Mumbai Musings

So am in Mumbai now, a fact I should have probably reported around two months back when I actually came here. But in my defense, have just got an internet connection now. Before this, it was just two visits to the cyber café per day (one in the morning, one in the evening) which happens to be a good one kilometer away. And when you’re in the café, you don’t really feel creative enough to be blogging. You just want to check your mail and get the hell out of there. Don’t know why. Maybe it’s that constant sense of the clock ticking away, making you want to make full productive use of every passing minute before ten rupees turns to twenty. Whatever. The point is it’s irritating. My logic for those two months was that by reducing my internet activity to this strict time duration, I would be able to discipline myself into using my lappy for strictly writing purposes. Plus, the daily walks to and fro would be good for my health.

It is only recently that I realized the true subconscious reason why I did so was to actually save money on all those installation charges and monthly rents which, though guaranteeing online access 24/7, can turn out to be pretty heavy on the pocket of a guy who is currently struggling to make ends meet with a sole part-time job as the only redemption from being completely unemployed.

That’s right. Am working as a part-time assistant script writer now. Know that sounds exciting, and well, it’s a good start, but that’s all that can be termed as “happening” in my life right now. Otherwise it’s the whole day spent alone in my 1 room kitchen apartment here in Goregaon now. Am sharing it with two other former SPW classmates, but since both of them have gone home for indefinite periods, so the place is pretty much to myself. It’s not that bad. One thing I have realized is that I really don’t mind living alone. Kinda helps me concentrate, and I seem to be one of those human beings who are naturally immune to loneliness. Plus, if the rent gets too heavy to manage, then I could always sell some of my absconding flatmates' luggage and mattresses. Hee, hee.

Reflections on turning 24

It's been 12 days since I celebrated my 24th birthday. I am 24 now. I am in my parents' home in Tezpur, where Dad is posted for now before he retires in another 4-5 months. I have just completed my screenplay writing course from FTII. And I have just finished watching Julie & Julia on HBO.

I know. Snigger, snigger, chick-flick and all that jazz. But I am seriously not embarrassed about the fact that this movie figures among those few that have actually affected me as a writer, at least. The other contenders include Adaptation, which made me feel good about my writers' block, and Stranger Than Fiction, which for some strange reason, always makes me want to write again.

But as for this movie, there was something about this one story I could totally relate to, not just as a struggling writer waiting to get published or produced, but at a deeply humane level as well. At the end of the day, the film was about two souls searching for a passion, finding it, and then dedicating themselves to it no matter what the obstacles. They had their moments of lows and self-doubts of course, but the important thing is that they kept moving. I think that's what makes all the difference between our journeys. It's not about which journey is worth pursuing and which one is not. It's about which one keeps you moving all the way.

I mean, look at me now. I am 24, as I believed I have mentioned earlier now. I know it's not a very high age to get alarmed, but at the back of my mind, there is always this nagging - acknowledgement - that I haven't really done much yet. There is this book that I have been struggling with for God knows how long. My scripts are right now residing in my portable hard disk. I have yet to get a call from either one of the producers I pitched it to. In another two-three weeks, I will be leaving the comfort of my home to go to Mumbai and begin another journey. Mumbai - a city I have never been in before. Film industry - an industry I know practically nothing about till now. It's like being thrust in the middle of the ocean with no life jacket, and then being requested to make it on the other side of the shore.

But intimidating as the thought may seem at times, yet I am still not reluctant at all to begin. In fact, there are times when I can't wait for these holidays - leisurely as they are - to get over with so that I can initiate my voyage. Of course, there will be sweat and grime and tears at times, but then, what's new about that? Every adventure contains those elements, and if your life is completely missing that right now, well, maybe it's time for you to do a little soul-searching as well.

Anyway, so the point is, leaving aside the inevitable and occasional bouts of frustrations and restlessness I have at times, one thing I am grateful for is that wherever I am right now, I am here by my own choice. There's simply no scope for regrets or blame in my life, and that's a luxury very few people can afford these days.

So God, wherever I may be tomorrow, I thank you for today. :))

... of a struggling writer

When you get down to writing a story, it starts with a bang. You feel like you have something to say to the world. You feel you’re the next big thing after Dostoevsky or Fellini. Then, midway through the journey, it’s like “Oh God, where did the oars go? How do I row this boat anymore?” Leave aside fame and fortune, the very thought of completing the work seems like a stretched fantasy. Characters start getting lost, plot lines appear thinner than before, some things emerge, some things vanish. And all this while, you are trying to remember what really inspired you to tell this story in the first place. Such is the frustration of a struggling writer. It’s not just the occasional writer’s block attack I am referring to here. It’s more of a sense of feeling lost, uncertain, insecure.

Earlier, I was merely a reader, a consumer, a guest into the fictional worlds of different authorial voices. I could like them or dislike them as was my privilege. But now, the very fact that someone out there actually completed a work is enough to earn my admiration. Such are the revelations of a struggling writer.

Writer's Block :((((

One of the most frustrating creative afflictions you can suffer from. Makes you feel like a wannabe with a laptop (or a typewriter or pen, if you will). The blank Word Document seems to mock you, exposing and magnifying every vulnerability and insecurity hidden in your mind with regard to your "talent". Your mind turns into a pessimistic prophet, displaying visions of loneliness, dejection, hair-splitting frustration. You turn back to the few good pieces of work you had created in the glorious, glorious past, and find it difficult to believe they have come from the same source which now appears barren and gloomy. Truly, a depressing period. Alas, if only every malady in the world had a medical cure for it ...

PS: Ironically, I am quite impressed with what I have written about it :))

Wanna check out the richness of a story you wrote? Share it with a couple of friends and see how many interpretations they come up with. The more the number of interpretations, the more layers your work contains.

Even fear takes a certain type of imagination. You cannot feel emotions related to horror such as fear, chills, goosebumps if you do not have the power of visualization. This I realized while sitting alone in my screenwriting classroom, watching a spider approach an ant trapped in its web. The ant was unfamiliar of the danger as those thin, long sticks approached it. It was a scene from any one of those Nat Geo creature programs. What made the difference, however, was when I tried to feel what the ant must be going through once the spider trapped it in its sticky hold. I became the ant, getting tossed and turned and tossed and turned with nothing I could do about it, trying to escape but finding myself pierced with its venom time and again, the huge multi-eyed head in front of my eyes, stabbing me with its needle, waiting for me to pass out, and finally, getting embraced in a deathly web of curling legs as the spider sucked out my life force at its leisure. The very thought was blood-curdling. Brrr....

Three musketeers: The funda of buddy trios

One thing which has often struck me as odd is this unfailing, automatic tendency of mine to make friends in trios (including me, of course). No matter how many people I meet at various points of time in my life, I always end up having just two close friends from the whole batch, thus matching the combo of the classic three musketeers. Be it college, school, workshop, it almost always turns out to be three. Me-Addu-Gaddu; Me-Anubha-Tanmai; Me-Deepak-Atit (not all names could be included in sampling so those who are not mentioned are requested not to take it personally).
What is the funda behind this automatic selection process? Though I have pitiful knowledge when it comes to psychology, yet some brave attempts at delving into my mind have brought out some interesting explanation possibilities about the whole thing. Firstly, the number three has a certain rounded wholeness to it. You see one person - lonely. You see two persons - couple/best friends/ siblings/ enemies/ acquaintances - basically a little too many possibilities. But you see three smiling people together and bam! There's the balance we were looking for.
Being buddies-in-three also has the advantage of having a negotiator at hand whenever the need arises. In the event of a conflict between two gang members, there is always the third party who can put in efforts to solve the issue through tact, diplomacy, and appeasement. Of course, a precondition for this is that the third party involved here should have a certain degree of assertion in the trio, otherwise you will end up with two warring factions and a miserable figure stuck in the middle with nowhere to go.
Finally, there is the influence of the media and popular culture which may have a subtle role in popularizing the trio buddy business. Be it Charlie's Angels, Friends (3 guys, 3 girls, remember?), those million love-triangle rom-dramas, Harry Potter, Five Point Someone ... the message is simple: three means more fun.
But once again, I conclude with the warning to avoid simplifying my reflections down to a narrow message. Of course I am not advocating multiple calculations and manipulations while making friends. It is as much a natural process as falling in love. You don't plan to make friends, it just happens. Neither am I saying that only this combo works the best so all dissenters better find a third option to enjoy life. All I am trying to do is present my reflections on a particularly intriguing fact which has been revolving in my mind for quite some time now. Let's see if you agree ...