Movies that have influenced me to heaven and to hell and to the mountain between the two !!!

Today is 19th November and yesterday was 18th November ... I appeared Common Admission Test and got to know about my friend Jean Paul' Sartre a little more. Those Indians who have appeared for CAT, 2007 must have seen the Passage for reading comprehension. Jean Paul' Sartre was an existential but then went for communism.

Wow !!! ... I enjoyed it. Anyways today I am preparing for my exam tomorrow "Modernization and Creative Communication" and one of the topics of the course is "GODOT". "Waiting for Godot" a play written by Samuel Beckett and the play was a sensational scintillator drama and satire in 1948. Anyways, as I get to know here about Samuel Bracket who left Communism to, let be, dedicated to the idea of Existentialism I am quite fascinated by just the idea of supposed comprehending it in some few hours so that I can write an essay about it tomorrow.

Now, who among the above am I? These few hours that I will spend tonight and tomorrow will determine that.

Movies, non the less than books are quite influencing once we become a little pseudo-postmodern. What the heck !!

The following is a list if movies that have made me think and occupied for days. The list will keep increasing though. :)
PS: I don't do everything to get something. Sometimes I do things to give something.

Fight Club - American
Requiem For A Dream - American
Butch Cassidy and Sundane Kid - North American
Hazaaron Khwaishen Aisi - Indian
Aandhi - Indian
Amores Perros - French
Cida de' deus - Brazillian
Nuovo Cinema Paradiso - Italian
Il' Postino - Italian
Pulp Fiction - American
12 Angry Men - American
"Heart Is" (Hearty) - Korean
Butterfly Effect - American
Forrest Gump - American
Bang Bang You're Dead - American
A Clockwork orange - American
To kill a mocking bird - American
Persona - Not Sure (German or Swedish or Argentinian)
Omkara - Indian
American History X - American
Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind - American
American Beauty - American
Blood Diamond - American
Sweet November - American
My Sassy Girl - Korean
10 things I Hate About You - American
Socha Naa Tha - Indian
Humtum - Indian
Dil Chahta Hai - Indian
Jacket - American
Cars(animated) - American
Cast Away - American
The Green Mile - American
Enemy At The Gates - German
Behind Enemy Lines - American
Training Day - American
Woh Lamhe - Indian
Full Metal Jacket - American
Dil Dosti Etc. - Indian
Dr. Strangelove - American
Snatch - English
Matrix Revolutions - American
Octopussy - English
Revolver - English
Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon - Chinese
Artificial Intelligence - American
Vertigo - American
Titli - Indian (Bengali)

Gaza Strip - Documentary
Road to Guatnamo - Documentary
Birds I, II, III - Documentary
Le Peuple Migrateur - The Best Documentary I ever saw


and more ...

The Truman Show - American
Babel - Global movie/ Mexican Director and Writer
Confessions of a Dangerous Mind - American
Apocalypse Now - American
Because of Winn Dixie - American
V for Vendetta - English
Titanic - American
Dead Poets Society - American
One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest - American
Atonement - English
No Man's Land - Bosnian
21 Grams - American
Schindler's List - German
Casablanca - American/English
Dog's Day Afternoon - American
The Bicycle Thief - Italian
La Haine - French
Moulin Rouge - Australian/French
Taare Zameen Par - Indian
As Good As It Gets - American
Autumn Sonata - Swedish
Match Point - English
Michael Clayton - American
Atonement - English
Machinist - American
The Insider - American
Clickety Clack - Japanese
Ikaru - Japanese
Terms of Endearment - American
The Insider - American
Erin Brockovich - American
Devil's Advocate - American
Wall Street - American
Scent of a Woman - American

it is hard to care when we are too relaxed ...

what happens when a lover gets his/her sight back ??

REQUIEM FOR A DREAM

A day ago me and a friend Jean Paul Saratre (http://www.esotericblogs.blogspot.com) were having a chat on ilu themes and he came up with the idea of "Angry Aliens" and to add to that I came up with the background music of "Requiem for a tower". Shhhh .... the vigilance team is here. But I speak esoteric. Create something, create some art, create the hypocrite bubble gum and blow it to convey what you want to say even to the lowest number of people who have the normal inability. From the "Doom's Day Machine" to the fading dream of the girl waiting for you on the culvert of the shouting sea every little thought composed in music - can i dare to create an impression?

Freewill is a bitch.

For the Fans of Requiem For A Dream ---

For the Fans of Requiem For A Dream ---

Arts bludgeoned, clubbed, the sake of none;

Gone with the wind and the wind is gone,

Intake as a record break; I weigh a ton;

Violins, guitars, piano and another moron.

He who looked at me made me insane;

My breasts craving: Our dear Men,

I am a beautiful young lady since then;

“Grab my breasts” and laughs the ANGRY ALIEN.

Hysteric and anger – another ironical pact,

Not psychosis but obsession is the present fact,

Cheerful as always ambidextrous hands at tact,

Nothing but just love and its physical act.

Don’t care for me, don’t soothe me and don’t ever –

I am not the one capable of but you could never;

Alienated and violated the violent but whatever;

Glue your body with me and we will shiver.

The alien is still angry although he rapes me;

Not a Casanova but Ueuecoyotl; brown and burly is he,

More than orgasm when he smokes above my knee –

Every time I smell him and I become free.

My lips dwelling and my curves are his desire;

I like my lover but the alien has his affair.

He pushes against my knees and keeps the stare;

Seditious against him to become – never I dare.

Frantic revolutions and Requiem For A Dream;

The alien is angry and my god and I am his lick-cream.

He is always angry – I don’t want to know the supreme,

Doing wrong for the right – it is not a perfect regime.

what else is life ?

Ignorance, Science and Fantasy

There have been some obnubilating times in all of our lives when we and even the world are ready to kid with self and on apparently no probable ground. We know nothing will happen but still we keep looking as if the Queen will scare the shit out of Bihar police. Well, the uncanny resemblance is clearly for my purpose to justify how gravitated this sedimentary foxing “pineal stuff” of our brain is. Well yeah it just might be about me. But it is surely funny to make fun. But, anyways I guess the meteor shower of 1997 must back me up here. We made a lot fool of ourselves. I remember remaining awake all night and barely reaching 30 fire streaks (and 100 wishes) across the sky.

Anyways, it was around those days as far as I remember. I remember that I was a teen and I remember that I hated girls and I remember that until those days I didn’t realize I look like an ass. It was winter as I clearly remember walking as a GOGO (topless) girl on the roof at nights so that I would become fair. I got resistive to cold weather conditions instead. I had some interest in astronomy not only because I was curious but also I was 100% sure that Neil and Edwin had taken giant leaps for mankind. As a part of my chores I looked up into the deep black sky with some cosmos bantam creations. I noticed the red planet Mars near the horizon. I kept watching that for sometime and noticed its apparent revolution around earth. It was pretty fast. After sometime my father came to the roof and I pointed him the planet Mars as if I had discovered it a few minutes ago. And then my brother joined. The planet moved towards our over head quite fast. It was unusual. I easily counted myself among the few number of eye witness who are going to be on TV the very next day for reporting this unusual cosmological phenomenon. Then in a few minutes the planet started blinking. To quickly evade the little disgrace from my brother and father I switched to comet from planet. But comets never blink – but who cared then as I was a genius astronomer among the 3 of us. Then my brother started expressing his outlawed views. He caught the name UFO and I don’t want to mention anymore. My father scolded both of us for wasting his money and not fulfilling the ethnicity of being boys of the science age and for crapping about comets, planets and UFOs. He stated something far simpler –it might be an airplane or a satellite. We argued and I had almost lost my last smidge of self respect and by that time there were more of them –all blinking brown lights and coming towards us faster. My father and I had no opinions left but my brother had watched “Independence day”. My father went back. My brother too left probably to fulfill his last day wish on earth. I remained there to live up to my curiosity and also to become fair in chilly (15 degree centigrade) winter night.

After a little while those blinking things blinked in a different rate and also came towards me with a slower speed. After some 1 hour from the start those things were clearly visible to naked eye. Those were small hot air balloons with fire inside them and those balloons were heart shaped. It was a valentines day and 10 -20 of those hot air balloons were released from Saheed Nagar –A Sahiey place in Bhubaneswar and they flew north wards carried by the wind and also not much differently by the mind.

One hour of sleep

On 13^th, September 2005 (Tuesday) I was awake all night for some non important business and next day I slept at 7pm. On 14^th September, 2005 (Wednesday) I was a year older than the sophomores at IIT. I was in C-103, RK Hall. I woke up after my hour long nap at 8 pm. I remember I was too hungry and so tried to call my wingies to have dinner. But none of them were in the wing. It was a Specials Day in mess. So I went alone to mess. At 8pm during specials day generally the mess remains crowded. But there was just a hint of some peoples there and I couldn’t find my wingies there. Anyways after a minute I found that regular old wordless food was being served. I was too hungry and so I ate. I remembered that I had to submit some assignments the next day and so technically was worried for a while to search for the source. Then I found something unusual. When I was returning from the mess I found that many peoples have deliberately changed there clothes, that is, they aren’t wearing what they had wore an hour ago. There wasn’t much to question or answer and so I went back to my room. Then I moved the mouse to bring back the monitor to normal from power-saving mode. There were some 10-15 message windows. Most of them were forwarded messages and some of the most irritating ones asking to forward them for good luck. The same song “Lucy in the sky” was being played on winamp in repeat mode. I closed every application and started orkuting. I had got 5-7 new scraps. For your information, I wasn’t (and am not) popular in orkut that I would get so many scraps in a single hour. Anyways, there wasn’t much to question there too. I saw my mobile and there were around 30 missed calls including 4-5 from home. 30 missed calls and 7-8 people to handle there. Then I got the feeling that something had happened in that one hour. I called home. My sister said that all of them at home had been trying my number since that morning but I am not picking up the cell phone. I tried to remember but couldn’t find any answer so as why I didn’t pick up the phone. My cell phone must have been in silent mode – I thought and replied. I called everyone who had missed call me and said that I was asleep. Some of the calls were info. based and rest were for formal bhatting. All of those who bhatted with me that day said the same thing to me – how much sleep do you need? and I answered them all “as much as possible”. Then I connected DC++ and downloaded some videos or songs or both – I don’t remember and watched for sometime. I thought of my assignment and tried to contact some peoples in yahoo messenger. I was glad to know that the teacher had said to submit that in a week. After that I relaxed but something was seriously wrong. I was feeling roomsick or better was feeling sick of room. I wanted some fresh air and so went to chhedis for a couple of smokes. Met some people here and there talked and roamed for sometime. There was a lot of works to do but as usual until the deadline I had to relax. The time was then around 11 pm and I went back to my room. Before that my wingies confronted me and scolded me for being a lazy ass and said that there was a treat that day and I didn’t wake up however bad they knocked/kicked the door and called my name. I said that I had maroed a 36hr straight night out and so had slept a little. Anyways we got entangled in other stuffs and again the bhaat session persisted. All the topics we talked about was what usually we bhatted. But something was wrong. I was felt like having a dream. I felt like being in another dimension. At around 12am I left to my room and a strange feeling came to me. Those who can’t control themselves rely on their cell phone. I dialed a number and talked about my awkward sensations and heard about Bhagwat Gita. After the confabulation I felt a little relaxed. But still something was wrong. Then I marked something which I should have marked in the beginning. The newspaper was squeezed between the opened door and the wall. It looked like as if I hadn’t read it. Those days the first thing I used to do every morning was to read the head lines of TOI, the cartoon section and BOL-TARA-BOL for astrology. Anyways, I started to read the new news and headlines and simultaneously wondering how could I miss reading newspaper that day. Then I remembered that I had read Wednesday’s news.

I took a long deep breath went to the front page of the news paper and saw the date. 15^th September, 2005 – Thursday.

The Little Vagabond

Dear Mother, dear Mother, the church is cold.
But the Ale-house is healthy and pleasant and warm;
Besides i can tell where I am use'd well.
Such usage in heaven will never do well.


But if at the church they would give us some Ale,
And a pleasant fire, our souls to regale:
We'd sing and we'd pray, all the live-long day,
Nor ever once wish from church to stray;


Then the parson might preach and drink and sing.
And we'd be happy as birds in spring:
And modest dame Lurch, who is always at Church,
Would not have bandy children nor fasting nor birch.

And God like a father rejoicing to see
Her children as pleasant amd happy as he:
Would have no more quarrel with Devil or the Barrel,
But kiss him and give him both drink and apparel.


-by William Blake

A Drop of Dew

Even each of my breath is unsatiated;

O’ dear, your every word silenced.

Rising and raising, time and again a tide

Dancing and fancying comes with pride,

But the sadist, filled from ages unknown

With thoughts of piled heart’s rock zone.

The wave of ocean is not its flair;

But to kiss the shore is its despair.

Why it Should not – desire of shore

To incite into the ocean’s core.

Going and dropping in on the locked doors

Who knocks and knocks as a part of his chores;

But never gets a reply – despair, shames

Of his pains and anguish, nobody explains.

The poem of a poet is not his affair;

To foregather with reader is its despair.

Drunk to neck, but, with ignominy

Doomed to reach that threshold - the meany.

What enigma inside you is fretted,

That I am in knotting is abetted.

Expressible and enigma both;

To call you fate I took oath.

Sound of silence I cried away,

Whisper of crowd carried me away.

Echoes deep inside me are twinging,

My own acute arrow inside me – piercing.

Even I might be silenced –

All manifestations veined.

What in this world can’t happen

In which can’t be hurt – the lonely misshapen.

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Twinkled the little star up above;

A drop of dew drowned me with love.

Cleaned me with vino under-rated;

Like the star I got illuminated.

Each breath of mine is rejoiced,

O’ dear, your every parole is voiced.

The World Is My Ashtray.

A few years back I wrote a poem on Love;

As the only thing in my mind was then to get some love,

The poem was entirely about love, love and love,

I loved to love, wanted to be loved, love, love and love.

I posted it on my picture, on my resume all the way above;

My cries, my demand, my insanity was heard all the way above,

‘Care, sympathy, and friendship’ fell upon me all the way from above;

I got all but wanted more, so I went to fight all the way to Above.

Then someday later I wrote a poem on Won And Lost;

As the only thing in my mind was then how I lost,

The poem was entirely about my failure and there also I lost;

How I had won a lot of things and a whimper to make me lost.

I posted it on my picture, on my resume all the cries of cost;

My cries, my demand, my insanity was still heard at my cost,

A lot, hope for ‘care, sympathy, and friendship’, did cost;

I knew I wouldn’t get but still wanted more and more at whatever cost.

Then I left writing poems and not because I had nothing to title;

But because the only thing to write I knew was the title,

And that was ‘something’ in pretentious persuasion of some title;

I didn’t want anything thereafter from myself and Above, but my fame title.

Love, Won And Lost on my picture, on my resume made me so little;

That my cries, my demand, my insanity to be heard had become little,

‘Care’, ‘sympathy’ and ‘friendship’ I got a lot from all around but was too little;

Like and Unlike November heat or June cold that term wasn’t little.

Then recently one night I wrote a poem on what can be best called Nothing;

As the only thing in my mind was then not random but nothing,

In a country of a billion my name, my fame, my fain and my pain were nothing;

I was caught in rain and lightning, I didn’t feel love but nothing.

I didn’t post it on my picture, on my resume still marked though that for me was everything;

My cries, my demands, my insanity weren’t there heard or unheard but rest of everything,

I didn’t want Care, sympathy and friendship and those weren’t anymore everything;

Not ‘lost little love title’s cost for who remained above wasn’t just nothing’ I learnt but everything.

I drank, doped, drugged and smoked and on those my heart is set;

The world is my ashtray and absence of my swayer is my cigarette.

Mercury Lamp

28 years later the mercury lamp again went off.

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My mother taught me about mercury lamps. Mercury lamps are cheap. That’s why they are destined to be street lights. After being switched on the temperature begins to rise and after it reaches a certain value it automatically turns off due to an open circuit. And when the temperature falls to a certain value it the circuit reestablishes. And again the world becomes a happy place. The time interval is at maximum one and half minutes. But the one that was in front of our house took some 10-11 minutes to recover. But then that street lamp had a good thing. It did so only for 3-4 times during the entire night except in rainy weather during which it hibernated. My mother also taught me how to put a light bulb in the electrical socket and also how to rotate and flirt with the starter of tube lights when they don’t get illuminated. And she used to teach me English from English news that was aired at 10.30 pm at night when I was 4. My mother also sang me many songs in my mother tongue and translated them to English words. That’s how I learnt my mother tongue and the imperialist tongue. My mother also told me about her life when she was in teens and how she used to flirt with guys and how they would follow her. She used to tell me about her adventures as a hunter with his father and some local guys who did not tire of all the impressing activity. In one of her stories there was a mercury lamp which went out right when one of the guys was about to shoot an antelope. How she and her father got into doing this is a big elephant meat and a deserted British fellow story. Anyways, she was around 14 years old then unknown of the fact that she would be married in a year. She always told me that those days when a girl is 13 they could behave like woman. There were 2-3 guys in their late teens and were constantly hitting on her and had gained the trust of her father as decent young men. As I was telling, the mercury lamp went out and one of my mother’s father’s decent young man pulled the trigger of the point 2 NOT 2. There were screaming of birds, the most anticipated antelope and the point 2 NOT 2. It might not be said enough by the Discovery people or better the imperialist’s BBC peoples but antelopes do attack and they kill to death. My mother enlightened me collected from her father. At that moment her father asked them not to move or run or talk or scream. They waited for sometime in hope of the mercury lamp. After around 5 minutes the mercury lamp showed them a remnant of the living antelope. When there was enough light two things were wretched. One of them was a rigid curly broken antelope horn and the other was a broken heart. What I didn’t mention was that during those 5 minutes the shooter grabbed my mother’s hand and in return got a punch right on the stomach. My mother’s father misunderstood and calmed the decent young shooter to try next time. My mother said she wouldn’t go with them for hunting the next time. And the broken heart was wretched.

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26 years later the mercury light went off again. She was sitting right besides me. She wasn’t 13. We weren’t in a jungle and there was no forest surveillance office near us. We were in a city well known everywhere and originated during the freedom fights against the imperialists. And it wasn’t 8 pm. It was past midnight. We weren’t there for hunting. I was there to plead and she was there to feel pity on me. A dog was barking in front of me and I was about to throw the stone at it to shove it away right when the mercury light went dark.

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My ego was all over me and for the recent few months I had been very cruel to her. She loved me. I wanted her. I used her. Shakespeare’s “Let me not to the marriage of true minds; admit impediments” was being recited in my head. I think I understood the situation when it was late and went to plead her. She still loved me. But at that point in a relationship it doesn’t matter because I even had started to realize that I was in love with her too. My commitment had been like mercury lamp. But she still loved me and ironically she had pride. She honored my effort of trying to settle things and the effort to care for another human being and in return pitied on me and roamed around with me till it was past midnight and we were sitting side by side under a mercury lamp at a lonely but safe place. By the way she used to tell me the only living creature she was afraid of was me. So I guess every place on earth was safe for her when I was with her especially when for pleading. Anyways, we talked a lot but not on the topic that we both wanted to talk desperately. Before we could start to wonder about anything the dog came and barked at me. She said that it was barking at us but I knew it was barking at me. I got irritated and felt bad for the honest rebuke of the dog and was about to hurl a stone at it when the mercury light went off.

I remembered the old story my mother once told in a flash. All those things kept rushing into my head at light speed and I lost control a little bit and couldn’t aim at the dog and also couldn’t throw at good speed. The rock fell 3-4 meters short of the dog but ironically the dog got afraid and ran away as I could hear its foot steps and fading panting. All in my mind was the story. I was in a dilemma. My heart and body felt romantic under the dark mercury lamp but my mind felt a broken horn and a punched stomach and next time. I started to feel sleepy, might be because of the sudden rush of the memories. I was confused with who I am. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. She moved a bit closer towards the only living thing she ever feared. I was feeling sleepy. The same living thing made me afraid of itself. I couldn’t remember my purpose of going to her.

My purpose was to plead, to propose, to confess my love with words that would most probably be binding under the mercury light which was still dark.

She: The dog is gone. (30 seconds passed.) Say something. (1 minute passed).

Me: Would you like to come with me to this place next time at this hour. (5 minutes passed)

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Is it really easy to run out of words? Even if so, is it really easy to run out of feelings? Even if so, is it really easy to run out of love? Is it really easy to listen to sound of silence? Is it really easy to listen to a thin whimper?

My knees start to shake

When you're in sight

My mind is filled with wonder

My heart with fright.

When will this feeling stop?

When did it start?

How can i listen to my mind,

Without breaking my heart.

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Me: (In the imperialist language) I want you here next time with me.

My eyes were closed apparently of some unknown forces. She turned towards me. I felt her breath on my face. I heard a thin whimper. Someone grabbed my hand.

The mercury lamps were illuminated again. When there was enough light there was one wretched thing – a broken ego.

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2 years later the mercury lamp went off again. I was alone. I felt a broken horn, a punched stomach and ironically next time.

i don't CARE

I don’t care anymore. I used to care a lot about everything. I used to care what I feel and what I am writing whenever I was writing articles. Now I don’t know what I feel. Well I am not feeling anymore I guess, at least for the better. I am traveling and thinking of traveling more. I have covered almost every major city in India. A few left. All I need is some thousand rupees and a two weeks leave. In the last few months I have lost almost all of my friends, not because I ditched them, but because I am ditching them. I don’t want any relation right now. I don’t want to care for any one now. When I was a good friend I used to care. Now because I don’t feel like a friend I don’t care anymore. If someone scolds me I don’t find a reason or evidence to back me up now. So I accept it. But I don’t care. If someone asks me for help I think of myself first. And if that hampers me I don’t help. Well what traveling has to do with this is that I am creating new contacts. And as usual I am manipulating them to help me if I require. So what if I lose my friends, I still get helped. There are a hell lot of problems out there. I mean outside my residence and my circle of friends’ residences and area of trading. I was always being cynical about why don’t they see my problem. And now I don’t care. There are a hell lot of problems out there everywhere. And those problems are Everest in comparison to mine. Well I did have problems and not anymore. If I can’t be with my friends then it is my problem and not their. But they fuss over it, which by the way is also not a problem for me and they try to make it a problem for themselves. But still I don’t care. But then why I am writing this? Writing is therapy. But I am not sick. I am just doing my hubby and just preventing myself. I used to love a lot. And now I love a lot more. But I don’t care for it. What if you are put in a situation where you want to achieve something and want to enjoy after achieving it but the only way to achieve it is to run away from it? But I don’t have money or the better reason - vacation. What if you find some doubts in your dream and yet not query about it? But your dream used to be a reason to live and still somewhat it is. What would you do? So I am used to not care anymore. I loved irony as me and my life has been ironical always. But this irony makes me hate ironies. I hate surprises now. But what can I do? So I don’t care anymore.

But I am happy. I am happy as I was never before. I don’t feel heaven but I know hell can’t catch hold of me. I don’t feel satisfied but I am not either dissatisfied. I am used to it. And I can laugh from heart. I am selfish. But who cares? I don’t. Do you have a better life than me? No. So stop quibbling. Because I wouldn’t care for that either.