Visual imagery, aura and zooming out

It’s gentle, the touch, sensory imagination of pictures and visuals, tree leaves, windy chime ushering into a new season, filled with bright hues. I feel a certain aura of stillness and vibes enveloping me into a protective shield with no rush to connect the dots or leap ahead in a crazy world in battling out everything.

Have you ever heard about zoning or zooming out? It’s new for me and can’t wait to look at things as a muted or passive spectator without investing ourselves and the energy-draining us out. Things seem new to me and am entering a phase of exploring, letting the learned ones or higher powers carry me into this universe. It whittles down to letting the tiny me carried by this invisible and majestic force, resisting nothing on earth, pretty much like a baby shrieking and prancing to unpeel the complex layers.

There is beauty in the words I write, the grief I share, emotional upheaval ripping me apart into torn pieces, and the resisted vulnerability all becoming an intrinsic part of who I am as a person. An ephemeral shadow, wearing the cloak of invisibility is like clambering the mountain and hills, enveloped by storms seeping into human frailties but at times, it helps to be caught into the maelstrom, sinking into chills and fears, no matter how much it gives the creeps.

Words sound pretty much like fallacy if one has an innate belief in destiny. There are no two ways about and just a matter of choice, making destiny or relegated by its laws, often feared as if it’s a demon. I am learning not to dive straight but take a step back or two, practicing stillness to vanquish restlessness. Medley of thoughts crisscrossing a mind often in conflict with each other on the what-ifs!

It need not be a choice about to be or not to be, pretty much like choosing coffee over tea. You can have both right for we are not doing a trade-off or opportunity cost in Economics but emotions can be tricky since it doesn’t work both ways or it does. Crying the heart out is not necessarily hurting the self as in childhood we often hear don’t cry or stop behaving like a girl. Speak about social conditioning in a mind, boiling like steam at times except it’s no steamroller of sort.

A tale of counting happiness or sadness on a scale of one to ten and the shield protecting the soul or skin from the chill. I take a leap of faith since this is what matters right now, pretty much like indulging in a comfort drink, like the icy, cold coffee flowing down the throat.

Priceless feeling right for we don’t wanna it to stop forever. Guess, that’s what life looks like, except embracing the wholeness of it but the HOW remains the secret question. I wanna enjoy this ride of life or the thrill of pushing the self, often making one a pleasure seeker, verging often on the danger zone. Of court, I ain’t thinking about daredevil acts but just experimenting or taking challenges with an open mind.

Free writing attempted about the many layers about life and trying to make the imagination run wild in otherwise kinda normal life. Share your feedback.

Love

v

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Stillness and pause

The stillness and pause,

amidst chaos and city madness,

voices reverberating,

influx mind,

chaotic dance,

thunderous foot-tapping,

swirling and swarming in the locals,

hitting the pause button,

gyrating to the ghoul’s dance,

slowly disappearing past the lobe,

leaving behind feared and anticipated moments,

I seek solace in fury,

quenching this taste,

craved happiness,

where I’ve left it all,

an avalanche descending slowly inside the brain,

soothing moments,

rare yet savoring the little of it,

I sleep in the peace,

feels like a lullaby.

Love

V

Clattering of words and typing

Clit, clat, tap, tap…fingers rattling aimlessly on the motherboard cum keyboard to pour emotions, vent frustration, or just for the sake of writing something. Drizzling sensation! Clattering of words feels like rainwater pouring and lashing for it has this innate power to unveil and quench the thirst.

I stare at the empty word cum blank blog page, whispering you gotta have something for me. I space out, go blank and observe the pause or silence. Let’s go into a deep communion, listening to my feeling, hold the space as my words and your soul become one filling each other with the seamless. Words are emotions and run amok in the echo chambers, filling silent steps and stares. The unspoken, chasm and whispers run through the clicking and clinking…I don’t mean liquor or glass but a mind that needs to hit the pause button and rewire in lending identity to the myriad forms of sentences. Only if it may hide the language and emotions!

Who heard the distant steps and music lost to the wind sparks, constantly whispering into the ears as if a ghost reclaiming its aura to the human form? I long for this stanza missing between notes and hymns. Unquenched are such desires and the longing for a world, unseen by the eyes yet imagined in the distant land. The description of the typing machine, no, notepad and pen, the laptop or gadget, tick the many boxes and cross-check an exhaustive list. Not a bucket list of travel or things to do before hitting the 30s, 40s, or 50s but mere words flowing without the pressure on how bad or flawless you can write. I shall let everything flow like the waterfall, except it ain’t need to be intense.

Words are just like the mind, perhaps a reluctance to slug it out and take a step back to observe the flow for not every emotion gotta gyrate to the intriguing and fading music. Crafting sentences feels like the past that cannot be claimed or the displacement and lost identity that finds significance only in the script lending illusion and realism at the same time. Ever wondered about the contrasting hues or writing palette that you lap in authors and drool over the same, obliterating the pain or shadow(s) lurking. And, to think we are loners typing for the sake of it, not lost in the deep blue sea for no devil is lurking.

Love

V

Some updates

It’s been a month of no blogging owing to unforeseen challenges and been struggling to write since the last week without much success. A firm belief about taking one step at a time and no rush to push oneself beyond the extraordinary belief that I must or got to write since this is what I do best. I am not getting into this crazy mode of writing, no matter what, and chucking out this obsession of running against the tide. It can be unhealthy, trust me.

Mom has been falling ill regularly with the flaring up of her palpitations, fainting in the kitchen, and low blood sugar level rushing her to the hospital and once she was discharged, the next day her palpitation flare-up got her re-admitted again. I couldn’t fathom what was happening to her and the realization suddenly dawned on the uncertainty of life, albeit she may not be there forever. I was unprepared in dealing with challenges.

The past month took a severe toll on me where almost every day I made regular hospital trips, boozing and being in tears almost every now and then, calling myself a wreck. There was a fear of losing mom when one day while speaking to a friend, I sensed uneasiness and a sudden flare-up in heartbeat reaching 155 that sent me into a tizzy kinda panic mode. It was a panic attack and the time I opened up on Facebook about my depression and anxiety issues. A wake-up call and decided to take things hands down to address the mental health issue that’s been plaguing me for years.

It’s so happened that around the same time, there were 21 days Mental Awareness Challenge and I plunged straight into with fellow participants and happy I did to discuss issues we all face. It’s been a week and couldn’t make me so proud about the steps taken which will define me for many years and till the end of me. A huge leap of faith on the personal front. I am learning so many new things about myself and the ecosystem, hinging on the need to be rooted while at the same gearing towards organic growth. As human beings, we all need perspective to look beyond self, the surrounding good, or the bad to make us stronger as unique entities.

The Wellness Challenge has suggested ways and means, of addressing internal anger that can impact the best of us. I am no different. On the positive front, my cab driver sent dollops of kindness on Eid sharing loads of sweets which I passed with family who visited from far. Cherry on cake, I got to see my little munchkin niece who was born in the first lockdown and is now 17 months. I simply drooled on this angel who taught me seamlessly about happiness.

Cheers to this post update on the personal front and the battles waged. Hope I can rise up and write more about the happenings and one thing am working towards is to be able to manage stress which is always a brownie point, and keeps hitting the panic button.

Happy weekend

V

Rising from dust

There is beauty,

in the surrounding,

invisible.

unspoken words,

a new friend arrives,

snuggling its way inside the heart,

not meant to stay forever,

yet what I see is unadulterated love,

deep bonding,

unspoken are the words,

sometimes its naughty,

maybe ain’t prepared for seamless,

moments spent together,

undiluted joy,

ushering into tiny sparkle,

beginning of a sweet friendship,

baked out of nowhere,

rising from dust,

cherishing our times,

I know it’s momentarily,

my dear friend.

With Love

v

As the clock turns and tides

Ushering in my 20s and aimless about life, I remember a conversation with an uncle and friend dad asked me whether have I wondered how time and the calendar are moving at an unbelievable speed! In those days, I hardly had any opinion on anything, super confused and yet to figure out life, except straddling aimless, unsure what to do about life except struggling to zero on which college or course to join.

I remember the afternoon yet endearing regular tea time with uncle and aunty serving her specialty chai with yummy biscuits. Uncle believed it was scary how fast life is moving and now as I realized the whereabouts of two decades having flitted past me. It rings absolutely true and occurred today morning (Monday) to me while speaking to the cab driver.

Feeling a chill down the spine and reflecting on how we have hit four months already in 2022 where normally the first semester of the year gets going at a slow pace. January was supposed to be the toughest month in the year with finance getting all drained and lazy, post the new year celebration and people have to count days in the calendar. But, this year has been moving at an unimaginable pace and in some way, it does break the heart and a shock since it doesn’t give the time for transition.

I hate such shockers. I need time to reflect on life, let things sink in and enough space to adjust myself in a forever, changing environment to grapple with. In a pre-pandemic world, whining has always been my favorite thing to do on the why of time moving super-fast, basking in past glory, and wondering why the good ole times, in my case perfectly flawless college days don’t come back.

Yet, the unfortunate truth is that time or life doesn’t allow us a single minute to think or breathe and space are what we looking for to thrust out of our comfort zone, then it’s hard to fathom. Or else, we may just stay cooped in our comfort zone forever, taking a lifetime to get out, challenge ourselves constantly to conquer the world. It’s pretty scary to think of the days, months, and years as we hark back, taking things slow or one thing at a time. I am not saying that we should just jump into the fray of a sort not to miss anything in life and this aspect has its fair share of complexity but yes, we need to make most so that FOMO in a positive sense doesn’t impact us negatively, read regrets and all.

This post doesn’t aim to discuss the hits or misses like a friend once suggested to me to reflect on for the aim is not to defeat the purpose of how life or the calendar days, weeks, or months is moving at a break necking speed. I want to reflect on the why of days, as if remote-controlled by an invisible button at a time we are at the mercy of technology and digital gadgets. There are 24 hours in a day and 60 seconds in making a minute. Think about it. It’s the same, boring old time and how on earth things are moving 180 degrees round the clock. Have we become so much busy and madly competitive, ignoring relationships, personal well-being, health, or bonding so much over laughter and simplicity that we have left time behind us?

Sometimes, I really freak out and this extreme social change thinking about how we lost track of the past and the present or impending future, sending chills, making it fucking hard to cope with? Maybe, we all should breathe easy and take the time to reflect on the extent to which time is defining us in this fast and super ‘age defying’ time we live in.

Love

V

SharmajiNamkeen a sweet ode to Rishi Kapoor’s swag

Audience would get a dekkho of his second innings where he reinvented himself time again treading on a path where very few seasoned actors and legends dared to with memorable performances such as Do Dooni Char, Kapoor & Sons, Agneepath, Mulk, Rajma Chawal and D-Day, just to name a few. Sharmaji Namkeen was the last release of the superstar after his death and how could I stay away without reviewing this fresh film that stayed with me hours and days after its release.

Rishi Kapoor is a cinema legend who has wowed fans with heartwarming performances for decades in his choco boy avatar from Bobby, to Rafoo Chakkar, Karz, Yeh Vaada Raha, Sagar and Zehreela Insaan in the 70s and 80s with Bol Radha Bol, Henna, Shreeman Aashiq and Deewana in the 90s, though not all would fit into a slice of life but verging towards romantic outings.

 In short, the film serves as a befitting tribute to Rishi Kapoor as Sharma Ji rolling with a heartwarming video of Ranbir Kapoor sharing on its making post the thespian death and ably supported by Paresh Rawal who completed this delightful fare. It couldn’t get better than that and the best farewell with the evergreen Kapoor signing off in style, making fans miss him even more in death. And how!

There is something very endearing about Rishi Kapoor at his charming best, effortlessly playing Sharma Ji not just wooing but enthralling audiences with his rave performances. He is simply sensational be it his palpable chemistry with Juhi Chawla reminding of Bol Radha Bol vibes where case in point is the kitchen scene, driving together in the car, or the paani puri scene in the restaurant speaking about his dead wife. In this last one, Rishi Kapoor outshines himself in one of the most memorable, light-hearted scenes swinging to the onion cutting making it a delectable frame-to-frame captured.

One of the best things that work like wonders in Sharma Ji Namkeen is director Hitesh Bhatia’s celluloid experiment doesn’t create a celluloid gap between both Rishi Kapoor and Paresh Rawal enacting the same character. Both actors are right there in the moment. This serves not only as a beautiful tribute to Rishi Kapoor but full justice is done to him as an artist. Taken into account the unique circumstances and in such a case one actor takes over after the one has left but Chintu-Ji stays with the audience till the end in a non-linear manner and there is continuity in the way each and every scene is canned, leaving no room for gap or void.

Full credit to Paresh Rawal for playing a subdued SharmaJi where he doesn’t try to overdo the character, knowing well that it’s a Rishi Kapoor’s outing all the way. Rawal complements his fellow actor beautifully and endearingly where the interval scene in the way both actors hold their suitcases adds a layer of sweetness to the heartwarming tale. It’s another tale that as a fan I wanted to see Rishi Kapoor throughout the film.

The suitcase scene adds another dimension to the Kapoor charisma, his playfulness, chubbiness and childlike enthusiasm in the manner he has always won over his audience, right from his chocolate image to the second innings and this last act.

The movie is a winner on all counts, bringing alive Rishi Kapoor’s larger than life screen persona two years after his death where he performs in his usual trademark making it a heart-rendering tale together with Batra’s vision hitting back in a subdued manner on shame or class prejudice in depicting the character who after retirement wants to open a restaurant but is met with opposition. It pushes us to think about the whys of prejudice with the director making a strong social statement.

It’s hard to point out flaws, particularly when it’s Rishi Kapoor’s farewell act packing a punch in true swag style but one thing is the equation of Sharma Ji with both sons are missing that Hitesh Batra could have explored with depth on the new age, father-son altering relationship.  

It couldn’t be a bigger tribute to the iconic Rishi Kapoor in what wouldn’t be wrong to call a Grand farewell. SharmaJi Namkeen is the last film of the superstar as he takes a bow and how, acing it in a sensational manner, melting the heart that makes his fans and audience want more of and missing him sorely, wondering what more he could have achieved in this masterstroke act.

SharmaJi Namkeen has stayed with me long after I watched it, and this feel-good factor left a positive feeling not letting any negativity creep in and a panacea beating anxiety and mood dampening for it has the heart in the right place. It is made in a simple, delectable and beautiful manner, supported ably by Parmeet Sethi, Isha Talwar, Suhail Nayyar, Ayesha Razza, and Satish Kaushik.

The last scene is an ode to Kapoor with the song, Om Shanti Om, and behind the scenes makes us smile at his real-life eccentricity, reminding us that legends stay forever. The movie is shown on Prime and if you haven’t watched the showman’s last, leave everything and let SharmaJi charm you for one last time.

Love

V

Unedited: crass love, pale alcohol

Crass language,

uncouth mouths,

reeking of tobacco stain,

they made out on dirt,

wooden stairs,

chewing gum bench,

in empty classroom,

lip smeared smooch,

it was real,

beautiful to them,

the world would spit,

on their faces,

they wouldn’t care a damn,

only two souls matter,

daring to make intense love,

Yet loving mightily,

two glasses,

stolen scotch,

ice melting at such purity,

even alcohol paled.

Love

V

Social media and writing fatigue

It’s been fraught with challenges. Not yesterday, not day before, not ushering in the new, shitty scary pandemic and the post-pandemic world but two years and beyond sucked into the uncertainty of writing and social media. The incapacitated mental block to weave words into strings and ringlet expressions has gotten to me like a bug and Y2K, belonging to the relic times making it into intermittent and ever-lasting fatigue.

There is both the writing and social media fatigue to the extent that I no longer have the verve to pen words constantly. Sharing writing links on Facebook, Twitter, or Linkedin no longer hold interest with passion, with the exception of shit posting or stuffs that’s not mine. It’s been a constant with me for long and is persisting where often I am like will write stuff but end up doing zilch. Great idea(s) are lost and end up taking not just days but weeks to wrap up not just the end product but also the editing. That’s how my writing sucks nowadays.

Not a tale of lost mojo like earlier I would be terming it but somehow the energy to write stuff is blocked. And, the worse is losing the fiction flair. There was a time when I was writing without fail on the blog every single day, be it fiction, poetry, meandering thoughts, books or film reviews and interviews. You name it, You get it! But, not anymore.

I started penning a romance fiction for Valentine’s Day but in the process with the drudgery of life and some untoward challenges, the story was suddenly lost and forgotten, Writing at night? Just forget it. It feels like the hell of a fucking mountain or milestone laden with the very thought bout burning the midnight candle that demotivates nowadays. I’m like the hows and whys!

Night’s writing litany. Ever wonder whether there is such a thing but truth is stood a time when writing past midnight made me super productive and exuding in the fulfillment of quenching the thirst and hunger. See, writing is like food or sex for ordinary mortals like us, except in my case the zing to quench every hunger is missing. Completely on low energy mode, persisting for months and years now. I am actually thinking about what went wrong so much that the fingers not slipping on the keyboard or ink flowing on the speck clean white sheet.

In the mood to reclaim the night owl that I was many years back and overcome this fatigue? Definitely in the affirmative. The ‘tendency’ spotted about being gung go in writing aimlessly at night but imagining mountain and molehill making me backtrack. Such is the extent of fatigue seeping into my life. The same goes for sharing writing stuff on social media and gives reason enough to believe that the dampening of energy is real. I no longer want to share on social media and to think a couple of years back, no post would be missed to share and create a buzz. It feels burdensome nowadays.

One reason is the politics that keeps going on and was one factor that demotivated me but about time to move beyond that. To be brutally honest, on a lucky day, I end up getting a rare but cool 50 views but don’t end up going beyond that. I am no social media influencer and have no intention of trudging this route. But, then, this should be no excuse not to write and share, right if one wants to see their works getting noticed or gain attention. Linkedin is one such place to share your writing be it a personal blog or otherwise since there is lots of traction where my last shared post on Gehraiyaan gained significant attention.

I have created so many hurdles at the back of the mind on the inability to write, yes at night that it whittles down to the subconscious or Psychology creating this paralysis of sort. With much fanfare, an entertainment blog was started two years back in the pre-pandemic world and it has gone completely kaput. How to tackle the fatigue and revert back to the old mode where writing would swing like a pendulum?

There have been numerous attempts with a romance novella on blog to get me back on track but the irony of sort is that it is taking me almost one year plus to wrap up and of course, unsuccessfully doing an e-novella during the lockdown. Still! No luck. I am just making it as hard as fuck. Reason why since recovering from COVID in January end and other health challenges faced by mom at home, I am not rushing into things, hit the pause button, breathe easy and slow down to get back stronger. Hope to get back soon and find my marbles.

Love

V

Heart doesn’t know

A season to celebrate,
troughs of picking,
wild cherry in the heatwave,
except it’s no berry,
ups and downs,
some call it travails,
I say why not,
happy moments,
sadness and tears,
not everything comes in a package,
probably what we’ve signed for,
the heart doesn’t know,
soul picking thread,
lost to the subconscious,
just connect thread,
one by one,
shall mend,
make do with,
ain’t fighting nature,
that’s alright,
one at a time
yeah’
right!

Love

V