Saturday, 30 January 2010

it comes every once in awhile
whistling from afar
wind,and water, followed by the sound of padded footsteps
flute sounds
in this city,curiously it comes while I'm in conversation with someone
while I look into their eyes as they speak.
you look into a person's eyes long enough and you can start climbing into the dusty swirls you see there
spend a little time and the dust specks yield and you can watch them hover slightly at your touch.
today it came as a wee bird sitting by my window sill
a sap green spray on its white chest
i rush out to the quiet dark sea
i roll over and lie on my back
i find i can breathe here
the warm water pressing against my ears doesn't frighten me
i spread my arms and stare at the stars
i think about the day
and how little i speak
i close my eyes,
all conversation feels unnecessary
i don't need exchanges
I seem to be able to understand you from your form,you see?

Friday, 29 January 2010

fish and hats

many thoughts racing together all at once
and I can't wait for them to come out

the problem is they all threaten to come out to together and I'm quite sure I won't be able to work my fingers fast enough, or even speak fast enough to get them all down,
a few will fade into the fog and become one of those mountains you can see only on a clear day from a sea coast.

somehow walking has been helping this newly devised cause of mine, this nervous steely urge to (convey,associate?) this school of fish,my thought, to a space I can watch them swim in..
but i don't think I can hold it off too long,the signs are everywhere, like in the Steinbeck book* I was reading today, these lines popped up..

'Kino put on his straw hat and felt it with his hand to see that it was placed properly,not on the back or side of his head,like a rash,unmarried ,irresponsible man, and not flat as an elder would wear it,but tilted a little forward to show aggressiveness and seriousness and vigor. There is a great deal to be seen in the tilt of a hat on a man.'

and I thought immediately that there is a great deal to be seen in the way a man holds his hands while walking as well,something I've been grappling hard to catch in my films for some time'd notice it if you were on a street and walking in a tightly knit mass of people, it happens gradually to you..about the time when you actually become aware of being a part of the bobbing crowd,a strange energy, like being in the mosh pit of a crammed concert,you move like a single mass.. that's when sometimes the mass breaks down into two groups magically in my head a)there are men who move their arms (or the arm closest to you in any case) in a slant, behind their bodies to a side as they walk by you and b)there are those who don't. That's two states of consciousness right there.. a) sees you, responds,reacts without thinking, arms move in a slant behind torso, b) sees you, walks by, walks a distance, and looks back.every time. b) freaks the hell out of me.
there is a great deal to be seen in the way a man holds his hands while walking.

*the book..john steinbeck's 'the pearl'(something I was going to write about earlier because it struck so many chords,but later thought against it because it's just too damn truthful, and if you're too soft ,you'll get depressed and if you're too hard, you would wonder about the poor man's depressed state of mind, it's all got to do with your hat.)

Wednesday, 27 January 2010


today for a change my mind treated me like i was a little porcelain doll, gently,no jumping-out-from-the-dark-spaces action...
i was walking on the street when it happened, it came up on me from behind, a warm rush down my neck,like one of those showers early in the morning after a whole night out working on a set,the morning light glowing through the curtains as you step out, .....I've been lucky to have many of them in Ahmedabad.
So it happened here,just now,in Mumbai, on the streets..and for some reason,I raised my hands and looked up at the patch of sky just above. I felt unconquerable.
and I smiled so wide.
Back then at home in Ahmedabad, I'd hang up my towel and take a walk around the house, and take a good look at all the sleeping people, my film crew of eight..thinking in my head ' These people are working on some words I wrote..these people don't understand all of the words or where they come from, but they trust(?!) me, and whatever it is I'm getting at'.and I don't need to ask them why.
These are the moments that make me want to keep making films. This bringing together of people from different parts of my life,...all piled in a car at dusk, and falling asleep on each other as we head to a field to catch the magic hour for something someone said once. It's the only energy I need. Every poet,artist,film maker, mad man's words make sense then. right then at the magic hour.

Thursday, 21 January 2010

russian kink

this is vasili zorin

these frames kind of remind me of the little snatches of full colour frames I would catch a glimpse of at times in the animation studio when one of the guys would actually get down to bringing his characters to life in a story.
the last one with the girl and the cat seem,to me, how the perfect keyframe to tell a story could be.
in fact i saw a house just like the one in the background down in gokarna,in karnataka recently,complete with smoke wafting out of the high rafters near the frame,so many corollaries brought out into the sun. brilliant.

i absolutely adore his kink radio series.
good lord where do these guys get such opulent colours from?
the blue is the thread
i am convinced

in the meantime, take a look at Jasjyot Singh's character Rajubhai,a tailor from Amdavad and the character design process he followed through.

Tuesday, 19 January 2010

the splintered writing seems to be warming up
yay :)
freshly baked music with an espresso within reach.
here's to the 'hero moment' at 00:46
hope everyone has one today :)

I think I have hero moments in my head all the time

Monday, 18 January 2010

thought I'd share the insight of a friend from another continent visiting India for the first time...
he was struck by the dignity,the 'curious' faith the tremendous throngs of people he saw seemed to have in life. in the race to reach first they could push their way through to get the seat for themselves, but they could also keep one hand to the chest and apologise for touching you accidentally with their foot a few seconds later.
the children were still children he felt. and thank god for that.
quite unlike the gun toting 12 year olds he saw in south america and the mother of 28 children he met in palestine, where mothers follow the vow to make more children for each man killed, word for word.
he didn't believe in God,but as we passed a particularly crowded curve near a slum where the women had put out charpoys and were brushing their hair,and children were squatting with plastic bottles of water by their sides rubbing their eyes and pushing their hair back, he started talking about God. maybe it was a God or many different Gods that made these people safe-keep the dignity in their daily living?
How could such large numbers not take the easier routes of escape?
The other day I watched a girl with sunburnt hair sitting by the side of the pavement with an older girl. They sniffed little bandages wound tightly around their wrists. They talked animatedly, and laughed. 
She got up after awhile and spun round in a circle, her palms held open. 
They looked like two girls having a good time.  
light hearted 
but they were sniffing glue..
I knew
and they shouldn't 
they should focus
focus on making their 'process' better
i thought
i watched her spin again
and laughed out loud 
i will never know her 'condition'
but I know how it is to spin like that,my palms held open
I know why I do it
who knows where God is.

strange things can be nightmares.
this is half the note i wrote though..

Saturday, 16 January 2010


i've had a headache for a couple of days now..
and so i filled the days with alcohol,espresso shots,lots of sleep and lots of films
the head ache and all the above didn't stop the hoard of voices i usually have at the back of my head,neither did it stop their endless discussions. all projects i have ever worked on reach newer states of evolution without my trying...
all it's done for me,'the changing-clothes-brushing-teeth-polite-smiling' me is made my tongue taste like cardboard.
and as a new development(I've never felt this way before), while walking down the streets of the city ,headache and voices and all in tow, I've started picturing myself as this oriental middle aged man for some reason.
lost me there?
see,whenever i feel slightly out of sorts,or physically ill, or in a strenuously tense spot i usually watch myself like a surveillance camera ...walking the street ,or sitting in the room, or talking to someone from an angle,slightly diagonal and toppish.
this time the cam caught me as the oriental middle aged man.
caught me off guard, that one.
why those eyes particularly?