Sunday, September 23, 2007

The city of conveyor belts

It's been a long time and I haven't been able to write anything. I tried and many times wanted to write something badly but couldn't type one word.
Well it's 2 am in the morning and I am wide awake. I have slept most of last night and most of today so this is to be expected.

The city of conveyor belts

People move up slowly
People move down slowly
They stay still all the time
I look and look and look

I sometimes touch
I fish for the price tags
I try to keep the bag as I found it
It always topples over

I count the pockets in bags
I count zippers and thumb pins
I feel the soft insides
I smile at the shopping assistant

Can I help you?
I say- ' No'
I look at the reds, goldens, black, brown
and multicoloured

None of them are right
Sometimes the pockets are wrong
Sometimes the zip pullers
Sometimes the obscenely big brand name

As I walk away
I'm tired
and disappointed
I want to make my own bag

I can see it
The right color
The right number of zippers
The right inside cloth
The right outside leather

Unfortunately I cannot make bags
So I bought some music instead
in the city of conveyor belts

Sunday, September 09, 2007


There's a woman who calls me at regular intervals and offers me a job in a leading advertising agency then she asks me how much money I want. I tell her. It's always a leading agency and sometimes I am inclined to think that it's just one agency repeatedly going through my resume and deciding not to hire me. But for some reason a faceless face decides to rethink one last time and my phone rings and it's the woman asking me how much money I want. I tell her. Again. She promises to call back. Like always she doesn't. It's like something that my friend said about her- " She calls and asks how much money I want and she asks more than once and just when I feel like I'm having sex with my wife she doesn't call back."
Then she calls this morning when I am in the middle of a dream in which for the first time someone told me a phone number- 6381414. I am tempted to call this number but am almost afraid. So the woman asks me for a portfolio and I don't have one. I delete everything as soon as possible including e mails and workstuff. So there is a message I would like to convey to the faceless face-' I do have a copy of all my films if you'd like to see them and enjoy the blog'
Now I am looking forward to the perks of being a freelancer. The afternoon half an hour sleep during which I will try to dial 6381414 and maybe a handsome stranger with a deep voice will pick up the phone and ask me," How much money do you want?" And I will smile in my sleep because I always know when it's a dream.

Saturday, September 08, 2007

Books and shit and shitty books

Something's happened...I haven't been able to finish a single book for the last couple of months. I seem to be picking up books that just don't hold my attention and I have been buying page turners...they just make me turn over...and sleep. I want to pick up an old favorite and read it again but I'm afraid what if I can't finish that too...may be I've lost focus.
Yesterday I was picking up a card with a message from a set of Angel cards. two times out of three it said- Focus. Everyone says Aag is a stupid fillum. I really want to see it. I have such trouble believing everyone else. In college people would orgasm over films that I slept through. I don't trust people with movies.
I want to talk about Radio again. I recently read a beautiful post on a friend's blog about Forces Requests. ( I have such beautiful memories of radio. Being about five years old and listening to Sangam programme every sunday morning. My father has a wonderful memory of me being very young and sitting with him listening to the radio. They asked the listeners to recognise the song from the beginning notes. I started singing- ' Aayega Aayega Aayega aane wala' and I was right. My father was happy and amazed. It's strange how one's childhood is mostly made up of memories of the parents and the elders more than one's own.
There are flashes that I remember of my childhood but my parents remember the entire vision. I wonder if I would want to remember my entire childhood if given the choice. There's a reason why we forget some things and remember others.
Like I remember this story my father used to tell me. I just remember that it had a horse which drank kerosene and then couldn't stop running and crapping at the same time. I remember laughing at this story till I rolled over in pain and then asked my father to tell it over and over again. He always obliged.
Someone recently told me that kids go through several phases like Oral Fixation and then Anal Fixation and such like. Point being that there is a stage when they love potty jokes. I know little about child psychology but I laughed really hard at all the potty jokes this person's 8 yr old daughter told me. So may be I have an anal fixation. Sigh! psychologists I tell you analyse everything to the point that spontaenity dies an unceremonious death.

Sunday, September 02, 2007


My Darling Husband that I love so much!!