Book launches and all

A funny thing happened today. While going through a blog I was asked to contribute, I followed a link for a pictorial book on roadsigns with a catchy sounding name, Peep peep don't sleep. Curiously, I shot an email to the writer asking him to send me a copy for review.

Well, evening came and I was at the booklaunch at good old Oxford bookstore. What did I think of the book? Clever and humourous. Anyone who's seen the BRO's (Border Road Organisation) unavoidable tribute to Indian roads, and especially their ubiquitously bizarre roadsigns will know what I am talking about.

As we came to the end, this PR girl called and spoke in the saddest tone, asking why I wasn't at her event. Well, you know me, a softie at heart, couldn't cough up the simple words, "I can't make it," and dashed off to the other book launch. The book (second one) was Zafar Saifullah's coffee-table documentation on Sulaimani Bohras. Present were the usual suspects of events with a cultural bent, meaning the Jamwar shawl-draped, pearl-set loving, cheap scotch drinking, pseudo-intellectual looking bureaucratic set. To be fair, the book is worthy of all that fuss. If fuss is even the word. The event also hosted Alan Hart, a veteran war correspondent, sadly, I was too late to hear him.

The reason I am even sharing my dull daily diary is because as soon as I reached office today, my colleagues asked me if I had a date... Duhhhh!!!! Since when did Vogue say black pants, black cardigan and white shirt was 'hot-date' material. More dreary funeral... Hahaha..

Life's a joke...

26th

Another year... two and a half decades + 1...
I am sooo sad... Nothing seems to work... Nothing is all there is.... Do I deserve this? I think not... Am I better than this? Heck yeah... But optimism means nothing as I know too well...
Nevertheless, I am thankful and grateful to the people who believe in me and hope for me...

All that ends

As a child, the world is small with only the things we care of that forever seem to remain with us in close proximity. After a certain age, you realise again the world is small because no matter how much you know or have, it all goes away. Love, friends, joys, memories, everything comes to a screeching halt. Some leave for their own good, some are better off away and some just leave for no reason at all.

Clinging on to something is no good either. What does life teach? Dont care, dont want, dont feel because nothing is permanent and that it all vanishes. All the lessons that life throws at you or all the epiphanies that people know of carry the same story in the end. Love is shit. Just be cold and kill your spirit as soon as you can. For that is the only way one can exist, let alone live.

The end.

An End Of Prayers

The most personal of thoughts, the most painful of sufferings, the harshest of words ever heard are not for all to share. It could be shame, vulnerability, embarassment or even quiet strength because of which we, as humans, do not want to reveal; no matter how freeing or cathartic it becomes in the end, after you reveal your self to another.
One of the hardest and unpleasant of all lessons that we learn, no matter how young or old we are, is to never trust anyone. I've seen complete 'angels' shatter people's spirits and talk the most low and crude of filth. It's not their fault, it's just my stupidity and naivete, perhaps of youth or of simply putting faith in others that led me to this understanding. Or perhaps I never paid heed to the proverbial 'leopard not changing his spots' wisdom.
I am a complete non-believer in terms of eternal bliss, love, happiness and all things grand and foreign. Why should I believe? when everything we have can be snatched away in a moment's madness. Am not old and wise, but nor am I stupid and dumb. I havent seen the world but do have enough experiences to know that, all attempts end up bitter. There comes a time when after much praying and trying you know that nothing pretty ever happens, so you just stop wishing and praying altogether. After all this is the only reality to live by. Do not expect anything, and all that happens will hurt less or even not hurt at all.

Fernando Botero: Of Women, Druglords and War Crimes

Last friday, I was casually flipping through the latest issue of British GQ for my monthly dosage of humour and sarcasm while I bumped into the larger-than-life yet realistic images of Colombian artist, Fernando Botero.

A little disclaimer here. His images are not for the faint-hearted or nonchalant, be it his exaggerated nudes or his searingly nightmarish images of the Abu Ghraib incident; each are very powerful.

The first image I saw, was of the artist painting a large nude which was somewhat comical yet sad, all in all something anyone can identify with; not necessarily the size, but the message, shall we say. Can't remember the name of the piece though. Another one was a very dramatic image of druglord Pablo Escobar's death.



There was more to come. Horrific and painful images of the prisoners who were inhumanely tortured and dehumanised mercilessly over and over again at Abu Gharaib during the recent war. I am no art critic or patron but I feel that if an artist's work effects you in some way or the other, be it positive or negative, his work is done. that is the gift to me.



In the words of the artist,

"The power of art is to make you remember something and I hope that will happen with my work," says Botero.
More than remembered, its clearly etched in my mind. Both the traumatic incident and Botero's images. Just like a modern day Guernica, perhaps.

Slate
Botero in Venice
Henryk Broder

Shiny, (un)happy People!!

When life is on a decline and there is no window of opportunity, where does one find stupid inspiration or will to just continue with a fake smile??
I am practically doing nothing with my life. Every passing day is a cold reminder of how everything I ever learnt or was interested in, is a waste. Not that reading a phenomenal book makes one a great writer or flipping thorugh Henri Cartier-Bresson's images will make me half as good a photographer as he was. Its just that, I am completely fatigued, not because of work and the daily grime but because I haven't done anything I dreamt of as a closet optimist in school. Am 25 now, will I still be as pathetic when I am 50?
Not that I am comparing or am envious, but I stumbled upon this website, by some French guy called Alexandre Cadieu. He is just in Art School and has a lot of potential.

Damn! How does that make me feel....er... stupid. Well, what else can I do but get my best pretend optimistic face on!!

The Wisdom of Kahlil Gibran

Today, I came across this verse by Kahlil Gibran and I fell in love with it instantly. Anyone who reads, likes to collect quotes or just needs a little bit of beauty will surely be inspired. Here's how it goes:

"Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair"

This man and his wisdom cannot be denied. Not that someone of his stature lacks more awareness, just that I wanted a simple reminder of how in the midst of everyday stress and chaos, it's the simple things that truly matter the most. Amen!

Other profound bits of his genius include:

"Yesterday we obeyed kings and bent our necks before emperors. But today we kneel only to truth..."

"Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children"

Image Source: Wikipedia