At home

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It's the calling to go back home. I wish I can take up the pursuit of pure Hindustani Classical soon and wake up to my mom singing as she goes finishing her daily chores. Sometimes you don't even realise when your soul is possessed by an inanimate spirit.

At home

What does it take?

I need some advice about career choices. If anybody reading this has any clue regarding my query, please do enlighten me. I'll be deeply indebted to you, for the rest of my life. Any jokes on this subject are really NOT invited.

What does it take to make enough money to pay off a loan of 10 lakh fairly quick, save money for further education (it can range from a PhD in sociology/linguistics to a second MBA), make music (and find good musicians to work with where ever I go) and land a job which 'lets' me travel around 3months a year in decent amount of comfort.

PS: I also wish to buy a high end camera. So basically more money for the same.
At home


If there was one fantasy throughout my life until now, it is to fall asleep while listening to a beautiful male voice in my ears. It is a fairly easy fantasy to fulfill, listen to a soulful song where the voice is all empowering and nothing but the voice registers your mind and heart too, I guess.

The texture of the voice should be grainy yet smooth, deep yet not of the giant's, and an all permeating serenity, compelling me to fall asleep keeping aside all the thinking.

I remember telling my friends, I never ever really had a crush. I realise that is not true. Crushes I had, flings and some very long, supporting and kind relationships with the voices.

What is to be swept in a wave, caught into a tornado, fall into a deep deep abyss of  mellow voice! The bothering thought is just one, such a rush has become more and more elusive. I do not know if it is because those who rise from the world of warm voices have stopped reaching out to me or I have shut myself away from them.

Or maybe, I am simply growing up afterall. Sigh.

At home

A song to dance...

The juvenile writes a song
The one that’s just enough long
Most words weren't true
What a tantrum the queen threw
The song bears a melody in its soul
The queen wore a shoe with a smooth sole
When sung, it transcends the dimension
The fool asked for a dance, no salary, no pension

But he lied, a big fat lie as he played the host
It became a song with words true, but almost
And she slipped and fell
Everybody gaped and proceeded to dwell
If there is a quest for meaning
But for the momentary dance
Or, the beautiful sounding words...
At home

Much Love

Every once in a while, what i write has been borrowed from our shared memories. This is the first one, which I am intentionally writing for you. Why here on this almost dead blog? Partially because I have been itching to post here for quite a while, partially ‘coz I want you to read this blog, once in a while.

It’s a beautiful thing to have a companion like you through my fairly “lucky” life. Why lucky, you might ask. It’s a fairly new feeling to me. I am hoping, if you don’t already feel so, you will find the same in due course of time.

The world in its warped ways nonetheless ensures we all find “our” happiness. It might be a breezy evening for someone, 10 rupees for another, company of friends, sense of power, sleep, food or the happy high of intoxication.  Be kind, be patient, be smart – it’s a different life out there.

But most of all, live your life. Find your rights and wrongs, break them and see if you like it otherwise. But always be “aware”.

I miss our joint projects during summer , during birthdays and anniversaries. I am proud, very much so, that you followed your heart. I am overwhelmed that you trusted me all along with your choices. I can’t wait to see how you paint your future, find your dreams. Amidst all the growing up, I hope you do slow down every now and then, to hide a piece of your less grown up self, for me to be reminded of the memories we share.

Much love,


  • Current Music
    Best Unsaid - Into the Wild
At home

All Eccentric

 For those who know, this a dark monologue fiction going trying to reminisce my fav writing genre on Sulekha.


Don’t we all have a picture in our heads about who we are? For example, I would like to be calm  and strong at all times. No anxiety. No fear of defeat. No fear of loneliness.

If you believe in your image for long enough, you do become some of it. But rest of it is waiting to be accepted as it is. No delusions.

Discomfort. Uneasiness. I have been dealing with them for a while now. For some moments everything bothering me seems trivial and distant. In a couple of hours, the monsters arise again, lifting their heads and lounging  around my soul.





There is peace in it too, then there it is not. They told me when you get too close to the cause you can’t see through the problem, no matter how hard you try. No matter however you escape it, it lies low only for a while.

Time moves, people change - for themselves and for others, they are eccentric, you are eccentric!

You believed in their truths and lies, now you can’t tell it apart. They didn’t know who they were, until now. I’m glad, I was part of the process which helped them know themselves better.

But what if I desire more than that. Let this stay here for a while longer.

Time moves, people change - for themselves and for others, they are eccentric, you are eccentric . And like it is the law of nature, we’ll belong to a B n W past, where every memory will be tainted as happy or sad, right or wrong, truths or lies.

There I see, how trivial it will look in the hindsight. I also see rainbows and fireworks in the black night sky. The monsters have been put to sleep for a while I guess.

At home

The question is - Why?

I have an exam in 12 hrs and trust me, it's not really one of those where you can get away with pfaffing. But I just can't make myself study (fine, that is the story everytime but this time the excuse is not same as everytime). What has truly been bothering me, eating me up from inside, crumbling my soul and creating an urgent need to obliterate the memories of certain "good" friends of mine.

Until now I had heard from wise people with grey hair, that friends who got married, vanished in a lost world and hardly ever emerged out of it. And, at this point in my life when the last thing I want to think about is shaadi-waadi (I am from a bong family, we don't get married unless we have a few grey hairs on our head and the kids of our friends have passed out of kinder garten.) I am perfectly fine with this system.

My problem is that suddenly everybody seems to get engaged/married. And, somehow they can't keep this news to themselves, they need to put up their pictures on fb, change their status messages and engage in nauseating facebook display of affection (FDA).

The bigger problem is stumbling upon them unknowingly. So, it happened that a few of my friends who had gone missing in the last few months, emerged only to change their fb albums first and then, fb relationship status!

Why not change the status first, give the public a heads up and then upload pictures of shaadi-waadi.

I just feel that I'm losing my friends to marriage, one by one.

It's a sad sad moment in my life. blah.

PS: For the records, however cute kids be (agreed they are really cute) nobody should forget that at the end of the day, they are stupid and manipulative bullies. x-(
At home

Pages out of my life...

17th Nov 2010

I never was, and don’t think I will be a prolific writer ever. However, not all of that is sad. That just says I enjoy a lot many more things other than writing. I’ll keep this account a personal one and obnoxiously about me.

I have, for all those times I haven’t being writing, mostly talking to myself. My kind of conversations with others happens only once in a while. It’s like achieving the simultaneous conversational orgasm. Tough to come by, ain’t it?

Today, 17th Nov, it’s raining here in Ahmedabad. It’s one of those rainy evenings I want to enjoy lying down on my bed, typing words occasionally on MS Word and sipping a cup of HOT coffee while staring at the misty window glasses, losing myself in Eddie Vedder’s grainy voice.

I should also be thankful to the cool breeze that I have no idea comes from where! Nonetheless, jolts me out of the day dreams I am weaving, quite pleasantly.

And as much I am enjoying this solitude (which I do often), suddenly all the complaints from life have vanished except that in next 10 mins this is going to come to an end. And, once again all those deadlines, rehearsals and pre-reads will raise their heads and confront me.

As much as I am fond of being with myself, there are moments when I just want a zillion people around me. The constant unfreezing of status quo using both of these one after another, pretty much sums up my life.

I am glad that I can still afford to paint a picture of the days ahead in carefree hues of travelling across the lands and waters. I don’t know if I’ll continue to do so in the coming years, but I have a sneaking suspicion I won’t. Just one of those things, too good to stay around for long.

And, the phone rings. I am hoping to write more today.

22nd Nov

Why the hell does it keep raining all the time in Ahmedabad?

The more I listen to the kind of music WE are making, I realise I am still so far away from the kind of music I can soak my soul in and lay in a semi-comatose state penetrated by that music and nothing else. I am one of those people who fall in love with the melody first, words next and maybe never. I am one of those singers who often don’t remember the lyrics of maybe, their most favourite song.

Anyway, what I find enormously fascinating about the people of Gujrat is their fondness towards shiny objects when it comes to dressing up. Glasswork, I-don’t-know-what-it-is-called-in-English-but-the-shiny-somethings-we-called-Sitare-as-kids-in-Hindi and lots of other shiny stuff show up if you are travelling in rural Gujrat especially during the festive season. There’s a fair chance that I might leave Gujrat without attaining the skill to understand or speak “kaam chalau” Gujrati. I tried talking to one of the housekeeping Gujju staff in the hostel, she told me in a haste manner that they understand Hindi and some of English too, as if I was looking down upon them. Since, then I am wished good morning medam by a burly looking, lots-of-shiny-stuff-on-her-sari wearing lady.  

17th March 2011

I wonder what is this thing that music makes me feel and nothing else does. It’s a diff kind of high, paramount bliss, a tug that comes from God knows where and makes you run after it for more. Pretty much like addiction.

My favourites have always been songs heavy on the “feel” quotient. Be it a Turn the page or Paimona (Coke Studio). Strangely, I am a melody first and lyrics much later sort of a music enthusiast. I don’t remember the lyrics of some of my favourite songs. I don’t give a rat’s furry ass (too much of two and half men) about songs in other languages, as long as the music gets to me.

Offlate I have been extremely proud of a song we made. Sad part of the story, we half composed it on the morning of the show in iim shillong and pretty much left it there. The remnant of that song buzzes in my head sometimes. Which in terms feels like having (deliberately) lost my kid sister. and, hence the guilt. :/

Tomorrow is the last day of term three lectures.  Half of MBA done, I feel old. I look at the aspirants of this year and I read them priding in using some jargons every once in a while. MBA truly teaches you nothing more than putting the jargons in the right places, and maybe even wrong places as long as you can pull it off.

A year of surviving cut throat competition, delusions about friends and foes, ecstatic joys from temporary accomplishments and well, inflow of money. New found respect and gratefulness towards family and friends. On being able to let go off everything alike, the good, the bad and the ugly, I am very pleased with myself.  

Whatever happens here, no longer affects me apart from causing a slight amusement. This must be nirvana in the bigger picture. :D

There’s only one thing that hasn’t changed – hope. I see a string of glorious mornings and benign nights, despite knowing that there’s more bloodshed to follow.

There’s music, there’s travelling, there’s reading, there’s the whole thing about doing lots of stuff and staying incredibly busy and in its pretence not doing the mundane, there’s writing which seems to be coming back to me slowly.

And, thanks to the internship stipend, hopefully there will be a DSLR in my life soon.

 I must write about my travels sometime. Hmm.