Friday, September 29, 2006

saari utar gayeee

the last two times i was at morrison, the blissful experience of drinking beers in solitude penning down words turned out to be miserable.
the first time it was an old woman who ended up calling the fucking cops because as per her some 'MAYN' (man) stole 25,000 rupees from her wallet that she forgot in the loo. i was surprised to see her as the lady was in her late 40s and was in an attire and mood that I thought she had lost her way back home. she went upto Roman and asked him to play hindi numbers. never heard Sonu nigam crooning to the strumming of a fender but this lady believed she could hear this in morrison. next she asks for punjabi numbers. worse, she says dont you even have OMKARA. Roman was like looking at me puzzled. so was i, especially when i saw her do a Rakhi Sawant jhatka-matka on Robert Miles. already i was bugged as miles was playing after rammstein, and then this. could not have been more. like that would happen.
anyway, i saw her emptying her big bag on the bar table. a bead rolled upto me and so i was like aunty this belongs to you. next thing, aunty is complaining to me as if i am her agony aunt. compalining softly about the steal, she asks me to help her. are you crazy, i am high by that time (guesss 6 beers down). BOOM. She shouts at the top of her voice and the music stops. Morrison was telling about the Indians scattered and dawn's highway bleeding. there was a group of five and two guys (one yours truly) who had to wake up to the howling. the hour goes by. another one.....
when i came out all pissed coz the woman also pointed her finger at me and all that beer was lost in a fit of anger. PHEW

Last night was no good. being an open jamming night, there was Mohit from this PR agency jamming withthis band that seemed really neat. to my left was a fuchcha group to the other, there was a school kids' gang. and i knew one out of each. so was introduced with these monikers only. what pissed me off was that i saw this HT Sports guy with his girl and three more friends. the idiot was busy looking into the air, onthe ground, at the wall poems, evrything except me who was standing two feet away from him, facing the doofus.
i remember when i was at QBA, the last HT party where iwas taken home coz i really took too much, i had asked nandini a question - Why the fuck is HT so disjoint and why dothey need a beer to say hey hi how are you. i never knew this girl Anuradha, but we were having shots in the group and so i came to know her. till the next day i was asking sush who was that girl in white.
what nandini gave an answer went over my head as i was high and it was noisy. had a joint with pirate, few drinks down and just lost. it sort of sucks when you discover this kind of strange behaviour. i mean how hard was it for that guy to say a hello at morrison. and the very chut sais a hi to me when i walked inthe office. i was like fucker!!!

now you see i dont have a problem; i have fuckin problems, plural.
as i finish typing this, i learn that the two bottles of beer and one corex i gulped down in the afternoon has also vanished from the head. ...
saari ki s

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

my heart goes back

moonstruck exemplified

to mcleod ganj and photography

when lights shone

A lot of people find this picture of mine "quite nice" when i tell them this was my last performance ever. at least before the sabbatical happened.
the story was that of a young boy who in an accident loses vision, just before he gets the good news about his IIt entrance.
i play John, a painter, who is jovial and embraces life in his own way, who shifts in the boy's neighbourhood. Riyaz saahab, one of my muses inspires me to help the kid. and then the miracle worker kinda thing happened.
shortly, in an accident i lose my legs and the spirit of living. a la black the boy saves me and dies due to asthma. he had asthma since childhood.
so it is he who is the miracle worker and not me inthe story. hats off to nitin for penning, what i thought, really strong dialogues for people at our level. they still are strong except the performance didnt turn out that good.
those were DAYS!!! i remember shaking like anything when sachin asked me to act. i joined him as a writer for his group Chilsag Chillies. somehow i ended up being an actor.
If i were to go back to my old school days, i recall the severe flak i drew from everyone. they said, Kirit do anything, just dont act. you are great as a director or as a writer but acting, dont even think about it. my first role was that of a darbaan in a court. i had to come thump a danda, say hoshiyaar, judge sahiba aa rahi hain and then go and stand. HAA!!
i enjoyed it but to say i loved it would be a big lie.
then came another bad spree of acting. in my college, when we organised the first annual day, we came up with this script that Sujoy from MCA wrote and directed. he was damn funny and i was a damp squib.
but that was the past, i somehow couldnt give up even when i wanted to. i dont know whether in december i would be able to do it muc better than last year. but i am going to work hard or at least make an honest attempt. this time, the character is tougher than nails and expectations would be sky high. lets see how it turns out.
off for a smoke and jerry, i loved reading your blog this time.
see you people in few hours

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

troubled waters

Now these are not good times for me. A lot is happening, inside my head primarily, and the fact that there is no solution makes the matters worse. You see, the thing is that Aditi is moving to UK for her course in Oxford. A year, one freaking long year. It is difficult staying one day without her, let alone a week or for this matter a year. This long distance thing has not worked for me in the past, I gave four long years to it. With Aditi, things are really different. And we both love it that way. So the thing going away from us is what i feel would not happen. We both do try hard and will continue to do so....
Problem number 2. My heart keeps going backto theatre. There are offers from my old group to rejoin them and start working on new plays. Gauri Mehta called after a long time and the first thing she asked me was Kirit are you still acting. I said no, since a year and three months. The deal is she is looking for some one for her next two productions, one of them being Death of a salesman - one of my all time favourite plays. She is not the only one who is asking me for scripts or acting. The problem here is not the feeling to get back on the stage, it is my work that largely sucks.
I just mentioned this to my colleagues, the two people i am close to, that walking into office is like walking into a graveyard. it is true. more than the department, it is the whole place which is so damn disjoint. And then the work, that largely suffers due to people around who are lazy, gossipy or just not interested in this newspaper that our new editor in chief calls a great product. Some one should go and tell him that gora dude, even the people inside the office do not read our HT Next. At times, even the ones in our own department. So what is the point of doing good work. So when i see few of these colleagues, i feel bad for them more than being angry at them. I can go on and on about office - the least interesting place on the planet.

Problem number 3. No matter how hard i try, the thought of studying further really disappoints me. I have not had a great academic background. I was a good scorer, blah blah but the places sucked. No wonder my hatred for academics is so much to handle. I wish to study Media, policies, international relations, crisis reporting, film studies...
Dont know where to start and being the doubting thomas i am, it really gets on my nerves. My Sweety Aditi has a lot of faith in me, so does my family. it is only ME who does not. and i certainly dont wish to work any more at least not in this place. but are the other places any different. guess not

new problem is varun's idea. big, bigger and biggerer. if this idea of ours is conceived and implemented properly, we are going to big. but till the time doubts loom large, let my thoughts take the shape with the smoke i exhale.
let there be light (now that is some pun)

moonstruck as always