It is hard not to. While you’re painting a picture of the grand success your life will eventually turn out to be, and writing the eulogies that will be read at your funeral by the who’s who of whomever, you know that the average day is duller than the absolutely inevitable and monotonous passage of a second, signaled by the movement of the second’s hand of a clock. The devil lies in the details. And there are details to be taken care of, if you do wish to complete that picture you so cherish. It is a giant jigsaw puzzle, with pieces after pieces of the same colour, with just a suggestion of a change in shade or hue. But you work at it nevertheless, hoping that the pieces you are putting together are in the correct order as you edge towards completing it. So each day that you work tirelessly towards something, without a hint of progress or achievement, this Hope, this picture pushes you on. So while the ticking of the second’s hand is inconsequential, the change in day, month and year is most certainly not. That’s ‘The Butterfly Effect’ at its purest. She dangles carrots, she whips you with sticks, but she achieves her objective. You are seduced into tomorrow.

And cruel as she may be, that tomorrow is always the best thing that could have ever happened to you, simply because the alternative is to stop existing. And you don’t want to do that. Not while you have Hope seducing you. And that is her saving grace, her exit sign from hell. Because without her, there’s only Time. Hope’s seduction is perhaps the only thing that is keeping you from perpetually fixing your eyes on the clockwork motion of the second’s hand or slitting your wrists open and drain into oblivion. Without her seduction, your life’s graph will only contain a timeline and some semblance of activity running parallel to it. Falling prey to her seduction is what you are wired to do. That is why you pick yourself up and dust yourself off after falling down, you mend your broken heart, and you start again from square one. Granted there are moments when you look beyond the seductive possibilities Hope presents, when you are able to separate the white canvas from the shapes and colours of your picture. And those who make this a sustained habit are the ones who achieve nirvana or wash up dead on the shores. But that is a rarity.

So give in to this seduction. Let Hope lead the way. She may promise you roses, all the while drawing blood with the thorns, but it will be worth it. There will be a moment when she’ll let you smell them and keep them. There will be a moment when the second’s hand will feel proud because it will move in your honour. The pieces of the puzzle will suddenly make sense and a life defining pattern will emerge. You will boast of not being tempted into NOT being seduced. It will be orgasmic. That is when you’ll get to say ‘My Turn’. And don’t worry of Hope ever losing her charm or her moves.  Don’t bother of Hope deserting you in pursuit of another suitor. Don’t be afraid of Hope leaving you in the pessimistic depths of your mind’s hell.

Rest assured. Hope springs eternal.

DELTA1

]]> http://scorpioblog.wordpress.com/2011/10/16/311/feed/ 8 DELTA 1 http://scorpioblog.wordpress.com/2011/08/22/dear-mr-prime-minister/ http://scorpioblog.wordpress.com/2011/08/22/dear-mr-prime-minister/#comments Mon, 22 Aug 2011 06:09:32 +0000 DELTA 1 http://scorpioblog.wordpress.com/?p=296 Continue reading →]]> When you were elected the Prime Minister for the first time in 2004, an email did the rounds which contained your resume, highlighting your stellar accomplishments. We were awestruck and considered ourselves privileged to be led by a leader as learned and distinguished as you are. Little did we know then that 10 Janpath would drive 9 RCR, and that you would be surrounded by worshipers of a name and a dynasty.  Your own approach of keeping to your work and not communicating with the masses did not work either, as we all awaited eagerly for you to tell us what you had in store for our country’s glorious future.

What future unfolded in the subsequent years, has just about devastated us. A recession and a slow recovery later, we find ourselves bleeding dry from scams like CWG and 2G. In a time when the superpowers of the world are on their knees, we could have picked up the mantle and surged ahead. But instead, we find ourselves tangled in our own web of self serving politics, short-sightedness and an appalling absence of a collective vision for this country, and ideological bankruptcy when it comes to execution. Is it any surprise sir, that it is a commoner, who believes in the principles of your founder more than the people who wear his name, has now taken the fight to you, and is arm twisting you into doing what’s right, and what should have been done a long time ago?

Your response to this person’s movement has evoked every possible emotion in us, but they have all been undesirable ones. We felt enraged, amused, saddened, surprised, disappointed, exasperated, shocked, dejected. But never did we feel assured, optimistic, relieved, hopeful, content, or proud by your response. From making statements saying that Anna was a paid agent of right wing hardliner groups like RSS, or claiming that there are external forces instigating him, you stooped to the low levels of engaging in mudslinging through Mr Manish Tiwari, alleging that Anna Hazare himself was corrupt. But never did you once give us any hope that you were willing to work with the society’s representative to bring out ironclad legistation that will ensure corruption will be dealt with unprecedented severity.

You are saddened when you think that the legislature’s authority is under attack. You feel that such movements are nothing but blackmail, forcing the government to bend to a handful individual’s wishes, and not letting it do it’s work. Let me ask you sir, isn’t it a fact that if the legislative machinery had done it’s work, and introduced / amended laws periodically, this situation would not have occurred in the first place? It was the legislature’s failure in forming strict and foolproof laws that gave these criminals the courage to break them for the first time. It was the law enforcement community’s failure to stop them that gave these criminals the guts to keep on breaking them, again and again. And all this while, the country had to tolerate your petty political bickering  in  the houses of the Parliament. The opposition is equally to be blamed, as they know nothing else than to be an opportunist. I have no doubt that even if the roles are reversed, the attitudes won’t. By calling this movement ‘blackmail’ and ‘unconstitutional’, you are questioning the very method by which our freedom fighters gifted us the freedom in which we live. A greater irony never existed.

It took your office an year to warm up to the fact that there had been a gross miscarriage of policy and law in the 2G spectrum affair, and yet at the slightest hint of Anna Hazare breaking section 144, he was arrested and sent to Tihar jail. And yet again, the same rule did not apply when Rahul Gandhi toured UP and similar conditions prevailed? If this isn’t hypocrisy, pray tell what is. Nevertheless, this has been the general trend of events so far. The heir apparent has been too busy diving into the huts of the poor and helpless, grabbing every photo-opportunity, while nibbling away at whatever little those souls had left to begin with. When the Orissa tribals won a battle against a global company, thanks to the decision of the Environment Minister, he famously proclaimed that there was a soldier in Delhi, fighting for their cause, and his name was Rahul Gandhi. This same soldier however, has not made a single statement on inflation or corruption, which threatens every common man in this country. Even now, when Anna Hazare was released from Tihar Jail, NDTV claimed that it was Rahul Gandhi’s intervention that made it possible. Is this man really bigger than the government machinery? It’s a rhetoric question, but we’d love it if you could answer it.

You must have gathered from all this rambling above of how frustrated I am. If you were to wear a disguise and roam the streets of India, you would feel this frustration in every human being you meet. Under the circumstances, it might also be the most pracical thing you did, instead of surrounding yourselves with sycophants who are not accountable to you, but to the president of a party. Of course, I am just an ordinary citizen, and there are things at stake that I know nothing about. But if that is the case sir, please stand up for your government, take the reins in your own hand, and start the painful but rewarding process of righting the wrongs. Being the elected representative of the people of the Indian Republic, you owe us that much atleast.

And if, sadly, you again look up to 10 Janpath for advice, take mine instead. Quit.

An Indian citizen.

–DELTA1

Sometimes,
When I’ve been places,
and have lost track of where I began,
my mind still wanders off at the scent of wet earth
to that playground that made my childhood.

Sometimes,
When I’m done counting scars,
and wiped off the tears that rolled while counting them,
a stubborn tear refuses to leave my eyes,
because that one beautiful scar was worth every drop of blood shed.

Sometimes,
When I’m all alone,
and silence has the loudest noise in the room,
a little voice echoes in your ear,
and tells me there is one soul who still prays for me.

Sometimes,
When life takes me down the road I never wanted to go,
and destiny and fate swap places,
a frail, wrinkled hand runs through my hair,
and gives me the strength of mountains, and the lightness of winds.

DELTA1

We are a country that is pulled apart by ideologies that are in stark contrast to each other. We are a nation where everyone is looking in a different direction, of their own choosing or ignorance, and lack a leader who can point out the right direction and make everyone look there. But come match day, everyone is a follower of cricket. Race doesn’t matter, religion is forgotten, social class is banished, gender is ignored, all that remains is the pure, unadulterated love for the game. And tonight, that love for the game has reached it’s crescendo.

2003 was a heartbreak. 2007 was a shame. What followed was a painful rebuilding exercise. Stung by a divisive coach who ended up ruining the careers of two of the finest players of our generation, we knew this was not the way to build a world conquering team. We got a young, unknown face to replace a veteran as the captain – wicketkeeper. A mild mannered South African took on the stressful job of the coach. We found talent from the under 19 team, and also began grooming the youngsters from the regional sides. Somewhere on the strategy boards of the dressing rooms, a team was taking shape.

In the meantime, we started winning. And we started winning big. The Australians were ridiculed at their home, and only an apology of a match at Sydney meant we didn’t come up aces. But we crushed them at Perth. Other championship material teams were also ruthlessly taken care of. We became a force to be reckoned with. A team that had suddenly found its killer instinct. A team that had the brashness and ‘in-your-face’ attitude of the Australian team, but not their arrogance, and certainly not their foul mouths and dishonest ways.

More knowledgeable people than me will always maintain that the recently retired Australian captain was a true legend of his craft. I would politely, but strongly disagree. He had the privilege to lead stalwarts, absolute masters of their trade, against sides that were in awe of the sheer mountain of skill and talent that was facing them. He himself was always a top notch batsman, but nowhere near to the gentleman in the ‘Gentleman’s Game’. The truth is he was handed a champion team by his legendary predecessor, and also received tutelage from the master. Whereas our captain worked from the ground up. He actually built a group of players that could be depended on to perform on international stages. Players that had nerves, and could hold on to them, even to the very last one. He put on an icy cool exterior that was never confused, never flummoxed, never worried, never angry, even if the world around him was falling to pieces. That personification of composure was what gave his troops the confidence to pull out victories out of hopeless situation, something our team was not known to do. If history should ever judge the greats who toiled as captains, I daresay it will stand on a desk, and call out to the Indian team captain as ‘O Captain! My Captain!’

Through all this, one player, who had crossed every line, every statistic, every hurdle had carried on with the dogged determination of a mountaineer on a mission to conquer mount Everest. He was not playing for himself, for that would be too easy. He carried on his shoulders the expectations of an entire nation. In a nation  that  treats its favourite game as a religion, its favourite son was its God. Considered in a class of his own, even by his own equals, he was slowly finding a new level of performance, even at this late stage in his long walk. The early part of the new millennium was not very kind to him, and there was a repeated speculation about his eminent retirement. He never found it necessary to reply back. His own famous words after a match winning effort succinctly summed up his attitude towards everything – ‘When someone throws stones at you, you convert them into milestones.’  He found his second wind, and he just blew everyone away.

It’s 4 am on April 3rd, 2011. The feeling hasn’t sunk in. I was on the street and it was mayhem, chaos, insane. But none of it was disturbing. It all felt right. It all felt natural. I shouted slogans and hooted so loud I must have torn my windpipe. I bled blue, needless to say, but such was the intensity that it must have healed by itself. In any case, I was too busy reveling to notice it. If any country has malicious designs on my country, just look at the celebrations today. This is the united India. We are an unstoppable force when we charge. We are an immovable object when we shield.

In a nation besieged by corruption, social inequality, religious divide and political opportunism, there is one game that rules us all, one game that binds us . One game that makes Gods out of mortals, and followers out of fans.  One game that makes a nation realize that we PROUDLY bleed the same blood, red or blue. One game that makes us insane, makes us laugh and makes us cry. One game, that makes us dream, and lets us live them.

For what are we, if we can’t dream, or live them?

DELTA1

Ricky Ponting was a gambler, who rode his luck too long and became too cocky to realise the changing shift of power around him. He inherited, to some extent, the underhand tactics, the sledging prowess, and the arrogance from his predecessor Steve Waugh, and took it to a whole new level. As a captain, he was manipulative and completely oblivious to the spirit that made cricket ‘The Gentleman’s Game’. Exhibit A would quite easily be his gesture of signally ‘out’ to the umpire, while presenting a persona of righteousness, honesty and fair play. He usually resorted to mind games even before the match began, through media bites. He was shameless enough not to walk when he knew for sure that he had edged the ball to the wicketkeeper, and instead chose to use those extra moments at the crease to pray to whatever God he prayed, for a miracle. Even in his last world cup match as a captain, when he knew he had stopped a ball on the bounce, and there was a doubt in the umpire’s mind whether it was a catch, he showed enough cunning not to waste a review on it and let the umpire clarify his doubt on his own volition.

People may remember him as a great batsman, one of the greatest practioners of technique and talent. He has been a saviour in many an innings, and has proved himself to be one of the closest humans to even dream of being compared to that God who roams around as an avatar and answers to the name of ‘Sachin’. But his complete and absolute arrogance about his invincibility and hollow sense of dominance, will always place him on a lower rung in the human ladder.

In fact, after the Englishmen had scattered his ashes even before the world cup began, this desperate soul made one last feeble attempt at redemption and as a consequence, at salvation. His last innings came when his team needed it the most, and was as clinical an inning ever to have been played. While the pundits will laud his valiant efforts, he will not be able to escape the unsettling fact that when the efforts came, they ended up in a losing cause.  

So dear friends, I’m sure all of you will join me in saying these final words to someone who was, in his final days, a shadow of what was once a world conqueror, a desperate soul who not only had fallen out of favour with his own selectors and countrymen, but perhaps had lost confidence in that person in the mirror he saw everyday. In unison then, let these words ring forever in his ears,

‘So Long, sucker!’

DELTA1

So much to do, so little time.
So much to yearn with one little dime.
So much to save, so much to spend.
But just one little heart that cant be mend.

So much to remember, a life to forget.
So much to be proud of, and lots to regret.
So much to fear, much more to endure.
But just one little heart that cant stop a tear.

So many values left unused.
So many mistakes and a single excuse.
So many feelings and a handful of words.
But just one little heart that can’t be heard.

So much to say in a single breath.
So many graves to cover in a wreath.
So many virtues in a life lived in vain.
But just one little heart that can’t love again.

DELTA1

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Fresher than ever.

Crunchy numbers

A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 2,700 times in 2010. That’s about 6 full 747s.

In 2010, there were 7 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 93 posts.

The busiest day of the year was July 29th with 51 views. The most popular post that day was ASNF.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were facebook.com, twitter.com, stumbleupon.com, pagalguy.com, and wavesnsands.wordpress.com.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for asnf, impossible is nothing, a son never forgets meaning, impossible is just a big word, and gray lizard scorpio.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.

ASNF September 2008
3 comments

Impossible is nothing March 2008
4 comments

Scorpio Venom… January 2008
11 comments

Pali Mahad Trip… spending a day in paradise with God. May 2007

The Second Guy on the List October 2010
8 comments and 3 Likes on WordPress.com

I’m just drafting this letter right now. Don’t have the courage yet to click on the send button.  Not yet. Sometimes I just wonder for a moment if confessing my feelings for you was a good idea. Not that I hold on to that thought for more than a moment, because that chain invariably leads me to the wonderful memories and pure happiness you have given me. And happiness has been something in short supply over the last few years.

I always knew at the back of my mind that someday you’ll have to take sides and decide who rules your heart. I’ve summoned up enough courage to have thought to ask you about it, but the words never escaped my lips. And perhaps a part of me was scared because I knew the answer, and I knew I could never come to terms with the fact that I was fighting a losing battle for your heart.

When we drifted apart, you said you were doing everything to make this relationship happen and make it last forever. I had other priorities then, and sadly this wasn’t too high on that list. But I still made a promise to myself that should I be able to sort out my list, I’ll formally propose to you and make you mine forever.

We continued to share that beautiful relationship even after parting ways, and we even found comfort in each others’ arms whenever we met. The way we lost ourselves for that moment when we hugged, I always gave myself an outside chance to redeeming myself.

Things have turned out to be otherwise. Thanks for sharing your feelings. They’ve told me where I stand. And hence this letter. By the time you read this letter, you’ll be (hopefully) happily married to the true love of your life. Please don’t hold yourself responsible for anything. We must all, if only once, follow our heart. And so you’ve done nothing wrong in doing that. I may or may not have moved on. And if I’ve not, don’t be sad that I’ve found it difficult to do it, but remember that I’m just so stuck on you that even trying to move on seems worthless. And that feeling is beautiful. I may come across a girl who will fall as hard for me as I did for you. But what’s the point in leading her down a path that makes her heart bleed?

I’m prudent enough to make sure you read this letter at such a time when you’ll have more important relationships to justify. So even if this letter brings some distance between us, I won’t worry too much, and neither should you. Just try to look at this like a Kaleidoscope. A kaleidoscope contains broken shards of colourful glass and bangles. Rotate it and they rearrange themselves in a jagged, haphazard manner, but a beautiful mosaic which is nothing short of a miracle emerges. It doesn’t matter if they are perfectly joined or in progressive shades. What is left, what is important is the pattern that they contribute to and help create.

Life,  for me,  is that kaleidoscope. We are the broken shards of colourful glass. Time is what moves us into ever changing patterns of beautiful, often symbiotic relationships. It doesn’t matter that we are quirky, imperfect, and with gaps between the closest of us, without the hint of a glue. What matters is whether we help create a splendid pattern. That is what makes life beautiful.

Knowing you, I’m probably leaving you in tears. And that hurts like hell. You have a letter from me, written long ago which also moved you to tears. Please burn it. It’s best to dust off what wasn’t meant to be.

In love with you forever, I remain

The second guy on the list.

I want to see how far you can walk

without faltering or looking back. If you can,

something rubbed off you, when you were in my arms.

Turn your back on me, just let me see

How long you fight your tears

while keeping a straight face. If you can,

you took something from me, when you looked into my eyes.

Turn your back on me, I have to know,

That you can live fearlessly without me

and yet care for yourself. If you can,

your heartbeat must have felt mine, when you melted into me.

Turn your back on me, I want to test,

Can my knees hold my weight, my heart endure the pain?

While I knock on hell’s gate. If I can,

It should not be too hard, when I fade into oblivion.

I’m not going to delve into the intricacies of the story here. I’m more interested in the plot and characterization. It has borrowed heavily from Mahabharat and The Godfather. And I don’t think that was a very good idea. It enabled the knowledgeable audience to know where the story was heading next. And some of the scenes were so straight out of the epics that it was unbelievable. Like the scene where the SP slaps Ranbir in the hospital lobby, or the scene where Arjun Rampal dies are textbook Godfather scenes. Imagine if Chetan Bhagat wrote ‘The Godfather’!!!! (not that he could have, even in his or our wildest dreams!!!) he’d be laughing his way to the bank on copyright infringements and royalties. Other scenes reminded one equally of Mahabharat. These two epics are mammoth in their own rights, and to combine them just to make the movie more imposing didn’t work. The result was a movie where the story is lost in tactical maneuvers and never achieves the intensity of either of it’s parents.

Of the performances, I felt only Nana Patekar , Manoj Vajpayee and Arjun Rampal were the true performers. While Ranbir Kapoor had the best role in the film and for most it was an out and out RK film, I humbly disagree and honestly think he needs to work on his dialog delivery badly.Once it was established that RK was Michael Corleone and Arjun, all he had to do was watch Al Pacino a couple of times play Michael. Naseer was only meant for the birth of Ajay, and again Ajay himself delivered a hallmark performance we have come to know him for.

Two of the girls I know were surprised that there were no songs in the movie, even though it has a soundtrack. And I was surprised at their surprise. Why would a movie like this need songs? It was not a love story, it was not a sitcom comedy, it was not a patriotic movie, then why? Songs were not meant to be a part of this story, and were wisely kept away. And if at all they wanted to have a proper song sequence, the only place they could have put it was when Ranbir agrees to marry Katrina.  And that brings me to the two most ridiculous scenes I saw in the movie. The first one is immediately after Ranbir agrees to marry Katrina. The next thing we see is the couple hitting the dance floor in a club and a ‘wink-and-it’s-over’ dance number. What the hell was that about?!! One moment I was watching an intensely manipulative Ranbir wooing Katrina, with Nana watching with an approving smile, and the next moment everything is blanked out and we have girls in skimpy clothes (I don’t mind )dancing!!! and before I can adjust (no pun intended, don’t mean it in the physical sense), we’re back to the politics of it all!!! I mean WTF!!!

The next scene is after some major event occurs. There is a close up slow motion shot of Ranbir running wearing a bandana. Very Michael Bayesque i must admit! and the next frame cuts to the terrace where a worried Sara watches him sprint away!!! My first reaction to it was the memory of countless scenes in comic situations where the hero and heroine run towards each other in slow-mo (real or faked) and then as soon as they are about to hug, they switch from slow-mo to real time, cross each other only to stop some distance away!!! coming back to the particular scene in Rajneeti, it made absolutely no sense to me. Ranbir had shown enough intensity in some previous scenes already. This scene was not required to establish how focussed and intense that character was. Again, WTF!!! One thing’s for sure, Prakash Jha has many talents as a director, but artistic rendition is not one of them.

I went to watch Rajneeti expecting an intense, power-packed political drama. Even if Mahabharat was the mould for it’s plot, I was damn excited because it touches on every subject, every emotion under the Sun, and remains the most powerful epic ever written. What turned me off was the rip off of The Godfather, minus the intensity. For movies based on the novel,  I really found the Sarkaar duology more intense.

Rajneeti started as a modern day Mahabharat, morphed into The Godfather but dissolved in their shadows without leaving any imprint on my mind.

DELTA1