Obsession

Road trips and weekend adventures are incomplete without a camera in hand. The click sound is what makes such long awaited and thoroughly planned vacations complete.

No matter which group I travel with... no matter how many people the group is composed of... or the average age of peers... or the location being explored... or the time of the day... or any other simple silly stupid scenario... the device that makes the click sound either:

1. sticks to my hand,
2. hangs around my wrist, or
3. dances around my waist.

As a result, very few clicks are targeted towards me.

This very disappointing factor encourages me to engage in some very non-unimaginable craziness.

When bored - and this happens often - and tired of the routine of fighting boredom - that consists of (a) watching movies, (b) playing games, (c) surfing the net, (d) chatting, (e) online social networking, (f) sleeping, (g) eating, (h) reading [?!] - the clicking device again mysteriously find its way towards me, my hand, my mind! And I - quite non-surprisingly - end up clicking my own photographs.

I assume, everyone would agree with me in saying:

self-clicked photographs look really bad

Yet, we all do it! Some do it more frequently than others. And I probably belong to the 'more frequent' category.

Rain Drive

Finally, after one whole year I got to drive in the rain. But it was not exactly what I wanted.

My ideal Rain Drive is on the highway with water pouring down like anything, resulting in nothing being seen beyond the dashboard. In such a situation, everybody in the car practices the fine art of being quite. Silence is the only sound in side, and rain is the only sound out side. No body moves their head, everybody's eyes stick to the 'road' - which, of course, is not in sight. And they all pray to reach safely to where ever the car is headed.

That is my ideal Rain Drive!

Oh! I so miss that situation.

Insight into my Personality?

The subject of movies is often discussed and talked about amongst friends. Back in the 'kids era' - yes I do like the combination of these two words - questions like "What is your favorite movie?" "Who are your favorite actors and actresses?" "What kind of music do you like?" "Which TV Serials are your favorite?" were often asked and answered. There could be several reasons to why every group of friends in this world has talked about these. Either there was nothing else worth talking about or these questions are very important! I used to believe the first reason - nothing else to talk about! But it seems the latter is true - these questions are very important!

Now the question - Why do I think "these questions are very important"? Well, because the rise of 'social networks' has emphasised the importance of these. No matter which social network, no matter whether it is being used largely or not, all of them have sections for - favorite movies, favorite music, favorite books etc. etc. So, do these tell something about the person? Or do they just serve as information that end up resulting in false interpretations?

How do you decide which kind of movie you like? No movie is perfect! Do we base our choices and preferences on Acting? Actors? Technology used? Special effects? Story? Climax? What?

Okay, another question. When someone first watches a movie or a new movie is released people again discuss it, ask others whether or not they liked the movie. This is not about favorites, it's only about the first impression. How do people judge this like or dislike towards the movie?

I, personally, did not like Omkara. The last 30 minutes were the best because the movie gained pace, but everything before it was slow and probably did not make sense to an average viewer (who has not read Othello). Although everything that happened in the first 2 hours was essential for the climax, as a whole I did not like the movie. Probably because it did not keep me involved, after a while I was not interested in what was happening on screen, I wanted it to just end!

Yesterday, I saw Sainik (a 1993 Akshay Kumar starrer). The movie did not have any story to it. They just made it out of the blue, probably to give these stars something to do. After the movie ended, I wanted to express my like or dislike. And for once I was confused. Although the movie did not have any storyline, although it was not all necessary to spend 3 hours watching it, although I could have done something better, probably watched another pathetic movie, I had a very good reason to say that I did not dislike the movie. This does not mean I 'liked' it, but I 'did not dislike' it either. The reason? I didn't really get bored. Although I could see, nothing is leading to nowhere, still the director had my attention.

How do you play this game of favorites? or likes or dislikes?

The Cursed Day

Aug 3 '01 - the day my family and I left New Delhi, India for good.
Aug 3 '01 - the day my family and I landed on American land for good.
Aug 3 '01 - the day that marked the ending of a beginning left incomplete.
Aug 3 '01 - the day that marked the beginning of a new beginning unasked for.

As a fourteen year old I arrived Atlanta, Georgia, United States of America exactly five years ago from today. Mom, Papa, Hansag and I stood at the Hartsfield Airport with our eight (or maybe twelve) huge suitcases, waiting for Mr. Man Mohan Sharma to receive us.

Two years before, in 1999, Hansag and I had come to the States for a visit of three months. The scene that was in front of our eyes now, was not at all scary. Seeing Whites, Blacks, Latinos, Asians, all those people running around at the airport seemed quite normal. Those pay phones, those carts, that luggage receiving area, those help counters, those sliding doors, those extra long cars, pick-up trucks, perfect roads, nothing, nothing at all was new or scary or unexpected.

Finally, someone came looking for us. It was Mr. Sharma's wife - Lydia Sharma - of Puerto Rican decent. Those huge suitcases we were standing by helped her recognize us.

The luggage was dumped into Mr. Sharma's white Ford pick-up truck. The rest of us rode the black Lexus, which had a built-in GPS system. Again, the automatic windows, the smooth ride, the fast highways, the country side, nothing, nothing at all was new or scary or unexpected.

The night before, back in India, mom was still packing. There was a huge crowd of people in our flat - Nana, Nani, Anil Chacha, Lajja Chachi, Shanky, Rishu, Rinku Mama, Papa, Mom, Hansag, and I. A lot of stuff was going on, the flight was in only a couple of hours and the house was still a mess, things spread everywhere! Adults' minds were not thinking straight. There came a point when postponing the ticket was being considered. I was up for it! I really wanted that! I actually wanted them to just fuckin' cancel the tickets and not ever think about moving to the United States. But of course, nothing was done. The flight, still, was in a couple of hours, and the house, still, was a mess.

Soon, and I mean pretty soon, it was time to step out the house. I went to my room, picked up the phone and dialed numbers. Three sets of seven digit numbers. Said the same thing to all the three on the other side of the line:

Hum bas nikal rahe hain. Tujhe last bye bolne ke liye phone kiya.
(We are just leaving. Called to say a final bye.)

Kanika Saboo, Srishti Bhatnagar, and Aditya Singh (probably in that same order, but can't remember).

Then, I went down the stairs, walked over to another building, called Tripti Sharma. She came downstairs we shook hands/hugged and I stepped inside that car that took me away, far away.

Yes, it has been five years since I've seen that flat or that particular crowd or Kanika or Srishti or Aditya or Tripti. It has been five years since I've stepped down those stairs or walked on that road or towards that building.

Five long unending years.