When you are writing a script, you are bound to hit a roadblock. That is the most natural occurrence possible. Don’t worry. Just keep going. No script worth its salt—including the unbeatable twin work of Casablanca (1942)—could avoid this calamity. Being clueless about the next scene, about the next epic moment, about the next development, about the next twist, about the final arc, is a healthy place to be. If anything, if you are in trouble if you aren’t facing an existential crisis with your script. I am sharing all these ground truths based on my profound successes with writing about a dozen scripts that never came to fruition. All of them have hit roadblocks bigger than Mount Mauna.
If you listen to most of the songs that the Hindi film industry comes up with carefully, they are either praising a feminine figure under the disguise of Persianized devotional lyrics or they are simply trying to modestify explicit thoughts. It’s incredible how the younger Bollywood lyricists have nothing new to share: they have templatized a few key Urdu words so as to spin the much needed mix of femininity and divinity to sell the commodity of sentiments to a set audience. Personally, I’ve got nothing against this approach, mainly because the melodies sync perfectly. Beat on. However, if you ask me, if the lyricists can be a bit more courageous in their writing, then the answer would be a loud yes. Right now is the finest time to be bold and beautiful.
Instagram doesn’t get enough credit for its role in spreading education and insights. If you are following the right accounts, you will never run short of mindblowing trivias and nuggets on a daily basis. Everyday, I get to learn something that I didn’t know the day before: the rise of reels made this transition from a picture-centric platform to a wide-range behemoth possible. Adopting videos-are-the-future worked in IG’s favour while making sure there is a time limit to content. Otherwise, you are unnecessarily competing with YouTube. The success of IG reels reflects on the fact that YT had to introduce YT Shorts. Net-net, there is so much interesting information to consume from the fields you are clued in, that you can spend hours just scrolling and not feeling fatigued.
To me, nowadays, the toughest part is to sit down and write/type. Thinking bit has nothing on me. I can come up with ideas within minutes but the whole charade of pausing and sitting straight and fleshing out pointers tires me out. To give you an example, I’ve been slowly collecting material for this blog post for the past 2 weeks or so—jotting down notes to highlight, etc.—but that’s not where my work ends. In essence, the real work begins right after that. To make things worse, my procrastination has grown stronger with age. As I am getting older, I am realizing the futility of doing. How nothing really matters and everything is supposed to go to crap anyway. Such nourishing thoughts keep me from manifesting the brilliant writer that I was supposed to become last decade.
At the risk of generalizing 8 billion of us, everybody has issues. Nobody on this wretched planet is sorted, so to speak. We are here, walking around, pretending to be normal, dissing the abnormals, and feeling lucky/better about our state of affairs. Yet, when you check in on therapy, you come face to face with so many deep-rooted issues, like a neglected tooth in the back of your mouth. Horrendous eye-opener for a lot of people. Which is why therapy is highly recommended by experts in today’s high-paced era. Many of my friends and colleagues have benefited professional help in this space. I am deeply interested in therapy, so much so that I read everything related to therapy but I haven’t attended a session yet. Sometimes, I wonder why. Maybe, just maybe, I don't think this world deserves a better me.
I was driving last week and came across a dead dog on the side of the road. Immediately, warm tears started trickling down the corners of my sad face. Always a terrible sight to witness a helpless creature like that. Dogs with roofs over their heads seldom find themselves crossing a busy road. To imagine the agony he must have experienced before passing away. Keeping these happenstances in mind, it’s easier to agree with the activists who support mass sterilization of dogs, not because they don’t want dogs around but they don’t want to remain silent bystanders to the continued suffering of their wonderful furry friends. For every stray that gets adopted, there are hundreds who have fight it out on the streets; it’s an unfair number game.
Speaking of our furry friends, have you ever noticed a dog walking with intent, with a bounce in its feet, that makes you wonder – Where the fuck are YOU going? Have you got a meeting or something? Some job prospects? Or wedding of a childhood friend? Perhaps to settle a territorial dispute? Why are you moving from Point A to Point B with so much clarity? Yes, it’s rather strange to see a lonesome dog briskly walking like that. Had it been a pack, you wouldn’t have had these questions inside your head. Anyhow, I’ve solved the mystery—that’s what I do in my free time for you, my dear readers—and here’s my theory on this striking subject: when dogs are walking with intent, they are not necessarily trying to get somewhere. In all probability, they are trying to get out of somewhere. Getting out of Point A is more important than reaching Point B. Thank you attending my sed talk.
Not very long ago, India was in shock for a few minutes when we learned about a bridge falling in Gujarat, leaving 135 dead. We were aghast by the bureaucratic recklessness at work here. But our anger didn’t last long as we moved on to the next (heart)breaking news. I am rarely shocked by Indians’ pathetic behaviour in public; we are not the most disciplined folks in the world. But watching the bridge crumble made me feel bad the affected people. It wasn’t their fault that day. Yes, we are all going to die someday and death is not a special event. Still, I firmly believe that there is no tragedy other than having to die with absolute strangers.
Long ago, when Donald Trump announced his bid for White House, I joked that I wanted him to be elected so that he would do to America what the American establishment has relentlessly done to smaller nations since WW2. Long story short, he didn’t do a lot of damage. Most of his misadventures were allotted more print space and clickbaits than they truly deserved. The only thing he did was he kept everyone entertained, be it online or offline. A true clown that the world’s most powerful nation deserved. For all his unscripted faux pas, he spoke too much and did too little. Democracy in the US wasn’t weakened; it was merely exposed. You know for certain that democracy can be functional but not entirely mature when you transition from a bona fide joker to a decrepit POTUS.
Is it just me or others are enjoying the shitshow that Elon Musk is orchestrating on Twitter? Sometimes, it feels like he is onto something big; after all, he is the same guy who helmed Tesla and SpaceX to remarkable heights. And sometimes, it appears like he just likes to burn things down. No pun intended for flamethrowers. Whatever be the case, for those who seek real-time satire, he is the perfect guy to own Twitter. Having been on this platform since 2008, I can only tell you that it can’t get any worse. Which means, Musk has a higher chance of turning things around and making Twitter a better place to spend your not-so-precious time on. After all, who else can know the pulse of a troll than a troll himself? And it’s high time we accepted that the biggest troll of all runs Twitter now.
Whenever those two thieving bulbuls visit our balcony, I presume they are here as a messenger for a future that doesn’t exist. Maybe in a parallel universe, those two bulbuls are two humans who were meant to be together, but for reasons unknown, they ended up caught up inside the bodies of two noisy birds that have no manners whatsoever. They scream while entering the apartment, they scream while stealing bananas, and they scream while leaving the apartment too. My best guess is that they are living it up as humans in a different universe, in a less colourful but more dignified way.
I am not fond of cricket anymore so my time spent watching it is limited to India-Pak matches once or twice a decade or so. When india got knocked out of the T20 WC 2022, I felt bad for Virat Kohli because he was meant to be the man of the tournament had India entered the final. Not to mention, it would have been a delicious treat of a match with Pakistan. Anyway, when Pakistan faced England, I was supporting the former only because I can’t stand the English cricket team. As an Indian, I could only think of what Irfan Khan’s character relayed in Life of Pi (2012): “I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye.” In a way, most fellow Indians felt that the Indian cricket team ended up letting go (in the semifinals) when they originally planned to say goodbye to the Pakistan cricket team (in the final).
Say what you may about Salman Khan but his superstar status is unshaken despite his consistent failings as a human being (ironic NGO name alert). Suggesting this solely on the fact that there hasn’t been a prominent actor, in the East or in the West, at the height of his fandom, who farted on the big screen. Not one. When Sallu bhai released that hawa ka jhonka, he ended up doing something that wasn’t tried before 1999 nor after. Imagine a Hrithik Roshan or a Brad Pitt doing that in a big budget movie. No way. Now imagine the confidence Salman Khan must have had to flow (no pun intended, again) with the script that night.
You’re allowed to procrastinate as much as you want. But you’re not allowed to stop writing for this blog. Nope. We’re rooting for you too. Go Shakti!