Xana-doooooooo!!!!!!!

After standing for 2.5 gruelling hours in the chilling New York cold, when I finally reached the ticket counter, I got to know that there were only partial view tickets available for "Chicago" and all tickets for "The Chorus Line" were sold off. In the split second that I had to make a decision, my mind stopped working, and I asked for tickets to 'Xanadu'. I hadn't heard much about the show, had not read any reviews, and didn't even know what the mysterious sounding title meant.

I did some research on the odd-ball sounding title of the musical, before the show began. What does Xanadu mean?

I learnt that Xanadu was the name of a real ancient Mongolian city, known for its splendor. Xanadu, also Zanadu, Shangdu was the summer capital of Kublai Khan's Mongol Empire, which covered much of Asia and also encroached upon eastern Europe. The city was located in what is now called Inner Mongolia, 275 km north of Beijing.

The reported splendour of Xanadu later inspired Samuel Taylor Coleridge to write his great poem Kubla Khan and caused Xanadu to become a metaphor for opulence. Xanadu is remembered today largely thanks to this poem, which contains the following often quoted lines:

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

In popular and modern culture too Xanadu is referenced many times in numerous works

1) Xanadu is home to the comic strip character Mandrake the Magician, created by Lee Falk.
2) Canadian rock band Rush has a song called "Xanadu" on the album 'A Farewell to Kings' which incorporates lines of Coleridge's poem.
3) The 1980 musical film Xanadu is considered a cult film. It featured music by Electric Light Orchestra and John Farrar who wrote most of Olivia Newton-John's hits from the film. The film's title track, "Xanadu", was a major hit for the Australian pop singer Olivia Newton-John, along with the songs "Suddenly" (John Farrar) and "Magic" (John Farrar). However the movie was a major dud.
4) It is the name of Charles Foster Kane's Mansion in the Classic Movie Citizen Kane (1941).
5) Episode 70 of the Pokemon anime series features a greenhouse called Xanadu Nursery.
6) The Xanadu Project is a planned shopping, sport, and entertainment complex in East Rutherford, New Jersey. Begun in 2006, when completed, it will be the world's largest mall, consisting of over 4.8 million square feet of construction.
7) Uncle Scrooge and his nephews visit Xanadu in a story written and drawn by Don Rosa.
8) Xanadu is the name of a very reflective region on the surface of Saturn's largest moon, Titan.

As I began reading more and more, I realized that the Broadway show 'Xanadu' was derived from the 1980s movie by the same name. The 1980s movie was reviewed to be neither beautiful, luxurious, nor a hit, contrary to what the name suggests. Interesting! I was surprised why any producer would be willing to be bet their many millions of dollars at the cheesy film to have a second life on stage. One of the reviews for the movie that I read started with the title screaming 'Xana-don't. It is regarded as one of the single worst films of all times - ever in history. So I was amazed as to what had come upon the makers of the Broadway show to pick up a work this wretched. I am just surprised what kind of person sets out to make a stage version of this bad movie. Definitely someone who has the courage of his conviction and isn't afraid of the numerous questions that might be asked. Whatever the thought process behind picking up this story, after seeing the stage version, I can confidently say it actually works. I did not think that it was brilliant or a masterpiece (it pales in critical comparison to my last broadway show 'Spring Awakening' - I hope to write more about that later). It is actually 90 minutes of pure, unadulterated, intelligent fun. The play keeps the basic plot from the movie. A muse descends from heaven and inspires an artist to build an ultimate artist studio - a disco where everyone roller skates. To get that to somehow work on stage, the producers brought in a Tony nominated playwright whose job it was to make the cheesy movie seem tasteful for the stage. And of course even before they started working on the stage version, they did have one big thing rooting for them in their favor - the music from the movie.

I read some more on the success of the songs of this movie after getting back from the show and I could definitely see that Olivia had several breakout hits including the title song 'Xanadu' and 'Suddenly'. As horrendous as the film was (you can actually watch some clippings of it online, thanks to Youtube), the sound track was quite popular. Actress Kerry Butler (beautiful and oh-so-graceful) now gets to sing Olivia's songs from the movie. And yes, Kerry was quite good, and in fact much more than good with the Australian accent and the roller skating dance sequences. And that's also in part what works in favor of Xanadu-the stage version, it makes fun of the movie (My hugely critical friend scritic says this is an often employed ploy by producers to make fun of the very source from which they have derived their work since it insulates their work from the very same criticisms that the source was subjected to - but what the heck, it still is funny!), it makes fun of the 80's, it makes fun of Broadway and its huge successes (Lord Lloyd Webber does get a humorous mention and so does the world's largest running musical - Les Miserables), and it also makes fun of itself (Note the pot shot the script makes as the casting-double stinginess of the producers). And the audience loved all of it. Most definitely the audience comprised largely of out of city tourists who did not come expecting Shakespeare, they just wanted to have fun...And fun Xanadu is. So even if it isn't Shakespeare, maybe the stage production can just put the 'do' back in Xanadu.

Reference: Some information for this post is referenced from Wikipedia.

Happy Birthday to me!

Another year. Another birthday. A slow start to the day. Some many phone calls. Couple of gifts. A feel good factor. But a fear lurking in mind, just two words to be heard, 'Old-er' and 'Loneli-er'. As the day progresses ahead, some more phone calls. Plans made for dinner with friends in the evening. As evening approaches, all dressed up in the birthday cheer, I step out. Fun dinner with friends. Gifts some more. And then it's the time to disco. Hit the club, booze some, dance some, booze some more, dance some more. Time flies. Birthday ends. Well almost!

My story begins where my birthday ends.

It was a fun birthday. As fun, as fun could be. I couldn't have asked any more for my first birthday in an alien country. God bless friends, 'coz without them I would be agonizing over my loneliness on my special day.

I carried my gifts and walked to the subway station to catch a train back home. I was laden with gifts. As I got down the stairs of the 42nd Street Subway station, I could hear a sweet melody wafting through the air.

"Stromin my pain with her fingers
Singin my life with her words
Killing me softly with her song
Killing me softly with her song
Telling my whole life with her words
Killing me softly with her song"

Beautiful. The vocals were amazing. And the range captivating. And the guitar accompaniment was even better. Must be some really talented street musician, said my mind. I moved towards the direction from where the sounds were born.

A tall, lean, heavily dressed black man was playing the guitar and singing the song. His wiry strands of hair were falling all over his face as his face contorted with the emotions. The music being produced there at that moment, needed to reside on a disc and not simply drown away in the cacophony of the train noises. But sadly, that's the way it was.

He was surrounded by a group of around 7 people, excluding me. His captive audience of those 7 people included 2 couples, and then three single guys. Both the girls leaned on to their respective partner's shoulders, enjoying the sweet melody, feeling love only like how young, carefree souls can. You could feel the romance in the air, just at that moment. Of the remaining three single guys, two of them were swaying to the music, and the other one was seeming unfazed by the music, but you could still make out from his face, that his ears were rapt in attention.

And then there was me. I rested my gifts on a seat nearby, but still held on to the bouquet. I began swaying to the music too.

The song ended. His captive audience broke into a heartfelt applause.

Next song.

"When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we'll see
No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

And darlin', darlin', stand by me, oh now now stand by me
Stand by me, stand by me"

Ah! Ben King!

Midway through the song, the musician tried some antics. He began stopping midway through the song asking the audience to fill in the lyrics for him. It worked at times where the lyrics were memorable. The song was even better than the previous one.

The song ended. Applause again!

I took some money and proceeded to his guitar bag which was lying on the floor of the platform, to collect his moolah. I dropped the bills in there. That's when he looked up to me and said "Thank you, Sir!"

Him: Gentleman, I see you are coming from a party.
Me: Yes
Him: And is it a special occasion? I can see a bouquet...
Me: Oh Yes! Its ma birthday today.
Him: Oh wonderful.

And then he strummed his guitar strings into a familiar beat.

And he began singing -

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you

By the second line, his captive audience of 7 people had also joined him. There was mild clapping of some hands along with the song too.

Happy Birthday, dear ......

I could see 16 eyes thrust on my face.

I volunteered, "Joe"

Happy Birthday, dear Joe
Happy Birthday to you...

And then the beat intensified. The music envigorated its pace, and the people began singing faster once more the same 4 lines.

It was beautiful. My heart melted. There were tears in my eyes. I was afraid that they would roll over, and I would seem so sissy. But truly it was a moment worth cherishing.

The song ended. Everyone clapped loudly. Some couple of other strangers who weren't involved in the singing too came and wished me.

It was just perfect. When random strangers like these can care to make your birthday special for you, that's when you realize that there is still hope, love, care and humanity in this world. That's when you realize that the world is still just fine.

If there was ever any case for the yummiest, creamiest, temptiest icing on the cake, then this had to be it.

Happy Birthday to me!

Words from the wise

'What works longer than a Duracell? Child-labor. Child-labor works longer than a duracell. How do I know? I learnt it from the Chinese. We need to learn from the Chinese how to respect our women and the children. They built the Great wall of China using their children. Their kids can just go on and on and on. The women strap the kids to their shoulders and they just work on and on. Yes that's true. Child labor works longer than a Duracell.'

'Gay sex is a lie. Sex should result in procreation. Show me one gay guy who's made kids by having sex. No, you can't. So gays don't have sex. They just make out. And there is nothing wrong in that, I say'.

'Marriages were made by women. When women find that they cannot kick the ass of their man anymore, they marry them. Lady, why do you cry when burying your husband? You are the one who murdered him. He was much happy before he met you. It's true, Marriages just take the love out of a relationship.'

'The government is lying when they say that they have Global warming in control. They want to have your ass baked. And then when your ass is baked, you all will be always up and alert at work, and not rest there at your offices like fools. That's the government's way of increasing your productivity.'

Source: A mad & homeless man on the 5th Avenue subway stop. He was mumbling away these quips loudly without caring about being politically correct. Amusing!

And then it snowed!

Coming from India, growing up in the tropics, I always fantasized snow. And Bollywood played a major role in misshaping my fantasies about snow. The beautiful snow capped Swiss valleys in the lovezy-schmaltzy laden Yashraj movies impressed indelibly on my mind as a child that snow is pure and romantic. That when you feel love, you run to the snow covered Swiss Albis mountain range, where your love is so strong that you do not even feel the freezing sub zero chill in a skimpy saree. And you sing beautiful romantic numbers. Love conquers it all.

This belief of mine held true for 27 long years of my life. Snow is beautiful, snow is romantic.

And then I landed in New York City.

Today having lived in NYC for more than 9 months, and having seen the reality, I beg to differ.

Today was the first snowfall of 2007.

I woke up and began checking my mails. A while later Mario woke up and looked outside the window, and he exclaimed 'Hey! Its snowing!' I rushed to the window to see beautiful fragments of white fluff flowing in the air and settling ever so gently on the streets outside my house. They had formed a white layer on the cars parked on the streets. The Superintendents of the residential buildings around were busy blowing up the snow and cleaning the streets outside the apartments to ease the movement of people on the streets.

'It's beautiful...Oh! I love the snow', said Mario.

'It's your first snow here', I told him. 'Twice, thrice more and I am sure you will change your mind'.

I was sure of that. It snowed the very second day I landed in the US, and looking outside the house, I could just think that it was extremely beautiful. And then I began to commute to places in the snow and all the beauty, grace, fun and romance that I had associated with the snow, just evaporated into thin air.

NYC where I have lived for some time now has four distinct seasons, so snow will always be a part of my NYC life as long as I am here. I certainly enjoy that first fall of heavy, thick flakes. The sky is dusky and a hush comes over the world. Before the plows come to make it mucky slush, before the dogs stain it yellow and the school kids ruin your backyard with footprints, snow is a lovely experience. Then comes the endless shoveling of driveways and brushing off of cars, followed by the patches of black ice hidden under deceptive white fluff. Ugh. This happened twice, and I’m over snow now.

And it's so cold that you have to wrap yourself up in layers and layers of clothing. All those additional layers are so inconvenient that you feel like a tight sack and your body movements feel so restricted that you avoid trying to bend down to tie the show lace which came off. And then you walk some and you trip some and end up embarassing yourself.

And you cannot wear anything else other than your winter snow boots outside. God forbid, if you do, and unnoticingly stamp into a pool of slush, you will be pulled down by your soggy shoes all day. And then you also have to handle those smelly wet socks. And pray also, if you do, that you do not slip and fall. Coz if you do and make a fool of yourself in front of strangers, it's still bearable. What's more dangerous is the propensity for a slip like that to cause physical damage.

Now having seen the best of both worlds, I feel that Snow in NYC is just similar to Rains in Mumbai. Stay home with your cuppa masala chai and some freshly deep fried hot onion pakoras, with a wonderful book in hand, and lounge on your balcony and have a view outside of the Mumbai rains. It's great. That's when it feels perfect to hum your lovely old school Bollywood romanticisms. Those very same tunes which were shot in the picture perfect snow covered Swiss Albis ranges.

Ah - the things I can do for a free flush!

It always amazes me at the American tourists' thoughtlessness to point out that there are no public restrooms in India. As a child when I used to watch travel shows (especially the travel segment in that eternal favorite 'Surabhi'), I remember some American tourists' complaining to a reporter that they loved the Taj but what they did not like was that there were no public restrooms around. Of course, the Indian tourist industry did take note of that and the last time that I went to the Taj about 10 years ago, there were public restrooms built there. They were not the cleanest, the most efficient, the most fragrant-free restrooms that an American might have encountered, but oh well, at least they are present. And so too in most cities and tourist spots in the country, I would like to believe.

In contrast, in the Big Apple, one thing that constantly hits me in the face (that's not exactly the correct usage, but I could not get below the belt with this usage) is the lack of public restrooms. And that too with the advent of the chill season once again, the pressure just builds up. As far as I am aware of, there are some public restrooms only in Times Square (the Charmin toilets) in the city.

I have read of efforts in the past by the local NYC administrations to get started on building public restrooms around NYC. But those efforts have all only led to naught. Chronicling this sad history and the persistent dearth of toilets,NYTimes columnist Clyde Haberman once wrote, “The fact remains that this is one of the few great world cities that make no attempt to help people cope with so basic a need, a situation that constantly amazes residents and visitors alike.” Now I hear of articles in newspapers about a campaign called 'Pottypalooza' (nice name, that) which is a marketing effort, in which the marketing firm drives a long trailer, fitted with 27 toilets, around the country, to events like the Super Bowl.

All said and done, the efforts seem far and few for the millions of public yearning to pee, especially in the nail biting cold that there is now. The efforts don't seem to be coming either from the government or from the corporate world. It could be something as simple as a pay-per-flush program if the corporate world does not want to sponsor a loss-making program. I am sure with the millions that they will rake in per pee, it won't be a loss making endeavour after all. I agree bodily excretion is the most non-glamorous of our everyday glamorous NYC lives (if ever, the public restrooms won't make it to the glossy screens of Sex and the City) But isn't it funny that in a post modern society like ours, we are denying the very existence of bodily excretion?

Sometimes I even wonder whether the city's administrative body is not installing public restrooms for a purpose. Maybe they actually make some money out of not installing public restrooms. With no public restrooms, customers will enter a store to use the bathroom. Perhaps they will be forced to buy a drink or a coffee just to use the bathroom at that establishment. That means more tax dollars and more revenue - at the public's inconvenience.

In fact, it is funny that it is a coffee-shop chain that is serving as the city's public restroom. Starbucks should rather be rechristened as Starflush. On any cold winter day, you can rest assured that there will a longer queue in front of the restroom within a Starbucks outlet as compared to the billing counter. I know that there are people opposed to Starbucks everywhere because it has corporatized the neighborhood Mom & Pop coffee shops and small-eats eateries. It has driven out neighborhood cafes everywhere and it seems to reside on nearly every corner in the city, but it does serve one great purpose as the public restroom. So long as you are not far from a Starbucks, you not far from a free flush.

Capitalism and Alienation

It was the hump day of the week. I was at the pantry by the coffee machine. So a colleague walks in and asks "How are you?" I was tempted to say 'tired, lazy, sleepy'. But I just said 'I am fine' and walked away. I wanted to tell her 'You know what? I was out shopping with a friend until late night 11 pm yesterday and reached home only by 12 and slept only by 12.30 and got up in the morning to reach work again at 6 am. I hardly slept and now I am feeling very sleepy. ' I didn't tell her that though. I didn't feel that close to her. This is despite the fact that we are great friends and can seem to talk about most things without any restraint. I could not figure out why I didn't tell her what I wanted to tell her.

That caught me thinking. Why is it so that despite living, working, commuting and shopping together, most people feel estranged from one another? We talk about what we can’t control (sports, the weather) to avoid discussing what we aren’t allowed to control (our work, the world, our feelings).

And I feel more like it here in the US of A as compared to India. What is it so about the US of A that I don't relate myself with the society here? Might be the capitalist culture I think. The consumerism. The body fascism. The fight to look and be the best at all times. It takes a toll on our relationships.

Hmmm - gotta get back to work. Can't spend all time at work penning my sad stories.

Saawari-yo-yo

So half an hour into the movie Ranbir Raj is playing with his yo-yo and Sakina runs into him and asks him for forgiveness for her stupidity, to which Ranbir says 'You cannot play with my emotions as if I'm a yo-yo' (or something to that effect). That line is stuck in my head, and I feel like telling the same to SLB - You cannot play with the could-have been careers of two new and wannabe actors, with the first time money and interest shown by Sony Pictures in Bollywood industry, with the time and money spent by numerous cinema-goers on your whimsical jamboree as if we are a yo-yo.

What could have been a beautiful tragical tale of love lost turns into an over indulgent and opulent farce. Right from the frame one of the movie, people are reminded of SLB's lofty ambitions as he proudly proclaims that this movie is based on Fyodor Dostoevsky's short story - White Nights. Although he does say so, fifteen minutes into the movie you realise that there is something majorly flawed with this movie. Maybe it's the director's overindulgence with the sets. Maybe it's the color blue all throughout the movie. Maybe its the dark tone of the movie - why was the entire movie shot in a studio, and why not in the bright natural light outside? Maybe it's the atrocious, kiddish, out of context dance steps (trust me, it looked like some child was doing action songs - I am a teapot tall and stout here is my handle here is my spout). Maybe it's the fact that you cannot understand which period this movie is based in. Maybe it's the fact that it just does not have its heart in its place. Maybe that's it, I think. A heartless movie, without any emotions it is.

The only scene which evoked any kind of emotion (other than plain bored) from the collective movie hall was one where Ranbir Kapoor exposes - his ass. The girls were simply giggling and the guys collectively exhaling, in shock, in surprise, in awe, and in a way which said - we didn't know this. Probably that is the only reason why this movie will ever be remembered - the first time that a titillating song was picturised with the male actor doing the pelvic thrusts and throwing in the towel.

As I left the movie, the only things that remained with me was the buoyance of Rani - the Queen of hearts through the movie. And I just could not stop laughing at the most pretentious dialogue I had ever heard in my life - something about how life is like a boxing ring, and how you have to box out the sadness from your life. And again, I just could not figure out the purpose of Ranbir's ass in the movie?

Happiness Vs Contentedness

Somehow my most interesting thoughts are aroused during random chats with friends. And when such thoughts come up, I think I should document them so that I do not lose track of them. So here's my last chat with a dear friend.

S: So what do you talk with him anyways? (Him being this new chat friend)
Me: many things - I dunno how i strike up such conversations with random strangers, but i manage to do it
so today we were talking abt what makes us happy in life - generally
S: and .. ?
Me: the beaches, water, sand, designing clothes, hanging out with friends, etc. etc.
What makes youu happy?
Does seeing a beautiful butterfly outside the window hovering over the plant pots make you happy?
S: eeeeee. I'm petrified of cliches. I dunno, watching a good movie makes me happy...Although again -- i'm not sure of what exactly happy means. It gives me pleasure, yes.
Me: wow! u r so full of philosphical crap. Sorry i don't mean to be mean. But really you are much more deeper than I give you credit for and I dun seem to appreciate it at all
S: he he -- i'm actually pretentious as shit. :) I can't help it -- I was born that way.
Me: Shit is not pretentious
S: Which was precisely the point of the phrase.
Me: So if you say you are pretentious as shit, then you aren't.
S: Correct. That's what the phrase means. :)
Me: So also were you not born as shit. Thats not even correct anatomically. There are different outlets for birth and for shitting.
S: See that's what happens when u talk about "happy" things with me. You should compare this conversation with ur conversation with him.
Me: I actually laughed out loud
S: So again what would make you happy?
Me: Well for me it would be
1) A job I like doing - which in my case is more or less the case
2) A good salary for that job - which in my case is not something I have achieved yet
3) A partner whom I care for lots - which in my case is more or less the case now
4) Living in a wonderful house with my partner - which in my case is not happening currently
5) A set of friends who care for me and whom I love - which is again more or less the case for me now
S: waaaah, waaah.
Joe: so that's when i realised. 3/5 - not bad at all
S: I thought you guys were talking about "little things" that make you happy ... these are all big things! Not bad at all, I agree. In fact, you almost have it made. And still, how much u crib!! :)
So that way for me it would be:
(1) A good job where i get to read and write as much as i want
(2) paid well
(3) I've published something very reputable (maybe even a book), and I'm well-known in my field and
(4) A partner
(5) and lots of pretentious friends like me with whom i can talk about pretentious things.
Me: so 5 is not achieved yet since most of ur friends like A and I, etc. are all li'l dimwits
S: Nooooooooooo. That is not what i meant at all :)
Me: Well u did put it that way
S: yes, it came out wrongly. I meant: a few good friends, some of whom are pretentious like me.
ok? ;)
Me: lol - so how many out of those 5 have u achieved?
S: i'm not even close to (1) (3) and (4) my pay is ok -- but not great.
and i'm getting along ok with (5)
Me: so 1/5. Hmmm - but you still seem happier than me. So maybe happy is a state of mind which is different for different people. I get 'unhappified' too soon
S: I think we're talking about being contented or discontented. And less about being happy.
Me: ya true
S: I'm not unhappy. And neither are you, i think.
Me: True, I'm not unhappy - I'm just discontented
S: yes! correct. And so now the question is: about what? You're 3/5 so what exactly are you discontented about? (haah, i should be a therapist!) :)
Me: I dunno - maybe -
1) About not having someone here living with me
2) About not getting to have sex
3) About people less talented than me getting ahead of me in life, just because they tom-tom themselves, or because their Dads are their best ATMs, or just because lady luck favors them more than me
4) About not being able to lose my weight and not being able to present myself as good as I dream about.....I think my list will go on and on
S: hmmmmm. (2) and (4) are addressable, I think. (3) is the hardest. Ok, (2) is also not so easy.
Me: I think 1, 2 and 4 are all addressable, but all equally difficult. But 3 will always remain. I just need to make my peace with it.
S: I dunno about that -- you could put in so extra effort for (3)
Me: Nopes 3 will always remain. Even if I become the Prime Minister of India, I will be discontent that I had to struggle so much to reach that level, but Rajiv Gandhi got it so much more easily just because of his legacy. So that will always remain. I just need to make my peace with it.
S: Are you discontented about the effort or the result?
Me: Good Question. Never thought of that. I think I will think over that for tonight....

Awaiting Yuletime in NYC

So I am chatting with a dear old friend. Here's a transcript of our conversation.

Friend: So what are your holiday plans?
Me: Dunno yet. I might get a 10 day holiday at work.
F: Oh wow! Good! So what do you plan to do then?
M: Dunno yet. I feel so anxious and upset at the same time.
F: Don't you like Christmas? It will be so wonderful in NYC then.
M: Well, that's not the point. I don't think, that Christmas or for that matter any other festival here in NYC likes me.
F: huh?
M: Allright, here's the deal. Forget all the religious part of Christmas. As I see there are two distinct parts of Christmas in NYC - the commercial part and the gooey part. The commercial part's Ok. I like all the tacky lights and the mob scenes and the plastic reindeers and sleighs. It's the gooey part that drives me crazy. It's a conspiracy. X'mas is a conspiracy by all the huge advertising and marketing and sales and retailers divisions to make the single people feel all the more lonely.....

and then some more...i went on....gosh! I have become so cribby...

Feeling blue

It's a tired day at work.

The computer screen stares at me.

The colleagues are chattering away sweet IT nothings into speaker phones.

They are talking about tables and windows, bugs and viruses, lobsters and gloves.

But I am not aware of any of this. My mind is just humming a boring tune, its buzzing like the millions of mosquitoes in a humid, tropical forest. My body itches, the wool from my blue sweater is biting onto my skin. As I scratch where it itches, it hits me - I am also feeling blue. I dunno why, but I guess in the morning when I was picking up clothes to wear, the situation my mind was in directed me towards what clothes to pick up.

I put up my status on Google talk as 'Feeling Blue'

That initiates this conversation between my friend K & I


K: is blue good?

I: well - i like the color blue, and i like the reference the color makes to movies which depict eroticism, but when I feel blue, I feel low, I feel lost, I feel rudderless...
I feel like there is no purpose to my life

K: hmmmm
blue.. is universal..

I: so are all other colors

K: how about red?
it is true.. about blue/green

I: Red - that's the color of vive, of life, of blood, of death
it's a color of extremes

K: yellow?

I: the sunflowers, the mustard fields, the sunlight, the light generated from bulbs

K: it is mostly associated with light.. and is too bright to handle..

I: but when shaded correctly, it also can be associated with the romanticism of the setting sun, when mild rays of the sun filtering through the grey clouds, it seems like neither night nor day but rather that feeble compromise which fills one with a sense of long-forgotten things and presents the time when vague yearnings and regrets begin to fill up your soul.

K: thats the shade of orange in yellow

I: yep and somewhat pink and mild red too - its like a collage of colors

K: how about black?

I: Thats the color of all of our dark secrets, our most intimate deep selves which no one else is aware of - just like Dr Jekyll has a Mr Hyde hidden in him and Robert Nates has his dead mom hidden in him

K: anything on the other spectrum for black?

I: hmm - like?

K: black.. is all hidden
but still.. i love black.. esp to wear

I: ya - exactly - just like a suspicious mind always looks on the black side of things.
And also just like you said, it is also the color associated with high society, high fashion, with the runways of Paris and Milan

But do not forget
it is also associated with the dirt and grime of the slums of Mumbai

__________________________________________________________________

I did not realise that the little conversation had proved to be my purpose that needed to pull me out of feeling blue for the day.

K disappeared.

Maybe the tables and the windows, the bugs and the viruses, the lobsters and the gloves were all calling up to him.

And there - my sweater began to itch my skin again!

My endless wait

The cold sun rays of Fall,
On my drowsy eyes they fall,
Evoking that painful sweet urge,
of a beautiful past seen and heard....

This interminable period of waiting,
of pondering, of yearning and that bitter-sweet longing,
When oh When will those times come?
And what if they never ever come?

Tell me why...

Why is it so that only the few who were born with a silver spoon in their mouth get all the opportunities in their lives? Why does money beget money in this world? It's all about money, honey. And I need to understand that this is the way the world works. So, in order to make it easier for my offsprings, I need to spring off the boardwalk where I am resting my ass currently and struggle harder to achieve more...that's all. There is no use cribbing about the unfairness of the world, take it with a pinch of salt and dive right in....

When mediocrity reigns

No one likes to be beaten.

But to be beaten by a person who has always stood as a particular example of mediocrity in your eyes, to start by the side of this mediocrity and to watch it shoot up, while you struggle and finally end up with nothing but a boot in your face, to see the mediocrity snatch from you, your thunder, to be beaten, beaten badly, beaten – not by a greater genius, not by a God, but by Mediocrity – there is no torture equivalent to this.

MY LIVING WILL

The following short email is from my ex-roomie's mother's 70 + year old best friend from college. I'm putting it on here for those I think will appreciate the humor.

MY LIVING WILL

Last night, my friend and I were sitting in the living room and I saidto her, "I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine, and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the plug."She got up, unplugged the TV, and threw out my booze.

She's such a bitch.....

New Role

I just got entitled yesterday as the "anti-bore balm"!!! ha ha :) nice one

My mind is humming a tune now:

Zandu balm Zandu balm
Peeda-haari balm

That's in Hindi, it's even more funny when I think of the Malayalam version:

Zandu balm Zandu balm
Vedana-haari balm

Another manic blue morning

As the sun's rays filtered through the curtains and landed on my face, my eyes flickered and I woke up into another morning. I was feeling blue. Again. Well, I have been feeling blue for some time now, rather some days, some months. I wake up every morning in the United States of Depression. And Loneliness.
I am more out of it than ever. I sit on my bed, munching into a Godiva goodie and watching the street outside. It's so clan, neat & tidy and the wind that just blew into my face, smells so good...but then I think am I paying too high a price?
How many times now have I contemplated going back home to India? And each time I revert that thought thinking - later, maybe later.
How many times had the lure of home cooked food beckoned me from the sidewalks of NYC?
Will I ever stop feeling like a Martian on the moon in this country?
Or will I wake up one morning to find myself an overdressed, overcoated old man, tottering about Jackson Heights in slightly worn out gloves, prolonging my choice of desi food at Khan Baba Restaurant, telling the security guy who helped me get into the cab that any day now, when my social security check came in, when the weather turned, when I found a home for my
li'l lab....I was gonna go home to India?