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Aaditya and Me by Aditya Joshi is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License

Friday, May 30, 2008

Lost in the smoke

I see people. Their lips pout and I see smoke. Their eyes are near-dead out of the ecstasy they are experiencing. Some of them cannot even keep their heads straight. They are all huddled up in a corner, all they are doing is leaning against one another.

I don't quite see their faces. I doubt if they see each others' too in all that smoke around them. But they couldn't care less, I know.

The smoke spreads . It consumes as it spreads.

Amidst the smoke, I see the eyes again. In a bliss no mortal would be able to attain. Transfixed at a point in the room I cannot see.

They are lost in the smoke - they cannot see. The joys that life can bring to them. The relationships that they need to value. The bliss their bodies are experiencing has faded out the purity of their souls.

They continue to go deeper. The lips pout again and more smoke follows...


Craving to be satisfied

Isn't this a contradiction one of its kind?! All of us are craving to be satisfied.

The farther we go, more dissatisfied we feel. And the desire grows - and it grows on us.

The point is, we want to achieve one stage and all we are doing to achieve it is completely reverse of what we want to happen to ourselves. We are actually running in the opposite direction.

Inner Temple

Disclaimer: What I describe here, is real. How I describe it, is the way you like it

I close my eyes; I see darkness whose depths I would never be able to fathom. I continue to stare at the darkness. I see two horizontal lines that run parallel to one another. And that continue to move sideways.

I slowly get the feeling that I can control these lines. That I can control their movement, change their colour. The lines begin to alternate between two colours- red and green. The colours don't appear directly. They soon begin to flow out of these lines to the surroundings.

And the colours fill the darkness that prevailed under my eyes. Yes, now I see light. Pure white. No lines, not a movement. Light that breaks from a point and reaches my eyes in a thousand particles.

I just visited the inner temple that possesses the power to give me a blissful experience. We all have it within us. Try it...

Wednesday, May 28, 2008


Drops can be the ones dripping out of a tap in a drought-affected area. Drops can be of the first rain that arouse the dry earth. Drops are sweat, the fruit of one's efforts.

Drops can be the tears down one's cheek. Drops can be the sacred water being poured down a dead man's throat. Drops can be medicine that cures. Drops can be blood oozing out of a slit wrist.

Things exist in so many forms around us. One just needs to look at it that way...

From a TV Serial writer

A TV Serial Writer publishes the ad in the classified section of a newspaper. Imaginary of-course.

Situation wanted:

I am a TV Serial writer with twenty-five ready scripts that have 20-year old unwed mothers to 120-year old multiply-wed grannies. Skill set includes ability to convert a two-line story to a three hundred episode saga and the skill of writing a ten-minutes long scene in three-and-a-half minutes flat. Work experience of five years on a mini-soap. Contact Sshashiecan't - 911911911.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Stapler Pins

Staplers push the pins out and press these pins against their edges. The pins then keep the papers bound to each other. Remaining closely bound, these pins do their duty with all their energy.

There are some people who act like these stapler pins to broken relationships. There are these people who try their best to bring two estranged individuals together again.

It's these stapler pins that are the points of maximum pressure...

Monday, May 26, 2008

Brown moths and black moths

I vaguely remember this case that we studied way back in school. It was about some country in Europe where there were two varieties of moths - the brown ones and the black ones.

The brown ones would sit on the bark of trees and be the perfect camouflage. The black moths were decreasing in number rapidly.

Industrial revolution happened - pollution levels increased, the tree trunks started becoming darker due to the soot.

The brown ones were now visible - the black moths could mix with the colours around them. The brown ones faced extinction...

Often in situations like these, we say it's all God's will...

God lies in every living creature of this earth. We, not just the humans, are bringing about every change that's happening.


=== I clicked the snap that you see here. Saw the chameleon perched on a tree - ran with the camera outside and was clicking for almost fifteen minutes until mom said I had given enough attention to it ===

Chameleon has been something that has fascinated me. Not that I have seen two many chameleons in my life - I mean the real ones. The chameleons in the bodies of humans - there have been too many of them.

There are two ways of looking at chameleons -
  • As animals who adapt to their surroundings in the battle of survival.
  • As animals who camouflage themselves to raise their potential chances to attack.
We look at chameleons through either of these perspectives - and the judgment we are likely to form differs greatly.

I like to believe they are good - but when this chameleon I clicked gulped down a tiny fly, I had to rethink...

And I changed sides - the way chameleon does!

Saturday, May 24, 2008


Frankly, I've never been a cricket fan as such - not that I am averse to the sport. But then, the only matches that I recollect watching have been the India v/s Pakistan / England matches. So, as you see, the matches that are of 'nationalist' importance have been the ones that have interested me.

International Cricket has strongly been associated with playing for one's country - and in a country like India, it has been very much a matter of pride. Cricket connects people; it is the easiest way to strike up a conversation with a stranger (often, stupidly used by some of my friends to flirt with a girl... a girl would rather be interested in Dravid's cute smile than the number of his test wickets). Cricketers are as popular as filmstars in India.

What change will this bring to the status of cricket in India? Here are some things I could come up with:
  1. Cricket is more crisp now - a match that is short in duration, high on excitement and very accessible to the public in general.
  2. Some of these teams are actually dream-teams for many cricket fans - and they love to see all of their favourite cricketers playing for the same teams.
  3. It's glamorous - IPL has surely brought in the craze for cricket that football enjoys in the west.
I am too young, too stupid to understand the politics and the economics involved. As a naive viewer of cricket, IPL is certainly good entertainment....

...especially when news channels air news of 'Ram's footprints spotted'.

... or when movies talk about concepts as novel as love triangles.

Against the waves - Series 00

A fisher-woman...

A career counselor from Mumbai...

A couple on their honeymoon...

A police squad on the move...

The deserted church...

... and a bright orange conch on the beach.

... They are ready for a journey against the waves. They have no option.

Are you ready too?

Solar System and Human body

The sun is the source of bright light for all the planets of our solar system. It is at the centre; it is surrounded by pitch-black darkness. It still manages to break through this darkness and dissipate the light within itself.

The human body is dark from within. But all of us have a bright source of light deeper than the body - the soul.

It will, like the sun, break through the confines of the body and the darkness of desire the body poses. The light of the soul will spread .

Friday, May 23, 2008


They shine, they smile. They break, they explode. They coordinate and form shapes. They allegedly decide my future too.

They are mere specks in the sky... Still there are people like me who stare at them from the earth.

Physical closeness is no requirement for emotional attachment.

The Stains

Disclaimer - Random original ideas. Some ideas are fictitious. The ones here are.

She trembled. She looked at the stains. Her palms began to sweat. She tore a piece of paper from her notebook and rubbed them hard. Her eyelashes had ceased to move - she rubbed them as hard as she could. But they wouldn't go.

She went to the bathroom, stood on her toes. She turned the tap and stretched her arms, cupped her hands .

She poured few droplets of water over the stains. She pulled out an edge of the bedsheet and rubbed it hard over the stains. Finally, she wiped her hands with her frock and gave up.

She was scared the entire day. She knew her mom would come back and notice them. She knew she was in for some real scolding.

She had dropped a bottle of oil paint on the brand new carpet. She was so worried now...

She decided she would call Mom and tell her. She dialled the number and said, "Mom, are you busy at office?... Actually, I wanted to tell you something mom... can I paint the new carpet please?.... I have my colours... yes, the ones I got for my drawing classes.. no Mom, they are.... "

Her mother let her do it. Not that her mother hadn't guessed what the real reason was, but her mother knew it was fine.

The little girl was very happy and painted the carpet with a variety of colours.

Her mother got it framed and it adorns the wall of her drawing room now - her daughter's first art-work.

... We often worry about the stains, the problems in our lives. Many times, these stains can be used to make our lives more prosperous and happier.

If you can't wipe these problems off, perhaps they could turn into something you and the people around you would be proud of!!

Beginning of the transition

Yes, the feeling has begun to sink in. The fact that I'll no longer be a student - the feeling that I will relate to words like Provident fund and tax returns, and the time when I will fund myself.

You know it's a scary feeling. The feeling a bird would have when it flies for the first time. It sees the endless sky above it, it feels its feet suspended in air - the first few seconds, perhaps, it feels heavy under its own weight... But then, it has to take the flight.

Not all birds reach heights that haven't been explored - but all birds have to fly. That is the cause of their lives.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Excerpts from a Conversation

Excerpts from a chat conversation with a friend who was feeling lonely...

Not that great a post actually...

Aadi Joshi: i ll tell u something
Aadi Joshi: khud ko akela mehsoos karne wala tu akela kahan hai..
Aadi Joshi: (shair sunaa raha hoon.. original hai.. abhi soojha)
Ritesh Modi: LOL
Aadi Joshi: khud ko akela mehsoos karne wala tu akela kahan hai..
Ritesh Modi: babbar shair
Aadi Joshi: tanhaiyon ki gehraaiyon mein dooba yeh saara jahaan hai
Ritesh Modi: wah wah
Aadi Joshi: dekh agar dikhta koi sooraj tujhe door saa...
Ritesh Modi: wah wah
Ritesh Modi: aage???
Aadi Joshi: dekh agar dikhta koi sooraj tujhe door saa
Aadi Joshi: (soch raha hoon na)
Ritesh Modi: LOL
Aadi Joshi: woh sooraj bhi wahaan akelaa tilmilaa raha hai...

Monday, May 19, 2008


"I am travelling by train with my parents and there's an earthquake. We get down at a station, take a staircase and we enter a cave. The cave is narrow - me and mom-dad we have to crouch to move around. There is a lady sitting in the corner who asks me not to go further. My mom-dad stop. I move ahead. My body shivers for a minute. I turn back. My mom-dad are moving away. I try to scream and ask them to stay back. But my voice is choked. I try to speak but in vain.

Then, I begin clapping. My mom-dad turn around. Whew, I'm so smart, I think. Just then, with them my neighbour appears. She says, "Hey Navin (her son), I have been looking for you for quite some time now!" I look at myself - I am not what I am. I look like Navin"

I saw this last night. And tells me what a mixture of thoughts our mind can bear, interprete and reflect. Here I try to draw threads out of this incident -
  • Read in the newspaper about the earthquake in China. Read this writeup where a group of people were trapped in a cave - and they had to eat cigarettes and drink their own urine to stay alive.
  • My favourite TV soap 'Asambhav' currently speaks about 'swapping bodies' - where the evil lady swaps her body with people.
  • I am travelling away from my parents for a couple of days for higher education- so there is some fear involved.
  • My neighbour and Navin are sincerely hoping that I don't need to go away - and that I get admission somewhere close by.

Just like a computer would, the human mind puts together its experiences and fears - and comes up with things like these!

Astounding, isn't it?!

Saturday, May 17, 2008


High up on the ceiling sat the chandelier - looking down on everyone in the room. It had seven arms and a hundred bulbs on each. Each bulb had a glass case with intricate designs on it.

The central portion was a bright orange sphere which glowed like the sun when the room was dark.

As a child, I always wondered how proud the chandelier must be of itself to be high up there.

I did not know.. that up there, the chandelier was tied by its feet and suspended upside down from the ceiling. It wasn't too easy being the chandelier.

People who are talked about and who are called 'celebrities' are often such chandeliers. Beautiful to look at and admire - but in fact, tied by the feet.

Changes can be nice

The only thing that does not change in the world is change. Things are meant to change because that is the beauty of time - it can bring about a change.

Changes can be changes in relationships, changes in course of life or the more shallow changes - 'makeovers'.

All of us want to change - and many times, have to change. What one can strive for - is the nicest change in the world. Progress.

Progress is certainly the most desirable change in the world. The world moves, we have to move too; a good way of doing so would be to move upwards.

Let's all try to bring about this change in our lives... the change of progress..

Friday, May 16, 2008

The Turbulent waters

Disclaimer: An absolutely original work of fiction.

The ship swayed with the waves in a rhythmic movement as it continued moving northwards. Droplets of moonlight sparkled on the surface of the water as the waves moved up and down. The night had long set in and the only light around was that of the moon and of the cigarette that he had lit.

He was sitting on the deck of his ship, the proud Captain that he was, with a cigarette between his fingers. He was gazing at the stars that filled the sky. He wondered whether they outnumbered the living creatures in the sea that he had spent his life with.

He remembered sliding down the pole that carried the flag as a child and sitting for hours together with the fishing pole - a small ball of goat meat tied to the other end. His father, the cock-eyed sailor would tell him that he wouldn't catch any fish with that in a sea but the little boy wouldn't listen.

The pole was covered with rust now. Somewhere at the bottom of the Caspian sea. He imagined how his father must've fought like a brave warrior against the might of the nature - until the ship wrecked and drowned. He could visualize how his father must've assembled his men and put together last efforts of survival.

He put off his cigarette with his pointed shoe and got up from the chair. He moved to the edge of the ship and leaned. He could see nothing but water shimmering in the moonlight. But he kept looking. Hoping to find the ship that had taken his father to the depths of the sea-floor. He sighed.

He stretched out his neck upwards and gazed at the stars again. Hoping to find his father in them atleast...

The Tiny Shiny chocolate wrapper

I turn it by the corners and it opens. A globular chunk of joy appears before me. It is a chocolate. I gulp it down and smile as it melts across my mouth. The brown tinge appears on my tongue and the sweetness begins to spread. From my mouth to the senses, to the heart. My tongue moves it sideways, it grows smaller. And after some time, the tongue stops moving. I have eaten the chocolate.

And there lies on the plate - the tiny shiny chocolate wrapper. It protected the chocolate that you've just eaten. And this wrapper is now going to the dust-bin.

The wrapper attracted us to the chocolate - the wrapper guarded the chocolate - the wrapper was crumbled after the chocolate was out.

Because the wrapper wasn't of any use now.

We do this often with people too, don't we?!

I just called to say...

Disclaimer: Work of fiction! :) Don't harrow me later please.

I dialled your number twice. But disconnected before the connection was set up. I am afraid of the connection as well. Because once there is a connection, we often get pulled along with each other. And I don't want that to happen.

I am worried - I don't want to fall in love with you. Perhaps, I am scared of falling in love as well. The expectations from each other and the resultant frustration often drains one's power to think.

I am scared of looking into your eyes and telling you how much I like you. I am scared of holding someone's hand. I am scared of looking high up proclaiming the existence of the love between us that's greater in enormity than the whole wide sky. Because the sky comes falling down one day and breaks you into pieces.

Please don't think I don't like you. The fact is, I am scared of myself. And I am scared of love...

Zabardast Zaalim Zamana

One of the most meaningless posts out here...

Kya zaalim zamana hai...

Rakhi Sawant ka ronaa..
Abhijeet Sawant ka gaana..
Har ek ko bas spotlight hai paana...
Aur kahin par, munde mundon ko daale daaana!

Kya zabardast zamaana hai...

Dost wost koi kisi ka nahi...
Promotion, paisa yeh sab hai sahi...
Aur jahan tak pyaar ki baat rahi...
Woh dekhne ke liye filmein hai hi!...

Naam aur paisa, inko jhatke mein paana hai...
Kya zabardast zaalim zamaana hai...
In sab mein pyaar karnewalon ko gawana hai...

Kya zabardast zaalim zamaana hai!

(Huh.... ! I don't know what I wrote... but it was my FIRST free-style, weird, Hindi poem!)

Strength of a woman - Series 03

(On a personal note, the fact that I am writing this is a brave thing to be doing. But I am not brave enough to tell you why.)

Disclaimer: The story here is NOT a piece of fiction. It is as real as the sun and the stars.

She was the youngest daughter-in-law of an opulent household. She delivered a baby girl third time over. It was India of 1948 and this meant a big deal. Her in-laws stopped talking to her. She was excluded from prayers and family functions. She was denied permission to enter the family temple.

She was considered an outcast - a lady who could not be a good daughter-in-law for she could not give the family a boy. A boy who would carry their name.

Her husband was even suggested to remarry. He stood by his wife he loved dearly.

She started helping her husband with the affairs of the granary he owned. There was hope when she was expecting the fourth time.

It was a girl again.

The humiliation and spiteful behaviour from the in-laws continued and they had to leave the house. The two of them settled far away from where their family lived - their daughters were sent to school where they were the only female students.

She raised her daughters the best way as she could.

And one day, she got to know that her in-laws were in trouble. They had suffered major losses in their business. She knew it was time to go back..

Her husband was, however, adamant. He knew he did not want to go back. But she managed to convince him.

The family that looked down on her accepted her and were grateful that she helped the collapsed household revive again.

And she had long forgiven them and forgotten that she was kept away from the family temple.

She prayed there till her last breath - for the well-being of her family.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Asambhav - A Rapid Recap

There is an older post that describes Asambhav, a Marathi serial that in a way breaks the traditions. Asambhav is my favourite, for the fact it is different.

The way the mystery has been built up is one-of-its-kind. Here are some highlights from the beginning...

  • Adinath and Sulekha are about to get engaged. During the engagement, Prathamesh, Adinath's nephew who is mute attacks Sulekha. Everyone wonders why.
  • Adinath goes to Vasai where he meets Shubhra. She is about to get married to someone. Adinath marries her and gets her home.
  • Everyone is shell-shocked, Adinath's Dinanath ajoba isn't. Because Shubhra closely resembles Parvati Aaji - the lady of the house who went missing several decades ago.
  • Shubhra has a mark on her hand that keeps aching.
  • Nikhil, Adinath's cousin is Sulekha's friend and is supportive of her. Adinath and the entire family are guilty for what they did to Sulekha.
  • Sulekha gets her mother thrown into an asylum. The mother is talking about how Sulekha killed her childhood friend, Manisha.
  • Shubhra sees visions of Nikhil's death.
  • Nikhil happens to read Sulekha's diary - and before he can reveal anything, Sulekha kills him.
  • Shubhra who is shocked consults a psychiatrist, Dr. Samant and then a hypnotism expert, Dr. Joshi. She begins to see images of Parvati Aaji. She now knows that she is Parvati Aaji reborn as Shubhra.
  • Sulekha, parallely, has gotten in touch with Tanishka - a lady who offers to help her into learning the secret knowledge of the mind.
  • Priya, Adinath's sister has been consistently suspicious of Sulekha. She plants Kshipra, her friend to find out.
  • Kshipra finds out, but Sulekha kills her too.
  • Sulekha learns how to leave her own body and enter somebody else's. And she does it several times to Shubhra - who is clueless about what's happening.
  • Baalkaka, Nikhil's dad, also tries to find Sulekha's diary which is at Abhiman, her fiance's place. But he is killed by Abhiman.
  • Abhiman hasn't spoken since. He is shocked about something. People feel there's something more to it...
  • Sulekha has gone missing.
  • Tanishka is being interrogated.
  • Shubhra had already gotten clues about Baalkaka's murder. She knew something adverse was about to happen.
What happens next? We all have our eyes set...

My first day at school

This isn't an imaginary piece of work. It is, what they call, reconstructed. I don't remember anything about my first day to school - and what I write is based on the descriptions given to me.

I was two years old ... yes two years old when I was admitted to Vidya Niketan. The Principal had agreed to admit me into the school despite being underage. Huh, I speak as if I'm 40 now... I still am underage to do a lot of things. That's another issue altogether...

The night before the first day, I was crying. Stamping my feet on the floor and screaming, "I don't want to go!" A lot of relatives and neighbours walked in to help my parents(uggh, hate to admit it, i was a problem child... hell! i still am!!) .

I was put to sleep after being told that I didn't have to go to the school next day. Aah, I felt so pleasant.

The next day, I was told that we were going for a stroll - and I was made to dress up in a pink shirt, black pant - "Why this?", I must've asked mom. And my smart mother would've made up an excuse.

Then, my mom, dad waited at the bus stop. I looked around... am I so famous that so many people are dressed up just like me?!

And the school bus arrived.... and all hell broke loose. I know it was all a wicked plan. I was cheated - I was going to be put in the school bus. Oh god, what would they do to me in school!? What would I do without mom?! I just wouldn't let go of my mom. The teachers in the bus tried to coax me into getting in - this wasn't unexpected for them.

And I remember, I even pushed one of them away. (She became my favourite later..) At the end, the bus attendant pulled me off, dumped me (aah, harsh word, I know) and locked the door of the bus.

Aah, so filmy... The bus started. I was looking out of the glass of the door, my nose against the surface. Trying to catch a glimpse of mom - screaming at the top of my 3-feet voice. My mom was sobbing away too...

That was the day..... :) Aaditya went out in the open. And now, the same Aaditya wishes to fly higher.

Few months from now, I'd have to go away from mom again - to take up a job or for higher studies.

Will I still look back and look for a glimpse of mom? Yes, I will. Age does not change some things. A mother, her love and a child's attachment for her are some of them.


Synapses are connections between neurons of the brain cells through which "information" flows from one neuron to another.
Ref: mind.ilstu.edu

Synapses are basically the connections in the brain that pass information help us take decisions. These decisions could be as simple as motor movements or as complicated as suicidal inclination.

Synapses fascinate me. They are the most intricate form of algorithms - which possibly no computer engineer will be able to develop.

For example, simple interest calculation involves principle amount, number of years and rate of interest and a simple formula will give you the result.

What about the decisions a human takes? They are dependent on the experiences of the past, the expectations from the future and the capabilities of the present.

And just see how effectively the synapses connect and pass signals to each other to arrive at a conclusion!!

When I see a dog coming towards me, I remember the day I was bitten by one - and I decide to flee from the spot. All this is so instantaneous and quick - and all this goes on within the human mind.

... and tell you something...

there exist some invisible synapses that connect brains of two people. That's why when I look at my mother, she knows what's on my mind.

Synapses of the human brain are so incomprehensible - the synapses that connect people... are beyond their brains. Literally.

Agreement with reality

Often, we are dissatisfied with what we have. A pilot wants to have a 'stable' job. A software engineer wants to do something more exciting. A news reporter is fed up of the state of affairs. A politician... let's not get into that.

All of us are haunted by this feeling of discontent. About the things we do, our relationships with people and the people we love. This discontent, the feeling of incompleteness can take two forms - frustration or hope. Frustration emits negativities and they slowly evolve and dissolve into our attitude and vision of looking at things. Hope does the same - just that the effect it has is positive and miraculous.

We all enter ... have to enter into an agreement with reality. We all have to accept the truth as it is. The difference lies in who decides the terms and conditions of this agreement.

The frustrated variety let the situations decide, the ones with the light of hope decide it for themselves.

We need to decide how we need to agree and accept the reality - go down on our knees and succumb to adverse situations - or look at reality in the eye and be the one who decides.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Knowledge and thoughts

Knowledge influences the thoughts. But the two are starkingly different. Thoughts are uncertain and often confusing.

Knowledge brings clarity and hence, confidence. When you know something, you feel better and more confident. Even if it is not something favourable, knowledge brings peace to the thought process.

Thoughts, presumptions are to be blamed for nervousness and anxiety. "I think she loves me", "I think I'll not clear the exams", "I think my friends avoid me", thats when the mind fails to stay focussed and hence, calm.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

The Oral Trial

Something that harrowed me as a FE (for the non-engineers, FE stands for the students in the first year) was exams - what are not-so-lovingly called, the vivas. I am shy and often go tongue-tied for no reason. And it was quite probable that I would go silent when I had two examiners staring at me waiting for an answer.

The vivas were to start from the fourth semester - but I had already started getting nightmares (since Sem 1). In the fourth semester, what looked scarier than the theory exams themselves were the vivas. During a mock viva, Hetal Doshi ma'am asked me, "Aaditya, what are the types of modulation?" "Uhh..." "Aaditya..." "Frequency and amplitude..". "What is the difference between frequency and amplitude?" "Uhh..."

That's when I nearly shat in my pants (shit-- shat -- shat... present, past, past-participle) and knew that this was going to be helluva scary thing. I slogged, slogged - 'burned the midnight oil' (a more sober word... quite irrelevant in today's times...) and was ready to appear for my first viva.

"Can you solve this sum for me?", the examiner asked.
I was like.. wow.. I don't have to speak.. that's great. I started - went half-way - got caught up.... got the answer wrong.

"Ok, ok, never mind... tell me what an age buffer is...". I answered and was asked to go - the first viva was the most miserable one!!

That night, I went home and stared blankly at my journals. Uggh, I'm such a dumba$$! I kept turning pages and wondered why I wrote all those assignments on my own if I wasn't going to be able to speak. I actually went in front of a mirror and spoke. Spoke out all the answers in front of the mirror. Looked at myself in the eye.

... I felt slightly more confident now.

And I remember the last viva exam of that semester where the examiners were firing terribly difficult questions (Database systems was the subject, I remember.) I remember how I was short of breath when I had to go next and how I had the expression of a person who was robbed of his wallet.

But, I answered ALL the questions that were asked to me! They were the very difficult ones, actually. I looked back as I left the room. The examiner smiled at me...

... this was the first and the last time I looked back while leaving the viva room. There was no looking back after that!

(Why the hell is Aaditya writing something like this?! Because I just got done with my engineering vivas - no more engineering vivas for me now! Yuhoo!!... I've surely become slightly more bold when it comes to one-to-one speaking... though I still have a long long way to go!)

Friday, May 09, 2008

Uttarayan and Evdhese Aabhal

Uttarayan is the story of two friends who meet after several years. Both of them have undergone tribulations in their lives - and now, when he meets Kusumavati, the love of his youth, the heart that has gone frail receives some kind of rejuvenation. There begins the journey of an unparalleled companionship.

Uttarayan is lyrical, poetic and yet has a strong realistic current of emotions. Neena Kulkarni and Shivaji Satam emote beautifully - especially in the scene where he confesses his love for her. The music complements the mood of the film.

From the makers of Uttarayan comes 'Evdhese Aabhal'. 'Evdhese Aabhal' on the other hand is not as lyrical. It talks about torn relationships and about a boy caught between divorced parents. The parents have divorced and moved on - married again. The boy is unable to understand why his dad sleeps in the 'new aunty's room.

How he learns to accept the reality forms the crux of the story. But what the movie lacks is the ability to strike a chord. Shakoon (the mother)'s behaviour with the kid after her second marriage is rather hostile and seems incorrect.

The scale of the movie is huge for a Marathi movie. The movie takes you from Pune to Rajasthan and Kolkata. While the performances are first-rate, what puts one off is the climax where the child gives up all that he liked while he was with his parents and takes up new hobbies. One wonders what the director wanted to convey.

'Uttarayan' is a musical journey -'Evdhese Aabhal' is a partially realistic, half-baked story about a broken family.


I see it coming towards me. Or is someone pushing it in my direction? Whatever be the cause, it surely heads towards me with a speed faster than ever. I do not know where I will be after it moves away.

I don't know how I'll be able to take it.

But I have no option - than to stand and be a mute spectator to my own ordeal.


They are taking my things away. My portrait on the wall, the bed. The books that I have collected over the years - Thousand splendid suns, Kite runner, Five point someone...

I stop them. But I don't hear myself. I try to push words out of my throat - I feel choked. Choked for words.

They just wouldn't listen. I've given up. I sit on the floor cross-legged. It's all gone...

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

Start of the end

The clock's running backwards at a blistering speed now. And I see time running out.

Things had begun to end a few weeks ago itself..

But now, it's freaky. It's the start of the end...