MONDAY DONNA

What's left to tell

2012-02-02T15:45:00.000-08:00

What's left to tell
Except that your silence worries me
Your calm, your zen and maturity
Aren't assuring

When did you get ahead of this friendship
What fears and joy propelled you to see me
As someone like your own
That sense of self you want to find in your ideal

What's left to tell
Except that I thought you were different
My sadness purged, now I feel numb
Because boys will come and go, but you were meant to stay

A fellow prankster, poet, dreamer
Restless souls that screamed out in delight
When they saw how sorry the rest of the world is
For hesitating to take flight

What's left to tell
You probably are better off without the bond we shared
Our half baked ideas of script and images
That have now come to haunt my walls

You have time and your work
And in my heart I wish you more than well
I wish you fortitude, vision and laughter
I wish your locks and verse grow even longer

What's left to tell
Silence is now my friend
Our lives move on
But our conversations can still be heard out there ....reflected by our cosmic souls

"Was it something I said?"

2012-01-22T14:05:00.000-08:00

I just finished watching 'Chasing Amy' that free spirited indie flick written by Kevin Smith in the late 90s. I remember how fresh and honest the writing was even though the scenes seemed disjointed. In the end, I bet every high school teenager or yuppy New Yorker was quoting Ben Affleck's monologue to Alyssa, the girl he is in love with who happens to be gay.

Here's to the essence of affection and sincerity that people have felt for us perhaps in a higher degree than we've been able to respond to them with. Here's saluting the idea of finding not the missing piece but the piece that complements us in our thoughts and action. And yes...straight or gay...to all relationships that mean a lifetime's happiness in themselves. Even if they aren't the 'standard' as Holden puts it. Most of all, here's to the friendships we've found when we least expected them but also had to lose when we needed them most in our lives.

Alyssa Jones: Why are we stopping?
Holden McNeil: Because I can't take this.
Alyssa: Can't take what?
Holden: I love you.
Alyssa: You love me?
Holden: I love you. And not in a friendly way, although I think we're great friends.  And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I'm sure that's what you'll call it.  And it's not because you're unattainable.  I love you.  Very simple, very truly.  You're the epitome of every attribute and quality I've ever looked for in another person.  I know you think of me as just a friend, and crossing that line is the furthest thing from an option you'd ever consider.  But I had to say it. I can't take this anymore.  I can't stand next to you without wanting to hold you.  I can't look into your eyes without feeling that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels.  I can't talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything  you are. I know this will probably queer our friendship -no pun intended- but I had to say it, because I've never felt this before, and I like who I am because of it. And if bringing it to light means we can't hang out anymore, then that hurts me.  But I couldn't allow another day to go by without getting it out there, regardless of the outcome, which by the look on your face is to be the inevitable shoot-down.  And I'll accept that. But I know some part of you is hesitating for a moment, and if there is a moment of hesitation, that means you feel something too.  All I ask is that you not dismiss that -at least for ten seconds- and try to dwell in it.  Alyssa, there isn't another soul on this fucking planet who's ever made me half the person I am when I'm with you, and I would risk this friendship for the chance to take it to the next plateau.  Because it's there between you and me.  you can't deny that.  And even if we never speak again after tonight, please know that I'm forever changed because of who you are and what you've meant to me, which -while I do appreciate it- I'd never need a painting of birds bought at a diner to remind me of.
(Alyssa opens the door and exits the car)
Holden: (sighs and then to himself) Was it something I said?

Thou shalt pig for tonight

2012-01-21T04:22:00.000-08:00

I was out with a gourmand all evening and what an evening it was! But T despite his honest admission of how he loves to eat is an exception in this breed of people because he also takes a a lot of effort in understanding what is in his food and will go to great lengths to replicate something he wants to eat and eat well. Once when in Italy, he spent two weeks with his Italian friend's grandmother understanding how the real semolina pasta and fresh sauce are made. And over dinner today, I got a lowdown about every food and liquer I was eating with him. God bless people who are happy to eat, cook and share their knowledge about food!

We were off to the Farmer's Market but this crazy town begins shutting at 9AM so we settled for a not so great but just about decent Thai on Venice called 'Natalee Thai'. The Surmai squid delight was chilly, for the first time ever and the soup was perfect with the lemon leaves and lemon blended to perfection. I wouldn't recommend this restaurant unless you have no place to go around because it has one of the most confused hostess and a shortage of hands when it comes to bussers. That apart, they often bring out a flaming barbecue very low over your head as you are trying to settle in to your cozy meal.

Next, I drove T to 'The village Idiot' on Martel and Melrose. I found this place with a couple of friends who all love cider and believe it or not unlike the fascination of hard liquor, hard cider hits you very slow after being refreshing for the first half hour or so. The after effect in my case is a lot of laughter, longer conversation , teasing and magic tricks I would never attempt. I love the candle lit feel to the place with its high wooden beams and very East Coast stone look. Sadly though I got a parking violation right after this awesome binge wich took the fizz out of my cider spree :(

We decided to catch a film at Pacific on Culver Blvd but instead landed up in Ugo, a really nice Italian place for great deserts and digestifs. I had the dulci with chocolate ganache and T got his customary espresso sho. Note: caramel infused liquers esp desert wine (dulci) are better than a sambuca or limoncello to go with dark chocolate delights.

We were late for the movies so we decided to drive out to Mulholland. Then it started raining and in LA it's always a fine drizzle that overtakes the entire city. Bad vision and hence this otherwise scenic route was pointless. So at 2AM we decide to drive towards Hollywood. T suddenly starts complaining that I never told him about the Korean eat outs (given I declare I love Kemchi). So we change route and head to 9th and West 3rd and find an all night Korean place where drunk girls in the shortest dresses and boys with side swept bangs ( which would put Justin Bieber's to shame) are all eating hot bubbly rice gruel with eggs dropped in. We walk in and realize this is the first place we should have stoped at. In 15 minutes, we have kemchi (the combo of pickled cabbage, chillies and whatever you can name) with fried fish and rice gruel with hot tofu soup. We chat about all the south east asian cuisine we love, the countries I absolutely need to travel to and our common love for Gerald Durrell and Corfu. Why didn't I ever get to hang out with T in Mumbai?!!!

We are back by 3 AM but not before I get a proper 'Chi' treatment by T himself to alleviate my bad right shoulder. We hug goodnight and decide to take the weekend slower on our stomachs.

I forget how much fun it is to hang out with people born in the late 70s. It's been a tough few days but I think February and more gastronomic adventures through the nooks and crannies of LA instead of the more predictable restaurants is going to keep me going.

Thanks T for awakening the foodie in me once again :)

Ode to a loss

2012-01-18T00:20:00.000-08:00

For you my friend..... for you my friend

Speeding through the freeways

Cheesy rap songs

Long drives through a city's neon lights

For you my friend...for you my friend

Flowers that brought on a smile

Car washes infused with sheer fright

Soupy garlic laden food munched in delight

For you my friend...for you my friend

Action flicks never watched before

Fruity white wine over long hours

Nights home wasn't nice to return to alone

For you my friend...for you my friend

I drove with courage and laughed out loud

I pushed my way through unknown crowds

And saw a city unlike before

For you my friend... for you my friend

Yogurt is no longer just passe

Songs on the radio seem more than just a tune

And driving around has become an excuse to look out for you

The need to...

2011-12-30T01:03:00.000-08:00

Run, run, run
Through storms, snow and mist
Tread new paths branching out from the old
Never to let one's mind acquire mold

Climb, climb, climb
Your grandpa's trees, fences or walls
Dig your fingers and toes deep
Till you find the urge to take the big leap

Feel, feel, feel
The wet red earth nesting worms
The glow of a sunset
The wind against one's chest

Find, find, find
The reason to persevere
The courage to stand tall
Even if the easiest action could simply be to fall

For D K Bose, verbal rants and future writing

2011-12-25T15:49:00.000-08:00

"You 85?"

"Ummm... yes "

"You sure ...you 85?"

"I promise I really am 85"

"Alrite. I get you beer"

I am at Versaille, a much hyped Cuban restaurant on Venice and Motor in West L.A. The waiter is just either way too nice or used to shenanigans of this kind. A little before I pulled into the parking lot, I realized I had left my driver's license in the copy machine at work. Of course, I had the photocopy in my wallet (of course!) And the waiter is making sure I am indeed "'85" born. Maybe I need a face lift or slice off half my nose (as my mother often mentioned I should consider before the cosmetic surgeon in our family).

I have other pressing issues that I should be worried about apart from not looking my age. I may be pulled over by a cop tonight. Since when did photocopies (how I miss saying Xerox) suffice for an actual license in this part of the world. More importantly, my dinner with A which is a once in a lifetime opportunity is in jeopardy. He is still stuck in LA's notorious traffic on the 405.

My beer arrives. It's a 'Pacifico' ( a watered down version of the humble Indian Kingfisher beer ) and then I begin flipping through the meat extravaganza on the menu. I make mental notes of my last experience eating roast chicken with a fork and knife and promptly decide to order pork instead. Fiinally he walks in. I've only spoken to A once before after his writing debut made a killing at the box office and led to a theater being burnt in Lucknow. No doubt his film was a 'riot'. He is half his size than what the Tehelka article showed him to be. I don't bat an eyelid and go straight ahead, complain how scrawny he looks and then we hug. Like old friends catching up around the corner. He pulls off a leather jacket to reveal a gothic T-shirt beneath. Not the classic khadi kurta clad writer for a change.

Within the first hour of our first meeting in person, I've confessed that my family is bent upon getting me hitched in the next year and that all I really want to commit to is a job, a game plan for starting my writing and staying in the US for at least 2 more years. I pause for a moment in my mind and realize I barely know this guy and yet he's made what seemed like a networking dinner more like gup-shup between two old buddies. He tells me exactly what he thinks of marriage as an institution and does not shy from mincing his sarcasm as he proceeds humorously to comment on my future plans. I think I already trust this guy and would work for him in a heart beat even if it meant nothing but free food on his set.

We proceed to talk of his time here at UCLA, my time back in Mumbai at UTV, why some daft people consider themselves vanguard of "Indian civilization" and insulted A at a writer's panel and what it meant to have your first film as a writer be one of India's blockbuster hits . It's all music to my ears. And dinner doesn't serve us enough time. So we head off to Starbucks for a quick cuppa. I insist on buying A coffee and it evolves into an argument. He mentions photocopied driver's license to shut me up. I sure do since there are two cops waiting in line ahead of us. Good verbal ranting makes fro a great writer. Check. But I am not one to back down easily. I order the coffee, settle into a couch cross-legged as A now defeated, resorts to industry talk and why heading back to India makes sense for someone like me. It's not the first time I've been given this advice. I make a mental note of it.

Forty minutes later, I drive A back to Versaille where he gets into his Mini Cooper (!) . But he isn't driving away yet. "I"ll wait till a girl without a license gets home", says A. I laugh, wave to him from my car and drive away. It's been a great evening and having promised A that I"ll cook him "shorsho maacher jhol" with the signature "lonka and lebu" , I look forward to our next chat. Here's to writers ...everywhere. You keep us sane. Thank you.

For a friend.... who was lost and found

2011-12-03T12:55:00.000-08:00

Crooked teeth
Curly hair
Frown when you are shy ...
Pensive eyes
Half asleep
Your gaze always gets me to smile

How did we know each other so well?

Five years apart...

Our fears and goals
Our aches and joys
Our mistakes and triumphs

Even when miles apart?

Cosmic twins as it were.

Our minds have conversed
Somewhere beyond the history of time
They've shared a joke and consoled life
Even before you and I stepped out here

They try to label what we have
Like tacky friendship cards...relationship packages
Ready made, ugly processed pieces on retail line

But our bond goes above and beyond.

For even when we choose to walk ahead
Hands holding another's
We will still walk together
Connected forever with that invisible thread

Run

2011-11-29T22:40:00.000-08:00

I am stealing ...
Stealing when I can
A glance , some warmth...
a smile or perhaps even an embrace

My hands intertwine with strange fingers
But don't find a grasp
My eyes fail to meet a pair
My mind races away

But I am still hoarding...
Hoarding half baked feelings
For faces I meet elsewhere
Convinced they"ll drown a familiar thought

That fed of your glance, your warmth
Your smile in the morning
After our hands held each other
My fingers knotted in yours

I am running ahead
My feet may be fumbling but I am gaining a pace
Your feet ...tread faster than mine
But you are running away...away from what truly could be you

Giving thanks at the Grand Canyon

2011-11-28T03:16:00.000-08:00

My clothes smell of mustard oil, cigarettes and wheat beer. It's not the most pleasant rush for my olfactory nerves but it is for now helping me create a memory of the last four days. Memories with old college mates who have assumed a larger role all of a sudden. Of boys I knew back in Presidency, who've evolved to become strong and caring men...of friends who've become family.

R, B and I were on the road from Thursday till Saturday. As I was driving through the dense pine covered forests leaving Phoenix behind and approaching the Grand canyon, I caught R in the rear view mirror. Pensive yet peaceful, his presence was surreal in that we actually finally made this happen, almost a year since we first caught up over our long phone calls in the US.

Seated next to me , B looked ahead at the road. My intermittent 'tipaniya' on life apart, I was chiding him constantly when he could not alert me to take a turn well in time. An yet he remained so calm, jovial and earnest in his effort to be the perfect host to me and R. How did these two people become so close as friends and more importantly how is it that 5 years since we last saw each other, we were actualizing a fantasy that many friends share but only few get to execute? Do friendships really strengthen over distance and time? Here we were. Photographing the rugged yet beautiful landscape of a foreign country together, just as R and I had jokingly discussed in Presi in the student union room years back.

Over the next two days we trailed through the canyon, watched the sun set over majestic historic red peaks , shared a cigarette sitting at the edge of the cliff well beyond dusk and sharing our stories over whiskey I had ceremoniously picked up with green christmas glasses. Emotions were running high as the trip was drawing to and end and so over our thanksgiving meal I suggested each of us make a little speech about what we were grateful for. Over all that we've had - good health, a loving family and the blessing of going aftet what we are passionate about, we shared the same gratitude. Of having each other in our lives - friends who cared enough to hold each other through some really dark times and yet point our mistakes out o us bluntly.

Yesterday at the watch tower overlooking the canyon, R placed a dream catcher in my hand. I've wanted one for years and little did I realize how symbolic this gift was until he explained why he was giving it to me here and now. As I hugged him and thought of the counsel he's offered me over the last one year, I realized it's having some people's faith in you when you least expect them to that really counts over all the familiar faces who've bailed out on you in small ways or big ones.

Of course saying bye has been tough. We've called and texted each other profusely since we left, even running up to security checking areas for that last one hug and now back at home looking through the memories we froze in pixellated digital fragments. Who said nostalgia makes you weak? It's denying good memories to ourselves in our weakest moments that makes us false pragmatics. Optimism stems from the potential people see in us much more than our courage in ourselves.

Here's to my friends .... who've traveled with me through time as it were. You've brought the past into the present and yet reminded me of the best I can do in the near future.

Surely we must travel another unfamiliar path very soon. Only we will have each other.

At Home

2011-11-20T00:09:00.000-08:00

I was recently describing to a friend what makes me shudder going back to the pace in Mumbai and why instead I would choose to live in the US for a couple of more years. He asked," Ron...you know what you sound like?"

"What?"

"An American".

I am not going NRI yet but I think he's right. There's this pace to this country which takes a lot out of you. You are mostly on your own, having to do everything by hand and often having to do it alone. And yet it is this very way of life which gives you a true sense of time. You are compelled to want to make the most of each minute you get to yourself.

My present job is allowing me to have a schedule that allows me to work, exercise, read, eat and socialize the way I ideally would like it. The way I haven't ever had the right to choose before. And I have no shame in admitting, I finally understand why Indians shy from returning home. In my case, it's not the desire to drive a certain kind of car, make pot loads of dollars or live in a certain kind of house. It's simply getting the luxury of living your life in a more balanced manner. And that's all I want as I grow older.

So yes. Life is falling into a predictable routine. And believe it or not, despite the nomadic streak in my personality, I am ready to embrace a steady pace for now. At least for a while. Here's why.

At about 8:30 am, I hope into my Beetle (no I am not showing off. On the contrary, I remind myself..me..I....of all people who never envisioned herself to be the 'driving type' owns a freaking Beetle). Curtsey my bro-in-law of course). My morning ritual? Listening to NPR - America's public radio station. Given the chaos unfolding here, it's a great way to start the day. Listening to the radio makes me feel like I am being spoken to. Addressed and informed. Not yelled at in the most agressive, annoying manner that television broadcasters seem compelled to adopt.

Once I get to Marina Del Rey, I haze out for a while at the dock. The seals are barking at this time as always. That cheers me up even on such grey foggy winter days here in LA. I then proceed to drink at least three cups of tea to keep myself awake and responsive to my boss' inquiries. Here's all I can say about my job. I may not have the exact profile I aspired to, BUT I am learning about foreign territories, international film sales and what makes distributors take on some producers work as opposed to others. Not bad at all given the crappy economy and my being on an OPT. To distract myself from work, I often step out of our office and amuse my boss' 1 year old toddler who insists on sneaking into our office whenever the door is left open and pounding on the printer's buttons. She keeps me sane and makes me hopeful that I might want to have one like her someday.

At about 7 pm, I am done for the day. I hop back into my bug and drive more carefully this time with the station toned down a few notches below. This time, I can just about hear the station and it's my favorite program as of now - 'All Things Considered'. Day before they were interviewing Alexander Payne and yesterday it was Mike Mills. Two of my favorite directors back to back in the same week! Arriving home, I get down to 20 minutes of yoga, cook a fresh meal if I am in the mood and pack up lunch for next day. And then it's straight to bed but not asleep before 12 pm. That's the time I catch up with my favorite sitcoms or research old TV shows on Netflix.

And here's the cherry to the icing. The two day weekend with not having to work from home. This is truly a luxury given my previous job where I would be writing scripts on Sunday evening for the show I worked on. Ugh! So half of Saturday is spent skyping with friends and family back in India. Then it's couple of hours running errands or grocery shopping. If I am not out with friends (which is often given how broke most of TRF 63 is) I am mostly alone at home. And these days I look forward to that cliche 'me time'. Like today. I spent most evening catching up 'Pan Am', cooked crepes and poured myself some vodka and coke. Of course company would be great. There's no denying that. But one needs to do what one can when no other choice presents itself. In this case, it's making the best of my time. Even if it's all on my own.

For the first time in a long time, I am getting a sense of what it means to be at home. That true joy of enjoying a wholesome domestic existence. I am an 'in betweener'. Neither here nor there. But somehow, I am at home.... with myself after a very long time. And I am happy.

Here's to you P

2011-11-10T02:52:00.000-08:00

Do you remember October 2005. We talked of patina on bronze statues, hopped galleries promising what pieces would line our individual homes someday, realized we both loved dirty yellow for a wall color, walked through Kolkata's winter streets talking of chaththim phool and yes...you taught me 20 questions. That one brilliant game to gauge someone not having asked too much not having to reveal too much. It's served me well :)

As I got off the cab one evening, you spoke of a girl in the winter walking the streets with a brown corduroy jacket a little like Winona Ryder. I walked home that evening and clutching the insides of my jacket, I thought of our time together and then of you having to leave the city soon. I thought of your friend who I seemed to have so easily forgotten who seemed a mere shadow to your presence. I sat by my window late that night and knew I wouldn't say what I wanted to because of our friendship , your friendship both of which were more valuable than the possibility of us. My brown corduroy jacket hung by the corner of my chair, my mind dancing the corners of that edge realizing how important you suddenly had become in my life.

Two years later, we found ourselves growing closer, this time in a new city. We shared a handycam one evening, filmed the 'bidi jalai dey' song to me dancing , filmed you in a trance dancing to your then favorite song.... both of us drunk on a natural high, drunk on happiness and ceasing the moments we created for ourselves over and over again.

I had my faith shaken, my heart broken over and over again and you took sides you needn't have. I walked back in and out of the mess you were trying to rescue me from. You chided me like a paternal figure but when the time came you stood by my side again. And as I finally announced my decision to leave India, your smiling sad face in that glowing red light of our favorite pub would stay fresh in my mind fro a long time. You took off your glasses and wept and held my best friend who was in denial of our life and what it had come to be now without each other.

It's amazing how right I have been about your pragmatism, your choices and how you will choose to lead your life. You are one of the most sincere, hard working, creative and caring souls I know. I feel a little like your companion in infinity , someone who doesn't need a tag, someone who will call you even if she's miles apart, someone who has never doubted what your friendship meant in her darkest days. And all of a sudden, here I am, picking out a ring for you, a bit in denial about what you told the other day and of course a bit anxious . But more than anything, I am glad you found your girl. The one you described over rum and coke five years ago. When you don your white crown this time year next time, I"ll smile at you as you smile back knowing that there's a chance we all will find our 'checklist' partner. Just as you have.

An evening that wasn't planned perfect - and almost was

2011-10-21T00:16:00.000-07:00

You go through each day - on a working day that is - quite methodically. Don't you? Hitting the alarm instinctively at 6:30 AM, catching that bus to work exactly at the same time everyday and eating your lunch almost at 1 pm . And how many things apart from the obvious do you notice in this sort of routine? Well you almost don't. Today, my evening broke away from that otherwise monotonous trudge back home alone, to cooking dinner and watching 'Felicity' just till I get tired enough to sleep. Today was different, perhaps the most different I've had in the longest time in this city.

I watched a couple in their seventies walk hand in hand till the end of the curb I was facing. They were on a stroll and as they came to an end, they heaved their shoulders, exhaled in sync with each other and then dropped their heads low shutting their eyes. They stood like that for a good 10 minutes. I am not exaggerating. I was eating take away chinese and watching all of this haunted almost in the beauty of this synchronicity, of their companionship, their grace and the fact that they weren't even of the same color. I bet it was a breathing exercise and their daily routine, but to me it was a reminder of the beauty of being with someone you imagined growing old with, doing things in harmony and just being at peace with each other's presence.

Later , I met up Newhouse alum at Venice in the nicest jazz pub I've been to in a while. After years of struggle, K is finally getting her scripts sold to big studios and producers. Her upcoming film is to be directed by Alexander Payne and a talk about adapting an Indian author's book into a mini series to be shot in India is on. K was nice enough to introduce me to everyone in her large LA family. Sandwiched between grown men and women, designers, writers, show runners and artists, I was struck by how blase this people were about their work. Not once did we discuss "the industry" or "our craft". The conversation was instead centered on our families, children, neurotic spouses and our parents. And the most upsetting stories were being dished out with such humor that I was struck by these bunch of people. They had barely met me for 10 minutes and here I was, in their fold...a cohort.

I won't wax eloquent about what the conversation trailed off to but the highlight off the evening , apart from having a writer from the Bill Cosby show speak to me for 2 hours was discovering that the designer I had been chatting with for over an hour is THE man who's designed the Focus Features logo. Focus Features! Those blurred blue dreamy lights inspiring you of a collective humanity in a city like New York or the promise of something better to come. How often have I stopped before shooting soft blurred night lights to remind myself why I love this idea so much. It started from FF's art.

Anyway, I need to meet more people, do more random pub/art crawls I guess as superficial as that sounds to sort of lose myself now and then. A friend couldn't have said it better. Sometimes too much is made of finding oneself. There's greater joy in losing oneself. I will add to that. Losing oneslef amidst people who are unknown and yet turn out to be more familiar or connected to you than you could imagine - that joy is even greater.

A 'lone'

2011-10-11T00:24:00.000-07:00

You might have heard this one before but still, hear me out. There’s a huge difference between what ‘alone’ signifies as opposed to the word ‘loneliness’. And the more I think of stuff like this, I wonder if I should have chosen semantics over the film industry.

A couple of days back, I didn’t have the option of returning home after work. So I walked into Culver Plaza, an old mom and pop theatre close by where I live to watch ‘Midnight in Paris’. There I was amongst six other people chuckling at Bender’s lines and wondering if Owen Wilson was categorically told to imitate Allen’s classic ‘fumbling verbose’ acting style. But once my brain stopped processing these details, I realized I watched this film partially because of ‘loneliness’ not because I chose to do it ‘alone’. And that’s when it hit me. Being in Los Angeles brings up the idea of ‘loneliness’. On the other hand, I may be doing something all by myself in New York City but it would be okay because I would be happy to do it ‘alone’. Sitting at Central Park and watching the cyclists go by or stepping into a museum wholly dedicated to the aesthetic and history of sex or for that matter walking from Chelsea to Manhattan instead of taking the subway. I do these things by myself because these moments in the city feel more precious when they are just mine. Out here in LA, not having a car maroons you to a pretty lonely existence, all the more when you are broke. This is not LA bashing (I can almost hear that friend of mine scream "give the city time!!!"). Just plain facts backed up by the fact that a lot of young people choose to move to NYC from LA just after a year.

A friend of mine back in India always spoke about wanting to drink at a pub all by himself. Just to see what it felt to immerse oneself in a crowd and yet be there all by yourself. Sizing your drink. Gauging the possibility of a conversation being initiated with one of the many strangers in the room and then letting the potential slip. Only to emerge feeling weathered by that experience. Now that to me is a true moment of being ‘alone’. As opposed to having no one to share a drink and conversation with and landing up drinking in a corner – in ‘lonely'. I doubt he ever actually gathered the will to put himself through this experiment. The last time I almost did something like that in my favorite garage pub - Toto's in Mumbai, I had a certain IT software coder convince me why I should keep his card and then also had to convince his 5 drunk friends that I am indeed dating somebody else. Think my 'alone' experiments are best kept out of watering holes.

I think the coming months will kick-start my socializing patterns. I am getting closer to buying a car now that I am employed ( I will soon join my cohorts driving in the worst traffic in USA) and one of my closest friends just moved here tonight from the east coast. John had sold LA to me over NYC back in Newhouse when he said "Would you rather be a beach-bum or a sidewalk bum". New York is a ruthless city when one's barely making money and looking to break into the entertainment industry.

I am going to give LA a shot regardless of whether my semantic pontifications end up in me thinking more about the Big Apple these days or for that matter Mumbai - a city whose sights and smell I crave for in spurts and bursts. And if things get bad, I"ll remind myself that the empowering effect of doing stuff all by oneself is a whole lot of bull crap. We try and philosophize things that seem beyond our control - like ending up lonely in a city or choosing to be alone - convincing that this is how life is and it must be dealt with. When all you really need to do is pick up the phone and call the people you miss and wish to be with, even if miles away.

Thank you Mr Ayers

2011-09-21T00:42:00.000-07:00

The need to be overwhelmed with something. The need to feel so strongly that you find the ability to move someone else in turn. Years back, perhaps this is what made want to pursue journalism. I earnestly believed (and part of me still wants to) that a story could be told with such intensity that it would make the audience want to think and want to act.

However a few years down the line, I find myself far far away from noble intentions of changing the world through the medium of broadcast news and trying to edge closer to the motion picture industry. I am sure I am an escapist at some level for not sticking it out to an earlier conviction, but in my defense, my basic endeavor is to be able to tell incredible stories to people. Entertain; make someone laugh so hard they almost pee in their pants. Or make them cry so much they need time out to take a breath.

Watching 'The Soloist' today made me rethink of that first conviction. Lopez told the rest of the world an ordinary homeless man's story rendering him a stranger no more. Today Nathaniel Mayers has been immortalized in a book, a film and has a foundation in his name dedicated to bringing more attention to mental illness.

And all this makes me realize I am so very grateful. I realize how important it is to be thankful for a healthy mind and to be able to make the most of it. I realize that my neighbour is playing his or perhaps her guitar and I am so lucky to feel the way I do when I hear music. And this is where I must stop and simply listen.

almost nothing.

2011-08-26T01:33:00.000-07:00

I stopped blogging for a while now because of professional hazards. My friend in India gave me a good tongue lashing when he realized I spend more time obsessing over my blog and satiating my verbal rant in creative verse on Mondaydonna rather than writing material that's long over due. And hence a series of sketches were born, some outlining for a few script ideas but mostly, those dreaded unholy cover letters for numerous job applications.

Finally, I could not hold myself back today. In applying for a post online, I was asked to provide a writing sample. A sample? I wrote a dozen script coverage in my last two months and a long list of posts over the last three years on this blog. But did I have a writing sample that shows my knowledge of present developments in the media or what I have to say about the rebels overthrowing Gadaafi in Lybia or sadly for that matter something closer home - Anna's hunger protest in India and the silent turmoil bubbling in my country? No. I do not and I can't possibly pretend to begin articulating my thoughts on the same. Not because I am not interested or concerned but because this space and the larger part of my writing is my venting zone, my safe area for catharsis on things OTHER than those that are tearing the world down right now.

So what did I do about that sample? I didn't send one. Quite the rebel ay given that I need a job more than anything else at this point? Ayyyyy... I think it is weariness on the other hand. I am beginning to slow down rather than rev up any more about how best to approach this seemingly vast expanse of untapped jobs in the US. Don't get me wrong. I've met some of the most respected and engaging industry professionals, had long chats with writers of films back in India that are rocking the box office and India's imagination. So a lot of good things have come about from the process of networking to find a job. And more than anything else I guess you have to trust the process (Note: very relevant to to other aspects of life as well). But there is this ancillary list of things that are eating away at my enthusiasm of it all:

* Staying up late and wondering if the thousands of dollars I spent studying the film and tv industry are worth over an MBA that I could have landed in the same money

* Wondering if I am kidding myself about sticking to my goals in the entertainment industry or the fact that the MBA route is playing games in my head. Maybe dad was right, make bread to feed yourself and then go make pastry on the side to tickle your palette. Get the analogy?

* Having to move YET AGAIN into another part of Los Angeles. Crashing on couches and feeding off (literally) well wishers is what any film/tv enthusiast does. Just that my back is yearning for one regular solid hard mattress

* Listening to my sibling's friend advise me that the return to India plan is perhaps more pragmatic and financially viable than hanging onto the hope of getting hired in the present messy US economy

* Fearing that if I don't return to India soon, I just might get a little too used to the idea of the lifestyle that this country affords and India cannot perhaps even in two decades

* Most of all just this looming unsurety about my present exploration of film related jobs in the US and if it actually is going to help me land an interesting position back at home

I am probably making this blog way too personal. But blogging like I said is my only means of letting go, rambling about happy/unhappy turning points and making peace with it all. Making peace.....isn't that the point of all our creative exploits. Writing, painting, making musics, making things to be shared with people outside our immediate reach? I"ll use this space as a crutch in the coming weeks if I haven't managed to shrug off a friend's visit to LA. This time and perhaps the first ever, I couldn't speak all of my mind to someone I've been meaning to for a while. Making peace....yet again. Perhaps I need to indulge in writing some more random cryptic verse to soothe my mind.

Check check list

2011-07-29T14:23:00.000-07:00

I have been away from my country for over a year by now. And as much as I convince myself that my core beliefs and approach to life have not changed, I am finding myself make a mental note of how I feel/live differently more often than I imagined. So I drew up a basic checklist to remind myself how I may have evolved more significantly than ever before this past year:

-- Worrying about my understanding of money and the importance it plays in my life. I never cared about insurance, pension plans or making an absolute minimum salary earlier

-- Understanding that perhaps my interests and my career moves don't always have to be intertwined

-- Learning to detach myself emotionally every time I have a rush of high-strung feelings associated with things or people I am close to and who move me immensely

-- Checking every food product I intend to consume for parabens, aspartame and the million other weird chemicals that could be carcinogenic

-- Craving for Greek yogurt with honey at 1 am while watching the nth episode of Scrubs

-- Which brings me to the realization that I have watched and heard more over the internet than I ever have before AND the fact that I take the broadband speed in the US for granted

-- From being paranoid about letting go in deep waters to overcoming that fear and pushing myself harder to swim, that too during one of the harshest winters in upstate New York

-- Wanting to be outdoors as much as possible to soak in the sun, that liquid gold seems such a luxury after living in Syracuse in -10 F for close to 6 months

--Going from someone who used bare minimal make up to someone who now uses 'bare mineral' make up everyday

-- From freaking out about the idea of dating to for the first time understanding the pragmatism behind the concept

-- Understanding that sometimes timing and circumstances play a bigger role in things not working than blaming someone or a situation for hurtful events

This year poses to be yet another huge challenge what with having to start from scratch in a new industry, hunting for jobs without the assurance of a full time gig and figuring out which career path suits me more as I grow older. There will be endless sleepless nights sans the comfort of seeing the wonderful faces next morning of some amazing friends I made in grad school. Hmm....there will be obstacles and dilemmas but hopefully that checklist will lengthen, albeit for the best.

The C Word

2011-06-27T22:43:00.000-07:00

What is it about one's male friends settling down that sometimes propels you into a process of self-inspection, introspection and inquiry? You find out that the same person you shared evening walks on a beach with or laughed heartily over inane, ludicrous facts when there was no other mirth in life is suddenly getting married. And not just married to a girl but "the woman of his life".

Why at such moments do all the memories of men we've associated with flash by. You ponder upon your own state of single-hood, that one "potential" you lost to long distance, the jerks who weren't worth it and yet served as a learning curve (in the often fluctuating graph of your relationships vs wisdom chart) or that one friend you have more than chummy feelings for but can't do anything about?

Why do we re-check if we indeed are happy where we are today or if we have the choice at all to be unhappy otherwise? You ask, "Are my varied interests, plans or ambition coming in the way of seeking companionship or are they really going to be the litmus tests of finding it?"

Perhaps and only perhaps because you know that even in the simplest moments of joy with a friend who could have been more, you did catch a fleeting glimpse of what all conjugal/committed relationships boil down to. That of friendship in its most trusted and pure form. Affection, reliability and a smiling face that wipes away those furrows on your brow.

Companionship. That one other naive word for commitment.

To companions, wherever and however they appear in my life.

Of the lack of angels, plenty of scripts and bliss of perfect assistants

2011-06-24T00:56:00.000-07:00

This is my first post from LA. One second. Nope. Second of the many series of posts to come from the City of Angels. The first was when I was here on an 'Industry Trip' with Newhouse fellows in Jan early this year. That's when I had accepted that as much as I disliked the idea of leaving behind my dreams of living in the Big Apple, I had to make the move to LA to pursue a career in the motion picture industry.

So here I am, two weeks into the internship at M and blessed to have my father's State Bank network find me a great family that is literally 'sheltering' me from hunger, being broke and homeless in this city. I don't know if it was a co-incidence or good luck but my office is a 10 minute bus ride from my generous host's apartment, one of the most coveted real estate areas in LA. To imagine I was miserable when the Focus internship tanked. Ma's right. Everything that doesn't work out is for a reason.

So what is an intern's day to day routine in a major motion picture financing and development company. For starters to break the stereotype, we never fetch coffee for anyone except fellow interns (more like soda). Yes we do photocopy, shred paper, file and distribute mail amongst the other things we are assigned or expected to do. Like? Script coverage to begin with. I get to read tons of scripts, specs, developing material and get asked to give my notes, feedback and what in the layman's world would be a 'report' and in mine a 'script coverage' that gives a detailed analysis of the literary material and what works for it or doesn't. I am getting to give a 'HIGHLY RECOMMENDED' and actually explain WHY to the assistants of some of the top producers and executives in this trade. And it gets better. We've been split into teams and have to pitch story ideas for a film to DZ at the end of this month. He will be helping us polish our pitching skills and gives us further assignments based on our performance. Sometimes working for a more intimate and small company (only in numbers not the quality of work that M does) does have great perks.

One of the reasons why I love coming to work every day so far has been this almost perfect, too good to be true assistant. Let's call him G. We already have a great rapport. Guess foodies and film buffs across the globe should just have their own secret club. Also hanging out in his cubicle provides constant entertainment since he is at the center of two exec's offices. The other day I walked in to see G busy researching strip clubs in Paris for his boss who was vacationing there (with his mother....!?) and yet another day overheard the said boss yell out this question in the middle of his brainstorming session with a writer, "What's the most raunchy way for a woman to say I am bout to c@#$.". I laughed until I was asked to answer that question.

Writing coverage has been exciting. To imagine that your comment may actually be that very small yet first step in the direction for a film to be either developed or thrown down the chute. Or help a writer get his big break. I set myself a deadline of reading a 100 page script at least in 2 hours and doing the coverage in the next hour and half. The SRR 'script reading rate' (I coined it so it's not legit so refrain from using it elsewhere) in the industry is a page a minute so I still have a long way to go. I started my coverage spree here at M by reading a splatter film that was close to the 'torture porn' genre (my eyes and brain hurt by the middle of it). Managing to progress in the world of literary sophistication, next I picked up a teen action flick that is in production in South Africa and finaly to my pleasant surprise, a wildlife epic story awaiting the last chunk of finance based on the legendary Daphne Sheldrick's (elephant conservationist) life. TODAY, I read the funniest spy film I think that people are yet to see. Gave it a thumbs up so hoping MV will push for it.

Apart from that, not having a car in LA is frustrating. I am not against hitching buses but was racially hassled for the first time ever yesterday and kept a poker face through all of it. When I got off, my hands were trembling. Ignorance and hatred. Two of the most dangerous qualities a man can possess. Being a victim of it can give you quite a reality check.

I did manage however to do a few interesting things so far like go to a stand up performance at a gay bar called Akbar (ironic ha?!) with Carm. Attended the premiere of 'Bernie' a M production where I got to see Richard Linkslater ('Before Sunrise' and 'After Sunset' were two of my favorite films of all time), Jack Black, Shirley Mac Laine and Matthew McConaughey and then cursed myself for not attending the after party where Julie Delphie was present as well :/. Apparently she was incognito as always. Love that woman!

R, my Indian friend has been super helpful and we've been cooking meals together and bonding over 'Entourage' and ice cream bon-bons. Waiting to see the museums and also a Tim Burton exhibit that is on at LACMA next to where I live. And oh yes. I've driven twice, when the roads were almost empty with R sitting next to me but still hey, I DROVE in LA! Texted Jery immediately who said he is super proud of me. Miss our drives and fun times Jery :) :/

I need to step up the job search. And wait before I forget, why do they call this place the City of Angels???? This place can be more ruthless than NYC!

On the more emo side, I miss Jess, Jack, Jerry and Ryan so very badly. And I almost wish I could have both coasts to myself whenever I want.

If only your best friends could be family that you could always return to.

A one followed by a half

2011-06-15T02:08:00.000-07:00

Have you ever found yourself in situations where you have this spurt of instant joy but that moment somehow moves on to you feeling tremendously sad at the same time. I wish I had more guts to make my blog ultra public so that I could take a poll on this. Either ways you probably will write back to me if you really wish to share yours. Here are some of mine:

* Being tickled in the tummy as a kid until I had to scream "STOP"

* Hearing or telling fart jokes when they were still clever and funny and cracked up the whole family until we fell off our chairs

* Observing your grandpa's beloved garden and realizing that what's left today will be gone tomorrow

* Saying bye to friends from high school thinking it would be the last day we ever saw each other

* Saying bye to friends again, this time in Grad school knowing for a fact that the joke we are sharing today would be recalled years later albeit with me back in India and them across a couple of oceans

* Watching the Niagara falls from a bridge and wanting your family half a globe across, next to you

* Hearing my father describe his latest fish pond project over skype and describing how our home is perfect for me to start a little prod co from

* Being held by that someone you've wanted to hold yourself for the longest time but end up doing so only the night before you have to say goodbye

Cheesy? Go ahead and send me yours :)

A moment that lasted an eternity

2011-06-09T16:32:00.000-07:00

A bit too late

My confession and your admission

With hours ticking on the clock

It was a gamble worth taking

We've had to keep our secrets too long

And go with the game we've played

Too afraid to risk our friendship

Too afraid to own up how we felt

But now that we are cities apart

And relying on my blog and texts

I"ll tell you the truth

I lived a lifetime of joy with you

For the moment that we seized

And held each other

For the smiles we exchanged

In dark solitude

We built our little oyster shell

Far from questions and norms

Your hands and mine intertwined

And heaven laid itself out even if just for a couple of hours

Saying bye to NYC before starting LA

2011-06-05T22:47:00.000-07:00

This one is probably going to be my last post from Syracuse ever! And it won't be what Barney likes to label as legendary. Nope. No calm or stoic reflections from the year gone by one more time ...nope. I am about to simply indulge what my brain likes to do once in a while when I blog. Write about the most recent and yet impulsive train of thoughts I've had running through my head or well just write about what I've been running through, if that makes any sense. Rather, 'where' I've been running through.

New York. I've been in and out of the city this last week, hopping in and out of Jerry's car, as he and Lee made multiple trips to the city to find themselves a place. My ears are still ringing from the drive. What an awesome drive! We've been spending so much time together lately, that I almost wish (HOW I wish) that I could have moved in with them. Jerry was even suggesting we start writing about us living in the city. A white guy from South Carolina, a black guy from Mississippi and an Indian girl who's just finishing her first year in the US, all starting out in NYC in the entertainment industry. I bet there would be takers for that !

I got to hang out with the 'artsy' crowd for once! Jg's friend was invited by an artist to visit the studios of over 30 artists all working in a loft in Bushwick, so off we went. I had my LBD and Jg his tweed cap on and theer we were, rubbing shoulders with the 'alternative artists collective' in this little surreal part of Brooklyn that looks like a post WW II housing area. Artists here on every nook and corner, all working and living in lofts that were once industrial buildings. It was the opposite to your 'sipping champagne in an art gallery while figuring out what you were supposed to make of the art' scenario. Everyone was walking around with a couple of beer cans, sharing drinks with young artists, discussing their work and even being allowed to touch it ( jello lungs in plastic ice can be very therapeutic to play with).

At about 12:30 we had spent over an hour looking at all of Evan's works in his studio so we headed out to his flat which turned out to be one of those places you see in an exclusive home decor magazine. I saw Edison bulbs over his living space for the first time in my life and I don't think the energy saving ones I use now are going to enthrall me anymore. The kitchen counter was designed by the three people living in that flat themselves!!! Then there were all these funky sapling in glass pots that definitely betrayed the look of regular homegrown veggies ;) and a metronome ticking away with a frame that resembled a human face. An overall slick studio feel to a space that was not meant to be habitable at all in the first place. I would have killed to have that space in NYC.

This trip was as I would like to call it "meet the girlfriends" trip. First, there was Jg's present and then Jerry's ex. I am giving myself 5 on 5 for dealing well with both :) These scenarios could have played out in interesting permutations and combinations, but for the most part , those scenarios are in my head and will be used as fodder when I write my sketches so I'm not giving them away here.

Also I finally got to meet MN! So yippeee! It was so very overwhelming to be sitting in the presence of a director whose work I've been so inspired with for years now. I'm not going to yak about that on this space but all I can say is thank you TG for setting this up. I am so hoping that I get my act right sooner than later and get to work for her if not with her in the near future. That one hour spent went by faster than I thought but it was an hour that I probably will never ever forget.

This trip was also very significant in one way which seems to me more crucial than a lot of what I've experienced before walking through New York's streets. And it came to me in the most mundane way walking in the heat through Manhattan on my way to Jg's house. I could almost see myself walking through Mumbai's roads sooner or later, yet again and for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel anxious about the idea that I might have to return to India soon. Walking through swirls of humanity, walking through streets and more streets of faces, all out there to make a living and beating the odds of surviving a city that drains so much from you emotionally and financially. Mumbai ...New York....not much difference, is there now, come to think of it?

The next 3 months will be interesting and unpredictable probably also very very unnerving. For one I'm still not sure whether it's going to be LA or NYC and I have time till November only to find myself a job or else I have to pack up and go back to Mumbai. I think this is undoubtedly the biggest challenge I've faced in my life so far.

LA here I come.

In the moment

2011-05-29T22:34:00.000-07:00

Here I am yearning to live in the moment

Without a care of the future or the past

Without nihilism or skepticism

I am beginning to curl my lips even as you purse yours

There's this oppressive sense of zen

Almost as heavy as the summer air

That buzzes with Cicadas and rumbles of blue lightning

And echoes within my half filled glass of cognac

You speak of your faith and your conscience

Of consequences and realism

I listen, smile, nod in acquisence

A garb to my thoughts otherwise

My feet know not where they are headed

Neither does my heart

And yet I am calm

Yearning to simply live in the moment

The conversation we so greedily fetch out

The long afternoons of summer, both will end soon

I am yearning to live in the moment,

Look now...my fingers are reaching out to yours

Saying bye ....yet again

2011-05-28T19:44:00.000-07:00

So I've been avoiding this one post that has been weighing down on my conscience (for not writing it yet). Emotions have been running high and almost everyone has left Syracuse for either NYC or LA. It's the end to me of an era in a way.

My tryst with grad school ended on 14th May. Wearing that black gown and cap and taking the walk with fellow TRFers was painful, literally and metaphorically. Barely awake, suffocating in the heat with those polyester cloaks, not only did I have to really focus on Richard Edleman's soliloquy on new media but also on fighting back my tears. I probably have stated this in my earlier posts and if I try harder, I"ll risk sound cheesy, but graduation week was beautiful and yet awful. Everything just sped up in two days and next thing I know, I am helping friends pack and having to say bye - and to some it was probably a bye forever.

Let's pretend for a moment that as an adult one matures with separations. When you are 8 or 15 you cry when you move a city or your friend does but you get distracted by all the other overwhelming things that occupy your life then. When you grow older and settle into a rhythm with a group of people you can identify with and work with productively, separation is like losing a limb. You know life will have to go on, but that missing piece will always remind you of what was lost.

I can barely do justice to recollect all the moments of saying bye to some of my closest friends here but for the sake of nostalgia, I"ll do a few. Jack left first for Chicago. I realized that I would be an idiot to cry given the amazing friendship we developed so I wrote her a letter (something I love doing as parting messages) and packed the 'grape' cap along that she always teased me with. She choked up when she read it and gave me hug so hard, it squeezed the wind out of my ribs. It's ironic, how perfect our plan for living together in NYC was and yet how I am drifting towards the west coast. But that's how life is I guess.

Jess was next. Always good with hiding her emotion. She was so overwhelmed with this beginning of our 'byes' that she wanted to cry and yet she wouldn't let herself. So four days later, when I hugged her bye the night before she left 'cuse, I was so relieved to realize she was sobbing. We held each other and cried for what seemed like eternity and then just like that she held me away, said goodnight and refused to look back. I don't think my goodbyes to any of my ex- boyfriends have been that emotional :P

Carm left for Montreal a day later and I did also try helping her pack but we just ended up talking more. She is headed west coast as well so it wasn't that bad saying bye.

Persian kid is leaving for Europe day after to meet his girlfriend and while we did have our talk about missing our friendship, I am so sure I will be working with him in the near future. I"ll miss his nerdy, dorky craziness and our long conversations about nature and our cooking sessions.

For the last one week or so, I have been hanging out a lot with Jerry. I never realized before this, how much I enjoy his company. We spend close to 13 hours just driving in the last two weeks and he's probably the reason I passed my road test. He's been vouching that I won't leave for another week or so and truly enough, I decided to stay another week before I head out. Looking forward to more fun times together. I almost am tempted to move out with him and Lee to the city.

Which leaves Ryan. The elder brother I've never had. His family has adopted me as their own. Watching him around his kids and Steph, spending time over our projects, our film and now our quality time together in the yard gardening and over meals has helped me pull through some really tough times this year. I can't even imagine saying bye to him so I am not going to talk about it.

The people I met, worked with and spend my weekends cooking for and hanging out with in general, have shaped me incredibly. If someone asks me what was the most memorable aspect of my one year in the US, it will have to be the time with my classmates. The word 'school' will never be the same again and as the chosen grad speaker said on commencement the word 'orange' won't either.

I am heading out to LA in a week for an internship and from thereon I have no idea what's next in line. There's barely any savings, the loan's almost run out and I don't have a job. I've been denying how much this stresses me but somebody said to me the other day "What's the worst that can happen? You will head back home to India". How do I explain to him that my understanding of the word 'home' is not the same anymore.

Epiphany at 1 pm at Newhouse

2011-05-06T06:01:00.000-07:00

A walk down the edit suites of Newhouse at 1 pm , close to a week before we are set to graduate made me repeat two crucial lessons to myself that I learnt this year in my Master's program.

**The people who work the hardest - not just the creative ones , but those who plod on tirelessly - are the ones who will survive this industry.

** "Making movies" (as Morgera says) is what I need to remind myself constantly, even in my weakest moment of doubt about whether this industry is really what I want to remain in

A year and half earlier......switching career streams was not an easy decision. Leaving Mumbai was not a very convincing one either. Coming to a new country and starting from scratch almost at the bottom of the pyramid in a new field.... that has been the toughest of them all.

But on days like this, as I saunter in to school way past midnight, with other TRFers (as we refer to ourselves TV, Radio and Film students) barely awake and still holed up in their Avid suites getting the rough cuts ready for our big day of screening , I am struck by what a blessing it has been, to have met these people who have evolved from being merely fellow classmates to teachers, to becoming my closest friends and now almost a family of its own. The sheer joy of collaborating with them to create something from the germ of an idea, to furtive scribbles on bar napkins, to a script and then breaking it down visually to piece into one organic story... I could start this process over and over again.

Newhouse.....you have been the best decision I have made so far.

Here's to TRF 63

Of a film that made me want to return to Mumbai...

2011-04-24T23:00:00.000-07:00

Dear N,

Trust this finds you well. I could not make it to Kiran Rao's screening of Dhobi Ghaat at Cornell. However, I finally found time to watch it today and I am stunned to say the least. The narrative was so strong and the potrayal of Mumbai's ethos so realistic.... The editing was seamless and almost every frame felt like a beautifully composed still picture that had a story to tell of its own.

I think I was overwhelmed because the film resonates one of my strongest beliefs about human relationships..that they all overlap in concentric circles or sometimes in ripples. More often than not, we have little control over who we meet and what transpires thereafter. And if pondered upon carefully, almost all our encounters with people who come and go is anything but sheer co-incidence.

Seeing Shai stand alone at junction in South Mumbai - in between confusion and epihany - bathed in the light of the street lamps and the first light of daybreak, reminded me of some of my most difficult days in that city.

Thank you so much for putting together such a beautiful film. I miss Mumbai sorely and this movie gave me yet another reason to want to return.

In Limbo

2011-04-22T03:08:00.000-07:00

I am two weeks away from graduating. Two thesis films yet to be completed, numerous assignments with overlapping deadlines, 3 finals within two days of each other and my dream internship at Focus narrowly missed because of my being engrossed with a multitude of things that weren't in a priority list.

A year back on this day, I was sauntering across the garden back at home in India absolutely ignorant of the whirlwind of an experience this year would turn out to be. And here I am, almost at the threshold of a possible life in another country, a career and a future and yet that visible catalyst to triggering that off seeming so elusive.

Reality checks of having to return to Mumbai and starting all over again and the anxiety of a loan ridden future has me turn to 'Parks and Recreation' for comfort. Leslie Knope give me hope :) It's 6 AM and I am up, writing, watching pretending that worrying is unnecessary...

R reminded me that the worse that could happen would be to return to a country that offers me countless options when it comes to work...... Perhaps he is right. Perhaps not. If only I could go home for a brief while, be with family and friends and meet those I need to before I start my life here.

For now it's one day and one step at a time ..... I lack the luxury of wanting, missing or needing...

Of Fathers and Sons

2011-04-01T17:58:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the last class of my Light & Lens course. I am so very grateful that we had a fantastic professor like Coffeay. In my previous job, I observed my cameramen work effortlessly to get the light right and being a very very very amateur photographer...well someone who loves visuals, colour, light in short, this course was my hands on practical training in setting up lights, understanding the various aspects of key, fill, green screens, shadows, pools ...the works basically.

Which brings me to why I am writing this post. Coffeay showed us a documentary called "Tell Them Who You Are". It was about the eccentric or some would say radical American cinematographer Haskell Wexell and his difficult relationship with his son who happened to be the documentary's director. The film was shot mostly and narrated from the perspective of his son and captured Haskell in his 80s, fit as a stick and still dominating as his reputation in Hollywood testifies. For those of you who are wondering why Haskell is famous, he was judged as one of history's ten most influential cinematographers and has iconic films like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, America America, Bound for Glory, Medium Cool (which he directed), The Thomas Crown Affair, American Graffitti amongst many others. Not just this, Haskell was an avid documentary filmmaker and attached himself to causes against the establishment's much criticized activities in developing countries.

The film starts off as a 'talking heads' piece with the likes of Lucas, Jane Fonda amongst many other illustrious Hollywood personalities recalling their memory of Haskell. But upon the latter's suggestion, it evolves into a moving piece (albeit torturous to watch in places because of the arguments and taunts that Haskell subjects his son Mark to repeatedly) of a father's relationship or the lack of it with his son. As I watched Haskell bicker with his son on camera, arguing about creative differences, I was reminded of my father's relationship with his father. Dadu, my grandpa was what would underestimate by referring to him as "persuasive". He was loved and admired for his knowledge and generosity. But to those who had seen his temper and stubbornness, one would perhaps not hesitate from labeling him as a difficult father and a husband.

Needless to say, this attitude must have left a deep impression upon my father. My grandma tells me they never my dadu and baba never got along and come to think of it, I am able to look beyond a lot of my father's unflattering characteristics with this knowledge. I understand my dad's frequent short temper and his impatience with us. How can you grow up without not being affected in some way or the other by the eccentricities of your father. Yet, growing up I saw my father do everything possible that a loving son would do for his father. To the extent that every summer, my father would insist that we all spend the month long vacation with my grandparents. "No sight-seeing, no new states and no summer activities", as my mom remarks to this date.

For many years now, I've also seen my sibling's perspective of my father as very different from mine. And I didn't relate to it until much later when I understood how his attitude to her growing up had led to certain characteristic traits in her personality she wasn't proud of. Of course, we've had open discussions/arguments over how better of a father figure he's been to me than to her. But in the end, she understands that she has always idolized him subconsciously and emulated his values and that as children (not daughters vs sons but children) we couldn't have been more blessed to have him as our father.

I think the men from my grandfather's generation and to some extent my father's, where hardened by the severe disciplining of their parents. You weren't required to be a nurturing parent but more so a taskmaster to a child.

As I see it, men have softened, become more domesticated, nurturing and equal partners in the process of parenting in the last two decades. and as ironic as this sounds with the rising number of divorces I see, families today have more nurturing and compassionate male figures than they did before.

Haskell at one point in the documentary, called his son "a mess". As much as I wanted to dislike him, I also wanted to admire him. I think he came a long way by agreeing to open his life's secrets and allowing his son to go public with the honest truth of the scars, the resentments and finally the forgiveness that his son experienced in their relationship.

Tom Hayden (Jane Fonda's ex husband) summed it up pretty well when he referred to what he and many sons experience from their difficult relationships with their father . I can't recall word by word but it was on the lines of "one has to cut off the toxic transmission that one was at the receiving end of to become a more responsible adult to your children". Couldn't have been better said.

So this is an ode to all the fathers who weren't quite what they were required to be for their sons - ideal role models; to the fathers who found courage to admit their mistakes; to the father who has learnt from his past and changed himself.

To my grandfather in the end who despite all his flaws gave me my father; someone who puts his childrens' need before his, protects them from the worst risking his own life and who has despite all that he may have once not been, has always been a true friend.

Thank you baba

Of orange love scenes and perfect Saturdays

2011-03-26T22:24:00.000-07:00

I am jumping up high, higher and higher. No...literally, Florence and the Machine has that effect on me.

That and the fact that I must surely have the best combination of very gifted actors, a brilliant Director of Photography and a very versatile Producer. The first love scene for my thesis film went off well today. I had butterflies looking at M and J kiss n our tangerine lit attic room.....

Later we unwinded with a bottle of wine and idle banter with Adrienne's duck Dexter and four dogs

Days like this remind me why I should never give up on my long term dream of directing...

And oh yes, the London-US call was the best 3 hour of non-stop laughter I've had in a long time.

Thanks A :)

For once.....

2011-03-25T23:24:00.000-07:00

I don't like updates. As in I don't like giving updates in the form of a blog post (shouldn't I be maintaing a super secretive journal in that case ?) but I am making an exception tonight.

Because.....I had a marvelous evening. Six weeks away from graduating and wrapping up this dream of a bubble/ blissful academic experience that Newhouse School at Syracuse has been, I am grappling with the potential to make the best of the time left.

How am I doing that? To begin with, I took up two thesis films. That's right TWO.

I am Producing a short fantasy fiction for children and Directing a coming of age story about a young woman's effort to break through the stereotypes associated with exploring one's sexuality. Yes. They are completely different at the opposite ends of the spectrum. And that's the beauty of being involved with this craft.

The real challenge is directing two very crucial love scenes in the second one. C my Producer/Writer called our lead actors over for drinks today and I swear I am not advocating the use of alcohol, but it did make a difference to creating a very nice comfort level between our actors.

It's a bit bizarre at times at how involved you have to become as a director helping your actors shape a mood or experience that will dictate a scene and then detach yourself from it almost immediately and let that scene become theirs.

The wine must have helped because I communicated what I wanted from my actors perfectly. And to my relief, M and J locked themselves away in C's room and rehearsed their scene. It's ironic, but it was my male lead who was more nervous about the intimacy than the female actor. Hallejuah!

Later, C and I decided to give ourselves a break and headed to the only Irish pub on campus. C's cell was flooded with texts from two different guys both wanting to spend the evening with her.

!!!

I am barely a feminist but for once, cheers to the women I work with. It was truly OUR evening. We danced away with each other barely concerned about the lack of male company in our river dance stunt

Salut!

Spring Break in the City: Unscripted

2011-03-18T19:38:00.000-07:00

Saturday

Each trip of mine to New York has been very distinct from the previous. In its mood, of the people I meet and of the many things that my brain is constantly grappling with as I scan this city and its people.

J got back from his South East Asian trip so jet lag and grumpiness are threatening the prospect of what I had in mind for this trip. But friends stick up for each other so I am being patient and trying to not feel bummed about the fact that he leaves for SXSW on Monday.

For the first time in the city, Saturday night was a promise of getting wasted and living it up. Neither of that happened. J and Puiya had been drinking all evening so by the time they got home, whiskey was running in their veins. More whiskey shots followed between the men while I quitely sipped my Kahlua and listened to 'Something Good Can Start' by Two Door Cinema Club (my latest song running in a loop). Puiya pulled me up and we were dancing freestyle jazz followed by THE dip. I have always wanted to be dipped that low with my head touching the floor backwards like they show in the movies, so this was so much fun...after such a long time.

Next, we caught a train to Brooklyn and reached a pub that was clearly a place for 35 and older. The music wasn't snazzy for a Saturday night but I got to meet a cinematographer, more lawyers (are there more legal personnel in this world than we need because I just meet too many of them!) and a med school student. These days with my low threshold for alcohol, I stick to one gin and tonic but J's whiskey fest left him sick. Over lemon and water and my efforts to make him feel better, I spoke a bit too much perhaps about our common concerns of our friendship and my indecisiveness of moving to NYC or LA . It was nice to be there just talking and listening to someone who's been such a good friend and strong source of comfort in the last couple of months. And in such moments, my heart just spills over. Maybe R was right but her counsel has killed motivation to just be in the moment. I am mad for the first time with a friend looking out for for me, because I think the universe works in such unfair ways. When you want to be carefree and spirited emotions run strong. And tables turn when you least expect them.

***************************************************************************************

Tuesday

The floor assistant selling me boots today flirted, asked my name repeatedly and claimed he waved tax for me.....freaked me out a bit. Good looking but very starry eyed so I played it cool and walked out fast. Walked a lot betwen 34th and 44th and my feet are killing me in these fancy boots. Met E at Madison and we talked for over two hours about Development and his experience in the industry so far. I love his energy and drive because it reminds me of myself being in hyper-productive mode which E is known for. I then took the plunge and wandered into the Museum of Sex all by myself. The graphic novels were a real catch but as J said, the other stuff was a bit wasted on me. But I still had a good laugh. Net time, I"ll be patient enough to explore the 2nd and 3rd floors as well. Heading back to J's apartment for a quite dinner and efforts to push through my Film Noir paper

******************************************************************************************

Wednesday

This city's penchant for throwing bizarre things my way is absolutely stupendous.

I am sitting at a Starbuck's on 46th and 9th to get work done because sitting in J's flat all alone depresses me, besides Micky and Lucy the cats just stare at me with the ''puss in boots eyes" wanting to be cuddled up and there's only a certain limit of cat hair that I am willing to entertain. I think having fat furry cats is an added advantage for struggling young professionals in New York. I suggested that we collect Mickey's and Lucy's fur and make it into cat yarn and then outsource it to knitters. Heard about Mohair? How about feline substitute? Hey, you can sell anything in a big city , especially to New Yorkers:)

So the Indian guy sitting next to me has a very heavy accent and has been talking serious business with people across the country. His fingers move smoothly over his ipad and that's about as expressive he is going to get . I am busy checking out a very very cute 28 something 'hipsterlicious' (as Jack puts it) who's just walked into the cafe and is now by my side when I notice a really grumpy looking stocky woman with a huge Russian nose, yank the chair opposite my nifty Indian business man and plant her big frame squarely across him. She is checking him out and he betrays no sign of surprise or irritation! Turns out she is not well in the 'sane' category . It's been half an hour and he sits working steadily while she sips her ice tea and mumbles grumbles all around the air....I am impressed.

Meanwhile, my said cute horn rimmed spectacle sporting 'hipsterlicious' friend is talking to another of his kind. Why didn't I realize this earlier. I am in Theatre District. Of course all good looking and interesting men are anything but straight

******************************************************************

Thursday

Today is St Pattie's and it's a really big deal in the city. Mostly an excuse to be drunk ALL day and wear green paraphernalia in the most imaginative manner. I really wanted to make the most of our last day in the city (me, Jess and Jack) so I found a play on Broadway that I really wanted to see with Jack. It's called The Book of Mormons and is written by the creators of South Park. Unfortunately the theatre company wasn't selling discounted tickets and after a half hour wait at the TKTS booth on Times Square I simply abandoned the idea and met up with Jess. We made our way to Central Park arguing about directions and cracking up all the way. The park was off limits but the sunny warm weather was still a bonus so we just walked around, ate hot dogs and ice cream and indulged in people watching. What a city of beautiful people I tell you.

I had an interview lined up on 23rd later that evening with the Producer whose credits are super impressive : Monsoon Wedding, You Don't Know Jack, Iron Jawed Angels, Hysterical Blindness, Mississippi Masala and The Darjeeling Limited. Jess gave me company all the way through Chelsea and we had a fair share of more hen watching but again, Chelsea people so .... straight men are a rarity. Chelsea is so much dirtier than I imagined it to be rather more earthy. Lots of quirky stores, brick red apartments and weird exotic poodle stores (I see lots of men with one of those bizarre midget dogs walking the streets of NYC). One was selling Japanese pups for $1400!

Finally, I get to the Producer's office and wait anxiously. It was a bit surreal to say the least sitting beneath these huge posters, shelves of manuscripts and books in this fancy studio office, knowing that you are just about to meet the brain who put together some of your favourite movies. The meeting went well, I think most of it did. And while nothing is on the cards for now, I am so grateful that people actually make the time for young people starting out. If only I could just get a job and move to the city!

Later that night, the girls and I landed in Grenwich in the village at the Sullivan's Hall. I dug this place out from Time Out, New York because of its promise of a cheap entry, good house and world music and amazing energy on the dance floor. Sadly, that didn't work out too well. By the time we entered the last of the bands was performing and then the techno trance converted it into a club mood so we got out. Jess had befriended a guy who's studying in SVA and he gave us directions to two dance clubs. Armed with maps we set out just the two of us. We barely crossed two blocks when a tall Polish guy grabbed Jess' map and promised us to find what we were looking for. Another Polish guy joined him and the next thing they were talking in their own lingo convincing us we should be making docus on their lives. Jess came up with "my brother is waiting for us" excuse and we managed to shake the weirdos off. Brrrrrrr. We laughed hard though and another 5 blocks down realized that she had left her credit card behind. When we got back to Sullian's, the SVA kid was still hanging around so we convinced him to join us and again began our hunt for the two promised clubs.

By 1 pm we realized that for some reason the village was dead and that we weren't going to be breaking a leg. The SVA kid treated us to a lot of NYC celeb gossip (including Leonardo Di Caprio's latest disguise at Soho) and finally took us to this little family run Chinese pub called Willle's close to the NYU dorms. It was perfect. Dog tired and barely awake, we downed pork dumplings and chatted up more.

So New York wasn't exactly what I had wanted from it this time. But, I walked much more, figured out the subway better this time and made new friends. The cabbie who dropped us off the last night was a political prisoner in Chad and once taught Math at a University before he had to leave his country and family and come away to New York.

The city surprises you, overwhelms you and then makes you grateful for all that you have.

4 feet under: Day 4

2011-03-10T11:59:00.000-08:00

"F^&*!!!!!"

My pool-mates laughed hard for the next 2 minutes or so but my coach didn't seem amused. I guess Americans are even more conservative than I assumed them to be. Next time, the temperature of the water is not to my expectation, I am going to bite my lip or perhaps mouth another word that I often substitute for the harsher version: "frack" (which I picked up from my Canadian friend). Perhaps even "fish".

So nothing very exciting to report about this time but for the two athletic looking Indian guys who walked in midway through my class and barely even returned my gaze. I guess it's not our culture to be amiable to random strangers and we smile rarely, if you haven't noticed already. You walk down campus and get a smile from almost everyone walking by but Indians. The corners of their lip extend just about .08 mm or so for a sec and then they are back to the straight faced matter of fact look. It's like they cheat you into thinking "yes I'm smiling at you" but they don't land up doing so and as a result you are left grinning wide faced like an ass because your reflex has already jumped into action with that .08 muscle movement from the Indian opposite you.

Anyway, enough love for my brethren. So back to swimming class. Yesterday, I was taught a free hand stroke and forced to be pinned against a wall while I got it right. My hand co-ordination isn't right apparently but as soon I had the pool to myself, I practiced the stroke for close to two hours.

I find it hard to get out of the water once I get in. That block of time from 7-9 is mine and only mine. All the stress and mind wandering of my professional and personal life completely disappear when I am in the water.

Every muscle in my legs and shoulders hurts but I can't believe the brilliant work-out this proving is to be.

Winter, I am sticking my tongue out to you..

Bleah!

Say a Little Prayer

2011-03-03T23:15:00.000-08:00

I can't remember the last time I prayed. And when I mean a prayer I am not talking of the exaggerated brass bells swinging in a temple with marigolds whipping in a frenzy as a mad storm engulfs the porch of a temple while I prostrate myself on the ground in obesiance to a God/Goddess (if you've grown up on corny Indian cinema of the 80s you'd know what I am referring to)

To me a prayer is the most selfless, undivided and pure essence of your energy, your beliefs being channelized into a single thought, a single moment of a connection with a force beyond yourself. It is often in earnest desire of understanding why a situation presents itself to you or to make sense of something beyond your expectations - sad or happy. It is my little moment of meditating by myself regardless of people around me during day or the comforting darkness of my room at night.

Growing up, I watched my grandfather, a hard-working and extremely strict man who served the British army to his best for 30 years and dedicated the rest of his life to his garden, his grand daughters, carpentry, writing and a hundred other interests that were beyond comprehension to an ordinary person. He read every single holy text that he could and had the cross, the symbol of Islam, a swastika amongst a multitude of brass, stone, iron , laminated old Ravi Verma paintings of various gods and goddesses crammed into a little 6 foot by 7 foot red cemented floor. This was our shrine or the 'thakur ghor'. Everyday, 'dadu' as we grandchildren fondly called him, spent 2 hours in that shrine reading verses from the Bhagvad Gita, recited atleast three sets of 'jaap' or chants to certain Gods and then cleaned and decorated all his little deities with fresh hand picked flowers from our very own garden. I sat spell bound, dwarfed by his physical and intellectual prowess happy to be infused with a concoction of camphor, frankinsence and basil, listening to his stentorian voice transformed suddenly in rhythmic comforting lilting patterns of Sanskrit words. Needless to say, the overall effect was hypnotizing. I learnt the 'Hanuman Chaalisa' in Awadhi and recited it everyday for 12 years because when I was young it just sounded cool to recite 40 lines of devotional lyrics to the monkey god Hanumaan, penned by none other than a famous Indian poet Tulsidaas. Cool also because every male member of my family recited it after a bath while standing out in the open in the cupped hand posture thanking the force above. The sun and the sky seemed limitless when my uncle did this. And if it was my father's voice doing so while he got ready for his office, it was a comforting reminder of how gentle his his voice could sound singing hymns.

Amidst such fidelity to the Hindu texts and rituals, my family's stance to religion seemed spiritual. Never was I ever taught that my religion was a certain thing I had to affirm to or identify myself with. My grandparents and parents always emphasized on the philosophy that Hinduism essentially is. Not the set of codes and customs that fundamentalists/eccentrics preach it to be. Over meals, during our summer family get togethers over beer and long walks, they explained the logic or significance of a custom, a religious practice or a day meant. Never was I ever asked to shun other religions for simply their malpractices and never have I ever therefore as a result of endless debates and questioning identified myself as a staunch religious person. My family's unique method of practising Hinduism was our own alternate religion.

And yet I won't deny it, I seek out the customs and practices of the comfort that this so called 'religious behaviour' exists at home. Entering the cool recesses of my grandfather's little shrine is the first thing I do when I head home. It has become our family's meditation zone, something we seek comfort from the turbulence of life. Dadu is no longer alive, but his face smiling down from the shelf in the thakur ghor fills up my heart so much that I can barely contain the sadness I feel of his absence. At the end of it all, I feel happier knowing that I had the privilege and freedom as a child to participate with adn question the adults of my family over religion and its ritualistic paraphernalia.

In retrospect, I may have no higher understanding of God and sometimes in this regard I respect how focussed atheists seem. But I am happy to feel humble, to feel a sense of dependence and gratitude for what comes my way and what doesn't. And it is largely owing to the philosophy that Hinduism expounds. Some may argue, belief makes you weak, that it makes you complacent, accepting all of life's tumultous chaos, resigning yourself to the adage that ''this is my destined share of things'' instead of fighting it out and fighting back. But the power of self- realization and the love for life I have experienced through organized scientific appreciation of religion, mine or others, is something I would never renounce.

Tonight, it's a prayer for J. For coming into my life by happenstance and being the friend that you are in trouble and happiness. Human beings mourn not so much for the loss or sickness of their loved ones but more out of a selfish dependance on this person and the fear of their loneliness at losing them or seeing them suffer. If anything were to ever hurt you or cause you pain, I would hurt as well. I hope there are better, healthier, happier days for you soon and that what you are going through is merely a phase. You have made the last 6 months of my life so much richer, more adventurous and made me wiser in your own little ways

Ameen.

~4 feet Under: Day 3~~

2011-03-02T22:14:00.000-08:00

It's official and I am announcing it the whole wide world.

I can float. Finally.

Today is important and it will stay etched in the aqua tinted recesses of my brain. A sense of accomplishment and a really big one if you ask me since I never had the opportunity to learn how to swim or simply been afraid. I could have gone on, the misery of not overcoming this fear and instead made excuses for lacking the gumption and simply blame my parents for not taking any interest in my extra curricular activities. Or been miserable whenever I was tin an exotic paradise where surfers and bikini clad women made me feel like a ninkompoop. OR worse faced the end of my life if ever caught in a flood.

However, I don't want to find myself in any of these scenarios and so it's been pretty much sink or swim attitude that's taken over.

It paid off.

It didn't happen easily though. Between several half baked attempts at gliding from one end of the pool to another, forcing myself to breathe under water and finally letting go, there's been the sense of absolute misery for wanting to chicken out yet again. I did this when I was 14 years old and I think growing older beyond 25 gives you a checklist of things you want to feel proud of. Being lousy in water amongst a family of swimmers ( and mind you my parents swim in the sea, lakes and ponds. Pools weren't even a luxury to them) isn't what I wish to be stuck with when I am 30.

Subconsciously though, this push to learn swimming began when I struck up a seemingly perfect and too good to be true relationship earlier last year. I realized what great joy it would be to be able to swim next to this person. Our little plans of traveling..maybe Goa first, the beach and the sea, that talk must have done something.

Perhaps distance does change equations. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be.

But hey! I am on my way to finally enjoy nature's liquified bounty. With or without a companion.

By the way, this was my third swimming lesson and my instructor has turned out to be really patient so far. However, I have a friend and stranger to thank much more than anyone else for getting ahead.

All that I could think of in those 3 hours in the pool today, kicking , floating and enjoying every minute of my new found skills, was the big lake in Ma's village and wanting to go swimming with her and Baba.

Pardon this abrupt jump ahead, but Day 2 was really a lot of paddling around and getting the kicks right. I also spent 2 extra hours by myself teaching myself to stay under water longer. In comparison, today is just more exciting to write about :)

Next class will undoubtedly be more exciting, if I manage to get the stroke right

Glub, glub. More updates coming up

4 Feet Under: Glub Glub Chronicles

2011-02-24T23:43:00.000-08:00

I wish I had something more original to quip. But the TV series, two numbers more, that bowled me over in high school always inspired sad one liners. And here's mine :P

I force myself 4 feet under....water. Every Wednesday night, I walk half a mile across the campus at about 7 pm into the gym. A couple of minutes later, I am trying my best to work on my fear. Yes it's swimming.

I love bathing in the sea and splashing around in the pool but never have I ever swam and I'm getting frustrated letting my fears grow stronger over the years.

When in Hawaii over winter break, I felt like an idiot waddling around with a tube in a 4 feet pool.

And SO It's my New Year's resolution to learn to swim this year and for a change I am sticking to mine. Only that it's pending from 2010.

'High time'. Ha ha!

Glub glub chronicles begin here :)

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Day 1

"Give me a dead man's float".

I splutter through the chlorinated water barely able to say "How?" because my teeth refuse to stop clattering and here my 21 year old coach is asking me to simply let go on my first day of swimming lessons!

"I have control issues DUDE!" I yell back furiously.......in my head.

I mean, when in water, I am freaked out of letting my feet float off.

"Take a leap of faith", he adds promising to spot me.

Right!

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More to come!

Hop- Scotch

2011-02-11T21:19:00.000-08:00

My mind plays little games
Amidst friends over dinner
In a crowded pub brimming with laughter
Over long walks in the snow by myself

It's trapped in blurry lines
Of the future and the past
Of memories threatening to fade out
Faster than the only picture of yours that I have

Tonight I said no
To another and to myself
Happy going solo
Happy to be with myself

And yet my mind skipped thousands of miles
To the second day at your house
I noticed the little blue book of Jeet's collected poems
And smiled to myself that afternoon all along

In its own little way
Undistracted by my departure at hand
And what you felt for me
We were perfect

Over long walks in the snow by myself
Fleeting emotions now and then
Your smile and our conversations through the sleepless city
My mind plays little games

FB

2011-02-07T16:29:00.000-08:00

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No this isn't yet another opinion page on Facebook. I condensed my thought for the day to a less attention seeking abbreviation.

Friends with Benefits.

Of course not. It is the recipe for disaster. You straddle a fine line of intimacy and affection imagining you can balance both. Sooner or later, the tight-rope walker that you have become is bound to tip over.

On the other hand, if there is a friend you fall for and that's a mutual feeling, heck why not! Friends will shake their heads in disapproval, moms might say that losing a friend because of a failed relationship is the worst break up while YOU, through all this commotion choose to flit in and out of purple infused clouds of euphoria. Falling in love with someone who has been right under your nose and falling hard is a gorgeous feeling. Of course losing the friendship along with the relationship may not be the ideal 'le fin' of your 'friend-fantasy' but you learn some very important things about yourself in the process vis-a-vis someone else's tolerance to factors that seem to be the blue litmus test of most relationships today. Compatibility, emotional independency and distance. Human nature. You never know enough. And when you do, you've been left behind or choose to yourself leave behind some decent people who could have had a decent chance of being IT.

A couple of weeks back, I watched 'No Strings Attached'. As film students, my classmates and I often can react from being objective to outright critical of what we see together. In the case of this movie? We squirmed in our seats for the whole 90 minutes. We squirmed through the badly edited shots, the corny dialogues and the half baked character-arc that Natalie's character goes through. When Emma finally runs to Adam and he looks like he is hurting so bad that he won't take her back, what does he say with glycerine streaked eyes? "If you take one more step closer to me, I am never letting you go". I was so comatose by then that I simply slid off my seat onto the popcorn littered floor below.

Digressing , I am Yes. What I am trying to say is that the movie wasn't well written and it had so much potential to be a slapstick fun popcorn happy movie. Instead it just fell off the track half-way through with the plots being rushed and Emma's character hop-scotching from cold-bitchiness to selfish to sudden desire and finally mad love for Adam. Talk about bi-polar martini movies coming of age.

In the movie, Adam and Emma aren't such buddies that their stakes in having and then losing each other really make you want to invest yourself emotionally into their journey. But the movie did make me think of my little universe and the people who play major to minor roles affecting my life.

It's often that being on your own, without any strings attached can feel so liberating. No strings attached of a family to feed, a relationship to commit oneself to or the need to stick to a game plan for oneself. Liberating. How about a perfect premise for recklessness instead?

If only one could hop scotch from one emotional arc to another like Emma's character ultimately landing that perfect sensitive, funny, smart guy. But then most screenplays are derivatives of real world experiences.

Friends with benefits ....hmmm

The Rainbow Spotter

2011-02-04T21:04:00.000-08:00

It's a Friday night and I am fishing for new martini recipes while soaking in the orange glow of my little flat. My little nest this home has become, comforting me with its 70 F temperature while the Tundra outside threatens me with arctic frostbite like symptoms. I am waiting for someone to join me and I am so happy that I came home tonight to share my single-hood with Q instead of falling asleep to yet another night of an episode from Mad Men (don't get me wrong, it's a finely written and brilliantly directed series but sitcoms make bad bed-fellows. You know...they are addictive, you feel miserable falling asleep alone, so you watch one more and then one more until your eyes hurt with sleep. You then wake up next morning looking pathetic)

I have travelled two continents and I still stand by this solemnly: no one in this world can compete with your women friends when it comes to companionship in times of joy and sadness. Yes the cliche stands true that we do blabber our heart's content about EVERYTHING. I see my male friends and how clammed up they can be, denying their inner feelings to be vented and thereby building layers and layers of emotions suppressed unhealthily. God knows what that self-inflicted silence hides beneath the tough exterior of most XY species.

I am privileged. Yes I am....to meet the confident, independent, funny and inspiring women who befriend me wherever I go. JJJCQ....I look at these women and I wonder if there's a larger cosmic reason we all are yet to be found by worthy companions.

I say "found" and not "we are yet to find". We chased - in some cases relentlessly - men whose intellect fascinated us. Normally, I am all for the new order of courtship that my generation of women practice. Woman spots/meets guy, tests his sense of humour and intelligence, checks to see if he is compatible and then zeroes in to lock herself emotionally. But, of late, I get a sense that maybe the old order of courtship needs to be revived. I am not suggesting you play coy and wait for a man who is IT. But why not give them an opportunity to seek us out. Someone I knew very well used to say "It's all about the chase". I finally get it even if I want to deny it.

If only all of us can resign ourselves to this: fate and timing often have more to do with meeting people. Not "right" or "perfect" but individuals who are confident of themselves yet humble and up for a challenge.

It must be a bit of the wisdom that my professor shared with me tonight or the good Hendricks drink she fixed for me...but I think I can see myself a bit clearer today. Being a woman, an Indian and turning 26 , in this country is sparking off the epiphany that all of us have parallel identities, co-existing and supplementing the extremes of the other. And if we all managed to live the most honest and healthiest of each of those identities, ONLY then would we be truly doing justice to ourselves.

Enough diatribe! I shall now sit back, cross my feet and enjoy my chilly lemon martini. Cheers Q! Your presence really brings out the zany side of me...albeit in a good way. Now only if I can find a guy who does the same.

DAy 5 @ LA: 101 Hollywood for an Indian

2011-01-17T23:25:00.000-08:00

Today was the last day on our schedule and I almost feel a little upset that this fantastic week of learning from industry professionals out here in Hollywood has come to an end.

Today’s set of lectures combined information on technology and valuable advice on how to build and sustain relationships and hence one’s future in the entertainment industry. We traveled back to the Writer’s Guild and first met with Chuck Slocum who upon graduating from Newhouse had gone on to join business school. Chuck advises the guild about technology and sure enough this man was speaking tech trivia in context to the changes taking place in the industry in almost every new sentence. Here are a couple of things I am now curious about – net neutrality vs piracy policing, residuals, vongo a clause that allows stars online benefits (I need to read up on these as much as I can) and high speed internet being streamed to the television and how this will change TV viewing.

I learnt a couple of things that hadn’t struck me before and found out why: cable companies as owners of internet connections purposely slow down content (I need to understand why and how this is benefitting them); more things have been digitally shot in TV because AFTRA has been more co-operative than other guilds; one and a half percent of your earnings as a writer is given to the guild; that eventually the goal is for AFTRA and SAG to merge but this is proving to be a challenge because they have separate health plans; the contracts department of the WGA can be of help to even a producer, however it does not negotiatte your personal deal and to do so you need an agent or entertainment lawyer; you can call and ask WGA to help you set basic clauses/minimum wages in your contract; directors like Spike Lee use unusual credits and they can do so because they are outside the guild; the two separate offices of WGA (East and West) do not have a national board authority; Netflix has star titles because some stars have the vongo clause in their contract; Netflix is a significant element to the studios today, they have 15 million credit card users and hence are now an incumbent. However Netflix has problems regarding rights and therefore only has 1% of films and finally coming back to tech again Blue Ray is going to be big by 2012.

After the lecture, I interacted with Mr Slocum for a while and asked his advice if I should join a business school given my interest in the business side of the entertainment industry and aspirations to facilitate Indian-American collaborations in film. He said I absolutely must but after I work for a couple of years in the industry. That gives me something new to factor into my ‘five year plan’. There is something else that Mr Slocum advised I am going to try and live by: “live on half of what you make for the first five years”.

Next we had a Line Producer speak to us. Steve Grossman moved out to LA in 1977 and had no job to go to. He sold shoes and as one hears of many of those “by chance” stories landed his first job in the entertainment industry through one of his customers. Steve said something very poetic and yet so accurate to the attitude required in order to survive this industry, “Every shoe I sold was a mile further away”. We learnt about the different functions of the line producer and how s(he) works with writers, producer and actors to afford the canvas upon which the project comes together. The line producer also facilitates and sometimes resolves dialogue or conflict between writers and actors. Ultimately, a lot of the Line Producer’s job is to be a conduit of information to people who are on and off the set as well as deal with talent and cut down tension on the set. Something that Steve mentioned took me back to what I was discussing with Norm Guzenhauser the night before at the cocktail reception. Steve said that, “TV is familiar topics re-represented and re-generated”. In order to do so or even successfully work in the Television industry, I must set out to read and see sitcoms as they have evolved over the last three decades. Steve had many other wise sayings for us which all of us meticulously made note of and having worked myself, I couldn’t agree more with him: “don’t deny an opportunity that can provide you a living so you can do the bigger things”; “at work what will make you stand out is the attitude”; “don’t shy away from older people”; “observe people as much as you can”; “don’t forget to live”;” write to people in shows or the networks who you admire and appreciate. You never know what it will bring”; “depend less on technology and read more. This country is at a very interesting time when a 25 year old fired from Wall Street is competing with an unemployed 45 year old”; “personalize you passion”; “despite technological advancements, it is the ancient art of storytelling that will dominate. It’s the content that is king not the tools”

The day ended with a meeting with Mitch Messinger who handles Publicity for ABC Daytime and SOPnet. We spent a few minutes understanding how the publicity department strategizes General Hospital’s episodes and characters to garner attention from existing and potential viewers. Following this, we made a quick round of the set where an episode of General Hospital was being shot and also spent a little time watching the directors in the production room. I was so amazed to see how Sitcoms like Young and Restless and General Hospital are directed and switched in the production room as if it was a live TV event. Makes me wonder if daytime soap operas back in India function the same way.

So here’s the end to what has been a fantastic journey so far. I can say this with absolute surety that what I observed and heard on this trip has been priceless learning not only towards my future in this industry but added to my growth as an individual. I am grateful that I am a part of an school which prides itself on the relationships it has forged with its students and to see Newhouse alums come together to give back to yet another new batch re-assures me of the importance of forging genuine bonds with individuals first and not merely as professionals who can help advance your career.

A lot of perspective has been added to my immediate goals and a plan is shaping up to make the most of what is now on my plate. Going back, a systematic strategy to set out exploring opportunities in LA will be underway.

I can’t help but recall what my mother told me back in India when I was unsure of coming to Newhouse since it was not my first priority. It is overwhelming to realize that perhaps there is a reason why we are offered certain opportunities which at that moment do not seem to make much sense but hold a lot for us in the future and eventually when this dawns upon us, it is incumbent that we make the most of the small or the big opportunities. Spring semester will be painful since it is my last one at Newhouse but it also seems to be the promise of the most exciting time at Newhouse given that the LA trip answered many of my questions. Here’s to making every second left in school as productive as possible.

Day 4 @ LA: 101 Hollywood for an Indian

2011-01-17T23:24:00.000-08:00

The industry seminars has been so far packed with writers and producers but today’s itinerary had two areas of the media which may not have interested me as career options but definitely made me learn a lot more than I knew of them so far.

First up, we visited the Rhythm and Hues Animation Studio and met up with an animation artist and a producer. I could recall most of what I had learnt of the process of animation when I was producing a feature story on the animation industry in India but there was so much else about this craft and its business that was new to me. It was interesting to learn that there is a designation such as ‘Production Executive’ in an animation studio and that his/her task is to scout for new projects. We were also told that Rhythm and Hues is presently in collaboration with a movie company and for the first time R&H is a profit participant and not just a service provider. This new understanding has piqued my interest to learn more of profit sharing models for creative collaborators in the industry. So, a step forward in this direction will be to ask Evan Smith -- who is teaching us Film Business this semester -- links and articles to catch up with this facet of the business side. I also had no prior idea that the budget of an animation project is calculated shot by shot!

As we moved from one side of the studio to another, I noticed a couple of Indian men in conversation with employees of Rhythm and Hues and I instantly thought of Pixar, Framebox and the less recognized but equally efficient numerous little animation units across Mumbai and Hyderabad that are executing a chunk of the ideas developed here in the US. A decade after the IT boom and call centre outsourcing phenomenon, here we are, Indians and Americans working on the same germ of an idea through the same models of outsourcing. I am now keen on finding out if someone with my interest in development and learning the business side of the entertainment industry, can explore job opportunities in the animation industry. I would be excited to intern with the development department of a studio and also help facilitate dialogue and strategy with animation outfits in India who are at the other end of the outsourcing spectrum. I raised this question to Scot, the producer and after a bit of quizzing me on my background, he offered his e-mail id and said he would get back to me with a suggestion if I could write to him soon. And I am definitely doing that first thing when I get back.

We then returned to our hotel where a panel of Producers and directors all working in live TV was to engage with us. Production on live TV is something I am familiar with and hence assumed I would not have much to take away from the ongoing discussion. But once again I was surprised. Mr Rosenblatt explained how one’s personality drives one’s professional advancement in this line and also emphasized that the strategy to bettering one’s craft is to, “take things that are good for you and not those that will pay you a lot of money. Money will come if you enjoy and are good at what you do”. Yet another panelist saying the same thing all over again, but after all clichés are nothing but the truth often repeated. I interpreted his advice as this: a creative professional will thrive if he does what he can to apply himself to his work spontaneously and sincerely. I also made a note of Rosenblatt’s statement that the present crop of producers in live TV are less familiar with the history of this business. I have realized that despite my familiarity with American sitcoms and films growing up we watched more American content than any other), I need to read and watch TV series over the years and see how the styles have evolved. This will help me not only understand the popular culture references but also be more engaging with potential employers while I explore job opportunities here.

The day progressed to the most anticipated event on this entire trip’s schedule – the networking evening with Syracuse alumni. Walking into a room packed with a little over a hundred people and knowing that most of them were accomplished or recognised names in the industry was initially a bit intimidating. So, I started by talking to people who had started out in LA just a few years ago after graduating from Newhouse. I first spoke to a group of three men: Adam, Pete and Brent who go by ‘boardbrothers’ and are Syracuse graduates from 2006. I found out how they moved out to LA and got them to share their experience and efforts in sustaining their own creative aspiration on the sidelines while working on other jobs that help them sustain their group’ creative pursuits. I must have spoken to Adam alone for 40 minutes and was enthralled as he drew me deeper and deeper into his personal experiences that have shaped him as a writer and producer. The conversation must have really engaged him because he made sure that I had his contact number and mail id and asked me to get in touch with him whenever I need to for help. Feeling much better and more prepared to forge new friendships in this room, I moved on to interact with Steve Kent (Senior Executive VP of Programming at Sony Pictures Television), Doug Robinson (Executive Producer, ‘Rules of Engagement’) and Norm Gunzenhauser (writer of Newhart and Murhy Brown amongst many other sitcoms of the early 80s) for more detailed one on one conversations . While Mr Kent did not have enough time for a long conversation he has been kind enough to provide his contact information and ask me to get in touch with him. I am excited at the possibilities that might arise from this meeting and hope to learn more of Sony’s business plans in India in the motion picture and television industry. The evening ended with a heart warming conversation with Mr Gunzenhauser and I am glad I had this incredible opportunity to meet and talk to people who share a bond not only through Newhouse but by their passion for this industry. As Mr Gunzenhauser said, now it’s time to be calm and receptive while small and big opportunities come by in their most inconspicuous form at me. Only then will I be able to make the most of what LA has to offer.

Day 3 @ LA: 101 Hollywood for an Indian

2011-01-17T23:23:00.000-08:00

Day 3 has been undoubtedly the most packed since this trip began. Packed not only with a larger number of industry professionals but also information that I have been seeking for a while but not been able to get answers to. Today’s meetings gave me a very good insight into both business and creative aspects of the industry.

The day began with a panel of Producers, a writer, a Senior VP and a Manager, almost all Syracuse alums working with Sony. This is the first time we had people working in the film industry speak to us and being more interested in the development and business aspect of filmmaking, I gained a lot from this panel.

It was disheartening to hear that there is a 30% decrease in production of films and that a trend of being hired as an executive within a shorter span of time in one’s career is no longer true. But along with the reality check, there was other information that our panelist shared with us that proved to be valuable given my interests. Jason Blumenthal explained how he had to turn entrepreneurial as a producer when the movie industry began its phase of a big slump and his emphasis on the concept of branded entertainment further drove the reality that movies are increasingly integrating strategies that ensure commercial success. The writer on the panel Andrew Mazer, however explained that regardless of what is being made for the big screens -- for those interested in the creative side of filmmaking especially writers and directors – we must stay true to our passion and avoid making things for the “marketplace” because what is relevant today might be passé day after.

The concept of “shrinking windows” was also raised by a panelist and therein, I learnt something new about the technological aspect of films becoming increasingly accessible within the confines of one’s house. A classmate of mine brought up this question and I realized, I need to spend more time reading the trades in the section of technology as well to understand the shift in viewing and marketing trends in the entertainment business. Finally after the panel discussion was over, a personal Q&A with Andrew Grumpert revealed that he knew Ronnie Screwalla, my ex boss from UTV back in India because of a deal that UTV was involved with SONY. Yet another example of how small the world is and how everyone in this profession knows someone invariably! I really wanted to build on this little piece of information and ask Mr Grumpert what kind of companies I should be looking at for an internship if I wanted to learn more about the Indian end of business negotiation with American studios here but we were asked to vacate the room. Going back to Syracuse, that’s the first thing I am doing of course after sending a hand-written “thank you note” to Mr Grumpert.

Talking about thank you notes and the etiquette side of the media industry, I learnt more today about cover letters, resume and networking, all in the span of an hour than I have on any other occasion. And I am going to fast-forward a good seven hours after the panel with Sony ended. Post dinner we had Kimberly Koser (a Syracuse alum again) the Director of Human Resources at Bank of Manhattan educate us about the most crucial aspects of the process of job applications. I finally have a better understanding of how I can organize and structure the next two months into executing a plan for my internship and job applications. To begin with I know now that I need to do a self-assessment of my weaknesses and skills, think of my 20 PAR moments (Problem Action Resolved) from my previous work experience and develop a 90 second pitch of myself. I may be trying to stay focused on getting through this journal entry but even as I do so, I am already on my list of 3! Also, I realized that my sister was absolutely right. Cover letters like Kim mentioned take a long time and the sooner I get started on narrowing down the potential companies/ production houses I would like to work in. The earlier I can start working on the cover letters. So going back to Syracuse, I am getting down to my top 10 places to intern in LA and New York.

Now rewinding back to the block of time I have not accounted for in between the Sony panel and our meeting with Kim. We had met with writers and producers from the TV and film genre and now it was moving onto a wholly different genre: reality TV. Dan Goldberg of Freemantle Media and two other speakers I knew little about until now provided us with an understanding of the business of the reality genre and why it was working for a lot of youngsters who are trying to break into the industry and although I have been allergic to most of reality TV, I have to agree that the advice we got from this panel was arguably what aspiring producer/directors in the class have never been privy to before. The aforementioned two young speakers were Dan and Ben Newmark, young producers/actors/writers who came out to LA to become actors and still intend to but until that happens they have found a way of having their ideas recognized by using the basic resources, network of friends and some great team work. To have two people closest to your age tell you their strategies of writing, forging friendships over the often overused term of ‘networking’ and understand that it was important to keep churning out visual work for people to see was refreshing and comforting. The Newmark brothers had all of us entertained, enlightened and engaged. No doubt they are able to tell the stories they are. I definitely for one, now see the benefits of partnering with a like minded class-mate to develop and pitch ideas and I can only hope (after this encouraging interaction) that we will do this sooner than we thought we would.

Day 2 @ LA: 101 Hollywood for an Indian

2011-01-17T23:20:00.000-08:00

Imagine this - a meeting with one of the most successful and powerful agents in the entertainment industry. And we are not talking about that accidental elevator trip. I am talking about a two hour meeting, set in one of the most fancy sleek conference rooms with a man who would be otherwise impossible to get for even two minutes.

That wasn’t a scene out of one of my scripts or a film I am recommending. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and one that I am privileged to have had thanks to Newhouse. More so thanks to a Syracuse alum who chose to provide a bunch of confused, starry eyed young aspiring media professionals with the most expensive and sought after thing: his time and his advice.

Day two started with a meeting with the Managing Partner of the Creative Artist’s Agency. Rob’s first piece of advice for us was something we all instantly jotted down onto our notebooks in that automatic instinct of student behaviour: “Information and knowledge is power”. Of course and how correct! Only a second later, after he narrated his personal experience to supplement this point did we realize that it was perhaps the most self-serving but ruthless way getting ahead. When Rob told us f how a tip shared by his friend while he worked in the mailroom of ICM, helped him bag that job, I was left wondering if hiding contacts and opportunities from fellow classmates was going to be more of a norm than a rarity come internship season. Going by the next thing Rob mentioned, “Life is not fair”, I guess it will be the norm.

In those two hours, we had an exclusive insight to the Rob Light “personal experience” lessons and added to that the understanding of how an agent works and why working at an agency is perhaps one of the smartest “first jobs” to start off with. Rob’s effort in personally putting together articles, quotes and a reading list of crucial books for our benefit not only impressed but overwhelmed me. True enough as faculty have mentioned, SU alums are always ready to give back and help mentor a fresh crop of Newhouse students. And making the best of it, I posed a question about the possibility of an international student with my work experience fitting into the financing area of films in an agency. Rob Light’s response was positive and I am following that up immediately when I am back in Syracuse with some research on present collaborations with Indian studios and companies in the entertainment business.

The rest of the day was spent almost entirely on the set of a show that I watched every afternoon back at home with my father and what unique cycles of the cosmos should this be! I was watching my favourite actors Patrick Warburton and Adhir Kalyan act on the set of the latest episode of the ‘Rules of Engagement’. I kept my eyes on the multi-cam set up throughout and learnt something new about blocking shots around a table, something I dealt with in my last project on campus. Later we spend time with Doug Robinson the producer of the show and once again an SU alum and this is the best part, Tom Hertz as well, the show’s creator and one of the writers of F R I E N D S. I held onto every thing Doug and Hertz said, be it that we must read as many scripts as we can everyday to the opinion that working as an assistant to a Producer or literary agent is much better than serving time as a Production Assistant (although I feel more confused about this and need this clarified). But what I valued most was Doug’s explanation of the differences between a Creative and Executive Producer and also how being close to the marketing side helps a Producer. Learning what I have from my last job as an Associate Producer, I could not agree more. This trip is beginning to make me realise that I should not shy away from learning more of the business aspect of the industry and development is something I want to do seriously but also make sure that I have a strength over my peers about the process of strategizing, negotiation and financing aspect of the creative projects. To quote Barney from yet another one of my favourite sitcoms ‘How I Met Your Mother’ this day according to me was “legendary”.

Day 1 @ LA: 101 Hollywood for an Indian

2011-01-11T00:02:00.000-08:00

So winter break is technically over even though this is the last week before school starts. And yes, my Hawaii sojourn NEEDS to be chronicled for posterity but given the time crunch and the fact that I have begun my LA industry trip, I will be updating this space with my quick journals (mandatory course work btw) from each day's lectures, networking and other interesting tid-bits from Hollywood.

Before I begin, a quick update. I landed in Burbank yesterday after a painful parting from my sister and sunny Berley. 27 of us from the Television, Radio and Film program from Newhouse School are being put up in Beverly Garland in Burbank which is located in North Hollywood and on the "other side of the hill" as locals say .

In my dictionary (as updated from wikipedia of course) Burbank is interesting because it is referred to as the 'Media Capital of the World' what with significant production facilities of Warner Brothers, PBS, NBC Universal, Walt Disney and Cartoon Network. It's becoming tougher and tougher to weigh New York over LA with such trivia being discovered at every moment of this trip that I am paying for with precious 3 credits.

By the way, I learnt that 'wiki' is Hawaiian for 'fast' and the idea for this name struck the creator when he saw the wiki shuttle at the airport. Ta da!!

So this series of LA chronicles begins here and there will be four more to come. I promise I"ll try sprucing them up later. Write now my fingers are itching to simply type it out and hit the sack before my 7 am wake up call for our breakfast with CAA tomorrow. The no sorry THE Creative Artist's Agency!

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Day 1 of the LA industry Seminar started off with a note of encouragement: “We are in a great spot” and “being clueless is good”. Both statements came at time when my anxiety and anticipation of this trip were at its peak. Needless to say, it was a relief to understand that not only was it good to be at a phase where you are still putting together the pieces for that puzzle but also that we were at the right place to start making sense of what that puzzle could look like when we got down to assembling it.

And sure enough, the speakers for the day started giving us some of those missing pieces. We were given a sense of what these industry professionals did when they started out and if they were to start all over again, how they would do things differently. But perhaps the most crucial feedback that all speakers had in common was that if one wanted to make the right start to a ‘career’ in the entertainment industry, one must move to Los Angeles. Most of our speakers had been shy or intimidated of moving to LA and some even regretted that they did not start their careers here. Some had done what a lot of us in the class think of doing which is to take up jobs in New York because that is where we saw ourselves living. But as the day drew closer, I had a better understanding as to why these people made the choice to move here and why they advised us to do the same.

Our first speaker for the day was Jonathan Greene, a producer and an established writer. Greene is known from Law and Order: Special Victims Unit but started off in his younger days as a documentary filmmaker in New York. What interested me most was how Jonathan related his days in broadcast journalism to his present skills as a writer. Having worked in the Broadcast Television industry myself back in India, I have always been curious as to what I took from my skills in a completely different industry to my present interest in fiction. When Johnathan pointed out that ‘brevity’ in writing as an inheritance from his journalism days has served him best as a Television writer, I could see his point. I also valued Green’s comment when he said that we “must keep an open mind” and “don’t let anyone discourage you”. Some very interesting industry trivia that I took away from his lecture was that in comparison to feature writers, staff writers for TV were required to be out of LA mostly because this is where they had to report to their bosses and work together as a team; that May is when TV series get picked up and that a lot of Producers also have writing credentials; every studio has a writers program that one can apply to with one’s material and the best job that one can start with as an aspiring writer is to be an assistant to a literary agent.

Our second speaker for the day was Kevin Mock, editor of Chuck and America’ Next Top Model. Kevin had very good pointers on the difference between direting for scripted as compared to reality TV. I was surprised to hear Kevin explain how he found directing scripted content to be more relaxing than reality because there was a game plan to follow in the first. As someone who aspires to be a Director someday, Kevin’s tips were priceless. I have heard this before and the fact that yet another industry professional mentioned it, reinforced this idea: that post production is a good route to directing. The single most advice that was of the most value from Kevin’s lecture and perhaps one of the best things I heard today was that as freshers, we should find jobs with people and companies who inspire us and rather than sticking to the theory of “small pond, big fish”, we should aim for the big names in the business.

Our second round of lectures was at the office of Writer’s Guild of America. The pane; comprised of Syracuse alums Danny Zuker, Norm Gunzenhauser and a third writer Bill Diamond. Zuker was thoroughly entertaining and had the maximum laughs from the class as he explained the eccentricities of writers and celebrities. I have often wondered if I writing is feasible for those who are more inclined to production or the creative aspects of the trade but when Zuker revealed that he had started out as a PA before landing up as a writer in LA. Norm’s tip that “there is no real formula of things” and his experience that the industry is at it’s most exciting time with writing avenues no longer limited within the US was also insightful. Bill Diamond also had valuable advice for starters especially this one, “ some of the worst experiences are the ones you learn from the most”. Recalling one of his own experiences while pitching, he explained that while pitching one should project what one does best rather than offering multiple options. The writer’s panel summed up their ‘gyaan’ for us by emphasizing that aspiring writers in the class must get an agent or at least pass on their scripts to writers with agents. Also, the best way to get noticed as a writer is to write work that is original.

The last event of the day served more as entertainment rather than enlightenment. We scuttled across the studio lot of Warner Brothers and waited amidst many others to watch the live taping of the “Lopez Tonight Show”. Of course we had VIP passes but after the hour and half wait, I was more interested in seeing how the set was constructed and how many floor managers, steady cameras and set directors comprised the show unit rather than watch Lopez himself. However, the host did prove out to be quite a treat as much and with the exception of a ‘filler’ who had me cringing with his sexist and racist jokes, my first experience of a live taping will remain a memorable one.

I am excited to be at the Creative Artists Agency office tomorrow having researched how this organization grew from a makeshift office to the leading talent agency that it has become to be recognized today with clients like George Clooney, David Letterman and Julia Roberts to mention a few. Also, I can’t wait to be on the sets of ‘Rules of Engagement’. I was watching this show dutifully during my sabbatical back in India and I can’t believe I am finally getting to see Patrick Jon Warburton in flesh! If only another Patrick Warburton fan could be here with me :/ Baba I shall miss you.

23 F - 76 F; Adventures across the US in 10 days

2010-12-27T12:19:00.000-08:00

It’s been precisely ten days since school shut down for the winter break. Pictures speak louder than words sometimes. Hence, my increased dependency on still images to mark my adventures as I travel through the US. They are littered across my facebook page. It’s true that facebook is a platform for narcissistic indulgences or a convenient page that lets you show to your extended family/ friends that you are having the time of your life. I don’t shy from admitting that mine is probably the combination of both besides the fact that my father is on facebook now and my friend (yes, yes) and a mere click on my page is all he needs to do to see the wonderful places I visit or the architecture, museum and even food that I digest delightfully as I move from one city to another.

Which finally brings me to where I have been. Leaving the snowy confines of Syracuse (we received a ground breaking 70 inches of snow this year) I moved on to New York. The goal was to get a visa for Peru and get to see South America finally curtsey the generosity of my sister and bro-in-law. I get to NY and barely do I step off that my sister calls to inform me that there are no more tickets available for Peru. I was on the sidewalk of 44^th and 9^th heading to a Thai restaurant with a friend and I swear, I was so upset and upset more so for having to keep my calm, all I wanted to do was scream out loudly for everyone there to stop. :/ No Machu Pichu, no sunny beaches of Lima…sigh.

But simply being in NY for the next two days paid off. J and I walked around a lot of places that I hadn’t seen before. The first day we walked three blocks down to a flea market so that he could get an antique lamp for his tangy orange room. I suspect it was to please a special lady friend arriving from Sweden soon J. Then we took the subway to Union Square and spent the next three hours moving from one stall to the next in the farmer’s market. Fresh cider, decorated Easter eggs, glass jewelry…..name anything that would make for a good Christmas gift and it was there. Being the poverty stricken student surviving on an educational loan, I pushed my wallet into the nether regions of my bag and forged ahead in the crowd clicking away. J bought a Christmas decoration for the party that we were to attend later in the evening and I a pair of deadly black pumps. Then he insisted that we eat the BEST chicken rice (a middle eastern equivalent of our more shahi biryani) from a vendor close by. That gastronomic obligation having been fulfilled, we headed back.

Three hours later, dressed in our most fancy clothes and singing old Hindi ads in our loudest voice possible (warm cider and whiskey can do great things to your voice and yes your confidence) J and I took the subway to New Jersey. J’s ex roommate from undergrad found the best deal in NJ thanks to him and this was a house warming come pre-Christmas party at her pad. Musicians, dancers, non-profit workers and the whole gamut of what baba jocularly terms ‘artsy fartsy’ were there. I was mostly on my own while J said his hi and hellos and settled into a conversation with an ex. So I waited in the terrace overlooking the lights of New York in the distance for a wine infused epiphany. I waited for people to come up to me and strike up a conversation and then I simply waited for J to tell me we could leave. At 2, we were finally back in the city munching fried chicken to help me get over a weird nausea that was threatening to ruin my ‘vomit free’ streak since 2005. It didn’t work and I was beginning to panic. J introduced me to Listerine gargling to get over that weird creepy nausea post great wine consumption. It worked.

Next day Q and I caught up over coffee. My roommates are more my sisters and less the people one just has to get along with or carry out domestic chores and pay bills. Q is the younger sister that I never had and our chats often range from China-India politics to why there are few good men around. At 7 after J was done with his football game, he suggested we go for a walk to work our appetite (Puiya his Iranian friend was baking salmon for us to get over his anger at the loss of his favourite team in the game). J made Grand Central Station sound like this crappy new building, which has replaced the old heritage structure and kept whining about the loss. When we did finally get to GC, I realized what he had done. There towering a 100 feet above me was the impressive façade of a gothic structure looking like it was built just yesterday. Inside, a green dome with every constellation painted on it and brass chandeliers glowing brightly left me speechless. J knew I had little idea of what GC looked like so he had intentionally made it sound crappy. It worked again (somehow his methods most always do). I was unprepared for this marvel of architecture. We stayed for 40 minutes or so just taking everything in and walking around. We then walked over to the New York Public Library and headed home. That weekend in NY has been one of my most unforgettable.

Next day I headed to Chicago. I was spending all my time looking up historical buildings, visiting the beach and meeting Jack’s family until the 25^th. Chicago exceeded my expectations. Jack’s family lives in Highland Park, a residential area for the affluent, mostly Jewish community and contrary to what you would imagine for such a place, it looks like it was placed conveniently in the middle of the woods and close to Michigan Lake to be forgotten by the rest of the world. Her house is atop a hill with a ravine flowing by below. While we eat our lunch we spot deer.

One morning, I grapple with how ice can exist in the most surreal forms I’ve see so far. We are standing on the lakeshore and taking pictures endlessly while the ice could crumble beneath our feet any moment. I also spent time at the Chicago Loop, which is a common term for Downtown Chicago. Much of Chicago’s grand town planning is thanks to an American architect called Daniel Burnham. Burnham took a leading role in the development of several cities in the 19^th century including Chicago and Washington D C and for those who have seen the Flatiron building in NY, well that’s Burnham’s ingenuity for you.

Chicago was all about walking and more walking than I did in New York. One day we walked through Evanston, Fullerton basically the famous old residential areas and ended up in the evening after walking close to 10 miles at Green Mill to listen to a Jazz performance. Green Mill is one of the oldest pubs in Chico Town (Chicago dubbed by locals) and was a favourite hang out of Al Capone, the famous gangster during the prohibition days.

A trap door in this pub led to Aragon, a theatre near by and allowed people to escape if a police raid were to happen. Aragon has witnessed performance by leading bands and the likes of Sinatra to Duke Ellington have performed here. On the second day, Jack and I visited the Art Institute and proceeded to walk through Millenium Park, The Chicago Cultural Centre and finally through more historic buildings before returning home exhausted very happily for all that we managed to see in one day. For those visiting Art Institute, don’t miss out the Thornton Room and the New Media room. Thornton room has miniature replicas of living spaces from the 18^th century in England and France and for those who love old furniture and wish to emulate some into your own homes someday, this visit will serve you well.

Christmas eve was a delight at the Hurwitz residence. I got meet all of Jack. ’s relatives and spent close to two hours talking to her grandpa who she refers to as Baba. It’s always great to meet people who are in denial of their age and remain ever curious and spirited about everything in the world. Baba promised me that he and I will start our production company soon and went on to describe the motion picture camera manufacturing company he worked for that also happened to supply cameras to the makers of ‘Gandhi’. Baba reminded me a bit of my own grandpa minus his infamous temper and I grew a little sad that evening knowing that I was so far away from my family.

I left next day for San Francisco and arrived at the Oakland airport and made a mental note of yet another airport terminals I could trace on my map, that of an itinerant. Chicago’s International O’Hare remains my favorite so far. SFO to Berkley and the next day itself back to Oakland where my sis, bro-in law and I set out to Hawaii. So so tempted to be corny and say Hawa , Hawa, Hawaii :P

And here I am! In Maui island the most picturesque of all Hawaii….minutes away from a beach with jade green waters and a bright sun waiting to seep into my skin and soul. From 23 Farenheit to 76! If I were to roam around Hawaii with a camera, I would probably be doing injustice to making the most of all natural beauty around me. So a hold on pics for now and instead, promises of more tales to come from this lush tropical paradise.

Aloha!

Minty Red Blue

2010-12-20T22:56:00.000-08:00

A bathroom five by four feet. A woman is seated on the seat closed upon a toilet. She wears a red silk dress and pulls on her stockings. She's in a hurry to get somewhere and the stockings are very sheer. They rend at her heel. She's got little time to think. Five minutes later she steps out and puts on the most elegant satin black heels. She's not too made up but her eyes stand out in their kohl lined beauty and her lips shimmer in the christmas lights. She knows it but she won't admit it . She is attractive but in her own simple silent way. She doesn't take her admirers very seriously. It helps her stay grounded.

She dashes out of the door after he calls out and in that moment they both know it. The shoes are a disaster! But just this one time she doesn't want to pass off as a 20 year old, her dress is stunning and she wants to look her age. Atleast close to it. She's back at the door, dragged comically by him. He knows better. She hesitates at his suggestion. "The boots look grungy" she thinks. He tosses her pretty shoes out of sight. She smiles and agrees. The boots are on and she's looking more than fine. Pretty feet come aa cost and walking all over New York well heeled is more important than well dressed.

Two hours later, she's tried every single wine at the table. Also the hot spiced cider with whiskey. The crowd is a mix of people in their late 20s and 30s. Musicians, performers, martyrs (the non profit kind) mingle around. Upstairs, a group is playing the african drums and singing. A couple makes out in the bathroom in the adjoining room. So she waits and waits and waits and then smirking to herself steps out onto the terrace. She's reminding herself of where she was a few months ago and what she wanted. She compares that to what's at hand now.

The little red and blue neon lights strung around set off the New York skyline in the distance. She takes pictures. Pictures that form her visual diary. Her need to map everything in pixellated reality follows her everywhere. In new cities, on the streets she walks for the first time, amidst people...... It's become an obsession. Meanwhile, the red dress fetches a compliment. A smile and "thank you" are returned. She looks up. The sky is smoky blue and brown today and the moon glows half-mindedly.

A little past 1, a subway ride out of New Jersey and into the city, she finds herself in a diner wanting to get over the wine. Fried chicken doesn't work. His concern is endearing as is his sincerity. She trusts this.

Back home, the wine and cider are still doing tricks. She is frightened at the idea of puking. Like she has always been since her childhood. So he takes her by the hand. He leads her to the closet in the bathroom. Listerine comes to the rescue and so does bubbling laughter. They gargle and spit out in unison.

It's late and the fresh mint catalyses a feeling of bliss. She takes this moment for whatever it is. She wouldn't move on otherwise but she will this time. For whatever it is worth in its purest entity, she acknowledges it. But just for that unit of time alone. For whatever it's worth and however it can comfort her. And the moment spills forth, tinged in the neon light streaming in through the window from skyscrapers in the distant.

Sometimes knowing what you don't have and understanding why perhaps is the first step. Knowing why what you do when you do it at that moment is comforting even if just for that moment. Not when you've erred on the side of caution so many times before. She thinks these through. She's hit the lows too many times and too recently. She steps in.

The next morning, she wakes up to a bright blue sky. Today she will walk the streets she hasn't the last time, not in hope and anticipation but for self-discovery. And she"ll learn from that. For now. For herself.

No way to say goodbye........

2010-12-04T14:37:00.000-08:00

One of the biggest challenges to attempting homework ever since I've come to the US is wi-fi. The internet creeps into your brain stalling any sincere effort to get that paper done or research. One fact, a wiki search, a song, looking up film industry all this just canvasses into this big parallel activity completely disassociated with your actual work.

But I'm also thankful for it considering there's so much that needs catharsis to ease out my mind and still make the most of whatever I am going through.... bad or good. Writing and music seem perfect catalysts to let it out for now. Was introduced to a brilliant site called Pandora Radio by Ryan today. The site asks you your favourite artist or songs and automatcally lines up similar genres or themes for you. It's a brilliant concept.

I discovered Matsiyahu and Leonard Cohen today and my joy knows no limit. Here's a song by Leonard Cohen that I can't get out my mind, it's lyrics are so apt, poignant and beautiful. More to come after this hurried scribble.

"Hey that's No Way to Say Goodbye" -- Leonard Cohen

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,

your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,

yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,

in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,

but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,

your eyes are soft with sorrow,

Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,

walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme

you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,

it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,

but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,

your eyes are soft with sorrow,

Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,

your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,

yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,

in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,

but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,

your eyes are soft with sorrow,

Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

Youtube link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jexNsBjz1r8

Of a Graphic Novel and an Incomplete Ending

2010-12-03T23:32:00.001-08:00

Each moment is significant

It's event and entirety serving a purpose

The season's first snowflake

The memory it brings of a person

A season passed

And yet the feeling remained

From summer to winter

The memories didn't fade

A poor reader, gifted a book by you

It's pages full of etchings

Of love won and lost

Art that served as catharsis for it's creator

Yours? You scribble, you create

Your words and images no longer known

Will some corner of it

Be filled with a fond memory of me?

Silent in the snow..they stood

Listening to the tinkling of snowflakes

Not knowing what lay ahead

Yet happy to make that moment eternally theirs

And on its front pages

""For all that lies ahead"

Optimistic words of yours

On new beginnings of our old friendship

But then one didn't make it

Similar to the protagonist

Eerie coincidences played out

The book's ending and your last words to me

Did you know then

What your words had meant?

Etched strong in my consciousness

Of the happiness they held

Of a future that was possible

Now an incomplete incomprehensible ending

Matching a work of your favourite

What should I make of it?

A sheer co-incidence?

An apt souvenir saying goodbye

A goodbye that seems for eternity?

Their first snowflake lost its meaning

When he said goodbye

And she acquiesced

And has my silence made sense

Staging closure and acceptance?

Your season's already turned a cycle

While a blizzard's begun in mine

About a Snowflake

2010-12-03T23:09:00.000-08:00

I saw my first snowflake today. And if that doesn't make sense then envision this.

You are indoors. Amidst warm lights, fellow colleagues and the buzz of an academic institute. It grows dark and all you can spot outside now and then when your attention wavers from work are the white lights enclosed in snowball like lamps glowing softly in the distant. You know it's another Friday evening, one you will spend with yourself.

A little later you hurry out wanting to get across to the parking lot. And suddenly you notice. You stop dead in your tracks amazed how much you take beauty for granted. Everything is covered in a soft, fluffy white snow blanket. And your eyelash flickers. It's a snow flake. It's the most sincere moment you can allow yourself. Snow particles coming down softly making a silent noise which only you hear in your head. They glow streaming headlong in your direction almost as if the street lights are showering gold. You face the sky and hold your tongue out. They miss but you smile.

You finally get into the car. And as you look through its window, you see it. That little snow flake that you saw in the Archie's comics you read growing up or perhaps later in your Physics textbook. It's the tiniest structure you have ever sighted in your lifetime and yet you see the geometrical shape crystal clear. It's a moment that freezes it's significance in your mind for years to come. And you know you are lucky to have seen it.

La luz

2010-11-20T21:38:00.000-08:00

No matter how many languages you say it in, this word does something for all of us.

I am talking about light. When I was small, I think the one word that signified both relief and horror (depending on whether my sister was switching it on or off in a room) was 'alo', the bengali word for light. Back in Bhubaneswar, the small town my father's family is settled in, summer mornings were eagerly looked forward to. Not just for the opportunity to tailgate my grandfather as he went about picking flowers in our garden, but to be immersed in the lemon-white milk that bathed the garden. There was an immense feeling of being overwhelmed those summers at 7 am and no words will help me explain this to you. The previous night's dew lay in its last moments, lighting up the lower blades of grass in a sparkling green hue and the sun streamed through coconut leaves, cutting myriads of shadows and shapes interspersed with light onto everything beneath it. Magical to say the least.

And in those summer evenings, I slept next to my grandpa or 'dadu' as we grand-daughters fondly referred to him. Out in the garden on his army cot beneath the open sky. The moon shone down upon the entire foliage surrounding us, converting everything into dark silhouettes. The light coming through the mosquito net which covered us, lit my skin in a strange bluish hue.

When I was close to 9, I would lay mortified in my bed till well past midnight, imagining shapes and unknown fears waiting for me to close my eyelids and then pounce upon me. In those silent and painful hours, my mother's late night washroom trip was an immense relief. As her door streamed light through the common corridor, I felt comforted and called out to her. A call of assurance later, I was finally able to fall asleep. There were also nights were I left the light in my room switched on till wee hours of the morning when my father finally discovered his daughter's once again cowardly act. I would get an amused chuckle from baba at the breakfast table. Later that week, I began lighting candles and falling asleep. Chuckles gave way to a sound tongue-lashing. Fire hazard anyone? Light was a precious luxury for me in those insomniac years.

Growing older and finding love, some of the above light forms and tinges made for significant memories. The evening where my first school sweetheart and I sat in a children's playground located on a hill watching the orange sun light up the sky, dipping further and further until the wild pink flowers turned violet and my friend's face acquired a character I hadn't seen before.

Candles again, this time my 22rd birthday spent with a different boy... dare I say man. Candles, despite the fact that the angry afternoon sun pounded upon the world outside. We hid ourselves in the cool interiors and danced away in the light our smiles shone in...that light had promises of an adventurous and happy relationship. But then again, we learn more of the people we love as time progresses. And then it's time to leave them onto the sidelines as you move ahead ...for yourself.

And more recently, when the old scars filled up, an old friend emerged as a new companion. Late one night, in suburbian Mumbai, on one of my last trips to the city before I left the country, we sat next to each other typing out the inner recesses of our minds onto his blog, still unsure and shy of communicating our affection for each other. The light from his laptop glowed intensely into the goblets of our wine. It lit up our faces, lighting up a hope that was still timid yet felt stronger than the shadows cast upon the wall. I"ll never forget that night, even if I have to forget the months that followed it. I"ll hold onto snatches of that memory like the morning light, a few hours later which jolted me from my slumber only to reveal a face smiling down at me.

And then Syracuse. A new friend in a new country and our first outdoor venture together. Late this August, Jackie and I hiked up into the hills, two hours away from Syracuse. Discovering a quite stream tucked behind the greenery, we took off our shoes and lay upon the gnarling mushroom infested logs that bridged one end of the stream to the other. And what a sight it was. Looking up, the sun shone through faintly, fettered by all the dense foliage. The water bubbled and had this steel like resonance to it and in that silence, my eyes spotted the light reflected by the water onto the ferns above my head. It was an ethereal moment that only willderness can provide to one's soul.

My fascination with light has only grow stronger since the past few months, this time at a more creative level.

Which brings me to how much I love light and light in the night, in the streets, in the cities. Shooting in Mumbai for my short film last December at 4 am in the morning at Lower Parel, I was mesmerised by the symmetry of street lamps in my frame. That one shot made that effort - of undertaking an entire project on more enthusiasm than financial backing - totally worth it. This year 'The Records that those Pavements Keep' was selected to be screened in the Mumbai Shorts competitive category at the Mumbai International Film Festival.

I walked the streets of New York today mostly downtown and Theatre District losing my way close to Colombus Square and walking an extra 40 minutes all the way back to where I should have initially turned. And even for those who have heard the romanticism about New York, for the nth time, one MUST MUST walk its streets in the evening and at night. As an amateur photographer, I can't help but stop every time I see light in it's various forms here. In the ordinary neon signs, the frosted electronic hues that christmas decorations cast on the street or simply the light that shines remotely in the distance, a glimmering hope as it were, that walking further to find out more will be worth it.

To luminescence. I hope this journey with light never ends.

Of Nerds and Turd

2010-11-19T22:22:00.001-08:00

I am in the city that makes me miss Mumbai really bad. This is my second trip to New York and in a very modest way, I must admit I am less excited with every trip. And I mean that in a good way. I am less excited because I feel increasingly at home with every trip of mine to this amazing city.

The 2 day career workshop ended today. IRTS did a good job getting together a range of media outfits under the same roof. The queue for Disney and HBO were the longest. Also spoke to NBC, Comcast, Discovery and even forced myself to chat with the Nielsen guys.

The rest of the evening panned out unexpectedly well. Jacque's friend wanted us to attend a very interesting event at a bar in Chinatown. 'The Poop Project' was bringing people together in New York to raise funding for adequate sanitation in third world countries. A small gritty underground pub, brick red and lined up with bizarre stuffed animals (meerkats!) and candles had New York's nerdiest crowd packed in. We bought our raffle tickets at the door and entered with our drink coupons, a little skeptical but mostly amused at the sight of a western toilet seat hanging at the entrance. Over the course of next two hours, men and women walked upto the stage and to the cue of a jazz musician duo, narrated, sung and enacted their worst 'poop' stories. Needless to say, there were some very graphic descriptions, sound effects and even a strip act thrown in. I have no clue how the last one connected to the theme of the friend but our friend who got us in was horrified to discover that the stripper was her ex boss. Ha ha!!

The high point of the evening though was the stage act of a hilarious Jewish lady from Chicago. Based on a true story ladies and gentleman, it involved a woman, a guy she was interested in, an unfortunate scatological mishap the morning after, her trying to damage control with a rib tickling mail, the guy dumping her and now married to a Entourage actor, the said dumped lady being miserable and then after a year meeting a guy at another barbeque party who is discussing the most unbelievable stories they've experienced. Guy tells her about a woman who his room-mate was dating and had to go through hell because of their damaged toilet. He adds that he thought it was hilarious upon which woman reveals she was the one who did it. New guy and lady are presently engaged! So there is hope in mankind, sorry....men.

The last act was by an Indian and well he was a bit off the temp (perhaps because the previous act was stolen by a woman who did a strip act involving chips, whipped cream, stripping to her undies and drinking gelusil!!!!!) Couldn't help but walk up to him later and chat up. Turns out he was with the Peace Corps, is a lawyer (on the welfare side) but now living in New York..

Said Indian disappeared an hour later. Jacque, Mikhail and I hit the floor. We danced away the rest of the evening to very very 60s swing music. Jacque had every other guy wanting to dance with her becasue of her crazy moves. And it was then I realised we were surrounded with nerds. And what fun they were! Not looking to grab you on the floor or take you home but just awfully happy and completely immersed in crazy dance moves and eager to share that with anyone who could match their craziness.

Well so we are dancing with these two guys specifically and suddenly this one cute guy in the corner who can REALLY dance shakes up the floor with Jaque. A little later he gets me to dance with him and we do the whole twirl cross deal , jiving and the crowd has made this little space for us an dis cheering us on. We yelled out our names, the stereo drowning our attempts but I understood that he is Martin and he is from France and man was he dancing his nifty shoes off...I am high at that moment just being able to dance well with someone who KNOWS how to dance after so long. Twenty minutes later, the Francophone tells me 'Sorry darling, I have to leave". He then proceeds to peck me affectionately on the cheek. I say "Of course" and hold my balance after having being spun around like a yo-yo for the last 5 minutes. I am disappointed (of course I am losing a dance partner like that!) but I manage to find my steps back to Jackie. I whine and ga-ga at the same time about monsieur dancing shoes who suddenly decided to leave. She nudges me to look at him. He is leaving and that too with another good looking guy. So in short, the universe just told me that "Hey....I"ll give you good dance partners. BUT they have to be gay!"

So!!!! NYC, yes you are full of surprises. But I love you and I will for a while. Even if my heart aches when I walk your streets.... You remind me of friends, a city and people I so yearn to go back to.

And oh yes ....cheers the nerdiest of Nerds in New York. Thank you for a splendid Friday evening:)

SUIT UP!

2010-11-17T20:52:00.000-08:00

I may be underestimating my friend’s serious tone when she sighs as I announce that I am going shopping to the mall. But she has a good reason for doing so. I will come to that in a while.

My trip to the mall is never just a cursory one. When I am at the mall I don’t simply frolick around or window shop, sighing with bated breath as I pass by one of those sexy outfits ; the price tag on the said piece of clothing equating it to a heavy gold relic from El Dorado but weighing over the anorexic ‘plaster of paris’ mannequins.

Leading a grad student life with limited funds and time, I rarely visit the mall. But the few times I do, I have an agenda. And that is to shop till I drop. But only because I REALLY need to shop.

My recent trip was catalysed by a panic-stricken epiphany that I did not have the right formal attire to attend a conference in New York. Of course if you’ve appeared for interviews which I have back in India, one would have basic black suit and trousers to go. And I did. Except that it was cut in 2006, at a time when I neither had a very keen eye for corporate attire nor the funds to possess an immaculate set.

Which reminds me of where the suit was made and I must distract myself for a while to tell this story; at the Raymond’s showroom in New Empire market in Kolkata. Raymond’s did I say? Fancy you would think. Na-ah! I forgot to mention. It was exclusively for men! Given my family’s love for good tailoring and the old craftsmanship of this skill (which can only be found these days in the small-town neighbouhood ‘dorji’s dokan’) my family has always had an obsession to get trousers, shirts and even denim tailor made. So when my sister joined the corporate ranks after her fancy MBA, international brands and SGP’s fashion houses didn’t do it for her. Instead she got her suits and even buttoned down shirts made in this hallowed sanctuary for middle class corporate professionals. ‘Masterji’ as everyone fondly referred to the head tailor at that showroom would have basked in glory had he seen Arthur D Little’s executives stop by didi’s desk to ask her where she’d bought her perfect fitting pearl grey shirt.

Now getting back to my friend’s ominous sigh. I am a dread to go shopping along with when I have an agenda. Sure enough this specific friend promptly informed me that she had ‘homework to do’. On such visits to the urban mecca of consumer crap, I almost always know exactly what I want and will go to and fro from one store to another comparing prices, trying things on until I know for a fact, that my dollar is being well spent. It’s not the Indian desi mentality, no –oh! For those who knew me in my early earning days back in Mumbai, they would have sworn that Sophie Kinsella’s lead in ‘Shopaholic’ must have been based on me. In comparison now, I may take longer to arrive at a decision comparing clothes but that way I have been able to hold back from impulsive shopping decisions.

But this particular mall excursion will go down in the annals of history…..my unique history, of the countless shopping trips that resulted in things being bought but never used or never needed. This time I needed a suit and I was prepared for the trauma that would come with looking for one. I am either a wreck trying to find the right fit or providing entertainment to the sales girls giggling as a cackle of geese as they watch me float around, arms and legs akimbo in clothes that merit a person of more Goliath-like proportions. But little did I know what I was in for on this fateful day.

I didn’t waste any time going to a Macy’s or Lord and Tylor’s instead boldly stepping into Banana Republic. My wallet was shrinking in horror as I inched towards the slick black suits lined up in front. They yielded like silk and butter (imagine a combo of that!) in my hands and elicited deeper and more heartfelt sighs than my friend’s. I think ‘grad student’ must have struck her instantly because she led me to a depressing ‘grey’ section that was on sale. Note. Greys are perhaps the only thing always on sale! I must have looked real forlorn or God had decided that this was to be the day my faith in good salesmanship must be restored. The salesgirl asked me to hold on and promptly disappeared to a storage section which didn’t strike me to be good because all rejected or bad fits land up there. A few minutes later she emerged cheerfully asking “Is this okay?”

Okay! Hell it was more than okay. It was the super duper okay of O Ks! I hurried into the trial room and low behold. This slate blue suit with a subtle blue trimming and a matching skirt just the perfect length and perrrrrrrrrfect fit (needless to say moi’s derriere looked nice in it ) was on me…NO , it was made just for me. A double zero (beat that Kareen aKapoor!!) she said. I was a double zero and so was the suit!!!! HALLEJUAH!

I left the mall a happier and more optimistic person that day. There’s been a spring in my step and a whistle on my lips. I don my fancy suit and skirt and tread the streets of New York tomorrow…a person whose faith in wardrobe miracles has been restored.

Rambling 2.0

2010-11-11T21:02:00.000-08:00

Every now and then ten twenty different things are pounding at my brain. Punching my anterior lobe, knocking hard on my skull to take a more prosaic form. The thoughts are mostly reflections over the latest updates of my life. Sometimes even more trifling: just day to day events in their miniscule details. And they find their way, trickling gradually from my grey matter, sparking off neurons here and there, trailing through my veins, pulsating at my fingertips and finally free ...free on my screen as my fingers go 'clickity clack' on the keyboard (:) when was the last time you heard anyone use that 60s comic strip lingo?)

So here's one my long due posts..meandering, rambling and yet another way of catharsis...of reaching out economically and subtly to people who I know want to or may like to know what life as a Grad student in upstate New York has been like since Fall semester began.

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Come end of a semester and registration for a new one, you will be tearing your hair apart or your advisor's to understand how you can leverage your credits, your precious dollar heavy credits for courses that are worth your time and investment into a Master's education. I seem to have whistled my way through Fall sem with just 12 credits in my basket and now I have to take 16........that's five 3 credit courses and one 1 credit course. What was I thinking?!!!!!!!!

As you inch closer to graduating, you want good work under your belt to show to the industry and to assure yourself that your loan back in India is worth what you are doing...so last minute scrambling around to meet Professors, long conversations with fellow students and copious amounts of scanning courses....I am still struggling to make my choice.

p.s just for context, 3 credits is worth half my annual salary back in India and let's not even go there

!!!!!!!

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Ryan and I are ..I think inching closer to beginning our research paper on 'tween shows'. Ryan is my dear friend and colleague from Canada. Given our shared love and interest in developing content for children, we decided to use our final paper for TV Research this semester to analyse popular Nickelodeon and Disney shows for tweens (kids aged 9-14) and script a pilot for our own show. ...which I hope we will pitch and hopefully see in production mode in the near future. Also, I will be Ryan's Producer for his short film in which he will cast his own kids. A short film for and by kids.....Super super excited :)

********************

My self appointed advisor is so stressed out that her rear molars are crumbling. The dentist recommended she sleep with a night guard in her mouth. I knew stress leads to hair fall, acne, dark circles, foul temper, irregular bowel syndrome. Now your molars are also at threat! And you know why? Because when you are stressed you subconsciously clench your jaws tighter, building up pressure and grinding your upper teeth against the lower set.

I need a night guard too...and to add to this recent cause of anxiety, a cavity seems sure and I don't have dental insurance. In the US, you cannot get yourself treated for something as simple as a cavity filling for anything less than $ 200 without insurance.

Remind me why it's great to live in India...no please do!

Conclusion...wait till May 2011 until I visit India. Until I probably lose my canine tool for enjoying my meat. Retarded developed country's ill-developed health insurance plans...grrr

********************************************************

Which brings me to what I do best when I am stressed or upset......

EAT/COOK!

Jess and I spent over an hour grocery shopping. Considering the crap I've been eating (note sliders are bad, just plain BAD ...nothing more to be said there!) for a few days now, my cart was loaded with things that looked like I had just pulled off a heist at the Garden of Eden.

Dinner today?

I tried something new.

Pears chopped up and mixed in with fresh mint. Balsamic vinegar ....and a drizzle of parmesan cheese. I ate up a whole bowl of that and could have had more.

Followed by whole wheat tortilla stuffed with Indian eggplant mix...my favourite 'baingan bharta'

I was combining homework with dinner...so finally watched 'Bottle Rocket' and made notes for my screenwriter's analysis of Wes Anderson and Owen Wilson........ I can go on but for anyone who has not watched Anderson's films....it's better late than never! So start with Bottle Rocket or Rushmore and move on to Darjeeling Ltd....By now you get a sense that this director's works are mostly based on a club of men who have their fantasy ridden worlds propelling them to seek out adventure in the most unconventional fashion. A band of brothers and friends is often your main characters ....throw in a motley group of characters who appear in most of his works : Kumar Pallana, Bill Murray, Jason Schwartzman....the Wilson brothers of course.....

You could then watch what I consider his epic piece 'The Royal Tenenbaums'

Getting back to my gourmet rant

I had two courses for dinner but then nothing stops me...so Hammas and wheat crackers....and then

Marshmallows to seal the feast

***********************

I am hooked to The Office! The American version. Dwight and Jim are my favourites. Jim well......yes I guess Rohini is right. Sensitive, funny and caring Jim is every woman's dream ....most women I know fall in love with this character pretty hard...so hard that some actually go out looking for a Jim version in reality! Carm confirmed this is true!

Here Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim...Jimmy?

Applause for the writer for fleshing out such consistent , well thought of eccentric characters....especially Dwight. Of proud German inheritance, raised rough in the country and high on loyalty and duty...Schrute rocks with his knowledge of warfare, detective skills and sales acumen that would put his boss to shame!

His beet farm really did it for me though...No wait! I think it was his knowledge of manure

***********************

Dramatic Writing has proved to be the most beneficial and fun class this semester. Watching my colleagues have their scripts read and 'improvised' by class was a real life professional feedback session. It feels good to know that I have a solid litmus test to run my script through and gauge its creative potential. Finally finished my scene outlines for the feature length film that's my final work for this class. Scripting will begin this weekend perhaps en route and in New York......Might just perch myself on a stool by a cafe's window-side for inspiration and type and type .......

I forgot to mention.

I was accepted for a Multi-cultural career workshop being organised by The International Radio and Television Society in NYC next week......

It's always good to visit the city that makes you feel at home instantly

New York...here I come

*****************************************************

w.a.l.k

2010-11-09T20:48:00.001-08:00

How do you make peace with being unable to engage with someone the way you did, the way it felt really right and in a way that outdid your imagined version of it to be?

Do you count your days, weeks and months until jet trails can take you back , back to a moment where you could summon the strength to knock on the door again. Spend your year, maybe two, maybe more in willing suspension of disbelief......until your heart is purged of feeling and thought exclusive for a person?

Do you spend a few moments now and then doing what the tech-age has enabled all of us to, stalk someone, virtually...trace there scribbles but promise yourself a detached afterthought....

Or do you follow your impulse and reach out...only to be pacified and counseled "train yourself to hold back"

I am holding on.........to a blankness within me...the blanks will fill up in due time. Won't they?

It's funny how a year earlier, just around this same time, a marathon sparked off a thought in my head. I had no idea I would chase that thought through.

I also had no idea I would be left behind in that chase.

On a very different thought...I am headed to New York in a week's time for work. This time I will find time to walk and walk longer through unknown streets and avenues.

Walking to keep ahead of my thoughts, walking until I find in me that I can run.........once again

p.s The New York marathon and the Bimal Mahato story just came to my mind

Hmm 2011 NY marathon...if I am still here

Pause and Play

2010-11-03T21:42:00.000-07:00

The brevity and rationale of it all

Seems illogical, today, right now

If I were to write all night,

I would write all that I want to tell you

The brevity and rationale of our last conversation

Was a convenient guise

Yours, because you choose to say little and move away

Mine because I wanted you to stay

Heart's rending across virtual spaces

This is what our long friendship has come down to

You scribble on your walls

I on mine

Both wondering if the other will trace our thoughts marked with words

Yes. I do want to hear, talk and feel

But I hold myself together and back from your words

Words that I will imagine for now

For I have no strength to utter or hear

Garbled, incoherent, unsure or timid ones from your end

Strong, clear, courageous and bold

Those were your steps

Until you left your footprints on my porch

And left no trace or understanding of who I knew you to be

So let us begin our conversations in our virtual spaces

In our minds or on our walls

I know your move will not be the first

And I am not sure what will be mine

Nostalgia

2010-10-30T09:08:00.001-07:00

I know it ...

I know it when I wake up to a pale grey sky, slightly disoriented about the dream I have had early in the morning

I know it when I recall Ma and Baba's smiles and how they danced to Rafi's songs

The streets, the smell and the flavours are beginning to bleach white...

I know I want to return... before my land becomes a mere figment of my imagination

Saturday Night...Time for Delight

2010-10-16T23:53:00.000-07:00

There are these rare days where misery and hope collide one losing out to the other

After location scouting for over an hour, trudging through University's rolling slopes, in the cold, empty stomach, losing my way through staircases that led nowhere and doors that didn't really help me get where I wanted to, I landed up at Marshall Street craving for Waffles. 7 phone calls down, not a single person was free to have a meal with me....

Giddy, mad, and wanting to shout the f word loudly for the whole campus (stark raving mad woman images can be conjured here) I stormed into the library. 25 minutes later, a watery tea, a croissant and banana down, I finally trudged to the bus stop

I convinced myself to hammer out one chapter of Commn Law and the evening rolled in

Jacque came to my rescue (as usual). Carmine accompanied me

Asian story fry, Malibu with Apple cider, double helping of chocolate chip dough and a steaming cuppa of peppermint tea....the ladies entertained me with their performances to Les Miserables and Anastasia.

Tip to my male readers and friends : never give up an opportunity to befriend or date women who have been trained in musicals ;)

Long discussions also happened - of unconventional endings for romantic comedies (Carm is doing a TV research paper on it this semester), ex boyfriends who would have made unsuitable life partners, dates which made you think why you are unwilling to make use of whatever

(read who) comes your way for now, of pumpkin ale and becoming someone's therapy (Jacque was victim to it today by a 40 year old who is recently separated) and the lack of intelligent dating sites in India.........

Came back and danced like bonkers to music just for and by myself ..after aeons..and then for R on Skype who was too happy being regaled by this virtual Saturday partying with her best friend in NY while she was sitting in Singapore

I get by with a little help from my friends .....

An evening with women like Jacque and Carm makes up for all the crappy Saturday nights, blues and home-sickness

Like Ma says "Saturday Night, time for delight!!!"

delight..........

An unsung note

2010-10-08T23:51:00.000-07:00

Reading about a random rant on someone's blog....

sometimes you could become so insignificant to someone you wanted so badly that it all becomes unecessarily signififcant....

Spoke to J for about an hour straight through an entire party snuck away in a corner with everyone throwing us curious looks

But I couldn't care...Here was a guy speaking to me about how pathetic it is to know someone loves you, someone you share a compatibility with so good enough that you doubt you will ever find it again. J is going through a testing time because he is in a long distance relationship and he really likes this girl but the time period and distance don't seem feasible. I told J he reminded me of someone I lost recently, lost to miles and lack of conviction. Just hearing him talk about fidelity and attachment was enough to want to encourage him to do whatever suits him for now. And that was hypocritical, because I've been the girl on the other end, had it all offered and had it all taken away because of someone being uncertain or simply not interested in seeing what they initially believed worth pursuing to it's logical end (whatever that might have been)

I heard him out , answered questions about my past, immediate and further back....and also committed myself to being his DP/ cameraperson for a pilot of an wildlife series (it never hurts to fantasize)

And as I stepped out of his car, we shook hands, agreed to do a meal and then these words tumbled out

j: "A lot of bad things happen, but life has too many beautiful things to offer. So try to remind yourself of that"

r: "Let's touch base in 5 years and then see if that's true"

And he said.......... "Knowledge is Good" :)

2010-09-30T23:33:00.000-07:00

It's the existential debate. Art for art's sake ? On those lines...visual content for the sole purpose of entertaining the public or empowering them? Educating and enlightening them of realities they would be otherwise unaware of? I am fighting for words here, partially excited with the endorphin rush I am presently experiencing thanks to the developments of this evening and also because days like this one make me want to thank my stars (and my sister! and of course my own decision to pursue a Masters) for bringing me to Newhouse, to Syracuse University and well the US!

The Human Rights Film festival at Newhouse School opened tonight with 'The Response': a 30 minute film based on actual transcripts of trials at Guantanamo Bay. Stellar performances by all especially Asif Mandavi (from The Daily Show ) and wait for it...Peter Reigert! Now for those of you who are wondering why that actor's name is followed by an exclamation mark, Peter Reigert was one of the lead characters in the iconic film 'Animal House' (1978 directed by John Landis). If I was back in India watching this film, I perhaps wouldn't have got the cultural significances, subtle political/literary commentary and the brilliant screenwriting. I did because I watched it in Robert Thompson's 'Critical Perspectives in TV and Film' class this summer and I am so glad I HAD to take it. It opened up a whole new way of critiquing, analysing and viewing visual content like never before.

Coming back to 'The Response' (http://www.theresponsemovie.com/) and what this film aimed at doing in terms of debating the US policy ( post 9/11 suspected terrorists were denied fundamental rights of defending themselves granted to 'military' combatants under the Third Geneva Convention. I am not an expert on the subject although I did get the gist so I highly recommend looking up these on the internet). Here I am - listening to human rights advocates, activists, a Captain from JAG (NOT the TV series silly! I mean THE U.S NAVY JUDGE ADVOCATE GENERAL'S CORPS) the producer of the film - one of only three TV and Film Grad students to attend the screening and panel discussion amidst 200 other law students and I found myself thinking "Did I do the right thing by leaving Journalism and the Broadcast News industry behind? Am I deluding myself with the idea that I can tell the kind of stories that need to be told through mainstream TV and Film by walking down the path a Producer/Director/Screenwriter would take? And if I do, which way do I go? East coast Independent film/ Documentary or West Coast Development/ Feature Film and TV series?

So I wait for the panel discussion to end and I speak to Mallika Dutt to get an idea of what Breakthrough is about and if I can write to her to get a better sense of whether people like me work with Human Right advocate groups to create their visual campaigns etc. And then I contemplate approaching Reigert but I am almost too shy, so I am being egged by a friend about making 'that conversation'. I hesitate for a few moments, feel very stupid for not making the most of every opportunity I am being presented with and I act on my impulse at this very epiphany. I turn around and walk straight up to him, introduce myself and ask him for 2 minutes of his time.

That 2 minutes turned to a 25 and Mr Reigert and I spoke about Downtown NYC theatre artists vis-a-vis Hollywood actors, his experience with both New York and LA, why it would make sense to go one over another and I got a whole lot of advice I had not anticipated I would ever have heard from an actor here at Newhouse :D I am so glad I did. Thank you Mr Peter Reigert. And he was so happy to hear that atleast Jessica and I had got his joke when he started his commentary in the discussion with the one now almost iconic corny line from the opening scene of Animal House: 'Knowledge is Good'. As I shook his hand to say goodbye, I couldn't help but reiterate it.

So what did I take away from this evening, from the panel members' debate, from the movie and from my rendezvous with Peter Reigert. Well I can only do justice to that question by quoting him for somethings he said today. As an actor he would have played any one of the roles in The Response with "as much integrity" as he played his (the only Captain on the tribunal convinced that the suspect was to be absolved of all charges) Peter also said that as aspiring artists "in the end you do your job and you do it well" .

I hope to use my craft and skills in mainstream TV/Film so as to fund and create visual content on themes that need to reach a larger audience. And I intend to keep that promise regardless of what lies ahead. Sometimes it really is about "doing your work, paying your bills and then fueling your passion for the things you believe in" but most of all as Peter said, I continue to remind myself of this:

"Am I who I say I am

Or am I what I do?"

It's absolutely splendid to be back in school!

Pachelbel Canon

2010-09-26T08:16:00.000-07:00

Almost three weeks ago, I was sitting under a dimly lit dome, its ceilings adorned with stain glass frescoes tinged red and black. It was my first day at Central Park West that day....and as they played Pachelbel Canon, I found myself rooted to my spot. I couldn't breathe and I wasn't aware of the 40 odd people gathered around those student musicians.......

The music rose to a crescendo and I was suddenly conscious of how much I belonged to a moment which I could not have, a moment in an alternate universe where you stood by me here at CPW on a cold Saturday evening... an evening we could have had no matter how tough the distance would have proved....perhaps if you hadn't given up and said good bye. And as goosebumps made their way onto my skin, a tear and then more rolled down my cheek. You were miles away so I took out my phone to just have you share that moment with me. It didn't matter that you didn't see this work ...it didn't matter

But I made that call half-way through and put my cell phone away......not knowing if you would understand or even try to.....

At times like these...

2010-09-25T20:47:00.000-07:00

At times like these, the need to call you is the most,

Not for assurances or re-assurances

Of questions from my end to you

Asking why we couldn't be

Just to share yet another eventful day or the most

To hear your silly joke or curious question in the end

To know you get it and if you don't

You'd stop me and ask and nod and smile

At times like these the need to call you is the most,

When I have no one but myself to speak to

To muse at what I have seen and understand how it will change me

Just having you hear the same makes it more significant

For your companionship and wise words

Not for sweet nothings, they were not you

For your silent chuckles and heart warming smile

That made me want to dissolve the virtual space between us

And sit beside you ....miles away

At times like these the need to call you is the most,

And yet I hold myself back not knowing whether you feel the same anymore

Shabbat & Full Moon

2010-09-25T19:07:00.000-07:00

This weekend was quite unique. I had the opportunity of being a part of two very different cultural and gastronomic events. Friday evening was spent at J's place. She and her landlady (also her roommate) invited me over for a 'shabbat' meal. In Judaism, shabbat is the seventh day of the Jewish week and is a day of rest wherein the family congregates together eating three special meals. Also, it is a time when the Jewish community contemplate the spiritual aspect of lie often atoning for mistakes made over the year. J is one of the most wonderful and extremely intelligent women I have met and I doubt I will meet more like her. Sometimes you meet women who are so effervescent, charismatic, funny, caring and the easiest to get along with and you almost wonder why you can't just have a guy version of her :P I know two women I would very much like to meet. More on that later. Anyways, going back to the shabbat meal, we had squash soup, cauliflower gratin, a salad with roman lettuce, tomatoes, blue cheese and balsamic vinegar (I'm hooked on to this thing) and khallah, the traditional bread which J baked herself. Knowing J, she always sets herself apart in some way so she baked the bread in a way that the inside was semi gooey...really nice :). There were 6 of us and we sat around the table, lit up with the candles (which are supposed to burn all night) rounded up with rosemary liek laurels resting around those candlestands. J and her roomie then took the candles to her forehead and what they sang next, rather the way they sang their prayers gave me goosebumps:

"Baruch ata adonai

Eloheinu melech ha'olam

Hamotzi lechem min ha'aretz"

That was just one part of the bread blessing....I think :)

Here's what it means and it's beautiful in its simplicity:

"Blessed are you O lord our God

King of the Universe

For giving us bread from the earth"

And we held the bread together and broke it after saying one more prayer (garrrh I should have taken a camera) and we blessed our wine and drunk it :)

So much conversation ensued I don't even remember the details. We spoke about our eccentricities as children and our parents and how much we love them. I asked about the NRA because H has a pistol at home and that just made me feel a bit queasy. It was interesting to listen to H's explanation about essentially "having the ability to protect oneself from one;s government if turned tyrannical. What would we socialists do?!!!!" hmmmmm

C spoke about different things, how he wants to have kids someday (that's the first American guy in my peer group I've heard wanting to settle down) and then trailed off for a bit ending on an ex girlfriend in Brooklyn and why it didn't work although she was great.......'the distance' he said and left me to pour some more wine and sink into mellowness. C was a journalist for the US millitary for 5 years before having to resign because of epileptic fits. He is the funniest I've met on campus so far and extremely talented. Hoping to cast him as John for the short film that my team directs this semester. Dropping me off he said "Well we all have the same concerns Ronnie regardless of which country we are in...we'll talk about this over more wine?" I smiled and agreed trying to hide my sadness about what he earlier said about distances by looking out of the window. Finally getting out, C called out to me just as i was walking away. He had his classic Woody Allen-ish horn-rimmed mega spectacles half-way down on his nose (which his colleagues apparently dubbed as the birth-control glass because it would never get him laid) and said 'hay hay' in the very goofy naughty way. These are my friends and I am grateful for always finding the most unique lot of them wherever I go.

Today, I was couped up in my room all day long, having 'Ramen' noodles for dinner and tring my very best to finish my auto-ethnography assignment in between fooling around my blogpost's weird kitschy purple new template. I had decided not to attend an Indian get together down the street "There will be a DJ!" read the facebook invite. And just generally shaking off clammy mellowness I tried focussing on my screen. Qi-bi called me out to the dining space and the table was laid out with a grill and fancy food. turns out today is the chinese Moon Festival, and it's marked by the family gathering together to eat a good meal. So I sat there with 5 Chinese students (Qi and Janey are from NYC) trying to understand the relevance of this festival, what the meat was marinated in, making jokes about how hopeless I was with chopsticks and nibbling away at the fantastic beef, tofu, chicken and prawns. Turns out American kids learn about Hindu gods in their curriculum. Janey was telling me more about Shiva than I knew! 2 hours later and a lot of meat and prawns down, Qi brought out 'ice wine' and we were all quizzed. I also had chinese 'moon cakes' and they were splendid. These are made from thick lotus seed paste that's surrounded by a relatively thinner layer and the centre of the cake is salted yolk from duck eggs.

Food for thought followed. Janey asked me and Qi whether we would date men who were shorter than us or younger. I said I could settle for someone slightly younger and Tink her friend did his best to convince me that "you should never date a guy who is younger to you because he will be emotionally stunted" ....hmmmm. The guys said they would not mind dating women who were taller to them :D That's a refreshing one. Wonder what they would have to say about older women ;)

Syracuse is getting colder after getting intermittently warm and damp. And I can feel the weather affecting my chain of thoughts. I feel it when I wake up in my bed and see the grey sky outside, I feel it when I go to my cold bed alone everynight, I feel it when I walk to school letting the draft make me shiver taking off my cap so I get used to this and I feel it when it rains and I can hear the cars 'ssssssshhhh' through the wet roads beneath my window. Coming to the US has definitely been more than what I expected from my campus life....even if the last month has been an unexpected low....there are just 8 months left to my academic life and I can only hope I'll do justice to all those 32 weeks..........only 32 weeks

TRIADS OF AN IN BETWEENER

2010-09-19T22:50:00.000-07:00

It's been close to three weeks now...or so I would like to think. I am trying to pile on fictitious days since the last conversation. So much for cliches. They say time heals everything. I wonder if time can take care of yet another,yet again.... And while some say 'it's no big deal. Just give yourself 6 months. After all it was just 3 months". 6, 3.....how do weeks, months or years count as less significant for what you've felt for someone you shared your weekends with, the lows of your life back in a city that barely let you be, down pitchers of beer at your favourite pub, listen to the soft gurgling of the waves at PDP while the moon came up and shone down upon you two...mumbling on a port wine high.....or your best New Year first day..not the eve...the first day

I smile at people as much as I can. I always have and it's my defense mechanism to remind myself there are things to be happy about. Mom always has something very profound to say when she suspects something is amiss, even all these miles apart. "Happiness is a state of mind". But these days, I am barely concerned with being happy. I just want to be hopeful, believe that yet another 'let's end it and move on' is not something I will hear again. I seem to have adapted to a robotic like survival mechanism. Hear it all out, calmly ask reasons, ignore the brain which is screaming out all the things you really want to say before it's too late, before the other person begins the process of forgetting you, in bits and pieces, until you are a specter of an idea.

You on the other end, you are looking out at everything new and delightful, wishing to share all of it with someone half way across the globe and you take your steps further, a little by little, wondering why it could not be closer to what it could have been.....

Peremptory

2010-09-11T20:57:00.001-07:00

Someone I know just came up with a nickname for me 'Ranjana Peremptory Mitra'

I realised of all the adjectives someone could come up with to describe one unique facet of my personality....this is it!

Immediacy, impulse...im......emmmmm...

It's difficult to tame your brain into rationale decision making when your heart insists you do the contrary.

Right now I could fly back to......and turn up at.....

SATURDAY NIGHT OF A VERY DIFF KIND AT NYC

2010-09-08T19:54:00.000-07:00

My first Saturday at New York.... New york!!!!.......where do I begin?

So I'll do it in small chunks and musings here and there until I get a hold of what i really want to say (remember the guy who really liked you but was just too confused or didn't have the b!@#$ to say so?) and then of course the fact that this was my first and only a two day trip, I will not do justice to my blog if I attempt to recapitulate all that I have to say at one go.

For starters, I saw them everywhere. Couples. No really in hundreds! Swarming around in hordes. Whoever said "Live the amazing single life in NYC!" obviously was suffering from epileptic hallucinations. So yes....there they were: in the museum, at cafes, at Central Park, at the subway, in the pubs and almost every corner I mapped in NYC last weekend had this mutant glued to each other humanoids making me wonder if the universe was sending me a sign or just telling me "you dufus moping broken hearted weirdo, there's love in the world and cynical b!@#$&^ like you can well........ jump off the Brooklyn bridge".

And so I sighed and I looked away in vain as they seemed to multiply. Couples in love and holding hands at the intersection; couples kissing while their train stood patiently with its doors wide open; married couples as they rode their cycles with their babies in little baskets, like addendums to a four legged species; gay couples (and there were a lot thank God for this country!) this time even teenage girls groping each other as I pretended to focus on French paintings at the 'Met'; athletic beautiful men and women playing games (and I mean the literal sport variants people! unlike us boring 20 year old Indians who only socialise with the opposite sex at parties and over drinks shuddering at the potential of what a day out in the park or over sport will do to our limbs) and OF COURSE couples known to my friend - who was kind enough to provide me shelter - dancing on Saturday night to the song on the radio in the living room..... just because they wanted to. I swore at the universe and the zipper of my red cocktail dress which refused to let me in (ME!!!???) while the girls looked excited about my wardrobe and my first night out in NYC.

I embarked solo that Saturday night, my first Saturday night, hailing a cab to meet.....wait for it.....four women for dinner at a French bistro. And as I ate my salmon and asparagus, I tried really hard to be enthusiastic about the fact that we were HERE at this famous prized French bistro.... doing a wholesome happy dinner. It was a Syracuse batch-mate's ritualistic celebratory birthday dinner (she's from Montreal and well almost French even though she's Haitian by origin) so don't get me wrong, it was a new experience and not a bad one. So here we are single (oh sorry! one girl is being dodged by a boyfriend back in Athens to marry him), possessing a sense of humour to cope with the ironies the world has doled out to us in terms of queer sorts of men we have encountered. Logic for women like us therefore would be, given it was a Saturday night in NYC: 'Let's grab drinks after this, dance!!!' .

What would you know? They all seemed tired and so was I. Somewhere along the last year, the 'Saturday night! Let's party it out spirit' died. I think the overkill in Mumbai with a group I presumed would be my family for forever did it. Or more recently, the fact that the Saturday nights I was planning in NYC - with someone who assured me like no has ever before- now only seems like a fantasy driven construct of my memory.....

I went home that night after dinner at 11 pm, feeling like a complacent lonely 37 year old. My 'dost' from Mumbai - who was kind enough to offer me shelter - accompanied me. We talked all the way back despite the fact that he was jet lagged from his trip across Vietnam and had just stood through 3 hours of Chemical Brothers. He put on his enthu cutlet look and introduced me to the best coffee ice cream I have ever eaten. At the diner we spoke more ....of life, long distance relationships, heart breaks, what we thought of marriage and our desire to return to India to be happy with our decisions and hopefully find love. For someone who pursued his childhood sweetheart for 2 whole years from NY while she was in Mumbai and went through a break up he never expected, flunking school (under-grad) for a year, this guy has picked up the rope and climbed up pretty well. Today he is happy, although unsure of whether he will find someone back in India where he wishes to settle. He chuckles as he explains that his new all shaved look is not the pursuit of Buddhism which I suspect but an attempt to cheer up his uncle who is dealing with cancer. I play around with the ice cream and my spoon, look down at my boots and almost feel too small to even be noticed.

It was one of my most 'where is life taking me' toned Saturday nights. The city of bright neon lights swarming with young men and women gorgeously dressed to make the most of the long weekend sped on. I slowed down. And I am almost glad I could instead of hurtling downwards, for once I think I managed to pull it off.

It stays doesn't it? The sticky sad sense of an epiphany- almost achieved yet one that your heart refuses the brain to register.

LOW EXPECTATIONS OF A FIRST

2010-09-04T04:18:00.000-07:00

It's 7 am here at Syracuse and the air is crisp and chilly. All I can hear is the whizzzz of cars passing by on the road below and the one or two birds chirping. Today will be remembered for one of my 'firsts'. New York City. Carmine, Anna, Marie and I are driving down to the Big Apple and will spend our weekend doing our own things but getting together to celebrate Carmine's birthday tonight.

I have no maps or guide books on me. I am prepared to get lost in the city...perhaps that will help me gain some perspective to how I feel now - lost.

And oh I didn't manage to arrange a camera. My first trip to NYC, one that I always fantasised and I go with no preparation no high expectations.

Sometimes it's good to surf along life this way. Makes you less numb to the rapid changes you are thrown into

More updates from NYC to follow

WAXING AND WANING

2010-09-03T20:24:00.000-07:00

The most difficult part of letting go is realising that the memory of you in the other person's head will gradually fade out until it resembles a pale aura.. and that all you can do is imagine what it would have been like to still be together in ideal circumstances...until that memory is taken over by something that is more real in the present

TO FISH OR NOT TO FISH

2010-09-03T10:12:00.001-07:00

Whoever said and insists on saying, :There's plenty of fish in the sea"...........please consider that we don't just sit around with a bait waiting to hook an 'innocent' fish and there are not many fish that are worth your taste and time.

So what now? I just have to learn how to swim! I really do. Well atleast, I'll swim along with the 'fish' (why don't they have a plural for this!!!!) Time to cross over to the other side and see what fish do to escape being bated. Just a social experiment to test male comrades in the big vast pool of eternal fishing for happiness.

Talking about fishing, I caught 23 of those little silver green ones in the pond in my village. In 45 mins. That's a record...no?

Getting back to my real life situation here and out of the analogy (which I seem to do in plenty) I am not going to drop a 'bait' into the social pool of eligible, non eligible , interesting, intelligent, good looking (such a farce this word) , flirtatious, funny or irresistible 'y' marked species. I'll just have to camouflage myself and disappear for a while, perhaps for a really long time THIS time.

Also, right now 'Hootie and the Blowfish' 's song "I only Want to Be With You' is playing like a loop in my head...Got to listen to it to purge it out of my system.

Then again some fish just swim up to you when you least expect it.....

Sigh!

Melted chocolate....

2010-09-02T19:10:00.001-07:00

I barely find any enthusiasm or energy to cook these days. If I manage to crawl out of bed and shower, I give myself 6 points and then convince some super human instinct within a nook of my grey matter to propel me to function for the rest of the day in auto mode.

Coming back home today after a 2 hour meeting over a research proposal I forced myself to enter the kitchen. In saner and happier moods I clean and cook but these days my life feels like my refrigerator on the defrost mode. Yet my survival instinct - which I discovered I do possess about a year back but highly underestimate - was pushing that auto function mode. So I chopped up a large cabbage with my large butcher knife (and discovered that chopping is good therapy when distressed but no , not in the manner you'd imagine I am venting my frustration at the hapless veggie imagining it to be someone's head :P), heated up some olive oil, threw in bay leaves, cumin and the cabbage and proceeded to cook it, standing zombie like of course while I mixed it all up. A little later impatient with the fact that the food was still hot and I couldn't eat it yet, I pulled out my emergency ziploc bag with chocolate biscuits.

Barely had I popped the first biscuit into my mouth the chocolate melted and ran through my fingers...and almost immediately
these two things came to my mind with the cabbage dish which turned out half burnt and the melted chocolate:

You proceed to spice up your life by choosing very ideal and fancy ingredients and you put in your faith (sometimes despite your concerns the 'ingredient' you have chosen is better at a 'later' stage) tossing it all in with the other mundane things that you are committed to like your career, your academic endeavours or things you JUST have to do to stand on your own feet. Your dish gets all to messy all of a sudden without any warning (You didn't expect a mess ...why?! remember the faith? and how attractive spices just never make you think twice of the hierarchy in which they should be tossed into the hot oil) and there you are standing by the stove staring into the stuff you thought would turn out fine if not fantastic.

I just couldn't help but draw the analogy here....well you put aside the messed up ladle onto a clean coaster and make the most of what you are presented with. You don't always throw away a messed up dish..it turns out edible in bits and pieces and that's how life is ...you take the unpleasant, unpredictable elements or turn of events and still hold onto the faith that all is not lost. You savour your sadness, your losses for the wisdom only those moments will teach you and not the happier ones. You eventually grow less cynical and afraid and venture to make the dish again even if takes you many days, months or in some cases a few years.

Chocolate...we all love it, don't we? It gives you a sugar high, it makes your brain smile and if you like dark chocolate like me, you always want to have it when it's nice and solid. But hey...chocolate melts and sometimes when you want it bad....VERY VERY bad. Sometimes you've been waiting for that dark chocolate to come into your hands for a while and can't resist the urge to quickly open the wrapper to sink in your teeth at the very first chance you see it.......only to find a gooey dark liquid running down your hands. Well, I say go ahead, indulge in it even if it gets you looking messy. Clean up after you've had your fill and smile because you atleast got to taste your much 'craved' for chocolate even if it decided to surprise you with a change of form

C'est la vie....non?

THE BEGINNING OF MANY MORE...... CAZENOVIA

2010-08-28T20:02:00.000-07:00

One of the biggest advantages of living in Syracuse that is located in the North East of America is it's picturesque getaways. This entire area close to the 'finger lakes' is believed to have experienced the ice age at its most intense phase. But when the glaciers melted and began retreating, they left imprints that are a nature lover's delight: massive lakes, waterfalls, numerous streams and rivers winding across the North East.

When I first decided to move to the US for my Master's, I wasn't excited so much about the prospect of going to University, meeting new people (which I think are the two best things happening to me right now amongst some others :)) and getting to see New York, Chicago, Boston and San Francisco and other historical/cultural cities that Indians tend to be familiar with (But I am getting to do them all gradually so hurray!) but the prospect of coming to a country that has numerous state parks and unimaginably beautiful spots to do trails and hikes, both of which help me preserve my sanity and bring me closer to my priorities. And today was one of my first and hope won't be the last.

One of my friends here is a wild child, not in the hippie-bohemian way but one of those women who feels unhealthy if she doesn't go on her long jogs or venture out into an intense hike. Having studied Greek art and history in Greece and travelled Eastern Europe, Israel, France amongst many other counties, she's a very intelligent and yet 'down to earth' 25 year old. We were supposed to take off for Ithaca today but my garage sale hopping threw our plan off radar and so a little research, google mapping and scribbling directions (she doesn't EVER use a GPS because it's turned Americans into robots. The charm of taking unknown roads now and then and getting lost is incomparable to that annoying auto voice beeping 'turn right' ' recalculating' grrrr) and we hit the road for Cazenovia. A small almost too good to be true 'New England'ish town, half an hour drive from Syracuse. And i'm so glad we shelved our Ithaca plan because really made the most of this town.

An hour's trail into deep woods along the river and we found a secluded spot almost etched into the landscape with perfection. With crystal clear water running through moss covered rocks at our feet - ferns and emerald green trees towering above us - we lay on logs strewn across a portion of a stream. That silence, the noise of water gurgling through those rocks injected a kind of peace that I have always realised to be crucial but one that I have only found in my mother's village, my grandfather's garden and of course the occasional trails that remind me how much I love all that the earth has to offer. About an hour later, we got back onto the trail and jogged our way through half of it. I was famished and almost dizzy by now so we walked over to almost every cafe and restaurant in town only to see the CLOSED 'will resume at 5pm' sign. A siesta culture in small ville! Almost like Kokata where shops are shut post 1 till about 4 for owners to catch a quick nap :)

So we survived on a Granola bar and a banana and waited outside the Glen Loch Mill, a very reputed quaint old Scottish inn. To kill time, my friend suggested that we venture towards the lake. Well that casual 'venture' eventually had us swimming in the lake. I shouldn't cheat you here. I can't swim but that just sounded so much cooler and easier :) Well I did doggy puddles and floated around ...while holding onto the steps while my friend a natural mermaid disappeared for long. The swimming instructor was surely amused with my water antics but she gave me a thumbs up and said "Well atleast you are trying to learn". Only if she knew I have been doing so for the last 10 years. Tch tch

Around 6 pm we get out of the freezing water, change back and quickly head back to our Loch and place our orders. I barely get to eat fish here or rather i haven't been experimenting much in Syrcause so the spiced Tilapia Burrito seemed promising. Just that there was no spice in it. I must sound such a 'desi' :P Well honestly given that the jalapenos were the only spicy thing on my plate and the chopped tomato with onion (which by the way came close to the 'tomator chaatney' which Ma makes for us) was watered down with some oil....I wasn't too kicked about my food. I should have just been bold and ordered the lobster. That meal was followed by some decaf coffee again watered down and pretty bad

All in all considering we barely did any planning and Jackie had heard of this place from a friend and we set out with her map etching and navigation skills (Ripley's....you guys need to come up with Believe it Or Not for this girl who rocks without depending upon a GPS) we packed in a trail, a two hour lounge in a secluded stream, a swim (or a splash depending whom we are talking about between me and Jackie) a meal at a famous old Scottish Inn and a waterfall on our way back.

Whoever said the US doesn't have places to see and things to do? I just hope this trip is the first of many more to come. And oh, thank God for women like Jackie. Finally found my nature trail buddy :)

MONDAY DONNA

What's left to tell

"Was it something I said?"

Thou shalt pig for tonight

Ode to a loss

The need to...

For D K Bose, verbal rants and future writing

For a friend.... who was lost and found

Run

Giving thanks at the Grand Canyon

At Home

Here's to you P

An evening that wasn't planned perfect - and almost was

A 'lone'

Thank you Mr Ayers

almost nothing.

Check check list

The C Word

Of the lack of angels, plenty of scripts and bliss of perfect assistants

A one followed by a half

A moment that lasted an eternity

Saying bye to NYC before starting LA

In the moment

Saying bye ....yet again

Epiphany at 1 pm at Newhouse

Of a film that made me want to return to Mumbai...

In Limbo

Of Fathers and Sons

Of orange love scenes and perfect Saturdays

For once.....

Spring Break in the City: Unscripted

~~~~4 feet under: Day 4~~~~

Say a Little Prayer

~~~~~~~4 feet Under: Day 3~~~~~~~~

~~~~4 Feet Under: Glub Glub Chronicles~~~~

Hop- Scotch

FB

The Rainbow Spotter

DAy 5 @ LA: 101 Hollywood for an Indian

Day 4 @ LA: 101 Hollywood for an Indian

Day 3 @ LA: 101 Hollywood for an Indian

Day 2 @ LA: 101 Hollywood for an Indian

Day 1 @ LA: 101 Hollywood for an Indian

23 F - 76 F; Adventures across the US in 10 days

Minty Red Blue

No way to say goodbye........

Of a Graphic Novel and an Incomplete Ending

About a Snowflake

La luz

Of Nerds and Turd

SUIT UP!

Rambling 2.0

w.a.l.k

Pause and Play

Nostalgia

Saturday Night...Time for Delight

An unsung note

And he said.......... "Knowledge is Good" :)

***Pachelbel Canon***

At times like these...

Shabbat & Full Moon

TRIADS OF AN IN BETWEENER

Peremptory

SATURDAY NIGHT OF A VERY DIFF KIND AT NYC

LOW EXPECTATIONS OF A FIRST

WAXING AND WANING

TO FISH OR NOT TO FISH

Melted chocolate....

THE BEGINNING OF MANY MORE...... CAZENOVIA

4 feet under: Day 4

~4 feet Under: Day 3~~

4 Feet Under: Glub Glub Chronicles

Pachelbel Canon