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


 

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.