NINETY 

You have to come up the stairs, go through the security check and then you will see me. I am waiting here. I turn back and enter the glass door wondering whether you will be able to find your way. I had specifically told you not to take the parking entry and come from the front facade. Now you are lost somewhere in the labyrinth of offices in this business Park. Should I go out to find you? Why should I serves you right for not following instructions ! Wonder where you are, let me check at the security point, I turn around to step out and someone else is walking in so I stop in my steps and then I see her. Well, correction, I see you walk in, you look compeltely different, like oh my God what did I miss, different. I can’t read that expression on your face. You look at me evenly. Yet somehow there is something more in your eyes. I can’t help my eyes slip away for a quick look at the rest of you. You look gorgeous, totally different from what I have seen. That’s whatbi want to say as i think it. But i don’t. This is like version 2.0. I do want to linger on taking in the new you but I know you hate when men do not keep eye contact. You say Good Morning, I can’t help smiling realising I have had to pull away my eyes and make eye contact. I cover that up with a Good Afternoon. I think you lost your composure for a second and looked away. I know you had seen me check you out but suddenly I wasn’t afraid. I knew what was happening. You playing a game. Before i can get in one more word you shrug your shoulder and walk ahead slower than usual. Well at least now I can admire you walking away. Yup that’s your plan all along. It’s quite evident.  I try to think of something funny nor smart to say but in my head that one moment was burned in. You walking in and how you looked and that unreadable expression. Are you angry? Are you pissed? What is it? My stomach has a strange feeling. Every little memory of the night escapes from the locked box in my head into my eyes. I got to keep a straight face.

After that very annoying conversation last time this you, New you is mind boggling and I am stunned. What’s going on in your mind?

I’m clueless. Where is this going?

THE END 

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EIGHTY EIGHT

Everyone has a muse or an inspiration that drives them to achieve some thing. Even to write a poet / writer needs to be inspired.  I have always found my inspiration from reading a lot. When you read what others have written before you , you feel an inspiration to work on something that leaves a lasting memory. I don’t believe that my writing is for the ages but nonetheless there is a desire to be read and appreciated.  After many years I had taken up blogging hoping to write about the more serious things rather than the everyday life but my inspiration have always come from my every day experiences and how long could I avoid them.

First few posts were planned and executed by me on this blog sufficiently well but soon the pressure to keep the writing flowing and interesting got tougher. I took a longish break from it. And my sudden return in the last few days can be chalked upto life experiences.  This time it was because of travel which took me to a different part of India and where I spent a lot of time with myself and new people and their thoughts and voices triggered some visions that brought back many buried ghosts from the past.  But I faced those ghosts and suddenly they were more than mere memories they had grown to become inspirations. Of the few bloggers that I read regularly many have hung up their pens to dry but of the ones that struggle on, I am acutely aware that they must focus so hard on their life to be able to publish their posts. My failure to write more I can always chalk upto laziness  but to fail in creativity and inspiration would not work. I looked back on my life through a major time gap and in this time all the memories had become mixed up and even if I wanted to I could not distinguish between them. But the inspiration that emanated from then was unbelievable and although my last few entries are not like my others posts here, I’m thrilled that I’m trying to write. I am in the home stretch , so to speak, a mere 12 posts away. Completing these 12 posts will mean reaching the 100th. I can’t wait to get there. Because getting there would be an achievement , whose significance I can perhaps never explain. 

I am quietly thanking my work has allowed me this opportunity to undertake this travel and the interactions that have rekindled the desire to express myself. I do hope that when I am done with the 100th post that little niggling feeling of indescribable pain and loss, I have been experiencing would also leave me and let me be. 

THE END. 

EIGHTY FOUR

So I sat down to watch the cricket match between India and Pakistan in the ongoing Asia Cup. What a disappointment it was to realise that Asia Cup is now a T20 game. Don’t get me wrong I like my IPL but Asia Cup of the legends was a 50 over ODI. And I certainly cribbed enough about it. But what irked me more was Kohli playing well. I have to confess I dislike Kohli. The dislike  is more like hate and less like irritation. If anyone asked me what is the reason for this I wouldn’t be able to give a logical reason.  The dislike is just there. Every time I see him I just feel an intense desire to slap him. I tried to understand why I dislike him so much. I just can’t seem to tolerate him. Somehow he makes me angry.  His body language makes me angry. He may be a nice guy and a good player but every time I read about him all I hear is about his aggression and his passion and blah blah. Somehow he seems to me to be like this testosterone fuelled dumb bell pumping tattoo sporting crass fellow sitting in his car playing loud music at any Delhi signal.  I don’t know whether it is my dislike for the  Delhites that’s tainting my vision but Kohli just makes me wanna punch him in the face.
I am sure he wouldn’t mind getting  into a but of fight because he is always raring to pick a fight and rough up people. Remember his abusive behavior at an unknown journalist because he can’t remember faces and imagines all journalist to be same.
I am one of those people whose love for cricket began and ended with the Tendulkar -Ganguly -Dravid.  They were the good guys , the gentlemen of the game. Not withstanding Ganguly’s shirtless antics. They were what we associated with quiet determination and whole lot of attitude without it being crude. But I guess those days are gone. Today’s society is filled with the Kohli types. The brash and ill behaved men  who are successful and they don’t have an ounce of manners.  To expect the next guy on a bike or in a car to be decent and a good man is difficult because their idols seem to be becoming abuse spewing , iron pumping , male ego driven brutes who think they are the best.
People want to blame the Television  and movie for the changed social interactions I blame people like Kohli who makes being aggressive and showing off his male ego as something to ape and somthing that gets you paid.
As I said I dislike Kohli and would really like to punch him in the face.  And if I ever came face to face I will tell him that he is a rude and uncultured little man with some talent but that doesn’t make him a sporting hero in my books.

THE END

EIGHTY THREE

It is important to connect with people. When I was younger I was proud of how many friends I had and how easily I could make friends. But by the time I hit my 30’s I slowly started to realise that not all those I thought were my friends were true. It wasn’t as if I was their first choice as a friend possibly I was just one of the fun people they hung out with.  I had many acquaintances but very few real friends. The real friends lasted years even decades didn’t need maintenance. Or so I thought. Friends need maintaining. Yes they do. Because no one likes to be taken for granted. Meeting them , talking to them , letting them know you are thinking about them are all part of this. When we wonder how we have grown apart from our friends or how friends who were so close to us seem to avoid us the answer is in this. We forget to call friends or talk to them relying mostly on fb or whatsapp which are not really a replacement of for a conversation or even a mail. We get so tied up with work that we often cancel meetings or keep postponing get togethers. Eventually we get so used to not catching up we stop needing our friends and vice versa.

The sad thing is when all this happening we don’t realise it and once the damage is done we are left wondering what went wrong. Recently I did some hard thinking and found myself drifting into an introvert’s shell. I started focusing on speaking to the few friends I have. I strongly feel that if my decade long friendships have to survive I must nourish them with my attention. Else I am afraid by the time the dreaded 40’s appear I will be left with no friends. 

As part for my  ex year resolution I am going to focus on meeting , talking and being in touch with the few precious friends I have. Friends are in my mind your guardian angels here on Earth. If you believe in that sort of thing. It is my firm belief that in order to have a healthy life having friends is important and I am too old to make new friends and I plan to hang onto the few I have. Here’s hoping they want me to hang onto them.

THE END

EIGHTY TWO

I am by nature opinionated. For the longest time I can remember my dream was to become a columnist in a leading daily, somewhat like Sobha de. Of course with the course of time the realisation dawned on me that in order to be a columnist there was a lot of hard work involved.  Yes, I am not denying the fact that hard work is the pre requisite for any success in any field but the lazy impatient personality that I have thought it was too tedious to try and make it as a columnist.  Note how brilliantly I have circumvented the need for any actual talent to become a columnist. I like writing in fact I think I write well sometimes. But just like hobbies from childhood many things fade with time and lack of practise. The same has happened to my writing skills. I haven’t tried to groom myself to become a writer.  Yet, I have opinions which I like to share. My next best recourse has been the social media namely Facebook. It gave me scope to vent my opinions and bore unsuspecting friends reading their newsfeed. In fact my initial days of blogging were mostly spent in putting forth my random opinion on things.  Over the years I have come to find that not everyone welcomes my opinions. Off late I have found myself trying to stay away from sharing my opinions.

Coming back to why I started talking about my opinionated self. I have been finding it difficult to write well researched blog posts in the past one year. It seems to me the best way to continue towards my goal of making it to the 100th post is to stick to opinions. Yes, that could be what I focus on for the next few posts. In fact I am someone who reads a lot of news and I have opinions on most of them but I am also lazy not to leave a comment on the online posts. Perhaps this would be the to fit forum to voice the opinions which I keep dormant.  With this thought I started to type this post. Today my opinion is about the media obsession and focus on Priyanka Chopra and her acceptance in Hollywood post her stint with the ABC produced Quantico. The TV series has competed the first season and shooting is on for the season 2. In the meantime Piggy chops has won herself a People’s Choice award. I admit that’s an achievement. To be associated with a mainstream TV series produced by ABC is a great boost to her image as a crossover star from Bollywood but most recently everyone is losing their head over her presenting at Oscars. I am a wide eyed fan of the Oscars and I am a bit offended by the fact she is being hyped up by the media. It seems to me that she is the favour of the season and celebrity status is as good as your last success or award for someone like Priyanka Chopra. But the man who I find to be the real bearer of torch if acting skills of Indians and an ambassador of Bollywood is Irfa  Khan. He is a phenomenal actor whether he plays an inspector interrogating Dev Patel in Slumdog Millionaire or the adult Pi. He has been part of many Hollywood movies from a Ang Lee Epic to a Danny Boyle drama. He has worked with Ron Howard now for Inferno and from what I read he was approached by Steven Spielberg and he missed out on working on The Martian. He has been part of blockbusters like the Amazing Spiderman. He is part of good entertaining movies quietly without the hype. I have been wondering why his PR team , don’t know if he has one, hasn’t promoted him better. Anil Kapoor was more hyped for Slumdog Millionaire,  in fact he bagged the Hindi version of 24 , his pathetic role in Mission Impossible 3 post all of the Oscar promotion.
I don’t grudge Priyanka her share of the limelight but in the same time when she was releasing contrived music albums Irfan Khan was doing good work. I hope audiences around the world who love good movies and good actors remember him and focus on him instead of the bling and flash and bang of Priyanka Chopra.
I would only compare Irfan with only one other actor, Om  Puri who has been part of great Hollywood projects from before my birth. Recently I watched the 100 feet journey it was so poignant, it reminded me once again that the artistry of acting is not dead in this Era of fast paced , computer graphics driven story telling. But that is a story for another post.
My contention is Irfan should receive adulation , promotion and recognition for his contribution to our collective pride as Indians in the world of movies.

THE END.