Make a note

There will be moments when you wish that the world could pause for one significant moment and you had the chance to quietly take off your shoes and tiptoe right out of it. There will be moments when the flap of your wings will set off the chaos. The moments in which in cacophony the tiny strumming of your guitar would find its scales and you will find the melody in the resultant harmony.

Sometimes these moments will be a fleeting glance that made you fall in love when your heart lost its orderliness in pursuit of the feelings and futures that you could otherwise not fathom or times when the missed ones will shatter your heart.

Sometimes you will be aware of the precise moment in which you conceived this story, and some other times it will be just an accident from a drunken night.

Slow down you crazy child, and make a note, in whichever way that moment demands. Write a poem, a letter, a journal entry, make a painting, a sketch, a doodle some mess, make a movie, take a picture of your war. If u cannot decide what suits you just pen these moments down on a sheet.

Put. those. moments. down. Like those scenes in slow motion. Slow motions associated with changing plots. The technique is there for some reason, right?  Free them from the weight of holding and the flimsiness of passing you by.
Seriously make a note.
You never know. Perhaps someday we will find a filmmaker or a story collector with a penchant for jigsaw puzzles who will string these slow motions together. And we will see that we have our fair part in the cyclones that our world has breathed.

Short film- with a long story

Sometimes, amid all the rush, the pressure that mounts up to perform a task keeps pace with your performance. The more the pressure that drives you, the more escalated is your performance. One such situation visited me recently. So I had to design a short film based on a social issue which should not exceed one minute as the mail in my inbox read. The mail was from Gandhi fellowship team. I am joining the fellowship (the best thing that happened to me in last couple of years) just in few months. I had read my mail late (Darn it! I was hibernating again but somehow something got into me and I checked my mail). It was 4^th May and the last day to submit the video clip was 5^th May.  Filming was not a problem but the deadline was. Though it later got extended to a couple of days more but still you need a week’s time to express in video medium.  The rush began. I opened my phonebook (yeah still the same cellphone with red and green button) called up I guess some hundred people some thousand number of times. Finally, I came up with the idea and my team.

 It was a notable day filming this short film. Some passionate beings extended their assistance. I would thank my department folks for letting us issue the good old PD 170.  I wonder what I could have done without that small wonder. And off course my gratitude also goes to God sent Jharkhand blood Mobile at our college and the blood donation camp organized which popped the idea out of all muddle headedness.

How can I forget the actors who pulled it all in such a less time. Chetan Midha, Priyam, Atul Anand, Aditya, and Surur and Jyoti, thanks a ton guys.  Chetan, it kills me when you say in the film “inn sab faltu kaamo k liye…”:p I collectively thank you guys for being there with your wackiest sense of humor at every phase of making of this small video be it shooting or editing.

With all numerous cuts and dissolves handled, the Donate blood video (duration -58 sec) was out of the editing table. Thanks again, this time to Final cut Pro.  

I know it’s a short video and not that epic one but the experience that this attempt gave me was worth sharing. The beginning exercise of this two year fellowship journey has left me with the sense of learning and doubled up my enthusiasm.

How I wish to attach the video with this post but I am waiting to see it on Fellowship’s official Facebook page .Anyways my smile (actually an ear to ear grin) is attached as I post this. . .

Nocturnal. . .

Perhaps … this was the way he felt and he never knew the intensity of these feelings. As it goes with the human stupidity to stick with the things which give you pain. He couldn't just feel at ease. Why would he? After all, carrying restlessness in your heart is the only proof of you being alive. The five million or maybe more, inaccessible stars shone brightly above his head. But he was feeling like the pristine moon. The gloom had engulfed him in a much similar way like the clouds envelop a dreamy moon. Time had left its normal pace. It slowed down. . .

He: This is the only time I am not pretending. She respects my integrity and I am just myself with her. Why do I pretend? What’s the use of it or even if I do, she knows. What’s the worst that can happen? She gets angry. I can handle that. She can laugh at me. Granted. But what if she starts judging me like others?

She: I just feel right. He treats me just right. Is he not just like me?

He: I want keep looking at her. She has always been with me without asking for anything in return. No hassles, but with her giant smiles. I don’t know what she thinks about me. Maybe she likes me. Should I ask her? But …

She: Of course it’s not like what I think. Why would he even think about me? He is a stand -up guy. He has a life with priorities. But is he not different from others? There is an aura of pleasantness around him.

He: What am I even thinking? . . .

A sudden bump of realization provokes a plan “I will make tonight worth it. I will perhaps study or just sleep early.

11.30 PM-The night slides in. She smiles. She knows his dreams will overcome the plans of most of his days and always at night... Little did he understand that she was to be loved, not understood. Not planned, but lived. She knew he couldn't leave her. He is her’s now. Completely and voluntarily. He submits himself to her.

They talk. They talk about his broken dreams, wrong choices, people left behind, his future, her past. The changes. The times of laughter and the time of sighs. The silent exchanges and the warm touch. All the words said and a few unsaid. They talk about the fine line between love and lust. One night. . .

“Just leave” ……he screamed “you never stay”. She smiles calmly. She was the only one who stayed. He knew that, they knew that. He always used to hurt the ones he loved the most. He knew she was fading away, he knew she had to leave. But maybe that is how he loved. Maybe this is how he held on. This is the only way he knew how to let go. She leaves. She had to. He cries himself to sleep.



8.00 AM- The buzz of alarm clock. Darn it! His room still cool with her essence. Her aroma everywhere. He tries to shut the windows. He misses her aura of darkness. “You are nothing like her, she was the NIGHT. . .