My blogging here comes to an end

Before I continue further, let me clarify. My blogging here comes to an end. But I would continue blogging on this new site.

Why the change?

From a blogging perspective, I wanted to switch to a more professional and customizable design. That is easier on WordPress - the blogging domain of my new site.

From a personal standpoint, I had reached that point in life when we wish we got an opportunity to start things anew.

Having said that, this blog would always hold a special place in my life. For about 6 years, it let me understand life and myself better. For about 6 years, it acted as a conversation-starter after long gaps in many of my friendships. For about 6 years, it added meaning to my life.

I would always be grateful to this site for that.

And I am equally grateful to all of you who were generous enough to spend your precious time on my writings, and were even more generous to send a message when you liked a piece or found something relatable.

Thank you. 

A time for tears

I like to save up my tears.
Whenever sadness gets excited
And knocks on my eyelids to let her out,
I tell her,
"Come on! Not now!
The worst is yet to come."

Some people believe that this is pessimistic
But I refuse
Like I refuse many other beliefs.
Not agreeing with people makes you feel unique
And then time teaches you -
"Actions matter more than beliefs."
And you see you are just like everyone else
Which is not bad, is it?
Try telling that to advertising agencies
Try telling that to my generation
Try telling that to a data analyst
A data analyst whose dream project involves hyper-personalisation.
After all the search results are personalised
There would be fewer options for the soul to connect with.

Let's get back to saving up tears
I have this problem of deviating from the topic
Like how tears deviate from our cheeks sometimes
Like how happy memories deviate from our hearts sometimes.
Why do I like deviating?
Because deviations open up new directions
Unlike how people want their lives to be
People prefer their lives to be structured
And people prefer the lives of other people to be structured as well.
25 years old - Aren't you married yet?
28 years old - Isn't your kid walking yet?
31 years old - Doesn't your house own you yet?
But I believe our society does this
Keeping in mind the welfare of future historians.
Imagine if a historian wanted to find
The average age by when people in this generation got married
Wouldn't his life be so easy
Because of our beautifully structured society?
Our society always does what is best for the future
Though that might ruin the present in the process
Which is fine
We have enough tears to shed, don't we?

Let's get back to saving up tears
And my real reason behind it.
I get distracted pretty easily
And I forget to feel sad when I should.
When something bad happens
My heart does not react immediately with tears
It first tries to paint a positive picture of the suffering
It then tries to wake me up to all the wisdom to be gained
It then lists down ambitious goals and keeps me busy.
By the time I remind myself that
Sadness had asked to be let out,
She sets out on a solo trip
To some deserted place surrounding depression.
When something bad happens again
This whole cycle is restarted
And my tears remain preserved thus.

Is it bad to hold back tears?
I am not sure
But I remember that when I was younger
Tears helped me differentiate between joy and sadness.
Of late, the lines have begun to blur
All happy incidents are registered with a tinge of sadness
All successes are recorded with a feeling of failure
Which makes me wonder if wishes actually come true.
I had once wished that I did not feel every emotion
As strongly as I did
And now, as I see my emotions jumbled up
Not letting me experience any emotion in its entirety
I wish to be forgiven
I wish for normalcy to be restored
I wish for a few tears to flow down.

Notes from making a short film - Part 1 of 4

You have enrolled yourself in a film academy for a short-term course in digital filmmaking. Your batch consists of 6 members in total - each person is from a different background, each person is employed in a different profession, but each member is passionately interested in filmmaking with the dream of becoming a director someday. Three weeks into the course, the screenwriting professor asks you to submit a story idea (in writing) that can be made into a 10-12 minute short film. He also puts forth the following conditions.

1. Set a major portion of the story indoors, preferably in a house (Shooting outdoors requires permission from several authorities and is very difficult to execute for amateur filmmakers) 
2. Have a limited number of characters in the story so that the cost of actors doesn't shoot through the roof
3. Have a limited number of scenes since the shooting needs to be wrapped up in 2 days
4. The story can be absurd or dark but ensure that it has an overall theme

Along with these conditions, let me add another important fact that from all the stories submitted, only one story would get selected which would then be made into a short film. To spice up things, let me also add that you are presented with this task on a Sunday evening, and the deadline to submit the story idea is the upcoming Friday night.
"Aren't five days enough to come up with a good idea?" I hear your question. I forgot to mention that you have been handed the responsibility of gathering data for an important meeting scheduled at office on Tuesday, and you would be leaving to Delhi on Wednesday morning to attend a friend's wedding only to return home on Friday evening. How does one come up with a good story idea under such circumstances that might have the slightest chance of bettering the ideas submitted by others?

My answer:
I wasn't able to come up with a good idea in those five days.
I simply got lucky because I already had a list of story ideas that I had been updating time and again with the arrival of new ideas, and one idea from that list happened to meet the conditions listed down by my professor.

****

Lesson no. 1: Creativity is a lifestyle - it needs to be embraced and honed all the time. One cannot expect to switch it on just before the start of a project and turn it off after the completion of the project.

Lesson no. 2: Noting down ideas comes handy. Some ideas might not seem strong enough to be transformed immediately into a poem or a short story, but noting them down increases the possibility of the ideas coming to your rescue at an unexpected time.

****

When my next class commenced on Saturday, this is how things stood. 1 member from the batch had dropped out of the course owing to financial constraints, 3 of us had submitted our story ideas through e-mail, and 2 members were in a position where they had their stories formed in their heads but were unable to express it in writing. Through the duration of our class, my professor helped them open up about their ideas and finally enabled them to express their ideas in writing. This made me express gratitude towards my fortune of having had about five years of practice in expressing my ideas in writing through this blog.

****

Lesson no. 3: Practice expressing your ideas to others through writing or, at least, through speech. Expressing an idea to self is never the same as expressing it to others.

****

By the end of the class on Saturday, my professor had 5 story ideas with him. Two of the stories were about road-trips, one story happened in a casino, one story was set in a village and one story - my story - happened in a house. My professor liked all 5 stories but he reiterated the constraints in converting the story into a short film. He offered an additional week's time and asked my team members to tweak their stories in such a way that they would fit within the constraints. He also asked us to submit step outlines for our stories - a step outline is an initial version of the script with just the order of scenes and their summaries without any dialogues - before the class on next Saturday.

When my next class commenced, 1 other member had opted out of the course owing to personal reasons, which brought down the strength of our batch to 4. Among the 4 members, 2 of us had turned up with detailed step outlines, and 2 members had not prepared their step outlines.

The other members had not tweaked their stories as well - one story was still a road-trip, one story was set in a casino and one story was set in a village.
As a creator, I could understand their reservations in changing their stories. But owing to my 3+ years of experience in a services company, I also knew that one had to give in to certain demands of the clients to get a project started.
The clients, in this case, were my professor and the film academy.

By the start of the next class, my professor had selected the 1 story that would be made into a short film. And the story turned out to be my story.
As much as I am happy that my story got made into a short film, when I look back at the other ideas, I know that I would have felt equally happy working on them as well. They were all good ideas but they just didn't happen to be right for our course.

****

Lesson no. 4: Understand your situation. Understand your constraints. Try to work within them. There might always be another opportunity but why miss one when it comes your way?

****

The one-line (or the 'log-line' as it is officially called) for my story goes like this.
A single mother, who is still holding onto her dead husband's memories, tries to help her daughter after her breakup only to realize that her daughter has moved on and she is the one who needs to move on. 

Now, think of 4 directors whose films you like. Imagine that each of the directors is asked to make a film on the above log-line. Do you think the films will turn out to be similar?

This was the problem my batch mates and I faced in my class. One person whose story had involved a road-trip, one person who had set his story in a casino, and one person who had wanted to capture the village life through his story were now asked to work on a domestic drama.
One person wanted to explore the breakup angle and the reasons behind the breakup. One person wanted to explore the relationship of the daughter before her breakup. One person wanted to explore the possibility of the mother starting a new life with a neighbor.
In some ways, these three stories also fit within my story but these were not the aspects of the story I had wanted to focus on. My story was about how a breakup can change an already broken family for the better.

Owing to this, I initially resisted any inputs provided for the story.
Once, when I was talking to a friend about this, he said, "This is your story and you should be firm about the way you want to tell it. But think about this as well. If some other story had been selected, would you have wanted to share your inputs or not?" This question made me realize my mistake.

After all, my batch mates had not joined the course to make my vision come true. They had joined the course to learn filmmaking, and each person held a unique perspective towards filmmaking and life.
When we all sat down to discuss the story the next time, I made myself more receptive and explained my story and my reasons more elaborately. I must admit that the story got better with more brains on it.

On a parallel note, I also understood why some directors collaborate with the same actors and technicians (cinematographers, music composers, editors) repeatedly. As much as it is important to find a group of people who want to tell the same story as yours, it is equally important to find people who want to tell the story for the same reasons as yours.

****

Lesson no. 5: Understand how the people around you want to collaborate with you.  If a piece of art can turn more meaningful after it reaches a larger number of people, it can also become more meaningful when it is nurtured by a large number of people.

****

When I had submitted my step outline for the story, I had followed a non-linear narrative. Since it was a story about memories and moving on, I had not wanted it to have a linear flow of time. But after the story had been selected to be made into a short film, my screenwriting professor told me that he would keep aside the non-linear narrative and adopt a linear narrative. He had to do this because:

1. The linear narrative would help in the teaching of the screenwriting concepts like plot, plot points, and beats of a scene more easily 
2. A new narrative would also open up more contributions from the other students in terms of new scenes

I sat through the first half of this exercise quite skeptical. When we all assembled in the lunch hall after the first session, I noticed two members from my batch continuing to discuss about the story and arguing if a character would behave in a certain way. 

This made me understand something. Some ideas might not be content with just staying with their families. They might want to be more adventurous and meet other people from the outside world. 

****

Lesson no. 6: Don't hold on to your ideas possessively. Be a good lover and do what's best for the idea. 

****

One important lesson I learnt at the film academy was this. 

Filmmaking is more craft than art. 

Whenever we watched a short film or a great scene from a classic, the following questions could always be heard from the professors. 

"Why do you think the director made that choice?" "Why did he position a character in the foreground and why was another character in the background?" "Why was there a close-up shot when the character said one particular line - why is that line important?" "Why did the characters wear costumes of a particular color?" "Why did the background score sound that way?" 

To sum it up in the lines of my professor for cinematography, 

"Even if you happen to forget all that we taught you here, just remember this. Ask yourself 'why' for every aspect of a scene, for every scene of a film. The answers will guide you in becoming a filmmaker."

To give a small example of how a structure is followed when plotting/structuring a story, below are the plot points we came up with while writing the screenplay.

1. The mother learns about her daughter's breakup
• How does the mother react? Does she want to help or let go of it?
2. The mother tries to help her daughter
• Does the mother succeed in this or fail?
3. The mother resorts to the most extreme of options
• Does the mother succeed in this or fail?
4. The daughter reacts to her mother's action
• How does the daughter react? How does this bring about a change in the mother?

In this way, each plot point leads to the character making a choice and the choice leads to the next plot point. Most feature films with a strong plot can be broken down into such plot points and one can notice how the characters' choices drive the story forward. 

After I learnt this, I realized how this concept holds true even to our lives. There are those significant events in our lives that resemble the plot points and our reactions to those events determine the direction of our lives.

As a film viewer, I had been surprised by how much films can teach us about life. As a film student, I have understood that the process of making a film can teach us more. 

(To be continued)

The lonely sun and the family of shoplifters

On some days, I have looked at the clear, sunny sky and wondered if I experience loneliness very strongly because I am named after the sun. The sun, unlike the moon, doesn't have stars to keep him company.

****

The loneliness I experience varies in its nature from time to time.

Sometimes, it is that feeling of belonging to a wrong societal setup. Sometimes, it is that feeling of belonging to the wrong generation. Sometimes, it is that feeling of belonging to the wrong gender. Sometimes, it is that feeling of belonging to the wrong species.
Sometimes, it is that feeling of not experiencing joy from the general joy-inducing activities that people indulge themselves in. Sometimes, it is that feeling of being abandoned even by the activities you cherish doing the most. Sometimes, it is that feeling of being surrounded by people who are not as childish as you. Sometimes, it is that feeling of being surrounded by people who are not as mature as you. Sometimes, it is that feeling of going through sadness among a group of people who seem happy. Sometimes, it is that feeling of experiencing joy among a group of people who seem sad.
Sometimes, it is that feeling of not wanting to say anything to anyone. Sometimes, it is that feeling of not wanting to listen anything from anyone. Sometimes, it is that feeling of missing a person who shares the things you want to hear but don't ask for. Sometimes, it is that feeling of missing a person who understands what you mean even when you say different things.
Sometimes, it is that feeling of missing the touch of a loved one.

But I must admit that whenever loneliness casts its dark shadows on me, a gentle drizzle quickly finds its way in the form of words/films/music/friends.

Sometimes, it is a new character from a new story-idea who gives me company. Sometimes, it is a known character from a loved book/film who sits down by my side.
Sometimes, it is the lyrics of a long-forgotten song which supply the words to my blank mental page. Sometimes, it is the tune of an all-time favorite song which leads me home.
Sometimes, it is a friend who simply lets me know that he/she is there for me.

****

Two days ago, a collective experience at a movie theater overwhelmed me.

I had walked into the theater feeling lonely, not so much owing to the lack of company as much as owing to the lack of an identifiable emotion within me.

The film that I had gone to watch was Shoplifters - a hard-hitting Japanese film about a group of unrelated people who come together to become a family only to be separated by government authorities, with the separation helping them understand the selfless love each person holds for one another.

The theater was sparsely crowded, allowing each viewer to enjoy the comfort of an entire row of seats for himself.

As the film was midway, as the characters in the film grew close to one another, I felt an invisible bond birthing between us -  viewers - in our individual rows. Though we were silent, the film was speaking for and to each of us.
As the film reached its climax, a few viewers seated in the rows before me wept now and then. The scenes playing before me suggested the disintegration of a family but a warmth spread in my heart signaling the birth of a family. After the film ended and the lights were turned on, I could see that the viewers were not ready to leave their seats.

Maybe they had also experienced what I had experienced. Maybe they had also experienced a sense of belonging.

After all, isn't the pursuit of life all about belonging with the right person, doing the right thing, at the right place, at the right time?
Maybe that. Or, maybe it is about becoming that person who can belong with anyone at any place.

****

I look at the sky as I am returning to my home from office. The sun is about to set.
A flock of birds fly across the reddish sky reminding me that the moon might have the stars but the sun enjoys the company of all the birds.

The irony of art

I remember watching a short film in my college, the gist of which could be summarized as below.
A man who works at a NGO and takes care of people who have no family members to look after them faces difficulty in looking after his parents at home.

At times, I have found the artistic process to reflect the irony of this short film.
I remember a night when I was writing a post about my mother. I was in the middle of it, still figuring out how to end it. My mother walked into my room and started talking about her day at office. A part of my brain listened to her while another part of my brain continued working on the essay's end. The writer in me wanted to succeed as much as the son in me.
I remember another day when I was writing a post in my college hostel, reminiscing about the wonders of college life in it. I was writing it seated in an empty room while all my friends were in the neighboring room, cheering and shouting for India in a cricket match.

I have often questioned myself about the price one has to pay for one's art.
The want to communicate a truth of life through a painting or a poem or a photograph costs hours of solitude and days of relentless practice. I am sure that no artist would complain about the cost. Yet, aren't some experiences lost during the process of converting some parts of our lives into art?
As I type this, I remember a director's roundtable where one of my favorite actors/directors Denzel Washington said this about making a movie.
"You know...your son got shot in the face, that's difficult. Making a movie is a luxury. It's a gift. It's an opportunity and most importantly, it's a gift...don't get it twisted. It's just a movie. It ain't that big a deal."
These lines always get me. Just like Denzel's movies.

****

About a week before I joined my first job, I became nervous wondering if I would be able to continue writing despite my daily job. Not knowing a way out, I told myself that I would treat my regular job as a part-time job and consider writing as my full-time job, measuring the success of my professional life through the quantity and quality of my writing.

As I look back at the last four years, I hold mixed feelings about my presumed professional life. I feel happy about some nights when my mind pushed my body into typing down my thoughts after a long day at office. Yet, there have been some instances during the first two years of my job when I refused to join my friends for lunches/dinners/treks because I wanted forced myself to spend more time reading about and practicing art. Not in a way where words and images made me fall in love with them. But in a way where the process gave me an excuse to isolate myself and justify not connecting with people.
I had to lose a few friends to remind myself of why I got attached to art in the first place - to lead a life with better understanding and more love.

Over the last couple of months, I had returned to the zone of making myself as busy as possible with either reading about or practicing art. And strangely, as I was in this zone trying to prefer art over people, Stephen King caught me red-handed through his wonderful book, On writing: A memoir of the craft, and brought me back to life. 
"It starts with this: put your desk in the corner, and every time you sit down there to write, remind yourself why it isn't in the middle of the room. Life isn't a support system for art. It's the other way around."

How art makes you aware of its own importance in life is another beautiful irony.

The rental agreement

I visited pain today
To renew the rental agreement
"How much longer do you intend to stay in the heart?" I asked
Pain pondered over it for a moment
"I have grown comfortable staying here for so long," He replied
I could not help smiling
Pain had been a good tenant
Saving me from unnecessary expectations
And helping me battle the regular rejections
"Well, do you have any other potential emotion
Wanting to stay here?" He asked
I was honest with him
No other emotion had shown interest
Perhaps because the heart wasn't even semi-furnished
Perhaps because the neighbor was fear
"I guess we can extend the agreement for one more year then" He said
I agreed
He asked me if I wanted to increase the rent
I didn't want to
Pain had also helped in renovating the heart
The walls now wore a waterproof coating
No more seepage problems when the tears came down
The room also had a new window built
Even the smallest ray of hope could light it up now
I thanked pain for being a good tenant
And returned home
Only to find life waiting for me
To renew our rental agreement
"How much longer do you intend to stay here?" She asked
I pondered over it for a moment
"I have grown comfortable staying here for so long," I replied
Life could not help smiling
Perhaps I had been a good tenant
After all, I had learnt a great deal from pain.

The first flight

The date is May 1, 2019. The time is 4:46 AM. The journey is from Bangalore to Delhi. The occasion is a friend's marriage. My company is a group of amazing friends. And I am 25 years, 4 months, 8 days old. 

I wonder if I am experiencing my first flight at the right age. The age by when one has witnessed the death of a few loved ones; the age by when one has understood why the society works the way it works; the age by when one has switched sides between science and superstitions more times than one can count; the age by when one has experienced love, lust, and loss. With such baggage, does the sense of wonder still lurk around to get excited about being a part of the sky for the first time? 
I search for that wonder and find it hidden amidst layers of doubts. The doubts are a gift from knowledge and experience, and they take the form of scary questions regarding the safety of the flight and other extreme possibilities.

My mind goes ahead and creates a list of favorites - favorite person, favorite landscape, favorite time of day, favorite destination. It tries to provoke me towards having a regret - of not flying for the first time with my mom, of not flying for the first time over oceans. I manage to gain the upperhand and let my mind know that all those experiences can still be had and this flight is simply about cherishing the act of flying itself. 

I look outside my window. The sky is turning hopeful, shedding its black blanket. The clouds start turning up one after the other and begin to arrange themselves in the sky before the sun shines, like students seating themselves in a classroom before the entrance of the teacher. I recall my attention to myself and check if I am experiencing joy. I had always imagined myself with a wide grin the day I got to fly above the clouds. But now, as I fly above the clouds, joy is not the exact emotion I experience. Instead, there is a sense of peace - the peace one attains when one leaves behind life and becomes a part of something eternal. Like when one is surrounded by an ocean.

The clouds slowly separate and they bring into view the world below. Looking at the world from this objective viewpoint, I wonder if people who fly more adopt a more objective outlook towards people, life, and its workings. I look at the air hostess who seems ready with an answer to any sort of passenger queries and ponder upon asking her her thoughts on my hypothesis. I also hope that almost every person gets an opportunity to undergo the 'air hostess training' program at some point in their life so that they start treating other people with as much love as is possible.  

As time passes, the city of Delhi comes into view and resembles a 5th standard social science project. As I look at the miniature of this majestic city, the sense of wonder starts increasing. The kid in me shows up, bringing with him a bag of 'lego set' memories. Sadly, the announcement system in the flight lets us know that we are about to land. The song changes in my music player and the buddhist 'Life of Ram' song from the film 96 starts playing. As I lose myself in the beautiful lyrics, the plane begins its descent. 

Vaazha en vaazhvai vaazhave
Thaazhamal melae pogiren..
Theeraa ul ootrai theendave
Indrae ingae meelgiraen..
Indrae ingae aalgiraen..