Why Writers Write

I felt happy to read the comments of my gracious friends for my blog posts, some on the blog itself & some in my mail box. Thank you! I even checked the number of my profile views. 42! Ah good! Tell me, is that narcissistic?

Do writers write for others or themselves? Do they write because there’s something in their head or because they want to be read? What is the primary motivation– readers’ reactions OR our urge to write? Their encouragement in the form of positive feedback and words of appreciation OR our own judgment & drive to continue writing?

If I write, and not many or, let’s say no one reads, what does it mean? Does it mean my writing is wasted? Or it isn’t good enough? Or maybe I don’t have many friends? Three evil thoughts.The last thought feels better of the three. Strangely comforting! It’s like saying not having friends is not my problem, not writing well is. That’s why no one reads my blog. Aha! Relief!

A writer writes because he has something to say, to share. The words “say” & “share” presupposes that it’s being said “to” or shared “with” someone. That “someone” could be friends he knows or complete strangers. If and when someone reads &responds, {whether to agree or disagree, like or dislike}, it feels good. It feels like there was a live exchange of thoughts. Like in a real conversation.

When you talk to someone, you’d like that person to respond. Through words, gestures, eyes – any which way. But respond he must. Even if the response is ‘one tight slap’ MTV style – so be it. Otherwise, you’d rather move on & converse with another person instead.

So it is with writing. When what you write echoes in another human heart(or stomach or liver or pancreas or any other organ – koi bhi organ chalegabhai!!) it brings a smile to your face. Involuntarily.Deeply cherished.

So does that mean a writer will stop writing if no one reads? May be.Maybe not. The compulsion to write comes from within. You can’t preordain the time/day/age/medium. You don’t really know when & what & where you will write. You just write.
But yes the added motivation to go on tirelessly comes from without. From people who choose to read you. And from those who choose to react to what they read. It propels you. Sustains you. It’s like the drizzle that satiates you. And you can go on again. If the responses stop, perhaps the enthusiasm will eventually, slowly, very slowly ebb. Fizzle out gradually. Not overnight. The writer must be really weak-kneed to dry out too soon!

A writer writes first & foremost out of his own need to write. And then, feels glad, for the reactions that come his way. Whether the reaction he receives are good or bad, positive or negative, it doesn’t matter. Any reaction. As long as there is one!!

Every Couple's Love Song

Every couple has their signature love song when they are seeing each other. A dating song if u can say so. A song that was a hit during their courtship days.The tune that resonates in their hearts for months and years to come. The song that invariably becomes THEIR song.

When I listen to the mesmerizing number from Kites:
“Zindagi ….

Do pal ki
Intezaar kab tak

hum karenge bhala
Tumse pyar kab tak

naakarenge bhala”

I wonder how many love-struck couples are swaying to it. Or playing it to each other.Or exchanging coy, meaningful glances every time it is played.Or dedicating it to one another during musical nights.Because to them it is “their” song. The song that expresses how they feel. The song that does all the talking for them. The words seem right out of their own longing hearts.

I remember the time when Sathya& I were seeing each other in the summer of 2005. Our love song (in Kannada) was
“Preethi yeke bhoomi melidey
Bereyellu jaaga illavey
Nanney yeke preethi madidey
Nanna haage yaru illavey”

It was the hello tune for me on his phone. I remember waiting for him endlessly. He would say “5 minutes” & not turn up before an hour. I’d go mad & call him up every 30 sec! And when I did, the track would play & it’d melt my heart away. And then when I finally see his “late” face (the face that was late in appearing), my anger would completely evaporate.

Sathya would listen to a number from NusratFateh Ali Khan. Especially when he was dead drunk on Saturday nights.

Aakhir Kyun ?!?

I started blogging because I have this habit of talking incessantly. What’s weird about that you ask? Listen further. I talk incessantly to myself. All in the head. When I am alone. All by myself. I guess I got it from my father. He used to talk a lot too. But then that was because he was drunk most times!

Then why do I talk alone? Aakhir kyun? Psychological problem? Could be. I definitely think we so- called ‘normal’ people aren’t all that normal after all. The ones in mental asylums have fewer phobias/problems than we sane people do. Agree with Yogaraj Bhatt there. Remember “Manasare”? Uppi also said this much before him in “A” released ages back.

So, well … I keep talking in my head. On almost every conceivable subject on earth. If you could record my head, the recorder would coolly playback endless conversations. Long drawn monologues. Spirited, mind you! The conversations are never dull. Always forceful. When I am moved by something, the outpourings begin. Even though what moves me could be something as mundane as the lighter of my gas stove or as remote as Star Cruises or as abstract as Utopia.

Then, one day, when our T.V remote “died”, I once again started talking in my head. This time, however, I got up & put it down on paper. Word to word. Just as I was saying it in my head. No editing. Free flow of words. Thinking aloud. Putting pen to paper. Quite out of the blue.

And then I asked myself, “Can I publish this stupid, one- page crap, say in a newspaper/magazine or even a leaflet?” NAAAAH!!

Then it struck me. Why don’t I just blog it? Blogs do welcome all & sundry. You needn’t have a course in creative writing or be tech savvy or intellectual to be a blogger. If you are all or any of these, good for you! But then you don’t HAVE to be! All you have to be able to do is put pen to paper. Quite literally. And if you are passionate about things around you, it HELPS!

So that’s how I started blogging. No agenda. No creativity. No “writer in the making” business. Just plain “recordings of my head” stuff.

The best part is, it has actually helped ‘calm’ my restless mind. Is this how psychos feel when they talk to their shrink? If so, I am with you guys. After all, I am one too!!!

Ek Garam Chai Ki Pyaali Ho

Remember Sallu bhai shaking his bounty to this number?

Ek garam chai ki pyali ho
Koi usko pilane wali ho
Chahe gori ho ya kaali ho

No. This post is not about Sallu miya. Some other time and day for you Salman.
This is about the garam chai. One of nature’s sweetest gifts. My passport to a blissful morning.

I have never understood people’s craze for the myriad tea flavors - lemon tea/black tea/herbal tea/honey tea/green tea/tulsi tea & so on & so forth. Pot boiled tea with a dash of crushed ginger is what sets my heart racing. I love ginger tea. Never tested coffee in my life. EVER. Just the smell puts me off completely.

One of the things I like about my life, after I quit my full-time job to become a freelance trainer, is the ritual surrounding my evening cup of tea. I like it alone! Just me & a book or a magazine & some crunchy snacks to munch on. Can’t do without my evening cup of chai. I actually obsess about it. I constantly think about it even during my afternoon nap. I savor every drop of the beverage. Sipping your tea while watching the changing hues of the sky, counting the birds returning home, the sun getting ready to retire for the day – it’s a visual treat you don’t wanna miss! Also. there’s a lot of calm all around in the evenings.

This is one thing & one moment alone I don’t like sharing with Sathya. This is the only time I prefer him to remain silent. And this is the only time he chit-chats. On purpose. To annoy me. He even quotes my often repeated, wise & logical “couples who talk are the ones who stay together” theory. Also, he likes his tea slightly lukewarm, which according to me, is a disrespect to tea & a mild crime.

We have a friend, originally from Mandya, who makes his tea that tastes more like sugar syrup. Every time we visit his house, which is quite often, Sathya ends up drinking an extra cup (my cup). Back home in South Canara, we like our tea strong. In most parts of Kerala, you get really watery tea in big tumblers. I guess, since they drink so much in a single day, they keep it ‘light’. Hyderabadi chai is in a league of its own. You only find Iranian chai everywhere. For me, that was the toughest part of living in that city for a year. It’s very difficult to find ‘regular’ tea. I was forced to go looking for the ubiquitous ‘Udupi’ hotel whenever I stepped out. The trademark biscuits that accompany their chai is mouth-watering & the only saving grace.

You get the best tea in Bangalore in Adigas (all d outlets) & Food Camp & Hallimane in Malleshwaram. Hot,strong and milky. Since I am married to a smoker, I also frequently drink tea in these pan-beedi shops or from the roadside vendor with his big tea can. For two rupees you get exactly two tablespoons of tea in a tiny little plastic cup!! But then it’s about the ambience, not the tea per se. Have you ever drunk tea sitting idly on the pavements of the BDA complex in Sadashivnagar? Or on the railings of the world famous ‘narayanandu’ idli-vadey hotel adjacent to the railway station in Malleshwaram? A must try!!

Movies

Aah..that's one of the two words around which my whole world revolves {the other being travel}. Movies is in my blood & veins & arteries & nerves & breath & every beat of my heart. I am a complete sucker for the experience of watching a 70mm screen come alive with colors & sound & characters & dance & sound & what have you. It's magical!

I have grown up like that i guess. Both my parents were big time movie fanatics. In those good old days of Bombay (sorry Mr. Thackeray cant EVER get myself to call my birth city by any other name) they used to get these VCRs on hire. It was a big ritual really. You had to book a particular movie, the VCR, the time & day & the VCR guy would come over & fix it up to your telly. All this while, we - that is the entire family plus our neighbours who came in assorted sizes would throng the small living room. We would wait with bated breaths for Rajesh Khanna or Rajendra Kumar or Jumping Jack or Sridevi or Jayaprada to tell us their 'dard bhari' kahaanis.

I remember dancing passionately to the tunes of "Dafliwale Dafli Bajaa" and "Chodo Chodo meri baahein meri rahein aa haa aa". Dafliwale was Jayaprada's number & Chodo chodo was Reena Roy's. I even staged a huge tamasha saying i 'had' to get the black dress that Reena Roy wore in that song. This was when i was in my 2nd or 3rd std. Three decades ago. Almost.

I never got that dress. I have the images etched vividly in my mind's eye. My smile as I raised my hand to represent an imaginary 'dafli', the indulgent smirks of my 'fan club' - the neighbourhood aunties, my tears shed for that coveted dress. It's like I am watching a movie right now. Decades later, today, I remember every emotion I felt back then.

I am still the same. The only difference is - I can now go right ahead & buy what I see being worn on screen. But i don't! :)

My other specialty is I cry in EVERY movie. Buckets!!

Except of course Prince (where's the story boss?)and Love Sex Aur Dhoka and Just Maath Maathalli. For the last one, I wanted to kill myself for watching it, i wanted to kill the theatre owner for playing it, Sudeep for his stupid direction & even stupider acting, the producer for putting his money into this most 'dead' projects of a film ever. oops....i digressed!

Now Sathya and I have successfully transferred our 'movie crazy genes" to Tanvi. She watched her first film when she was just one month old. Spiderman. Her second movie was the very next day - Krishh.

She has her brand of movies she enjoys. One with the least dialogue & the most dazzling songs & eye-ball popping, dare-devil action. She slept through My Name is Khan, though she is an SRK fan. The three of us are loyal fans of the 3 Khans - Sathya adores Sallu bhai and me - Aamir.

The only thing i dont like about theatres is the smell of buttered popcorn or even plain popcorn. Yuck! My poison is a delectable chocobar. Among the theatres i love frequenting, PVR (Forum) definitely tops the list. Cauvery and Vaibhav come a close second. These 2 are actually like a second home.

Looking forward to Inox in Mantri Mall now.

Rain

What is it about the monsoon that always evokes a warm, fuzzy feeling?
Especially the first showers that caress the eager earth. Is it the cold chill that envelops you?

Is it the staying indoors forcibly?

Is it watching the rain go pitter-patter through the windows of your home? Like a child with bewildered eyes watching the snowfall for the very first time?

Is it the hot cuppa chai that instantly energizes you?

Is it being caught unwares by a sudden downpour?

Is it being huddled together inside your cozy home with your spouse/child?

Is it having nothing to do but listening to the spalsh of water across the window panes and the swaying of trees against the wind?

Is it the cliched "smell of wet earth after the first shower"? As cliched as it may sound, that smell is truly the most enchanting fragrances ever.

I think it is all of these but mostly the smell of your childhood that fills your heart with a strange longing after every first shower. Because the smell takes you back to the days when you were so little, so carefree and so happy. The rains meant dancing - in complete carefree abandon.

It is that one smell that instantly reminds you of your childhood. The other being the smell of your mom's kitchen.

There is someting truly magical about Mother Earth when she is quenched after a long dry spell. It fills your senses and you want it to go on and on. More so because you know its so transitory. Here now, gone a second later.

Death of my Remote

This is my loving tribute to my family's best friend - the T.V Remote! We miss you.

What on earth is the remote doing being the topic of a write-up you think? Well, pardon me but I think you are underestimating the importance of this humble instrument in our modern lives. The remote holds the key to entertainment in today's household. Man, woman, and child have their designated programs & particular times for their daily dose of recreation. And the way to fulfillment is the remote. The billion dollar question is: who holds the remote? He that holds the remote decides whether you are happy or forced to watch something that day.

If it is the child, well then, be ready to go through hours of Tom & Jerry or endless hours of Doremon, Kiteretsu, Chota Bheem, Krishna, Hatori. If it is the man, of course its either IPL, soccer, AXN or Udhaya or Ushe TV with their collection of Kannada movies & comic scenes respectively. If it is the woman, you got it - Zoom, Headlines Today, Star movies, HBO, TV9 or any other "gossipy" channel!!


Our remote was literally on its death bed. It was once almost dead after the innumerable falls it suffered and was nearly resurrected to life. Now it is held together by tapes all over its small body & my constant prayer. Just so it doesn't fall apart again. If it falls one more time, that would be THE END. No more easy swapping of the channels. No more 'choice'. We will get stuck with watching whatever channel is playing & not be able to constantly surf the over 82 options available every three minutes. So can you imagine what life would be like without this humble instrument you are holding in your hands?

But fall it did.

We miss you dear remote....till the time someone else takes your place!