Sunday, October 5, 2008


There’s something about blurring the lines of oneself in all forms of expression. In the lift of the eyebrows, the yes’ and may be’s, the half bemused and unconvinced expressions…it’s a commitment to ambiguity and to a half-deluded sense of security. All a waste of energy and time... in trying to sustain facades, because until there’s clarity there’s no sense of freedom. Until then there’s no emergence from chrysalis. Imagine what the pupa lost out on… the glorious freedom of a butterfly that discovered and re-discovered old paths, science and beauty.

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I came back from the mountains half dazed and unwilling. Like I broke up with an old love. But what have I got that could talk of my love? Only eight days spent agonising about the bareness, cold and exhaustion while on a trek in the Zanskar valleys. I can’t describe those days. Words won’t suffice. Enough to say, it was hell. The hell of an enchantress one arrogantly assumed to win over, only to come back having paid a terrible price. The price of realising, truly realising, because one lived it, of how alone we are? I dunno… am unable to describe what I realised. But it’s in my bones now, in my detachment and my calmness. No, no, I didn’t attain enlightenment. Am as crappy as ever. But my crappiness doesn’t seem to bother me much now. Nor does anybody else’s… so what is it? Not sure still. But I want to head back to those mountains soon… I want to know more. Those sirens, they have started singing in my head and everything else is plain. So plain, tuneless and monochromatic.

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Been watching some good cinema lately and attempting to organise my favourites. Godfather and The Dark Knight are high on my list. Both boast of brilliant performances, strong storylines and beautiful dialogues. But what I enjoyed greatly about both movies are that they don't have trite moments or parts that the director felt compelled to fill in with inane romances or sex or skin show. It’s a smooth narration of life of some very ordinary men who are strikingly different because they don't make choices that most people do. It’s art to make the inane entertaining, invigorating and fodder for thought.
Organisation of favourites is still on.


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