A letter to innocence(not quite)

Dear me@16,

This letter will reach you just before you hit the worst time of your life. But it’s alright, as you won’t be this young ever and you will grow up quicker than you will realize. And one day, 7 years down the line, you will find yourself writing a blog about how you could have done things differently. At that moment, you will be short of words while being busy of finding better excuses.

I understand you are not sure about what you want to do with life. Chill……You are not the only human blessed with the superpower of indecisiveness. All around you are confused, they just pretend that they know the roadmap you must take. At this point, you might be confused about what to take, science or arts. Take arts. You are way too awesome for science and math, and way too good to have a *secured* future. Accept it; you are ‘head over heels’ in love with History and Literature, and you are a closet philosopher.

Pay attention to what I am saying as I reckon you don’t listen to anyone. I know you better than anybody ever will, moron. At this point, you might be basking in the glory of being termed ‘cute’ by girls. Here is a reality check; you will be quite a disaster, when it come to relationships. Disaster is a small word, you will be catastrophic. I am going to assure you, it won’t be for the lack of trying. You will be having a string of “relationships” (I won’t give you the number, you will become giddy) but none of them will work out. Here is a small advice from your wiser self, show a lit bit more patience with a few girls; it will pay-off eventually (hopefully). You are Gemini; you will always have a way with words but show a little bit more patience.

Spend more time with your father; he won’t be around for too long now. Appreciate the man that he is and share everything with him. Somewhere down the line, you’ll realize that he is your best friend and will always remain like that. You will still shed tears for him, even seven years down the line.

Look after yourself. You are already quite heavy (that won’t stop you from having the girls), workout, run, swim, do anything that will tone you done. A back problem is coming up, so be prepared.  Get in touch with your old friends, coz you will turn out to be someone who will keep losing friends. Learn to make friends, you will need it. Send a common “thank you” letter to all your teachers and tell them what they meant to you (yes, even to the ones you hate or vice-verse). You are not as bad a poet. You could have been worse but don’t give up the art of penning down lines (or typing down words). Keep scribbling. Learn how to play the guitar (I know it’s an old ambition) and please, take singing classes, you do have a good voice. Don’t remain a glorified bathroom singer. Enjoy the Durga Puja as much as you want right now because a time will come when Durga Puja will stop being exciting for you. You must be wondering, ‘this is not the swinging 20’s that I am imagining about’. Nope, it isn’t. You can imagine how you will turn out when you will cancel weekend dates for a particular Football club you support. I won’t spoil the fun for you anymore.

Enough of lame advices! Moreover, there’s no point in talking sense into you anyway.

No matter how much I try, nothing will change. You will commit the same mistakes I did. You’ll learn the same lessons that I learned and finally turn out to be Me@23. It’ll be a fun ride, though at some points you will feel otherwise. Trust me; it won't be that bad. And the one fine morning (1.30 AM), you’ll write what you are reading right now and commend yourself for having an active memory. Like they say, it’s all written……in destiny or on my blog.

Your very own,

Me@23

Bucket List

In my not-so-humble opinion, I believe everybody should have a Bucket List. No, not the DVD of that senior citizen movie (nor the torrent, considering how deep we have gone into the Somalia-less ocean of internet piracy). I mean the real thing. We may not jot down on paper or notepad, in the fear of letting people know what we really want in our life (it will show our true colors) but it always hovers around in the empty part of our mind (in my case a sizable chunk of my mind). These are the stuff that you wish to accomplish and then brag about in-front of His Evilness, devil itself (I have long given up on heaven, too boring for me). The list could include anything from staring at Clint Eastwood in his style and say, "Go ahead, make my day" to visiting El Dorado (it exists) to tapping up a Playboy cover girl (why should Hefner have all the fun??!!). Okay, I got a bit carried away with the last one. Regardless, if you believe you are mortal (sometimes, I don't), then I think you should have a bucket list.

A bucket list is similar to New Year resolutions. Like, on every January we draw up a list of to-dos and then never do them. On the contrary, they do us.. Like that we ought to have a list that addresses our disappointments and the apparent adaptations/modifications required to fill the vacuum of a lifetime. The only difference between a bucket list and new year resolution is that we don't have a movie named after the latter.

Just to give an idea on how a bucket list should not look like, here's mine. It is random to say the least and honest, to say the most. Just lying.

Bucket List #01:-Tame the shrew

Bucket List #02:- Reach the top of Mt. Everest and burp loudly.

Bucket List #03:- Conserve Tulu-speaking tigers (whatever that means).

Bucket List #04:- Find a heart that's made of glass. And break it.

Bucket List #05:- Unlearn to sing in my crowf-ed voice.

Bucket List #06:- Rewrite (in)human history.

Bucket List #07:- Check into Hotel California and then leave.

Bucket List #08:- Fluently talk like Marlon Brando in Godfather sans the toilet paper.

Bucket List #09:- Pen a script on Sir Alex Ferguson's life and then convince Al Pacino to play the 

lead and finance the venture.

Bucket List #10:- Get laid.

Bucket List #11:- Bag a Nobel Prize for letting others win Booker, Pulitzer and whatnot.

Bucket List #12:- Quit passive smoking.

Bucket List #13:- Write a song in favour of arranged marriages just for the heck of it.

Bucket List #14:- Fcuk off for real.

Bucket List #15:- Die on the last Sunday of my life.

Bucket List #16:- Learn break dancing to Vande Mataram in the background.

Bucket List #17:- Discover new colors.

Bucket List #18:- Strike out all the previous nine inanities mentioned and focus hard on #10.

Bucket List #19:- Make an offer that got refused the first time around.

Bucket List #20:- Learn to write the way Obama does with a twisted wrist.

Bucket List #21:- Quit social media sooner or later…whichever happens later.

A Letter

Dear Soulmate,
I’m penning this piece with warm discontent against you and the circumstances that surround us. You may not be aware of me but I’ve been looking for you since I came to know of your existence. You simply couldn’t be found though. There is something about you that’s been cruelly invisible. Perhaps it’s your face. If not, then it’s my mind. In any case, I wonder about the lack of ‘us’ in the foreseeable future. Not a day goes by I don’t wish we were known to each other. It seems as if you just aren’t anywhere close. Most probably, I am searching in all the wrong directions. That must be one of the reasons why we are still strangers. Out of desperation, sometimes, I fancy you on Facebook; but then common sense prevails and I pray hard this isn’t the case! The only positive outcome of this excruciating delay is that with every passing day, we are only getting older and a bit wiser (if you may). So the experience accumulated in the meantime will tend to enrich our soul. Speaking of which, I worry about you. I admit it’s almost bizarre to do so especially when the person in question is incognito. But still, that’s true. Every once in a while I think about your well-being. I do strongly hope you are healthy, optimistic and all the blah associated with Viva la Vida. But as long as I don’t get to see you, I can only speculate. Trust me, I ain't good at it – I always guess wrong. And right now, I’m guessing that you’ve found your soulmate and are happy with him.
Yours,
Soulmate-to-be

Review: The Dark Knight Rises

Let’s look at the challenges that the makers of The Dark Knight Rises faced. How do you possibly follow up to greatest superhero movie ever made in the history of cinema? How do you dispel the curse of trilogies? How do you possibly live up to the expectations of millions and THE MILLIONS of fans who wants something even better than what you have offered earlier? Christopher Nolan takes all of this in his strides and wraps it around an atom bomb and thumps the trigger.

The Dark Knight released four years ago and in the meantime the fandom of Christopher Nolan’s trilogy has increased exponentially. Nolan’s lavish imaginations and passion for real emotions had taken his past two Batman installments to a level that no superhero movie had ever hoped to reach. The Dark Knight Rises is a movie making miracle and a proof that Christopher Nolan is truly emerging as the Superhero of a greedy movie industry. Not only did he refused to shoot the movie in 3D just for the sake of it but shot half the run time of the movie in groundbreaking IMAX. There are plenty of big action scenes and excellent character moments, and it makes for a sprawling epic in every possible way, the darkest, most complex segment of Nolan’s Batman trilogy. 

If Batman Begins was a surprisingly gritty, no BS superhero beginning then The Dark Knight was a sequel of Godfatheresque level. The Dark Knight Rises is more ambitious and darker than the last two. It breaks the curse of trilogy brick by brick and is bombastic and behemoth in scale.

The first two movies were path breaking in their own rights, but it was quite clear that Nolan was saving all thrills and spills and surprises for the last stand. The Dark Knight Rises just raises the bar to stratospheric levels with gritty physical actions sprinkled with a good amount of CGI. If the The Dark Knight has an overturning truck, this one had a huge flying Bat-mobile. The effects were so realistic, it was difficult to differentiate between real and CGI and woven with Wally Pfister’s cinematography, the visuals were exhilarating. The false notion of Christopher Nolan not being a good action director were smashed with the brightly lit brawls of Batman and Bane and the brilliantly done chase sequences. The BIG prologue involving Bane can only be truly experienced on big screens, especially IMAX screens (next week again on

 IMAX: D).

It is in your best interest that you keep away from the story details before watching the film – know that the plot takes eight years after the events of The Dark Knight, and Bruce Wayne (Bale) has turned into a recluse, as the villainous Bane (Tom Hardy) not-so-silently plots an apocalypse.

The recurring cast includes Gary Oldman who gives a more poignant touch to Commissioner Gordon. Bale as the tormented superhero is excellent and his frustrations and pain of losing everyone he loved, followed by his RISE is felt by us. Michael Caine’s Alfred, frequently on the verge of tears as he talks tough Cockney love to Bruce, imparts a depth of poignancy nearly shocking to viewers; they forget they’re in an action picture and recalibrate their sensibilities to accommodate Caine’s rich, naked portrayal. Anne Hathaway as Catwoman is not as sexy as she is endearing but Joseph Gordon Levitt as the city cop (later a detective) is brilliant. Bane may not be the Joker but Thomas Hardy emotes as much as he can with mask on and in one of the scenes reduces Batman to a pulp. The only problems with Bane were his lines and were not completely audible. In a theatre with bad speakers, they can be incomprehensible. Even with bad speakers, Hans Zimmer’s background score will seem brilliant.

With a runtime of 2 hours and 45 minutes the The Dark Knight Rises is a bit bloated in the middle section. In making the biggest Superhero experience, there will be a few rough edges and the editor of the movie, Lee Smith, could have done a tad better job. The movie shift from a cave under Jodhpur and fast forward three months without consistency, and certain story threads disappears without an explanation, creating some unnecessary characters and plot-holes. These little things are a bit jarring but never catastrophic as The Dark Knight Rises is a truly immersive experience. Over the next couple of days we might hear complaints like Bane was not as villainous as Joker, but let’s be realistic, no one can outperform Heath Ledger as Joker. The few flaws never really weighed down the movie as for the slightly choppy middle section, the hour long climax more than made up for it. It’s just not the noise and fury of the climax that impressed but the narrative coherence, and the EPIC ending that dropped my jaw till the first row.

Even with enormous set pieces, monstrous scope and brilliant SFX, The Dark Knight Rises has something more. Nolan never lost touch with the human emotions and enormous expectations that his audiences had. It was brilliantly entertaining, a victory for mad passion and vision and a sly pay-off that gives you Goosebumps and you come out of the theatre, grinning ear-to-ear.

Vampires: Blood Thirsty Menace to Sparkling Metrosexuals.

From Menacing blood thirsty creatures to sparkling, peace loving neighbors, the lost glories of Vampires can be attributed to one person and one person only: Stephenie Meyer.
Blood red cape, deadly fangs and blood shot eyes, this are the first images of vampires that comes to mind when we think of Count Dracula, inspired from Bram Stoker's novels. They were menacing mythical creatures, vampires mercilessly preyed on humans. They were averse to daylight and allergic to garlic. Though immortal, they could be killed with wooden crosses and silver bullets. At least these were the ground rules, until they were mercilessly broken.

Cut to 580 years later, our average vampire is goofy eyed white washed creatures, preying on puppies. So, what happened to the former gory glories of the fanged creatures?? Stephenie Meyer and Twilight happened!!! “Why do people hate Twilight?” , asked one Twi-hard to me! Where shall I start??? Apart from the fact, it is one of the lamest story lines you will ever come across, Miss. Meyer messed up the vampire bit to humongous proportions and brought them down to Justin Beiber levels. Now when you hear the word ‘Vampire’, the image that flashes across is a sparkling Edward with a irritating Bella at his feet.

In a last ditch attempt to make SOMEthing about her book seem original (The love triangle with a whiny protagonist part, has been done to death; Just ask Ekta Kapoor, Karan Johar, Yash Chopra etc), Miss Meyer took every part of being a vampire and shot them too pieces. Now, instead burning in the sun, the vampire sparkles (arghhhhhhh……), wooden stakes and silver doesn’t affect them (you need to keep the hero alive to keep on writing more shitty stuff) and instead of humans, the vampires prey on animals (this is the bollywood affect, you need to protect the integrity of the lead). On that note, I am still waiting for PETA to send a notice to Meyer for animal cruelty. It might stop her from writing more!

May be, I am being too harsh on Meyer, it’s not entirely her fault. Thanks to Summit Entertainment, the Twilight didn’t die a natural death and was adapted for the big screen, so we had no way of avoiding them. It created a whole bunch of fans whose biggest dilemma in their life was choosing between ‘Team Edward’ and ‘Team Jacob’. For us, Robert Pattinson died a valiant death as Cedric Diggory in Harry Potter. I am not the only one complaining about the Saga, Stephen King remarked, “Harry Potter is about confronting fears, finding inner strength and doing what is right in the face of adversity. Twilight is about how important it is to have a boyfriend. Stephenie can’t write worth a darn, she’s not very good”.  

The only silver lining in an abnormally large cloud is that the series is coming to an end this November, with the last shitty movie made on it getting released and we can all go happily back, pretending, it never existed. We can forgive Meyer on one condition; She has to promise us that she is not writing a book on wizards. A wizard with a sparkling wand is not something, we are ready to comprehend.

Twiretard........

If you are reading this that you might one of the 6 million people who doesn't have a twitter or Facebook account or you also could be one of the 100 million people who have a twitter and Facebook account(plus an updated MySpace page) and you may also belong to a group of people called "Virgins", although I find that racially abusive.

If by chance you don't know what twitter is, you've probably been living under a rock for a long time or watching re-runs of 'Drona's DVD.
But for the purposes of this discussion, I'm going to assume you know what Twitter is, have an account on said service and think using words like Anthropomorphology in a sentence is about the coolest thing since Oscar Wilde.

I've been on twitter for sometime now and I see it as an extension of my traumatic period that doesn't include telling a room full people PJs with the door locked(although, I must admit, some of them are PJs in their own right).

And by way of having been there, I've realized a few things. You may agree with some of these. You may want to blow me for the others. You may hate the spacepod that brought me safely to this planet for the remaining. Please remember that I hold veto rights to whichever option you may choose.

Now, the people on Twitter. I find it safe to summarily categorize them into the following on the basis of their most predominant characteristic.

1. The Pricey Morons

You know these people by their inflated followers count and heavily photoshopped DPs( If you don't know what a DP is, STOP READING). While most people wonder why someone who's discussing his morning transit and the colour of his poo, has a bajillion amount of followers, you'll take it a step further.
You will @ to everything they say. But they won't reply. You will retweet the bejeezus out of them. But they won't follow. You'll offer to show up to clean their garage. They'll tell you the city takes good care of the bridge under which they live.

2. The Emo Creatures

I feel it is my utmost duty to remind these people of the following:
1. She/He didn't care.
2. You're so confused about who you are because you're gay.
3. I know there's a hole in your soul somewhere, but there are other orifices that need your attention too.
4. Most people have access to the Self help material you're plagiarizing off. And the remainder have access to HD porn.

3. The Wise Asses

The people who dare ask you the eternal question… "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be consistently funny, harbor self-critical tendencies AND low self esteem all at once?" And in case your answer is "No", you're quite naturally expected to go back to tweeting about the song you're listening to. Because people really do give a fuck. No really. Have one. Yes, here's a good fuck.
You will be reviled if you fail to consider Favstar an alternate God/deity. You will be pricked with chopsticks if you're in the news for whatever reason. And may God have mercy on you should you ever become a trending topic.

4. The Bulbs

You know these virile gentlemen as the guys who ask for your pics. You company for coffee. And wonder out aloud how "Your so beautyful" (sic). ALSO THE HUMAN PSYCHE CONDITION HAS FORETOLD THE COMING OF THE… (crap) Writer's blok has happened.

5. The Mutual Admiration Society

You mostly see these exalted members of #TeamFucktard and #TeamJackass on tweets detailing 34 people on a Friday. Fun Fun Fun Fun it is. And unless you're a. b. or d. above, you have to wonder how you're going to send across your firstborn so you can get into one of them tweets. No. I don't get your 18 consecutive Tamil/Bong/Punjabi/Mumbaiya/Australian/Uninhabited-Pacific-Atoll references or your frolicking with your friends on a mountaintop with koala bears and unicorn poop.

So that's it. And this had better get me some followers. You think I'm doing this for the science? Really?
There really are more people out there, I guess, but I sleep well not having met them yet.

Cut the Crap.......

A friend of mine broke up with her boyfriend she'd been with 8 years. I don't mind telling that's a significant multiple of time I have spent with anyone (while suppressing genocidal tendencies). And, not that the guy was any good. The first time I met him, he mad fun of her. And then he cheated on her. And he was going bald. And he used filthy language......phew.......
Still, when I talked to her last, she was in tears. She’d been that way for the last month.
Of course, its not surprising............ 8 years.....I never had 8 good days in all my 8 relationships.......... (At this point, kindly insert your condescension about my maturity in relationships into an orifice of your choice).

When I started this, it was going to be about exes. Those people you can invoke in every single prayer; be it to the God you like best (available at leading pantheons everywhere); or the forces of death and destruction that populate the blog of a 13 year old these days.

However in my research (FB quizzes), I'd thought I will have a little more meaning If I made it about a person that everybody hates and still wants to be with. Of course you want to read more about Heidi Klum, I’d like to make this about the person who moves on. Or perhaps, moving on. The sense and maybe the blasphemy of it.

Moving on, just from the relationships, but all those other things to. Those things that made you cry and wish that you hadn’t thrown out that last gift from your ex. All those small little things and all those big little things that I add up.

So, between you and me, I know that it must hurt.
I know it must feel like you’ve walked barefoot on gravel for miles on end; leaving behind footprints deep and bloody enough that one knows you must’ve been walking on your toes the entire distance.
I know that sometimes all that remains feasible is to just tell yourself to stop feeling anything at all.
Finally, I know that what hurts more is the question of what “could’ve been”. The question of finding destinations down paths not taken, of paths that now lay broken. (I’ve read your blog. You know what I mean.)

But I also know that underneath all the stifled laughter and the self applied “Cynic” tags, there’s still the idealist of 8, maybe 10 years ago. Someone who just didn’t know any better, and ironically enough, was better off for it.
Someone who was made happy by looking at kids who smiled, who danced when he didn’t know how to, who looked forward to finishing the box of chocolates so that he could buy another one.
In fact, if this someone was anything like me, I’m fairly certain all he wanted was to walk into a garden of Cherry Blossoms and watch shadows get longer.

As it stands, your pain is your own. It always has been. But it doesn’t have to be. Not for much longer.
Reach out if you can. There are always people willing to listen. Sometimes, there’re even people willing to help. If statistics are anything to go by, someone has effed’ up just like you in the past. And that nobody should let Sreesanth bowl.
Make bad jokes. It keeps you on the right side of sane. Plus, it gives the people around you the benefit of the Temporary Insanity plea at their murder trial.
Give someone a hug. I'm sure you know lots of intensely huggable people. The fact that some of them carry pepper spray really shouldn’t stop you.
Most importantly, remind yourself of the people you want to be happy for. And of those who’d rather share cheesecake than see you happy. (I find the latter helped a lot more. But I’ve led something of a sheltered existence)

Whatever you do, just keep in mind that you stand as a warrior. And as this warrior you fight demons. Demons that will not relent. Demons that will bleed a river before they yield an inch.

The warrior thinks of the times of peace. He wishes he didn’t have to fight. He is tempted by the prospect of going back to glowing mornings when the dew has not yet left. Of closing his eyes in the middle of battle to think of Cherry Blossoms shedding in a shower of pink and white. In an autumn of browns and yellows, punctuated by greens.

Yet he knows he must kill, but knows not the weight of the sword he must lift. And as it happens, the sword is heavy. It’s easier to drop than to lift. And the fight is easier to run away from than to actually stay and fight.

It seems that even when the solution is by far, the easiest thing about the whole problem, it’s the sticking to it that remains the most difficult. But then again, it also is the most important thing in the world. The warrior did plant the Cherry blossoms himself.

So lift up the sword and try it on for size. They tell me it was made for you. And they’re usually right, even when they aren’t.

The past is right there in your head. Come back to it when you feel like it (or knock yourself hard enough on your head that you don’t have to). When you do, I recommend you stand at a window and give long meaningful glances to the world outside with a glass of Sprite in your hand. But in the meantime, look at the present.
It wants you to look at it too. And give it a compliment or two. It’s a little insecure like that. But take my word for it, it makes for a great date.