Friday, December 30, 2011

The need to...

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



























Sunday, December 25, 2011

For D K Bose, verbal rants and future writing

"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.















Saturday, December 3, 2011

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

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


 




























Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Run

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




















































Monday, November 28, 2011

Giving thanks at the Grand Canyon

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.








Sunday, November 20, 2011

At Home

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.













Thursday, November 10, 2011

Here's to you P

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.





Friday, October 21, 2011

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

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.













Tuesday, October 11, 2011

A 'lone'

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. 

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Thank you Mr Ayers

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.



Friday, August 26, 2011

almost nothing.

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.











 

Friday, July 29, 2011

Check check list

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.








Monday, June 27, 2011

The C Word

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.








Friday, June 24, 2011

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

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.



Wednesday, June 15, 2011

A one followed by a half

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 :)











Sunday, June 5, 2011

Saying bye to NYC before starting LA

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.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

In the moment





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




Saturday, May 28, 2011

Saying bye ....yet again

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.








Friday, May 6, 2011

Epiphany at 1 pm at Newhouse

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

Sunday, April 24, 2011

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


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.

Friday, April 22, 2011

In Limbo

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...


Friday, April 1, 2011

Of Fathers and Sons

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