...a muse amused, a recluse refused

So I’m finally doing what I have been wanting to do for so long—writing about music for a music magazine, for the love of music.

But I never really thought that something that you love doing takes this much hard work. I mean, you think that it would be second nature. But you have to sink yourself in. You gotta listen to the songs a billion times till the riffs and strings buzz in your ears. You gotta read the lyrics and get into the mind of the musician—someone who has been into this business almost all his life (read: The Boss, Bruce Springsteen), eons before you even knew what ‘music’ meant to you. Quite simply, you need to be lost in someone else’s hardw ork, finesse and perfection, in order to find yours.

At the end of the day, it finally dawned that for me, THIS is where effort should count, with no strings attached. Nevermind the forgotten credits. Nevermind spending hours and days, trying to figure out how best to describe something that seems so sculpted to perfection in composition, production, sound, vocals, lyrics (read: Bruce’s new album Working On A Dream). Listening to the music that was made to inspire you is in itself, rewarding. Apart from that (and my boy’s charming self), I realise that things look good.

Do give Working On A Dream a listen. It's Bruce like you've never heard him before. He's in love and not afraid to tell the world about it. And I think the world could use some honesty and true love like this...

In other news, I haven’t seen a glassful of beer in almost two months. And I think, I have stopped chronically whining for good. Yay.

1.) Talking to Sis about the recent Mumbai terror attacks

That was probably the longest conversation I have ever had with her. I think that's what's strangely weird, yet heartwarming about this family. We don't have to say we love each other. We don't need to. The love is somewhere laced and smuggled between the swapping of recipes, mutual dissing of school teachers and politicians - and of late the horrific attacks.

And I think the very first, open-minded discussion I had about the attacks was with this usually hypertense woman. And I'm glad I shared it with her. In a way, it was her way of saying that she is happy with her new married life, and my way of saying that I'll be fine.

2.) Talking to Ze Love Guru about the four of us

If Ze Love Guru were a man, we would've been soulmates. We think alike. We speak the same things, at the same time. I was waiting at the station, thinking about how I missed our conversations and wisdomous swappings about life and relationships, when she calls. We meet up after what seemed like months. There used to be a time when it was an everyday affair. That eve, we talked about work. About Curly Fry. About FCW. About how the four of us used to hang out so much. About "changes".

About her life being complete. About how "we think about changes only when something drastic happens to us." About why I need to give myself a break, and just go with the flow...

Its amazing that in all her modesty, she thinks she's not great. When I think I don't have the answer, she has them for me on standby.

But fuck change. When did long friendships start mutating into myths? I still wish we still stuck together.

3.) Juhu Beach Shoot with Fellow Writer Saab

Now this is exactly why I love spontaneous plans. Because they haven't been planned a week in advance or ''iterinarised", I never end up getting disappointed. So in the excuse of just trying something new, and also begin shooting at least, I decide to go to Juhu beach one early morning. Fellow Writer Saab was sweet enough to be my model, sandals and bag holder and co-shells collector for the day.

Neither of us expected Juhu Beach to be such a clean paradise! Towards 9 am, we were the only young-people-who-wanted-to-be-kids-again on the beach. Apart from shooting Writer Saab's natural poses, we did beachy things- collect shells both live and dead ones and then (accidentally) freeing the live ones, stand on the water while it cleansed our feet (but we were kinda bummed that we didn't experience that feeling of the water trying to take us with them).

We faffed quite like street urchins for the rest of the day. The events included dissing Barista for keeping fake cookie jars and aggravating our hunger pangs, minor rickshaw accident with a piece of rearlight glass swiping my cheek, Writer Saab fighting off tummy butterflies till he finally received that big offer letter from the BAAP of all ad agencies (while we entered the office with semi-tan and sandy feet), and singing and yapping all the way while the poor cabbie took us back to our routine excuses- work...  

Ok so I think I'll cut the list short here, because my eyes are welling up. Because I've only come to realise, despite this being a rather shitty year, I've had some good times too. GREAT times.

The list would also include Bandra Reclamation sessions with Miss iWant, working and hanging out with Jai Basanthi and Veerubhai Enfield (the best co-workers one could ever imagine), almost every outing (and every argument about who gets Neil Bhoopalam) with Chicilata aka Girgit, random jam sessions at Carters with BB Gunn, Karaoke (and losing voice the next day) with my other disfunct yet strangely nice family called Team BP -

Hey ! the list's is actually longer than the shittier times. Which makes me want to ask myself, why exactly was I whining. If I just listened a little more carefully, I could hear each one of these people tell me , "You are not alone, and never will be."

So, to the ones I love and to those who I will love, I hope you continue to stick by this hopeful cynic of sorts, no matter what. I hope you know that I'm doing great, and I hope we stick and can be shiny happy mad people together in the coming years too.

Seven travelers, one 14 hr train journey, one scary fainting stint, 1381 km crossed,

Two hand sanitizer bottles emptied

Four complete days and nights, three hotels

Seven temples, one free humble lunch at one temple

20 Dosas lovingly wrapped/served in banana leaves, each anywhere between Rs.10-15

One kg. mangoes, one kg. Mysore bananas, 12 fresh coconuts

Zero beers, Zero worries

One heartiest veg. thali

One beach, one bag of ashes submitted to the sea

Four stores with my surname, three bungalows I liked one belonging to a very hardworking cousin, one inspiration to own one just like that, one spontaneous retirement plan made

One ice cream parlour called ‘Ideal’, three ‘gadbads’, one litchi ice cream, one duet, one dil kush, one chocolate dad

One dog of course, one hungry cat, two lizards corresponding to two sub-standard hotels

Zero cow dumpings on roads !!

Zero taunts about my improved Tulu

One paisa-vasool shopping spree at Hakoba

One day’s breakfast, lunch and dinner under 500 bucks per head

Four villages visited – Mulky, Ullal, Kapu, Monkey Stand

Five express bus trips to these villages that were honestly ‘express’

One five yr-old girl whose mother claimed to have caught a snake by its tail

One day-market, one meeting with a fisher woman with impressive marketing skills for selling dried fish, seven bags of dried fish for about Rs.1000 in total

One masala dosa the best I’ve ever had EVER

One lunch of 7 for under 2000 bucks, three dishes of fried fish, one disgusting bite of bondas or masala fried squid

One Taj sweets and no other sweetmeat shop comes even close, 2 kg halwas, 1 kg melting Mysore Pak, three bags of banana, sweet potato and jackfruit chips each

One long bus journey back

Two blackbirds, Two signs that Dad was watching over us…

Six satisfied, cleansed souls

One guilty soul

One beautiful place – fit for retirement

One trip worth making again…