While my guitar gently weeps

It was a winter morning of 2008 when I brought my 'wise little boy''s guitar with me to Bangalore in the hope of learning how to play it. I secretly started taking guitar lessons dreaming about a day when I could take the guitar from the 'jokerman''s hand and try to play it in jest and see him laugh at my stupid attempts and then surprise him by actually playing him a song. However, as things unfolded in the spring of 2008, i gave up on this desire and the guitar was left gathering dust against the wall in the corner of my room. I saw it sometimes and the desire to pick it up and play it came and went, came and went and eventually I never got myself to learning it.

Now, when it was time to pack my bags and leave the city, I wondered whether I should take it back with me or give it off to someone here. Taking it back with me home was always an option but of course, it involved the inconvenience of carrying it. To add to it, there was no one to really play it. Hence, after much deliberation I decided to sell it off. I saw two posts on the company bulletin board from people who were looking for a used guitar. I mailed my guitar details to both of them. One of them, sent me an sms late in the night saying that he wished to buy it and if he could call me. I gave him the guitar details; he said he was just a beginner and didn't know anything about guitars. I told him to have a look before he decides to buy it. He said he would buy anyway. He reiterated - "Please dont give it to anyone else." I promised I would give it to him only.

The next day, I carried the guitar with me to office, reminiscing about all my friends who had played it at some point of time. The person who wished to buy it came to collect it. Somehow suddenly, I didn't feel like parting with it. He gave me the money we had agreed upon. Then he said something which really touched me. He said - "Thanks so much for giving it to me. I want to learn how to play the guitar and I was looking for a used guitar for the last five months and wasn't getting one." He couldn't afford to buy a new guitar. I suddenly felt like giving him the money back and saying that you can take it as a gift from me. But then, the next moment I thought that I cannot disrespect him by doing that, i'm sure he wasn't here for charity. So I accepted the money with gratitude. I said - " I would not have given it away if I weren't moving out or if I knew how to play it. It was just gathering dust for the last one year. However, I would like it if you learn how to play it and have a good time. Happy guitaring! " We exchanged goodbyes and went our own ways. I looked back and saw him walking away with my guitar. I smiled.

The guitar, hopefully, shall now be doing its karma. As the 'wise little boy' said, there would be more music created in this world. I also thank God for giving me so much that I am in the capacity to share it. And as I approach the day when I shall be getting the last paycheck of my first job, I am again made to realise how 'less' for someone is 'more' for someone else.

Subterranean Homesick Blues

I might have the cash
To pay to a random person
To cook me my meals.

I might have the ways
To find a new one to do that
Each and every month.

But the taste in the food
Never comes close
To that of yours, My dearest Mum.

The credit in my account every month
Might be ten times now
Of what it was, when I was in school

But the work that I do for it
Doesn't comes close
To the effort I put in reading up the books

It doesn't even match
To the beauty Dad
Of asking you for the tiny monthly allowance.

You were away
On foreign shores
The distance was more, the call charges more.

Its just a rupee now, compared to six
The two and half hours gap, ceases to exist.
But I miss talking to you now, my dearest Sid

I know the work takes a toll on you
I know the commute is bothering too
Don’t worry baby, I understand and I'm not complaining too.

Inspite of hefty phone bills now
Compared to the tiny recharges and missed calls
Of those days back in school

I fondly remember the passing on
Of the phone from Dad, to Sid, to Mum
As a ritual, each and everyday.

Of inflated egos

I wish they were balloons and I could burst them with a needle. You would just see me jumping around bursting balloons.... I hate inflated egos. Sometimes in my dreams i go around bursting them. Only if I could do that in reality...

Delhi 6

Of late, nothing has impacted me more than this movie, and hence it gives me something to write upon.

It was for me, a weekend gone waste. A movie which was constantly forcing me to get up and leave the theatre, but kept me glued to the seat in anticipation of some hope, something that would rescue the evening for me. But Alas, it didnt happen. When the movie got over, I was left yearning for something that would make my evening worth it, while on the other hand, I was relieved that it was over.

Another movie on the same old cliched subject of the evils in our country. The so called "social message" is nothing new or unique and the execution of the plot is distressing.

After a point the Ramleela becomes irritating and the Kala Bandar frustrating. The movie moves sluggishly, or rather, it dosent move. The Ramleela and Kala Bandar are so overdone that it leaves you with yearning for something more to happen. The monkey man is so stretched that what was chosen to be a metaphor becomes funny in the climax. The climax is particularly bad with the Bacchans meeting in heaven. It is shoddy. Abhishek Bachan's fake accent is so unimpressive and Sonam Kapoor's character is a waste, especially with the Indian Idol shit thrown in. Abhishek's sudden realisation that Delhi -6 is it for him, is just so unbelievable. Its too sudden to sink in. Its typically Bollywood. The kala bandar will give me nightmares for some time now!

Till the last half an hour of the movie I was not sure what the movie is about. Is it about the depiction of Old Delhi, is it about the self discovery of an American born Indian, is it about Bittu and Roshan, or is it a social message? It was as if the director suddenly remembered that the social message needs to be told and it was so blatant and in-the-face.

The only saving grace were the songs. Masakali is nice and the picturisation of Dil Gira Daftan is also very nice with America and India interwoven well. Apart from some brilliant actors like Divya Dutta who performs the untouchable brilliantly, I really like the pigeon, Masakali.

Thats about it, overall, its disappointing!!!