In search of the perfect night

The table was set.
The food was ready.
The wine was served.
The candles were lit.
And then we went out,
In search of the perfect night.

Of Sunday and of soldiers who never want to war

What an absolutely beautiful and magnificent Sunday afternoon. I am sitting by the window of my house while Sinatra sings 'Come fly with me'. Accompanied by one of my most favourite things in the world-rains. Incessant rains. I love the sound of it. It makes me so romantic, towards life.

I kind of find it fascinating to look outside the window of this house. I can see dilapidated slums with make-shift roofs, green leafy gorgeous trees and capitalistic huge buildings which look like soldiers who have never gone to war, all at the same time.

Now Dinah Washington's 'Everytime we say goodbye' is playing in the background.

Have a great Sunday. =) 

'Cutesy Neurosis'

'Its heroine, Margot (Williams), is a lost soul, an aspirant author, stuck in a hacky job and kiddie clothes and cutesy neuroses.' 

Hmmm...
 

Anyhow, read Sarah Polley's (Director of Take This Waltz) interview in Guardian.co.uk here

Recommendation of the week- 'Kitchen' by Alice Winocour

I managed to watch a few interesting French shorts a few weeks back at Sakshi Gallery (Colaba) and this is the one that stayed with me. It was difficult to hold my thoughts on this for so long but I was desperately trying to get the link for the 15 minute movie for you lovely people.

This movie softly tickles your funny bone, is full of pathos and is deeply gripping, all at the same time. The protagonists including the leading lady and the two lobsters with their tragicomic deaths (Okay, sorry, now I am delving into the plot) are the soul of this film. So before I ramble on, here it is. Kitchen. Have fun. =)

I just don't want to be a tragic clown

Today, I thought of a poem about a tragic clown,
How he mocks his own life,
And, the world doesn't even laugh.

But towards the end of the night,
I changed my mind.
Almost had a cup of coffee with a friend.

And I realised
I want to meet him the next time,
And neither stutter,
Nor ramble,
Not sip water like its whiskey,
Or sip whiskey like its water.
I just don't want to be a tragic clown.

Tom Waits' 'I hope I don't fall in love with you',
Might ironically still play in the background,
I just don't want to be a tragic clown.

The next time around,
I will show him the words I found!
Tom Waits might still sing in the background.
A less ironical 'Drunk on the moon', perhaps.
I just don't want to be a tragic clown.

Don't try and change my tune, Cause I thought I heard a saxophone. I'm drunk on the moon

"Why don't we advertise Viagra like this?"

There was enough hoopla and funny-serious debate and criticism about the last "great" invention of capitalism, the cream that makes vaginas fairer. Most of us were pretty agitated with the product itself. Most of us did not know anyone (men (who expect women's vaginas to be fairer) and women) in our circles who wanted a fairer vagina. However, probably the manufacturers researched the market and found potential TG. A good-looking and intelligent friend of mine from the advertising business just told me that Capitalism is good. "You know I am all for capitalism and everything should be available and advertised but if something is making anyone feel inferior then its wrong." And I completely agree with him (And not just because he is good-looking).

But yeah moving on, so I stumbled upon this weird ad this morning for 18 Again cream for tighter and rejuvenated vaginas. http://www.campaignindia.in/Video/311302,18-again-croons-proposition-feel-like-a-virgin-announces-arrival.aspx

I am not going to talk about the product because I don't know if there are women who use creams for making their vaginas "fairer", "tighter", "empowered", "rejuvenated" etc. And just because I don't know these women does not really mean that there might not be a target audience for these products and if there is a market, then the manufacturers are probably completely justified in creating these products.

What I am so fucking amazed and pissed at is that women would use 18 Again (WTF is this name) to "feel like a virgin (What.the.fuck)." I am not going to write a whole rant about how this is just sooo absolutely fucking insulting to women (I am trying to achieve a zen-like existence these days and thus all the cribbing has to be kept to its minimum requirement). Even if you are tightening your vagina or "rejuvenating" it (I still haven't understood what that means, someone explain it to me?!?), why would you want to feel like a virgin, if you are not a virgin.

Needless to say, I am completely disgusted with this immensely moronic and ridiculous proposition. I don't even know who to blame for such a huge heap of bull-crap we are creating around ourselves- the manufacturer, the ad agency, the target audience, men, women, this country etc etc.

So to conclude for now, this is my good-looking (and intelligent!) advertising friend's point of view on the advertisements of such products. He says, "I am all for freedom of thought, expression and opportunities, but it should be done in an appropriate manner for a particular instance and requirement. There is a hair line difference between irreverence and stupidity but the impact can be of opposite extremes."  (Told you he is quite intelligent!)

Oh. He also demanded an answer to this- "Why don't we advertise Viagra like this?"

I agree.

Portrait- A boy with a bunch of stale roses

This current happy state of being translated into a huge tangible smile when I spotted my third portrait on this wonderful Monday morning. He was about 7-8-9 years old, I think. I first spotted him peeping into the autorickshaw which was right in front of my auto at a signal in Bandra. He had a huge smile on his face which could well have been a grin. He wore this red-t-shirt, black shorts, had his ear pierced, had a huge number of (atleast 6-7) "friendship bands" tied on his left wrist. I am presuming they were friendship bands since it was the much maligned Friendship's Day yesterday. And he held a bunch of stale red roses in his hand. It was easy to miss the roses because of his truly eclectic personality. He was a stud! A rockstar.

He soon came towards my auto. And instead of hard-selling the roses to me, he pointed towards my hand which has a bit of an injury and said, "Aapke haath ko kya hua didi?" It just took me a second to get over the fact that thats the first thing he noticed and actually asked an almost personal question. I thought he peeped a bit inside my life or atleast the last few days of my life. And then he looked at me and said with a vague hand gesture, "Aapka eyes bahut achacha hai". I am sure I must have blushed since I am not very good and sophisticated about excepting compliments. I just had a sheepish huge smile on my face.

Well, sorry. Back to his portrait. He was just like a perfect morning. Bright, sparkling, happy, with a measured amount of sunlight. He definitely was not a good salesman because he seemed to want to see so much more in life and in people. In our one or two minutes conversation, he just said once, "didi roses lelo. Daal chawal khana hai." That was the only thing about him that sounded so automated. Even without waiting for a concrete no, he moved onto the other auto.

Or may be was a good salesman. Because as soon as he left, I felt terribly sad about not picking up those roses from him even though I don't like roses and even though the roses were dying.

To read other portraits, click here

Freedom

"Almost twenty years had passed, and in the end he had exactly what he had when he first arrived: his stories, his freedom and the open road before him."
Omair Ahmad’s The Storyteller’s Tale

I had fallen in love with this line a few years back when I had first read it in a magazine which had a write-up on Omair Ahmad. I think it was in the First City magazine.

There is some weird significance to these lines. Just a few days back I was cleaning up my drafts folder and found this again. And then a couple of days after that, I met someone who epitomized this line. He told me a bit about the open road before him. He told me a bit about freedom. He told me a bit about the stories. 

PS: I hope to finally pick up Ahmad's book soon.