The Great Indian Dream comes to an End.

This is pretty expected as never. Some 100 hours down the lane,and here I am ,seven seas away from my motherland. Countless hours over dirty,used tables in cafetariae, consuming zillion cups of Irani chai, laughing over pointless conversations. Sharp wind slaps me hard on my neck , leaving me helpless as I try hard to turn back, to steal a look of my pals going on with their usual 'nicotine fixation' , with my presence being filled with void. It leave me perturbed , though. What does it take to make this tiny state of mortality meaningful? Or else , to be called 'immortal' forever till mortality exists in this planet. Stepping in a foreign courtyard and working your knees off?? When people run away in need of their beloved ones to find some coupling for their empty palms to be filled with warmth when gusty winds take their toll,otherwise would be occupied with a stick of tobacco.

Ambiguity surrounds me all over and in the mean while,The Great Indian Dream comes to an End

!

Awaiting answers!

written : 21st august 2010,1.00 am.

Its 1.00 am sharp. Landed up in a motel in Chennai .Missed the bus to Hyderabad. I dont know what its good for. To be precise,my D-day is 10 days away from now.Life's gonna take sharp,acute turns.Everything is going to be new. Change in perspectives. Change in priorities. Change in outlook.The each day,I outgrow myself,I appear very cupid to myself the day before. I laugh at my actions,at my reactions to others' actions. That gives me a sense of completion, and a never dying interest called learning.

I never agree with some bastard who thinks he's matured. What series of consequences would compel one to think and act according to their own convictions? That comes somewhere from deep within. Something which strongly appeals to be righteous to a person the other day,turns out to be the most unhealthy act,the very next day. Nothing's wrong with the act.It remains the same as long as this universe exists. Its all the job of one's heart. Its so flickery, I say. I laugh at it,at the end of the day,when I lay on my couch.

Every night,when clock hits some 11,my introspection starts.The acts I performed ,that whole day get underneath the sheath of my introspection,few filtered,few accepted put me to sleep with some restlessness and much of contentment. I promise myself to get out of the bed,the next day,act along my convictions,say 'no' very certainly to some mother fucker ,who's so predictable to waste my lunch time with, and to go on an extra mile to soothe my power pumping side. And then breaks the dawn,raising the curtain off for an other predictable day with familiar choices,usual 'yes'es and much usual disappointments . I compromise myself to finish some project the next day,its a part of my daily ritual of unwillingness to accomplish something worthy or even 'laziness' would do. Similar disappointments when 'she' considers it as a 'torture' to receive one single text a day from me.

What would it take to a man to act according to his convictions? Decisions he make,which would never be regretted later? I dont think such a thing exists. If you are the one,who believes in growing yourself out,the every other day,you should definitely regret the foolish(wondering,they can be called so?!) decisions made in the past.

I find this whole thing ambiguous. As it did earlier,time unfolds the answers. I hope,after all.

Annayya

blogging,ages after.We,die hard fanatics,call him "annayya".Dont mistake him for the big brother 'Megastar',but here comes the borther of the brother 'Powerstar'.

I've been suffering of this disease,lack of stimulation to write about something.It has got manyu reeasons,cal it lack of driving force,lask of motivation,lack of that flow,anything.

but a conversation,i had the previous night,with my borther Jai Simha(we fans of Pawan share this bortherhood of fanatism).He unknowingly succeeded to a very great extent in stimulating my desire to write about this

Man.There's some hidden meaning in using a capital letter "M" for the word "Man".You guys will come to know by the end of this post.And now,i am all set ready to write about our hero.

Its been whole 18 years,since he had been in the industry.He made his debut as any common unknown successor of a big star, already sharing a huge stake in the industry in terms of number of hits as well as limitless fanatism.

First cinema hit the screens and went off into this big history of telugu cinema as a flop.People started taking that young lad for granted and shot comments on him.But he's the man.Way ahead of this people.Far away from appreciation,applause and yes,the thought process too.

Then came, two another ordinary flicks from that man, registering moderate success and were declared as so called "commercial hits". But by then, there established a mannerism, which cannot be copied. He started to occupy place in the hearts of those people who were searching for their hero with few obvious traits. Time passed by and then, a man called Karunakaran, who’s pretty smart in writing romantic scripts came up with a script called “Toliprema” and everything from then, pre production work and script finalization were finished, then luckily ,the movie went onto sets. It took as much time as any cinema takes to complete all the work to hit the halls. On one fine Friday morning ,that went onto the screens and then the mania started all by itself. All the magic was done and released onto the people. They received it like a precious present. Yes, that was a classic. That day saw the birth of a super star, probably the youngest super star who achieved that cult status only with an age of 3 movies in the industry.He simply rocked in his own way.

There after,any flick of his,would hit the hall and leave only with 100 days title.Particularly,I m forced here to say a bit about “Johnny”. Story,screenplay,direction and action by Pawan Kalyan.People were waiting like hell for its release. They were disappointed. No,I am sorry,he was disappointed.He was way ahead of this people’s thought process.One can observe Akira’s mark all over the screen.I still don’t understand why people couldn’t receive Johnny properly.I was just dumbstruck by the way movie was unfolded.I bet no actor in this industry would be ready to receive a slap from any other character in a movie as our brother did.It was just like seeing a person who sits beside us in a café,the every other day.That film was a classic,I say.

As Jai Simha puts it this way,Give him a budget of a Hollywood movie and leave everything else to him,and then 2 years down the lane,you would see a cinema you would have never seen earlier. (I can see Jai smiling while reading this ).

Even his fans ,one would find them diehards. I know this guy who flew all the way across seven seas to watch Jalsa amidst whistles and papers dancing all in theatres. Such a people ,he has as followers, merely u can adress them as. I have a cousin,who would die for Pawan Kalyan .There ,took place an incident,where me and him were boozing slowly all the night ,something pulled out the topic of Pawan Kalyan.I asked him,what would he do if he ever bags a chance of meeting this stalwart? I expected some different kind of reply, but this fella, with a whole heart came with such a mind boggling answer.Here it goes like this,”I don’t want a photograph to be pulled out while I shake hands with him nor I even want to spend a whole day with him.Those were far from reach,even in my dreams.I just want to see him whole heartedly for atleast 2 minutes atleast from a distance of some two metres. That’s more than sufficient for me.” I guess these two incidents are far enough to understand the craze,mania,whatever you call it as,that Pawan Kalyan has.

He has that aura.One call it as attitude,one call it as something.The positive vibes you receive in his presence,I call it as Aura.He is just beyond his cinemas.And now,everybody’s eyes are focused on his latest release(yet to hit the screens),KOMARAM PULI., in which he plays a cop.I,never min,whether its going to be a masterpiece or a disaster.His fans never mind his films’ commercial success.I just want to watch the flick on the very first day amidst cheers and paper pieces falling all along.

HAIL POWER STAR!

Rajneeti

i want to be unaware with the fact that whether what i say turns out be pointless to lousy bastards and i wish it should be that way.Watched Rajneethi some 2 days ago and i liked it,no matter how it appears to other self suggesting people who convince themselves that no! this is not the movie u are supposed to watch! and think that i flunked some 3 hours of my valuable time sparing for this cinema otherwise sit in a cafe and blow out some sticks and talk!

National sport

Sad to say this,its not hockey any more.Advent of cricket into this country took over hockey's position.Only thing left is ,our government announcing it.My hands felt the touch of a ball today ,after ages and here i am,settled down to write about 'my-used-to-be' passion.I used to breathe cricket till my 10th standard and hoped I would get into the national side,some day or the other.But, as the reality picture unfolded slowly and carefully to my little set of eyes then,I started digesting the fact that I am not born for that.Simply,thats not my purpose on this planet.

Go and ask the children playing under the cool shadows of trees in a suburb place,"Who are you?" Surprisingly ,u wont get any answers like I am a Hindu, Muslim,whatever. They feel that Cricket is the binding force that holds them tight against the shoulder of their good fellas. Thats a beautiful shot unwrapped to see children holding bats and wickets of their heights and fixing them in green fields and get ready to give their shot to the sport.Its always enviable.I bet,everybody wants to get back to their childhood and hold those heavy english willow bats again with pride in their hands.I personally,my self spent endless hours with my friends then,discussing the known statistics at that time,ranging from Kumble's 10 wicket haul to the type of wood with which Kookaburra bats were made. If it was a match against Pakistan that day,unofficial holiday would be declared to schools and offices.

The camera shot of Brian Lara coming onto the field that day against England to finish his remained task of reaching 400 mark was, brilliance revealed! I always admired left handers,because,i m the one too.It didnt take him long time to surpass the disturbed record of his unbeaten 375 by Mathew Hayden(380) and that time,he made his 400.Point to be noted here is even Mathew Hayden is a left handed guy.I always possessed this great respect to left handed legends.Its not that I dont respect Little master or Gavaskar or something.Of course,I worship Sachin Tendulkar.Thats a different point,altogether.One of my close people said,"What people would be thinking about,In India,even after 50 years from now?,Its Gandhi,constitution and Cricket." Absolutely. Same is the case with Pakistan also.In fact,they think about Jinnah in place of Gandhi.

I still remember the days when I used to set up the alarm at early in the mornings ,somewhere around 3.30 am ,to watch the scene of Sachin and Sehwag coming down the pavilion of Lords to bat in the Natwest series.And Tests were absolutely brilliant.I never felt it difficult to watch Rahul Dravid to stop the collapse of Indian batting order with single hand.Hats off to his never ending patience,to stay there,right in the middle of the ground,for entire 3 days,pouring sweat, like water from his helmet with undisturbed persistence to leave off the balls.He is well known for respecting good deliveries and punishing bad ones.I have never seen such a player ,practicing 14 hours a day at regular times even and never feel bored or tired and gets up early in the morning around 4.00 am and drives back to the ground with his pads on,way before than youngsters.His dedication is unquestionable.

I still admire the beauty of this sport in England,especially.People get up from their seats and clap for singles and two's taken and thats why England never fell short of classic players for its team.Check out Paul Collingwood and Kevin Peitersen now,in contemporary times.Kevin has been awarded the most stylish cricketer of the years 08',09' successively.Its feast for his fans to watch out his sexy leg glances and lofty off drives.

And no words left to describe the play of God of cricket,Sachin Tendulkar.And here,I am,exhausted in describing the beauty of the sport. Signing off note is "Kudos to all those cricketers,who made this sport unforgettable and Thank you England,for inventing such a great sport that changed the lives of 1 billion people in sub continent."

It was hated back then ,because it caused wars.Yet,It is loved,always!

Prasthaanam

Probably,this is the first time ever I am writing about a cinema,rather can be called , a review.One can just wonder what a made a guy, who just sits in a corner of a table in a cafe and calmly lend his ears to his close people continuously wondering how Scorsese made cinema,could write a review on a cinema?? "Prasthaanam" stimulated my desire to write.I was all goosebumps when Sai Kumar's voice went along in the background in the starting of the flick,saying,"Come,look beyond the epics,u would only see a man's desire to capture power that started all wars."Sai Kumar was the sole reason which drew my to the theatre but as the scene started unfolding,every character was justified and Mr.Katta was pretty clever in choosing actors for those characters.But,according to me,Kota Srinivas Rao might have suited well in place of Jeeva,but Jeeva's performance is decent,considerably.I just laughed at people who quoted that this movie has got Sai Kumar's life time performance,but I am wrong! Deva Katta has been successful in extracting the brillinace out of Sai Kumar.His voice added the grace to this cinema.

Coming to Sarvanand,even his performance has been decent.I believe,nobody could have done justice to that role better than this lad.His composure 's been asset!The new comer ,his name,i dont know has good emotions in him and he efficiently protrayed them on screen.

Country's contemporary politics laid this cinema.It succeeded in showing how money changes power and power changes people and it urges people to commit any crime.One of my mates said,Leader's script could have been written by any school going child,I agree,but not this cinema's.

I agree ,there was a unnecessary,irrelevant romantic track in this movie,but that is what,that makes front seat crowd to come to theatres.After all,to make the boat of the producer float,a director should keep an eye of his on box office also.I agree that presence of this irrelevant tracks made the cinema a bit less intense and a bit less jovial but one have to agree that this a daring attempt made by any telugu director to show cast hierarchy in contemporary Indian politics.I liked it ,after all.

My God's sample piece!

this is a post written by my God,ages ago.As my usual time killing technique,I was going thru Ashok's blog and found this interesting again in my life for some 78th time and posting this in my blog! here it goes!

this is for ziah. aishwarya gamely responded to her tag while i stayed true to the glacial pace i pride myself with. its almost illegal, how i treat matters of online consequence. something to do with the inherent comfort of impersonality that ether can afford you. and about the theme. seven possibly shocking and necessarily weird facts about myself. before i turn my psyche inside out and lead my dark secrets to light, i have to agree with ziah. its difficult to tag what really is a personal idiosyncrasy as weird if you haven't tried to lose it. the fact that they exist is proof that you have made peace with them. they go as far as shaping into your own personal forms of protest. against the ultimate in conformity. that of regular humanity, all of which, they say, can be mapped onto a single genome.they are probably more than quirky personal traits. more than old habits dying hard. they are what set you apart.the sheep and the scarecrow. the shock of invisible red hair your personality is determined to preserve. the self-proclaimed war cry against ubiquity. they may be weird but not unfamiliar. strange but not inexplicable. hilarious but notwithout purpose. they are after all, carefully ignored unusual habits that people credit us with. and the other way around. why is this turning into a declaration of independence? let me stop my opening statement. and take the plunge.

weird fact 1 : an unhealthy obsession with the 60's

there is somethin unresolvable and gripping about the 60's. the irresistible glamor and an unhealthy nihilism aside, the fact that an entire generation of able young people swayed to the clarinet of individual expression and unregulated freedom is fascinating. i have always rued the absence of a cause in my life. an all-consuming activism, not necessarily political or socially relevant. a belief system governed by my own laws. about nature and human response. steadfastly held, in spite of overpowering opposition and indoctrination. challenging existing authority with a glint of mischief. irreverence with a hint of the devil. the 60's had them all. young people taking to the streets, hollering about their own individual take on justice or the lack of it. braving a knee-jerk clampdown and pamphleteering for what they thought was the sake of humanity. they took themselves seriously, though i guess they were far too right for their own good. students, just like you and me, standing up to an enraged political administration. seeking accountability.demanding change. fighting for peace. i don't imagine there would be a time, quite like the 60's. or would there ever be a phase in human history, when makin love was an expression of solidarity and handing out a flower was an advertisement for hope. they could have been flawed. maybe humanity would never survive so much hope. and of course, they simpered down to a slow death. but i really wish i was there. i really wish i handed out a flower and smiled.

weird fact 2 : an equally unhealthy obsession with the tragic

all my earlier posts stand irrefutable testimony to this. i can be irredeemably sad. almost nothing in the world can save me from the gloom i can nurture. i can be depressingly cynical, infectiously sullen and inhumanly distraught. almost everything in this world can make me sad. and i can spend a million hours just mulling over why i mull so much. whats weird about this,is that i need an absolutely flawless environment to be able to function normally. and in keeping with the truth of life, nothin is flawless. and i realize this stupid grudge about the stupid rule, by shuttin down. by withdrawing into the safety of voluntary inaction. self-pity comes easy when you start believing you were the victim. equally easy is being a pessimist, when nothin ever worked for you. i guess am just a dissatisfied glummy bear. the trouble is, this obsession with the tragic seems to bleed into other worldly functions. if i ever write, i only write about how sad life is. i watch a movie that ends with the usual happily ever after and construct an alternate ending where everybody gets killed as an asteroid smashes into our planet. this is not sick masochism. i am far too ordinary for that. its just me not being able to come to terms with the existence of so much happiness in the face of the obvious and inescapable evil that abounds underneath every human. can anybody ever claim to be entirely free of malice? can there ever be a utopia, which can prove the existense of a higher power beyond any reasonable doubt? i don't know. and it makes me sad that i don't.

weird fact 3 : i cannot communicate over a telephone.

if you can get hold of my mobile phone and check on my contact list, it'd prolly throw up as many names as there are people who can spell "bourgeois" right in the first go .i only use my fone to talk to aishwarya and to say yes to all that my mom asks me to do. somehow it feels too unreal for comfort. trying to picture a face behind the voice, animating the voice with an imaginary body language, infusing it with the inflections you are not quite sure you can make out. it just is too much work. the few times that i do receive a call from somebody i am not exactly dying to talk to, its a pain shuffling on my feet, trying to not get bored and coming up with some way i can end the conversation without really spellin out how big an asshole i am. i dread unknown numbers so much that i skirt away from answering any number i do not have committed to memory. an upshot. i cannot quite understand the fuss that surrounds the regular foray of mobile fones and the people ready to bow down to some contraption that lets them blog and shoot and flaunt and touch and play and gyrate. in addition to the incredible option of actually calling a human being. its not really weird considering the premium i think personal interaction should be accorded with. almost everybody i know have given up on tryin to reach me through a telephone. which most of the time is my own loss. but i don't think i can give up on the habit. here's to silence, solitude and sounds with a face attached to them.

weird fact 4 : i cannot bring myself to say cool.

this has to be the weirdest of them all. i cannot bring myself to say cool. this has to be the weirdest of them all.


weird fact 5 : keep trying to make an OST of my life

i've been a militant fanatic of indie alternative punk since i discovered box car racer's "there is", half a decade ago. the reason why it was so liberating was the fact that it seemed to be strumming out lyrics, that wouldn't have been outta place applied to what was goin on with me, back then. they fit in, right down to the last rough edge. then came jimmy eat world with "night drive" which put me to sleep as i was grapplin with a disappointing rite of passage. sum 41's "pain for pleasure" articulated my energetic confusion while "pieces" lent background to the sadness that was threatening to seep in. i flirted with iron maiden and metallica for a while, but they sounded far too archaic and irrelevant to be my spokespeople. drifted back to cold play, and they gifted me with "fix you". there couldn't have been a better representation for the promise of a second chance. box car racer returned, this time in the garb of blink 182 and with "i am lost without you", they ensured i din lose faith in the healing powers of familiar music played repeatedly. and then, there came snow patrol with "run". that song was divine intervention. it was just what god would have sung if he was signed up by a record label. it was everything. i am not exaggerating. you just have to listen to it, to know what i am talking about. i keep adding tracks to my ost. keep lookin for newer music that i imagine would fit into my ost with the downside being outright rejection of every other blameless track. for the simple reason, that its not singing for me.

and for reasons best undisclosed, aerosmith and "I don't want to miss a thing" occupy a very special spot in that ost.


weird fact 6 : i have a mortal fear of snakes.

the darned creatures weren't supposed to survive so long. never had a close call with one of them, but i routinely recall my best brandon lee education each time i step on a hose. i've never been able to overcome the stupid fear. she thinks they are graceful. that they help in eco-balance and make for exciting nat geo programming. i am not sure if a balanced ecology would do me any good after one of them gets me in the backside, someday.

weird fact 7 : i am horribly susceptible to vice.

give me a hint of the satan and the opportunity to get addicted and i'd take to almost anything. no questions asked. no will power exercised. and no remorse exhibited. there is something irresistibly sinister about the seduction of the dark side. something about practicing the prohibited. guess its a remnant of my juvenile years, but i still revel in repelling authority. i realize most of the times, that i am treading that thin line between making a statement and losing your footing. but if you were dying to know to know how free fall felt, would you not want to jump? among my latest acquisitions is a wanton liking for playing cards. i play low stakes, low brow and low class. but its begun to make sense why gambling is so frigging addictive. the sheer anticipation of making easy money, coupled with the usual ecstasy of winning in a group added to the dignity of getting away with something illegal. trust me on this, you'd not stop at embracing the devil. you may just go ahead and offer him your neck.

and that, would be it. the seven weird traits that made the grade. i should definitely be concerned about some of them. especially about the new found love for wagerin small change for gambling. but the fact that you can't help but succumb, that you'd rather live with them than try to address them, only adds that faintest hint of mystique to your personal weirdness.