The meaning of intoxication?

This shall be an innocent little post, attempting to lend some meaning to that sense of high-ness which punctuates one's being from time to time, when in the throws of the occasional sharaab, shabaab, kabaab and their many meta-figurative namesakes.

What is the root behind one getting high on something?
I conjecture the answer to this question to be, the sensation of risking something/ being in potential peril.

I realize that all highs are in the end resultants of dopamine and its kith and kin getting released in the bloodstream, by some gland somewhere in us. This post, in chewing more than it can chew, claims that such secretions are in turn triggered by said risk et al.

Further, I realize that there may not be a fool-proof method to prove such a hypothesis. I shall thus proceed to analyze some instances of high-ness, and what they degenerate to in the colooured lenses I adorn at this moment.

1. Starting with the basics, I have just downed 2 shots of Vodka, and a large Blender's.
I have in effect risked my own safety, along with that of those with me, and invited the loving anxieties of those who care enough.
And dopamine flows freely.

2. Ditto for smoking.

3. I am playing big on the stock market. I can feel the knife dropping, and know I must call it quits in that split second when the escalating market realizes it has flown too close to the sun, and stares down at a calamitous fall in prospect. The game has been built in a manner that a maximum is all that can satiate.
All I have, and ever will, rests on the next 178 seconds, and when I decide to pull.
And dopamine flows freely.

4. I'm riding a bike at 120 kmph, on a road heading up to a crowded mall on Saturday night. I have just passed two traffic police booths, each with cops blowing whistles.
I am endangering my own life.
I endanger the lives of the people around me.
I am an outlaw, and risk prosecution.
And dopamine flows freely.

5. I listen to a song, which in simple terms, takes me places. It takes me away from the humdrum colours of daily life, and shows me new things.
These things are defined by the absence of things that a less dreamy, more responsible self would indulge in; the duties and responsibilities one seeks freedom from.
Thus, for those fleeting moments, hours, days, one escapes the drudgery of reality;
one escapes that which reality seeks to dictate;
one decides to live the moment, in favour of looking ahead.
one risks the future, for the moment's bliss;
And dopamine flows freely.

6. I have an Operations Management exam tomorrow.
And all of a sudden, the lakes seem more inviting than ever;
the night sky seems more riddled than ever;
the lights, and all their reflections seem more transcendentally expressive than ever before.
And thus, one departs in to the night, music in head, camera in hand.
One gives in to the many fairies inviting one to indulge in their sweetness.
One lets tomorrow's exam look out for itself, trusting the highs of the moment to facilitate a greater learning later.
One risks tomorrow's exam, the consequent grade, resultant CGPA, effect on shortlists, and all that stems from that, for the sake of the moment's feel. After all, one is an admitted feel ka pujaari..
And dopamine flows freely.

7. I am in something I perceive to be love.
I have in effect risked my sanity, my joy and happiness, my sense of peace, in favour of something that holds potential for taking all of that to a higher plane.
I have risked my self, for the chance of finding that which may complete it.
And dopamine flows freely.

By now I hope you, kind passer-by, have gained some understanding of just what my line of thought is.

It is worth noting though, that at no point have I attempted to pass judgement on the relative virtuous-ness or otherwise of any of the mentioned high-ways, half of which I relate from personal experience.

In spirit, I would think of all the above to be same, though they each come with different appearances, and very varied social responses.
Such are things I guess.

Happy thinking!

At Pune...

The last fortnight or so has been quite an experience.
Pursuing what is my first 'real' internship, at Tata Motors, with a motley bunch of co-interns, has been a WONderful experience.

Even the short span thus far has seen its little highs and lows, and together have painted a beautiful picture, beckoning a fascinating 6 more weeks in prospect.

If I were to list out some of the many wonders that contribute to the whole experience:
1. The campus - Strongly reminiscent of the splendours of NSIT and IIMC (No lakes however!).
2. The Nano, and all that it stands for.
3. The sheer scale of operations working all around you.
4. Finally, and most importantly, the people.

There have been presentations made, poetry composed, reports studied, music appreciated, conferences held, ALL, in good measure.
In short, amazing work, amazing thass, and an ever amusing, ever romancing balance between the two.

God bless!
Till we meet again..

BRB once again...

With my internship at Tata Motors (Yes, of the incredible Nano fame!) finally started now, blogging has taken a bit of a back seat.
And quite a ride its been till now as well, amazing campus, nice people, and the growing sense of awe when staring all around... :)

Be back soon.. perhaps sooner!

Count my little victories I do!

For those who follow the English and European club football scene, the above pic speaks enough.
And if you happen to be a Red Devil, then I can hear you laughing right now, from all these electron-miles afar.

Well, in case you happen to be ignorant on issues of such critical importance, then follow the trail below:

It all began here, with Rafa making this statement. (Of course, this is an approximated choice for the origin. To reach the absolute root would entail an exponentially magnified amount of time and effort... As is to be expected with any matter of such depth and gravity!)

This was followed by a streak of average performances by Liverpool, in stark contrast to a United that seemed untouchable.

However, as is observed often enough in these circles, United hit a bit of a slump, putting in below average performances, and watching their lead over Rafa's side shrink to a solitary point, albeit with a game in hand.

Then Rafa chose to say this.
After that United managed to steal a victory in a manner that didn't quite inspire enough confidence in my ilk.
On which Rafa said this, just prior to his European game against Chelsea.
That game, much to our delight, went this way.
A few days later, the wily old Fergie gave a bite of his own.

Since then, not too important to the context of this post, (thus no more links) another round of Premiership games has been played, with United still just managing a victory, thus maintaining their lead on the top.
Liverpool play Chelsea tomorrow with an uphill task on their hands, to say the very, very least.
United play the night after, also needing a bright performance if they are to continue their quest for the quintuple.
(On which I just saw this.)

On that sombred note, this update ends here.
Whatever happens, the image above has made all the twists and turns worth it, at least for now.

Amazing how something as (SEEMINGLY) worldly and material as all this, can now, at this point remind me of this.
Hmmm...

Sad at CP

This was the day of the amazing NSIT Spic Macay Alumni meet.
With 7-8 of us, covering most of the batches from 2004 to 2011, assembling for an evening high on the usual thass, one could hardly wait for the moment to arrive. One reached the venue dot on time, for a change, and thankfully the IST bug bit the others to a degree severe enough for one to fit in a quick trip to Oxford.

Now the time at Oxford, and then onwards with the gang, at SRC, CCD and finally at McD (and even the Metro ride back home) went as awesomely as expected, no doubts there.
However, that which left one with a stoically posed heart at the end of the day; which left one gaping at the times that we're in; which informed one, without a shadow of a doubt, that change had indeed come, and was here to stay for quite some time; that event, though not too grievous by itself, but depressingly symptomatic of a deeper issue, took place on the way to Oxford.

As stated previously, one confirmed one's 30minutes of velapan, and proceeded towards good old Oxford. That long straight road, Modern School on one side, and emerging high rises on the other, was a joy to walk through, especially with music as sublime as that elaborated on here. And how could one's camera, one of the few soulmates one shares with in the land of 7 lakes, and even that of ring roads now, stay behind. Thus, one found oneself blissfully 'la-lla-la-lla-la-la'-ing away, as one lived every stride of rich, unadulterated feel, bolstered by that which played in one's ear, and documented partially by the light-writing device in one's hand.

Then, as one had just clicked this pic, of the reflection in Oxford's brilliant Statesman House building, a cop comes up to me, and escorts me to the other side of the road. In the meantime I take off my earphones, turn off the camera, and start to picture what is to follow in my head.

Across the road, next to the average Police gypsy, stands another cop, with 1-2 more seated inside.
(Another Cop: AC
Me: Me

AC - "Aap kahaan se hain?"
Me - "Dilli.. Dwarka.."
AC - "Aap yeh snaps kheench rahe the?"
Me - "Haan..."
AC - "Kyun?"
Me - "Aise hi.. Sun set achha lag raha tha.."
AC - "Isliye buildings ke...?"
Me - "Haan.. Unke peeche sooraj doob raha hai, aur buildings mein reflection bhi jo pad rahe hain.. Generally, aisa kuch specific nahin kheench raha.. Bas achha lag raha tha.."
AC - "Aap karte kya hain?"
Me - "Student hoon"
AC - "Kahaan?"
Me - "IIM Calcutta"
AC - "I Card hai?"
Me - "Haan..."

With that, I hand him my jokaland i-card, which he inspects for a good 20 seconds.
Then, he looks at me, pauses, and extends his hand for a shake. I smile, and accept. He returns my card, I place it back, and proceed to exit.

Me - "Hmm.. Thank you.. Matlab, aajkal jo sab ho raha hai..."
AC - "Haan.. Ab kya karein.. Hamaari bhi majboori hai.."
Me - "Haan haan.. bilkul.."
AC - "Aap samajhdaar hai, toh aap samajh gaye.."
Me - "Bilkul bilkul.. Itna toh karna padta hi hai.. Ok.. Thank you.."

And with that, I continued my trip to Oxford, music back in place, and more or less back to normal.
Except, that I wasn't. For never before had it hit me, just how real the threat of terrorism, and its natural after-effects were to the life of an average individual. Never before had those trite alertness messages on the metro seemed more pertinent, for this one time, I was a suspect, albeit only for 5 minutes. Never before had my own freewheeling actions seemed closely resembling that of a potential terrorist, even to myself.

Such is the place that this menace has made for itself in our consciousness; such is the omnipresence that it boasts of today; indeed, such is the sickening success of this phenomenon, in the face of a hapless world, that our most intimate freedoms stand compromised on, for the larger good.

That, is what made me sad that beautiful evening, in spite of the brilliant thass that preceeded and succeeded those 5 minutes. A sad truth it is indeed. Till we reach a better day and night, imagine...

Belated BRB

Same as to the other world...

Many stars from the days of old...

Were what descended upon NSIT yesternight... Alumni Dinner et al.

Back to good old NSIT we all were, with the flavour of the ever-effervescent Moksha being an added bonus. In the midst of being called upon to judge events (read reliving the sweet, eternal judge-hunt travails of yesteryears) and watching one's own at the helm all around, one spent those few, distinct moments that one can look back on, and safely move to the folder named "Special".

Going insane with the people that had been one's partners-in-crime for the major part of 4 years;
jumping, singing, hugging away without a care to the world
sitting under the wisdom tree in a gentle state of self voiding slowness;
capturing a shot of a muse leaving the room into untouchable light;
shouting oneself senseless at the oooooo-sum wind tunnel;
EVERYthing, was put together, in a rare orchestration of the elements, arranged in a manner that can evoke the most amazing emotions, today, yesterday, and tomorrow.

The more one speaks of it, the more cliched it becomes.
Thus, I shall refrain from doing so.
What must remain, must remain in the one place it matters most.

Here's to that, and all that makes the crop what it is.

Cheers!

My World (Ente Lokam)

What it is to me;
It is only to me.
What I see, is what I see;
And though you may find it hard to believe,
My blue is only my blue,
As your red is only yours.

In this tiny speck of time and space,
We find ourselves two poles apart.
Between us is a gulf of innumerable tears,
Singing a song for aeons, or so says Tagore.
I see not you, but the shape of your being,
As I do with every other void around me.

I live on the ground and all that it gives,
Longing for the ambrosia of the skies,
Not knowing of the longing of the birds.
I see not myself, or that which makes me,
I see only the other,
And in him, all that I am not.

The strains from a divine music reach out to me,
And add to my being, the element of the soul.
Shadaj-Pancham conspire to open my sleeping eye,
And with that, all is clear and free.
You are you, and I am I,
Yet a string passes through our mutual being.

In that intersection of infinite lines,
Two different worlds collide;
Collide, transform and enmesh,
To give one collective fabric,
On which are several reds and blues,
Each distinct, yet immovably same.

The eye looks for that which awakened it,
Only to find the notes emanating in the ether.
Tracing the lines back to their source,
It covers deserts and galaxies,
To finally reach the feet of the Master;
The One, who is, eternally and always.

I looks at the fabric draped on my senses,
My blue, resplendent and lively as ever.
Your red appeals just as well.
Soon however, everything blurs,
Your red mixes with mine,
As does everything else.

As I close my eyes,
The eye keeps watch
It sees the world converging to one point.
Finally, I too float on to the point,
And discover much to my joy,
That it is to my world that I have returned.

The eye glances to the side,
And finds you standing, all eyes opened.
And I see the oneness of both our beings, our reds and our blues,
For I no longer exist, and neither do you.
All that stands are two eyes,
Bowed down at the point of omni-convergence,
The music still playing, now and forever, at His feet.

The Dev.D OST

I realize this 'review' (more a song in praise!) comes rather late.
But anyhoo!

Dev.D's music is, in one word, a.w.e.s.o.m.e.
If one were to let go of the shackles of brevity however...:
The music exudes life, in all its countless shades: be it the dark alleys on the spiral of self destruction, or the complete lightness arising from letting the world, and the self be, or even the transitions between the two extremes, both ways.

What Amit Trivedi has gifted to humanity through his 2nd musical venture (which should've been his debut initially.. and what a debut it would've been!), is a collection of gems, each magnificent in its composition and lyrical value, each able enough to do justice to the richness of emotion resplendent all around it.

While on one hand, we see a decadent, obnoxious, spoilt brat courting his own end in a long and winding affair, on the other, the music plays out every detail of his conflict - the perceived injustice, the arrogance engrained in his very fibre, and the growing frustration, hollowness and disillusionment.
In his childhood sweetheart, waiting since eternity for her knight to return, one sees several shades of passion, childish innocence and that sense of longing and loyalty which can perhaps best be felt on the big screen. Though she remains perhaps the least well documented of the three (by the music), one finds every single highlight of her being, covered with the requisite portions of elegance, passion and love.
The last of the trinity to be introduced, the intriguing, seductive, yet intrinsically innocent little girl from Canada. Personally I believe her's was the most most challenging role to capture in music, in terms of the magnitude of change encountered by her character. The intricate mazes that became integral to her role were expressed with great alacrity. And to cap it all, the pivotal moment that changed the course of her life was mapped to the scales in sheer poetry. The transition was as beautifully done, as it was grave. Signor Tiwari, take a bow.

To all the elements that came together to bring those 18 amazing tracks out to the light of day, a thousand salutations, and many, many respects.

Sleep

Even though I might just belong to that select cult of individuals, who make their way through history on sleep more little than socially anticipated/expected, time has now and again been dropping hints of my distinct lack of sleep immortality.

This sequence is reminiscent of the grave views on life that I tend to subscribe to now and then. The contents of said subscription would take too long to elaborate now, and also would only be apt on the other forum.
For now, I shall try and suffice by capturing its essence in:
They are all lies. There is no respite, no reprieve; just a bunch of to-be-pursued dreams, each adding another layer to the illusion, and each facilitating the onset of an ever harsher, ever harder, yet essentialy constant truth.

Of course, sleep does not go to such depths as described above. The similarity may be considered restricted to the logical/causal structure. What this also means is that Sleep lacks the profound factor, that appears to be the only antidote to the sinking ship of a situation above. What that factor is, shall be revealed along with the due elaboration.

Till then, one may safely conclude that sleep issues require the following 3 step process:
1. Acknowledge,
2. Shuffle,
3. Sleep!

Cheers duniya!
And G'nite! :)

PS: Yes, Hypnos merits greater respects than those accorded to Him at present, or so it seems!
Jai Ho!

Fulham... Be afraid, be very afraid.

The last week has been spent nursing the wounds from Liverpool's exaggerated victory over us at OT.
Messrs Benitez & Co. have in the mean time signed various new deals, making the most of one of those rare, "drive the word 'fluke' to its limits" weeks, where by the alignment of a million stars together, you thrash two giants back to back.

It remains to be seen when the Scousers fall their oh-so-characteristic fall next. Whenever that happens, what is next to certain is that the Red Devils will come out on the pitch with a streak of vengeance and retribution on a cosmos that chose to humble their might in a manner as overly and undeservingly skewed as what transpired last Saturday.

Anyhow, the match begins in another 15 minutes.
I'm sure the players are looking forward to this fixture with as much an appetite as I am at this moment.

Go on you crazy devils!
Claim what is rightfully yours!

Mastishq, and the likes...

What started from humble beginnings, in the form of a random chat with an old friend, took on monstrous forms, even as the self wandered near the brook of insanity. Of course, a strong need was felt subsequently, to document whatever could be feasibly .
Though very much a part of 'my world', this is the 'type' that stays on the other side.

Hence, the link!

Enjoy!
And don't kill yourself!

PS: Do not be afraid.

The Sounds of Silence, and other such..

This piece doesn't quite relate to the immortal track by Simon & Garfunkel (that must be another post, another day!).
Rather, it tries to look at one (perhaps a few) small aspect of the infinite expanses of cinema, and the movies that grace our social consciousness today, through my small, very ignorant, but very impassioned eyes.

I have, over the last few weeks, managed to arrive at this one point, based on my many colourful observations spread over many many years.
I shall proceed to state it with brevity, before going all out insane elaorating on its significance.

An important factor in determining how well a movie has been made, is the manner in which it handles silence.

Most of what we're fed today, tries to follow the "there's never a dull moment" model. What this entails is a sequence of gags stitched together, with an equally cheesy soundtrack playing in the background. What most people have all but forgotten is, is that there are limits to which an industry can unrelentingly, without discrimination, rely on 'Suspension of Disbelief' to sell their produce.

It is not normal for every character of a film to fall into one of the stereotypes that we as a collective consciousness have given birth to.
It is not normal for every dialogue to have 'punch' in it, natural or forced.
It is not normal for every passing thought in the mind of every passing character to be verbalized to dialogues that get mind numbing in their redundancy.

(I shall not touch on the entire Size-0 issue, as that does not pertain to the issue at hand, and was handled to some extent, as part of a larger discussion, here.)

Silence is a monster.
It fills the entire screen when it arrives, eclipsing the mere mortals filling space besides it, above it, below it, and all the while getting wholly consumed by it.
Silence is thus boundlessly powerful in how it can devour the most elaborate of sequences and sets.
And thus, it scares the living daylights out of all those who straddle themselves with the tag of 'film maker'.

Nobody today, barring the exceptions that are 3 or 4 thinking souls, has any semblance of what it takes to delve into how this monster can be tamed. That it can be, is proven without doubt by the numerous such instances from our glorious past. But to look it in the eye, and then guide the countless little elements in a manner that lends some meaning and balance to its antagonizing existence, requires more than just some old tapes for inspiration's sake.

As one looks at the today's output, one is often left feeling insulted by the industry's blatant lack of respect for one's intelligence, as evidenced by the material that makes the cut to the final print. Yes, India is a diverse country, with diverse tastes, and highly varied expectation levels. And as I was told long back, the pseude, critical audiences shall always be doomed to the mute minority, thus perhaps rendering this entire post poignantly pointless. The free market rules I guess. What we all want, is what you and I get.

Perhaps out of the creatively frustrated ashes of this generation, shall rise another crop, hints of which are already visible; Pather Panchali may still be a far cry, but Dasvidaniya and Dev D still come by now and then.

(Much of the) Old was gold,
In today's darkness, in the cold,
Amidst the sparks that go unsold,
We look to the morrow, and behold...

Cheers duniya!