Thursday, September 15, 2011


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I’ve a myriad of stories which have the potential to form plot for movies; and how do I’ve them?? Have I plagiarized or used some stealthy ways to possess them??..
Well to your relief, the answer is no and that the source of these stories is the home production of my dreams which manufacture them regularly without fail, unperturbed, even by gazetted holidays and Sundays…!!!
Where do these dreams emanate from?...and above all who produces and directs them…
I was in a teaching profession some time back and yesterday I had seen a photo of, Madhuri Dixit, a famous  Indian actress, in a newspaper. The photo kind of seeped in through my dreams yesterday night where the actress had metamorphosed into a teacher for class 9 and 10th ( I know her fans would kill me for such a transmogrification). Also she applauded me for training the students while I tried hard to control my self-conceited smile….!
Here, another one goes……
I’m a die-hard fan of the series ‘Friends’ and inevitably of Jennifer Aniston who therefore got ready to act in a whodunit kind of movie directed by my dreams in which her skin was peeled off by  a female villain and was then permanently masked (somehow) with a look alike of the villain by the villain herself. The villain then goes off to lead a separate life to carry out, clandestinely, various kinds of illegal ventures. Meanwhile, the Aniston (who has a visage of the villain) leads a happy married life, in place of the villain, with the villain’s family. In the climax, the villain returns and asks for her family back from the Aniston (I don’t remember why!!)… To make it further grotesque, it also involved a whole lot of eldritch characters fittingly embedded in the mesh of ‘the murky movie’.
And that was the exclamation I gave after I rose from the dream I was deluged in ….
What I don’t understand (among many other imperceptible things regarding the vague dreams) is the basis of casting in our dreams. At times, in my dreams, I act with a different face. While in others I’ more of a spectator. And in few, I participate both as an actor and a spectator( sounds ridiculous, I know!!). But I’m sure this happens to many other people too( those who can recall their dreams!). There can be a lot of mixing of names and faces, places and events, in one’s dreams.
Apropos of my dreams I can readily deduce that whatever our senses perceive from our both exterior and interior worlds in our day to day life, involuntarily get registered in some corner of our minds in an esoteric way, which then concatenate in our sub-conscious domain to concoct completely extraneous dreams which I must say are not completely illogical in nature but if implemented in directing a movie might be a success…!!!!...
I also read in an article recently that according to some researchers, remembering dreams increases one’s memorizing abilities. I wonder how true is that. Though, I’ve tried to search some e-books on ‘understanding or decoding Dreams’, but couldn’t find a good one (an understandable one!)
So, I would have loved to ask, "If anyone knows something about the whole intricate process of Dreams Production, please do shower me with the insightful information…!"; but then I read the following saying that reduced my keenness for understanding the imperceptible dreams.
"Those dreams that on the silent night intrude, and with false flitting shapes our minds delude ... are mere productions of the brain. And fools consult interpreters in vain."
                                                                                                                                   -JONATHAN SWIFT


Sunday, September 4, 2011

Symphonies-Loved or Illegitimate…

As the fat walls hug you in the lazy afternoon
and no one hears you humming the loud music playing in you earphones
For few moments you ride high on the stout waves of drumbeats
before a  tune strikes you and you pause the music…everything coming to a standstill
You stare impassively at those walls now
as if playing the ‘Game of Statue’ with them,
Now who’s to say ‘Start’, when like walls, you become flabbergasted
Your competitor, the wall,  remains still, but a heartbeat of yours can’t be omitted
So while you lose another childish game, you remember the lost battles of your lifetime
You’ve stopped the music, but the time would stop for no gold no dime,
So you keep sitting fixed onto your bed
In your mind hundreds of times you’ve fled,
and feel the pain in your feet that turned stones red as they had bled,
whilst in the background the same meddlesome music being played……

This powerful can the music you hear be……….
And you’ve to be careful as it makes you climb a tree…
coz it can break your joints if you don’t know how to step your feet back onto the ground
Or else repeatedly falling off the favorite colorful tree, would aggravate the deep blue wound
But I guess, it must be like smoking or other kinds of addiction
Where you stand by it vehemently expecting some kind of exaltation
Or like while flying a kite, your spirits also with which soar,
for which you can stand barefooted on the hot terrace  with your slashed finger ignored
Or like speeding a bike on a long forlorn dusty road,
You cut the air with a countryside/rock music’s blade 
Unperturbed by the palpable dangers clouding around you like a swarm of bees
This stentorian that music can be………

But if it rains how many times do you fear cold
and refrain yourself from sprawling out and getting chilled in downpour
You breathe in the music, as we exhale it in our actions,
The music calms us while at times we fall in for its pretensions,
So we unconsciously stand, as if standing in between a rock and a hard stone
In the case of which it’s better that we sit and enjoy the unpredictable outcome
Either we may live the epitome of our fantasy world
Or we scathe our time by unfolding the fears that were earlier bundled
The feelings that emanate are either like dew drops dripping off the fresh leaves palmed by thirsty ground,
Or it may be grotesque like blood gushing out of a cut throat or a noisome wound
Such are the contrasting outcomes of music that we hear
We taste it, we ravish it, at times we even spew it out
But then we consume it like food, like water, like life
This music dutifully walks along with us, like our life’s wife
Whom we can’t abandon, whose presence in our world is simply ubiquitously rife…!!

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