Whats in the name!

  I am sure that is what the author thought when he christened his book. When I first read the title , I was absolutely sure I did not want to read it. Indian authors have failed to stimulate my grey cells more than once. Lets face it, not all can write like Shashi Tharoor! But then I read the author's profile. MBA from MDI Gurgaon [although I find MBAs nothing more than glib talkers] , publishing house of his own and another book to his credit. I had read Amish's Shiva saga some months back and this MBA from IIM -Calcutta had  surely impressed me with his story telling, if not more. So I thought I will put my prejudices aside and give Sachin Garg a chance. I clicked buy on flipkart.com and so started my tryst with "Its first love ... just like the last time"

  The title says a lot about not only the book , but the author. And if Sachin Garg was listening , please do not give titles which might make us think you are out being sarcastic and funny . Your first reaction when  you read the title was the book will be somewhat like a guy meets a girl , then another , then another mistaking his infatuation for love every single time. But you will be wrong , every single time. The last page refers to too many characters adding paint to your illusion. 

  Describing yourself as the simple boy next door who gets the scarred/broken/blemished princess is as cliched as it could ever get. But never mind. You keep telling yourself, you are giving the writer a chance here. So you swallow the criticism with a burning heart and a twitched face. Also the story involves many who come and go with the passing pages whereas the young lad and the princess stick to every page of the book. My friend Sachin, you might love them a lot but you are not helping the story in anyway by doing so. 

  As the book progresses , you realise that the guy was not going to fall for any more girls than the one princess who was a progeny of a bad marriage , not making you happy at all . Here I would like to point out that in the foreword I remember the author saying that we pass through different stages in life and our definition of love changes in every single stage and so on. Dear author , you just fell in so-called love for a year , saw your princess through some heartbreaks and personal losses in one year. That my friend does not qualify for different stages of life. 

   Also, if you use college as your backdrop, please make sure it makes its existence felt. For people who have enjoyed their colleges more than stretching on their single bed with their dates in a room outside campus, COLLEGE means a lot to us. Just putting random sex and porn talk in the book does not keep the readers glued. Unlike me who finishes each book she picks, many of you would have surely abandoned the book midway. 

   Finally the last page ends with an afterword from the author [which I felt was not absolutely unnecessary ] The author claims to have laid bare his life in front of the audience. My last advice to you, bare yourself when you think it might excite the onlooker, the reader in this case . Be a Khushwant Singh , be a Shobha De , be a Amitabh Bachchan before you think you should. For now, noone's interested ;)

    

Death of a Superstar

     Kaka has and will always be my favourite Hindi filmstar. To start with , my father was a huge fan of his. I could say I saw my father in him [except for the fact that he was richer when it comes to having some hair on his head :)] Everyday morning , I woke up watching my father making tea for all of us, singing old Kaka songs. Sunday morning used to start with the loud "Mere sapnon ki Rani" playing on Rangoli on Doordarshan. All three of us settled in front of  the TV, toothbrushes stuck in the mouth, butts resting on the feet tucked back. My mother swaying slowly in the kitchen as she made the breakfast. My father sitting cross-legged on the easy chair holding the newspaper completely opened in front of him, but just low enough to watch Kaka circle the Ghats in the jeep. 

     Very honestly, I have heartily cried in each Rajesh Khanna movie I have watched. May it be Amar Prem, Avtaar, Aap ki Kasam , Anand or Baawarchi. He was no macho who will kick some ass in every movie. He was the star who would happily die in the end. Its the humane characters he played that must have made him such a rage. The emotional scenes would see the blood rise in his cheeks, his eyes gleam with the hint of tears. A face so expressive, gestures that said so much more than words. And this was a man who stayed four train stations away, in his Bandra bungalow which we pointed out everytime we crossed and yelled " That's where Rajesh Khanna stays ".

    Nothing will pretty much change. Just that now , it will be where he breathed his last ...

Some more clicks :)

D makes me click
She has hair curlier than me. A smile lot more sweeter.My kohl-eyed , coquette roomie D [Dinita]. Always listening to Coldplay ;) Downloading videos of old songs which are absolutely hilarious to watch. Laughing out of the blues as she stares at the laptop screen , with earphones plugged in , and the dinner plate on her lap. She is done with her dinner and she gets up to wash her plate and suddenly she sets aside her plate, hands at right angles to her body , legs slipping back, and she has burst into a weird-ass dance step and we all are in splits. Miss you da! Err.... Di ;)
Click!

E makes me click
Eggplant , better known as the 'BIG' baingan, has always been my favourite. Last Sunday, we were in for a thai treat thanks to Prachi. Considering the fact that I am not a big chicken fan , I knew I will be all for the veg gravy. The perfect red-orange eggplant and paneer gravy looked absolutely mouth-watering. And when I put the Eggplant in my mouth and it sorta melted. Thanks Prachi. Cant explain how yum it was , hence just a Click!

F makes me click
Facebook. I craze difficult to understand.  I remember Orkut was few years back. And I was so bored with it that I did not join Facebook for almost a year after that. And today after I dunno how many years, people still seem so addicted to FB. So much so that the smartphones feel that the Facebook app should be worthy of being a default in their phones. Worthy or not , it is sure worth a Click!

Why?

I have felt a lot burdened by people's views, their judgements about me , about what I do? And sometimes I just sit back and think why?

Honestly I really donot know why... But it must matter a real big deal , as I write my public personal diary. I am tired of justifying why I do something , why I think in a particular way. But when someone judges me for being me, it hurts real bad. I wear myself up my sleeve, I do not care if it sounds wrong. I put to words what I feel. Maybe thats why people find me out of sorts , too intimidating to approach. I am far from straightforward and I know that. Howeva I justify , whoeva I justify, howmucheva I justify... there will be one or the other who is not totally convinced. Its like a wedding, where there has to be someone who will complain.

It may just be better for me to stop thinking why and say why not! Why not be myself. Just stay the way I am. After all, like Scout said for Jem, " Its not like he killed the mockingbird! "