Self Promotion

Conscious self promotion is very difficult. Especially when your self esteem is not very high to begin with. But I remember that I had once uttered the following golden words:

“An artist, no matter how good he is, wants people to appreciate him. Or, if he is indeed a great man, to criticize him. All he wants is that they see everything he creates. That they understand most of it, that they appreciate him for what he did or ridicule him for what he failed to do. But it is very important that they know he exists."


Then I took a break and went to the bathroom, I came back, and continued:

“He may choose not to compromise his morals to gain an audience. He may limit his ambitions so as not to get carried away by their sheer force. He may get the satisfaction he seeks by only a single nod of approval. But deprive him of that nod and he ceases to be an artist. Just give him that one nod, or a look of disapproval if you must. But pray, do tell him that you saw what he wanted you to see. He will be happy.”


What I really want to say is that please watch the short film I made (embedded below). And say something if and when you do.

Tumhaari Bhi

 

There comes a time in every person’s life when he/she can think of nothing but the most gandi gaaliyaan in the world. And I am not talking about the cute ones like fuck, dick, cuntface, asswipe and many others from this category. I am talking about the ones in our own beloved language. Gaaliyaan of the sort that make you shiver for a moment when you think about them. Gaaliyan of the kind that will get you kicked out of your home in case you utter them out loud in front of your parents. Gaaliyaan of the nature that require so much creativity its astounding why the creators aren’t more cherished and honored. There is a gaali for every situation there is. There are gaalis for situations that a human mind cannot even fathom.

Now I am not rude enough to go about uttering gaaliyaan in front of strangers and women (the ones used above are merely there to elaborate) so if you’re looking to expand your vocabulary a little at my expense you’ll be disappointed. However, I must emphasize the value of knowing enough of them so that if the need be, you should have the ammo to make people shiver with fear. To make them dread confronting you in the future.

One way to explore the wondrous world of gaaliyaan is to come up with a new one every time you meet a good friend of yours. You should also encourage them to do the same so that the knowledge expansion can be exponential instead of being linear. Focus on individual parts of human anatomy every week or month depending on your learning curve. Once you are done with the basics, try being more creative. Discover and invent along the way so that you may payback the debt to the society.

When the time comes and you start considering yourself beyond the amateur stage, you’ll be amazed at how truly vast this thing is. You can spend your whole life in the pursuit of this noble cause and you still wouldn’t know the half of it. But this must not discourage you. Instead, it should get you more pumped up and determined to make a name for yourself. You can be the master of the art. You just have to strive for it. Please do.

Because when the time comes in your life when you can’t do without proper gaaliyaan, I want you to remember what I told you today and I want you to make me proud.

Once More

 

October 2011 was the last month I posted here. Which makes me depressed.
Now of course a great deal has changed in the past 9 months (I might have had a child but I wanted to wait). Let me list a few things so that you know what I know.

1. Experienced the thrill of being in an accident that resulted in a 50-50 chance of survival. Couldn’t remember anything for two full weeks after that. The first thought that came to mind after I gained consciousness was to thank god for not letting me die a virgin.

2. --------------------------------------------

Nope. That’s about it. Nothing else even remotely exciting happened in the past 9 months.
So, did my life dramatically change after I saw death in the face. Of course not. Some things did change. Perception of others did alter a little but that sudden burst of energy seen in movies that inspire people to then do something crazy adventurous or fruitful was non-existent. So let this dull post be a reminder that life in general does not change so suddenly. It requires persistence without any confusion regarding what you want from it. I deserve a standing ovation for figuring that out.

Please do tell me if by any chance you happen to read this. Because I can’t think of any reason why anyone would read this.

Something Deep

When you come back after such a long time to your blog, there must be something very important that you have to say. You must either be extremely excited or feeling utterly alone and left out.
But surely there has to be (1) something that needs to be (2) told.

This sucks.... Nothing.

Writer's Block: You cannot even begin to write if you're lazy. And even if you somehow drag yourself to the desk and grab a pan (figuratively), your sentence structure is screwed. Grammar deserts you while you struggle to hurriedly jot down the first word you can think of. You lose confidence and start forgetting words as if you were stoned (not that you were particularly forgetful when stoned).

An Akon Song: You should never, in your right mind, be talking about an Akon song. And if that particular song is featured in an Indian Superhero movie, you better not listen to it. And if you do, you must never (never, never) secretly sing along. Because if you do, your own voice will keep echoing inside your freaking brain forever.

Trivia about Trivia: You think that it is the best way to keep people interested in you. And hence you whore out the personal details of your life and crave for laughter. At you. Or perhaps appreciation for you and laughter because you're that damn good. What a sucky thing to do, you.

People are so much better because
1. They don't usually over-think things.
2. When they do think about things, they do do it.
3. They don't think about things that shouldn't be thought about.
4. When they do think about things that shouldn't be though about, they promptly forget them.

 Please do get laid, will ya!?

WOW!

I wrote 140 words of something before erasing it and starting over. Then I thought if it (me erasing it and starting over) could at all be related to something meaningful about life. It can’t be. Then I went over the discarded blogging ideas in my head to see if at least one of them had some life left in it. And I know what you’re thinking. That the answer would be in the negative. That, fortunately, is not the case.

A few days earlier when I was walking aimlessly in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere (you see what I did there?), something hit me. That something was a realization. I realized that I had an incredibly strong imagination. Why didn’t I know that before? Well, to be truthful, I did. I just lied about the walking part to get the story going. Which, now that I think about it, is the perfect example of how strong my imagination really is.

So I asked myself, how strong my imagination really is? I had no answer. I had nothing or no one to compare it with. I don’t know how people go about imagining different stuff. The only thing I know for certain is that imagination does play a part (no matter how insignificant) in their lives. It is something that is natural and hence can be found in the most wildest of human minds.

Now this is the point in my narrative where I usually give up on the purpose of my post and indulge myself with random, incoherent and senseless mumbo jumbo. But not this time. Because this one is close to my heart. Yes it is.

My imagination works in different ways. Sometimes I would see strangers and imagine what it’d be like to talk to them or become a part of their individual stories. Which is heavy stuff and demands attention to detail. It requires me to create elaborate scenes with believable dialogues. Sometimes I borrow the situations from a movie. And then I play with these hypothetical scenarios over and over in my mind until it becomes very close to reality.

The characters are usually pretty girls who don’t show me the slightest bit of attention. But there have been exceptions resulting in some pretty cool stories in my head. It goes without saying that the protagonist of these stories is always me. I am the bad boy with a good side that is yet to be explored. Some screenplay idea, is it not?

I’ve lived in New York City, won countless sports trophies, nailed my education, climbed the Mount Everest, attended a film school, been a hitchhiker, repaired motor bikes and been quite the ladies man. All thanks to my dearly beloved imagination. O How much I love thee.

Back with a Bang. Bang!

For those of you kind enough to wonder if I were dead, the answer is no. I was busy, NOT.
I was not busy at all. In fact I had so less to do in the past ten days or so that I went ahead and got myself lost in the wonderful world of self reflection.

Self reflection, my friends, is the most wonderfully useless thing. And although I dint intend on writing about it in the beginning, I think I should. Because self reflection takes you places, makes you thoughtful about nothing in particular and is really addictive. It is a sadness-inducing or joy-bringing miracle and the feeling you end up with depends on whether or not you’re fucked up.

However, the single most *insert a suitable adjective here* side-effect of self-reflection is Nostalgia. Why yes. Nostalgia in turn has many of its own side-effects. But primarily, it is a bitch in its own right. You heard me. Nostalgia is a bitch. It is a bitch because I would have been a successful man by now if it were not for Miss Nostalgia here. Because of her, I fail to learn from mistakes of the past and move on. I fail to stop myself from dwelling in my imagination and feeding on the ‘what ifs’. And by ‘I’, I am actually referring to the mankind in general. The real ‘I’ on the other hand is rich, successful, happy, satisfied, occasionally delusional and single by choice.

But why am I writing this. All of you know how Nostalgia works (for those of you who don’t, please – regardless of your gender – marry me). Some of you probably even think that Self-Reflection and Nostalgia are friends with benefits. Self-reflection is the more mature one with a habit of often self-reflecting. While Nostalgia is the wild one. The rebel without a cause but with a definite purpose of destroying sanity. She probably didn’t own a Barbie in her childhood.

I, however, would love to see them settling down and having kids (or puppy dogs – whatever they prefer). Self-Reflection would make a great dad because everyone thinks they’d make a great dad until they become one and mostly screw their children over in trying to make them what they (the dads) couldn’t accomplish themselves. And I am not saying this because my dad is like that. He is a great man. But I am not and so I would LOVE to help my future children achieve what I didn’t learn until after years of dedicated Self-Reflection.

Anyways, what I am more excited about is the motherhood of Nostalgia. That’d shut her up for good. Because from what I’ve heard, cleaning baby (or puppy dog) poop gives you perspective and calms down the secret person in you who wishes to poop on all things normal and safe. Now she’d know that pooping freely is a dangerous business. Nostalgia will probably regret her decisions later on in life when she catches her son/daughter masturbating, listening to GaGa or reading a twilight novel. She’ll probably remember the days when she was a Rockstar with flowers in her hair (sorry, couldn’t avoid the cultural references) and went around screwing anyone and everyone (which doesn’t happen in real life. It’s just wishful thinking).
BUT you know what they say.

NOSTALGIA IS A BITCH!

P.S: Here you go!

Day 4 – Post 1 – Sue Me!

7 Days? Pffft.

I was kidding!