Random thoughts of greatness

I look unto the skies wondering what lies beneath, wondering whether life can just melt away like the clouds. Sunday church has become a redundant feature in my life and the guilt is driving the psychotic - thinking - questioning; self out. A regular feature after work. Like the stress isn't enough already. Its an addictive masochistic desire to question things around me and get frustrated by it. Reading Maximum city doesn't help either. I work with journalists and see how laziness can destroy a culture when we hold the power to promote it. Even infuse trends.

Yet, I see the passion in musicians that I interview. The ones that will not see the commercial success of dumb asses like Vishal Dudlani (). Speaking to Abhijeet Pohankar (I know you dont know who he is) just raises my spirit. A desire to get classical music in a more accessible format, he plays classical music on keyboards! His concept is to play classical music like jazz or blues is played. Use classical standards! So... you ask? So you can freaking play a lead on an electric guitar and still play it to a classical raga. Well, its as simple as that but the greats are those who implement it. And Abhijeet Pohankar is one of those entrepreneurs.
I also have a new found respect for Rahul Sharma who has dared to do the same without much success. Honestly his new album Confluence 2 In which he has collaborated with Richard Clayderman is absolute shit... But it is when Abhijeet told me the importance of small steps such as these that I looked at the larger picture.

Why dont I write about this in the paper? Cause it wont sell my esteemed paper. Maybe Im fooling myself but to interact with musicians who might have a profound impact on Indian music scene is a fulfilling thought.

Field of Creepers

Fields of hay; brown, swaying in the wind, shimmering in the sun, they lay before me. They stretched for miles on end and glistened as they called out to me. They sang songs of eternal joy. They made me happy and I gazed longingly as they sang to me, they beckon me now.

They say the fields are where the creepers stay but it beckoned me with such longing.

They watched me, they could smell my desire and I could sense theirs. I walked down the hill towards the valley of hay. A stream gurgled beside me as it passed over jagged rocks, eroding them with the passage of time. Pebbles lay beside it; a testament to the brutality of the sweet sounds it made. Dogs ran about me jumping with glee with incisors the size of my fingers, big enough to rip my throat out if needed. This is an evil, fickle place. A place of eternal danger. This is where I was born and this is where I have to stay.

The Plea Of The Wretched

My heart melts it boils, explodes into oozy boils,

it smells of rabid dogs,

it shrieks likes bats in a hollow cave,

so dark so dark my heart has become,

so ugly has it turned,

don’t I see the hurt,

the anguish of those around me.

I take pleasure in hurt, cause it makes me feel privileged,

I count my blessings when I see the dead.

Lord ! Oh Lord !

What have I become?

A wretched, wretched creature.

A wretched creature am I.

Desires unkept, untamed,

unleashed like a pack of devil wolves

sent to devour

devour all in sight

No mercy I see, I breathe

the stench of the less fortunate

Fortunate I call my self

fortunate only cause

Im not dead like the rest

Lord ! Oh Lord

What Have I become?

Release me; this pestilence

Rid your world of me

Vaccum

It was a depressing day my whole life seemed like it was over. No amount of ciggarates could fill the vaccum inside me. I prayed and I smoked and prayed to kill the guilt of smoking and smoked to kill the guilt of praying while smoking until the vaccum was all that was left. It was just one of those days where because of the vaccum, you lie paralyzed on your couch and want to do nothing but watch TV cause everything else is an effort. One of those days where you need to put on an artificial face for people around and your brain whispers that this indeed is the end. The thought of committing suicide is the best idea you have ever had but even getting down to doing it is too much of an effort. Just one of those days.

So, I took my car out for a drive so that the air around me would fill the vaccum. I passed the streetlights on the highway but they didn’t seem to lighten my path. The Highway glittered like diamonds beside me but the road under me was just a black road. Vaccum was all around me. I didn’t know what to do so I floored the accelerator there was a momentary joy but that was ‘cause I knew if I kept this up I was gonna die. I smiled, I smiled a wry smile. I stuck my head out of the car but there was no wind to tussle my hair. I was doing 100 and no wind blowing my hair….. The vaccum enveloped me..

LOST - thankfully im not reviewing the series

Walking blinded by frustration I sift through places where it could never have gone to. I look behind the sofa, under the mattress convinced each time that it would be lying coyly there. My eyes twinkle with excitement as light creeps through that dark dusty corner behind my sofa but wither just as quickly to coal as disappointment fills every wrinkled corner of my scrawny face. I know the last time I saw it, it was sitting smartly right there, but the space between now and then is so long that it could have travelled across the world and come back. Now, this trip is by plane ofcourse, by ship it would take just too long but also I wudnt really want to subject my wallet to seasickness you see.

Now, that the cat is out of the bag or rather the wallet is, come to think of it Ive searched all kinds of bags, plastic bags: the polythine banned ones, the thick more classy ones, college bags mine and my brothers(actually office bags now), school bags and even hand bags I wish it would just come out of one of the bags, really I do.
Well I know that my Dad is one of the suspects , this is his special quirk. He derives pleasure in people searching, the thing is earlier; after about half an hour of searching he would come up from nowhere with the lost item grining like the cheshire cat and reprimanding us, telling us to keep things in its place but now with his failing memory .... But you know how it is with these addictions cant kick it till u kick the bucket. Not that I want him to kick any bucket of any sort.
Well, it could also be my mum. See my mum hides things from my dad so that she can subject him to the riducle that he does to her. She must have forgotten that her husband is much richer than her poor son and must have hidden my wallet instead of his. So I could be just another innocent person stuck in the crossfire like the Kashmiri's or the Congress party with the left and the US.
Oh well lets move on really cause my kid brother could also be the culprit u know, the thing is his life revolves around school and football practice so anything interesting at home is quickly assimilated into his bag. My mum always complains about the government burdening kids with books but the truth is these kids carry everything, from the very mundane to the slightly interesting in their bag. Also, his bag is like the black hole nothing ever really returns. This black hole has a twist to it though : It is connected to others!! My things find their way into his friends bags and I once found my tie in his friends bag after searching for it for almost a month. I mean what does a kid do with a tie as long as he is... play tug of war. hmmmm interesting thought actually.