manzilein bhi khud hi tai karein
Yeh faslein bhi khud hi tai karein ( i love these lines)

Kyun tho raston pe phir shem shem ( it's not shame- shame or same- same. Some urdu word.. ) sambhal sambhal ke chalta hai yeh dil
Kyun Khoye khoye chand ki firak mein talash mein udas hai dil

Zindgai sawalo ke jawaab dhondne chali
Jawaab mein sawalon ki ek lambi si ladi mili
Saawal hi saawal hai sujthi nahi gali
Ki aaj haath tham lo ek haath ki kami khali

A blind mind is like a tomb

When people ask you, you got time to write huh.. you got time to write. You choose to scribble some lines over the chores.. You choose to be poetic instead of being practical.

The debate when is with someone you know speaks an absolutely foreign tongue.. you lose the moment you try to show them what you see. You lose because all you address here is the deafness. This deafness is not curable.

The people so idiotically naïve about life and its eccentricities.. And, they crowd you. They are all over the place. The grin runs a chill down my spine.

How do you light a spark in those dead smiling eyes? Blind eyes have a light so bright, but a blind mind is like a tomb, dead and blank.

Poets share some sort of kinship…

poets share some sort of kinship… Now one such poet comrade scribbled on Orkut saying that Jui means fire in his language. I guess it's Asamese. I told him what it meant in Marathi.

he replied .. jasmine ..one mans fire is another mans flower!

I envy him.. This beautiful thought chose him..:)

-jui

Happy Realisation..

10 random things about me-

I am at my best when left alone.
I don’t change my ways.
I don’t go to a temple often. I visit as per my whim.
I love music.. so much so that I can go on with the chores till eternity if the music plays some good tunes.
I get very rude when I am tired.. rude and irrational.
I like being me.
I like reading books meant for kids, watching films meant for kids.. I like fairy tales basically.
I like making coffee for myself.
I like to smell every food item before deciding to taste it.
I like to visit bookstores a lot .

I saw Saawariyan

There are works that just make you shed a lot tears.. without much difficulty, and there are works which give you a slight headache.. and make you shed tears a little later.. Maybe after some dazed hours or maybe when you get to see the work for the 2nd time.

Saawariyan falls in the 2nd category. While watching the film you feel ok about the whole story. But it is very subtle.. in a very beautiful way. The film is more like a poem expressed in images instead of words. The whole set includes a bridge, one lake, a boat (shikara sort of a thing)...

Of the few people who have seen the film, they have come back complaining that the whole story happens in the same old blue green sort of a setup. Despite my resolve to not argue and convince the masses( when you study mass media for almost 5 yrs of your life, masses tends to become your favourite word. And, you are free to use it when you don’t want to try and change people’s perception about something.) about why a certain film is like the way it is, I am tempted to argue again.

As this happens to be my diary.. I think I can go into the intricacies of why the whole story takes place around that one bridge with that boat ( the shikara like thing) floating mindlessly or maybe mindfully on the blue lake.

To enlighten you more about the script, the whole story happens in the mind of the narrator of this film.. , you are also free to believe that maybe the story happens in the mind of any other character of the film. So, nothing here is real.. and everything here happens in someone’s mindspace. And, this space can be boundless or could be bounded, restricted to the most beautiful imagery the character creates. Here in this film the characters live their roles in a restricted space. But, I feel it’s not because the director was feeling too lethargic to actually paint some other sets for us. I felt, there wasn’t any need for the characters to wander beyond the bridge and the lake.. For me it was perfect..

The reason being, the boat and the bridge played characters in the plot. Because you saw them all the time they became significant and meaningful. Symbolism needs some symbols after all. If these symbols keep changing all the time, they wouldn’t make any sense whatsoever.