The Simple Life

The entire world seems to be talking about the Paris Hilton story so I would feel left out if I didn’t join the superficial debates. After all, being shallow is what I’ve been accused of the most.

I watched a few nights ago as Paris Hilton was finally been released from jail. It was an ecstatic moment for the Hilton heiress who finally got to breathe fresh air after 23 days of solitary confinement after being committed to serve time for a DUI (driving under influence) Soon after her release, she made an appearance on Larry King Live and answered his volley of questions honestly and maintained that the courts were unjust to her.

I agree.

US newsreader Mika Brzezinski has become a heroine after her on-air refusal to read a Paris Hilton story instead on an item related to the Iraq war. Brzezinski, co-host of Morning Joe on network MSNBC, stunned her bosses when she snubbed the leading item regarding Hilton's release from jail, believing the story did not deserve precedence over other reports regarding Iraq and the White House.

I think Ms. Brzezinski did the right thing.

I don’t think Paris or her kind, deserves the attention and hype; but who gave it to them in the first place? Paris Hilton is just another young heiress who got too much, too soon. She is a party animal, does designer drugs, has a sex tape leaked, drives too fast and again, parties too hard.

But lets, for just one second believe that Paris is the girl she says that she is. Let’s for an instance assume that she does run businesses, model, have a TV show and a couple of films. I know most of these are facts. Sure, its not as humble a profession as say being a surgeon but it is a way to make a living, isn’t it?

Given every model of logic and rationality – there is a 50% chance that she is telling the truth, right? We’ve all partied hard at some point in life, perhaps tried or know people who tried fancy drugs – some of us even have hidden sex tapes.

So why, has Paris become this HUGE poster girl for all things crazy? Maybe, just maybe, if the media didn’t create these ‘celebrities’ then Paris, Lindsay and Britney would probably just be like any one of us.

I think the media wants to see her this way as its feeds their stories. It gives them the “spice.” Paris (and other celebs) are constantly under the media scanner. I would be pretty pissed off if the media camped outside my house 24/7. These people are no different.

There are two sides to every story and I’m not saying that Paris should win a year in review by the Economic Times; I’m just saying, that the poor girl should just get a chance to live The Simple Life.

Ouchie, Men!

I dislocated my knee! The doctor explained that I've torn a ligament and will have to wear a brace for the next 20 days followed by a knee cap, exercise and bed rest. Sucks!

It all began when I left on an impulse to Goa. I'd never been to Goa (surprise, surprise) and like many other illogical decisions I took off to the land of Coconut based Fish gravy and unlimited Alcohol. Now, maybe its because I'd never seen Goa or perhaps it was to do with my company but I'd never imagined it to be so serene, so beautiful and uncrowded.

"Off Season", I was told. That meant, a spacious A/C room for just 700 bucks a night. It also meant that there would'nt be hordes of foreigners and better still, no hordes of annoying people desperate for some white skin show. It just meant affordable uninterrupted relaxation.

The rain kissed state rejuvenated me and even though it poured continuously for most of my trip - I LOVED it. The fried eggs for breakfast, the unparalleled thrill of a filmy bike ride in the pouring rain, endless conversations and philosophies about the many theories of life and love, romance in the air and sand in my shoes, and in er.. my cell phone as well; that brings me to another story.

We thought it would be a great idea to click some pictures in the water. That's when I got the bright idea to waddle into knee deep water to capture the true essence of Goa on my lens. Sure, I didn't heed warnings for the undercurrent in the water or the strong waves. I mean, warnings are for scared babies and rules are meant to be broken. Right? Wrong!

I have never let anyone tell me something and have me do it. This wasn't going to be an exception - Moral of the Story: When someone is yelling, "Wave, Wave" you don't behave like a smart alec and Wave out coz they are NOT kidding.

Cost of trip : 15k
Stupidity Damage: 50k

..oh wait! What about the knee? Well, there are 3 versions - The version I Told Everyone, The Version that I'd like to tell everyone and the truth. Which one would you like to hear?

But, all said and broken, it was completely worth it. I think I fell in love with Goa, where everyday is a Sunday, where its easier to find alcohol than it is to find water, where true love can blossom sans pollution and unadulterated living takes a whole new meaning.

I'm just raring to go back.

Boys & Their Toys… (Part 2)

Who says money can't buy happiness? I beg to differ. 50 thousand rupees can buy you a lot of happiness. My Mom just bought me a Playstation 3, my Dad gifted me my first game (Resistance: Fall of Man), I gifted myself an additional wireless control (coz I won't have it any other way) My friends parents gifted me 2 more games (Motorstorm / Call Of Duty 3) and my sweetheart of a friend got me 2 more (Need For Speed Carbon / Oblivion Elder Scrolls)

What can I say? People really love me. I can't even begin to describe the joy of hooking it up to an HD TV (another gift from Daddy dearest) and surround sound. It's orgasmic, to say the least. I'm sure this post comes across as yet another one of my self-obsessed pieces but then again this blog is called "TansWorld. "

Yes, I'm writing non-stop like a maniac, I just finished reviewing the sexy music of "The Train", wrote three different reviews of "Swami," am high on the sounds of "Awaarapan," attended two private screenings, scheduled another tomorrow, interviewed the gorgeous Sheryln Chopra, watched Shootout At Lokhandwala for my Dad's birthday, interviewing the Bhangra King Daler tomorrow; wished my Ex-Boss on the dot of 12.00, and fixed yet another directors cut to remind myself to not stray too far from the original master plan of making movies.

There are no blank spaces.

And even though life is choc-a-bloc with work and I'm rushing to finish stories and interviews at breakneck speeds whilst shuffling movie previews in between, I feel great. I truly enjoy what I do for a living, I always have. Few people have that privilege. I guess I'm a really lucky kid. After all, I was born with the golden spoon in my mouth and the wireless controller in my hand. Can't complain.

Life is beautiful.

Gesundheit..

I've got a violent cold, again. I've never understood why I'm the chosen poster boy for the common cold. I get colds as often as people change their underwear (well, most people). My colds are never as simple as a few sniffles having a field day - its like a vengeful spirit that takes over my mucus membranes and ravishes me inside out. This brings me to a question I had asked my teacher when I was 7, "Can a person ever run outta snort?" She threw me a disgusted look and made me kneel down outside my class with my hands-up.

"ACHOO!!"

After my post "break-up" introspective, I decided to do things I love and not things that pay me money to buy fancy electronic stuff. So, I quit television.

"ACHOO!!"

Like the thousands of aspiring film-wannabes who come cursing and ranting out of a screening of 'Fool and Final', I too decided that if these are films that get money to be made, then what the heck? I should join the bandwagon. After all, I've spent a lot of American greens studying film in New York, when the dollar rate wasn't the joke it is now.

I should be making movies in life; but obviously my Dad's not Yash Chopra (which would make me *yikes* Uday Chopra) or if my gene pool called the bluff and luck tilted in my favour, then I'd turn into Adi. Anyway, the point is that I needed to do something until I finish writing out my film scripts and start 'struggling'.

"ACHOO!!"

As a promise to myself, I've decided not to sell my soul and do things that I truly love so with the help of a friend (and writing partner) I' decided to try my hand at film-journalism. What started with simple movie reviews, blossomed into the 30 stories in 30 days syndrome. What can I say? I'm good with people and great with tongue-in-cheek sarcasm.

"ACHOO!!"

Today, I have to write 3 different stories and just as the creative juices were about to flow, "ACHOO!!" That was 10.30am. It's 2.59am now and I've barely begun. I can't seem to write a thing and in between my 'steamy sessions' (not the good kind) and Coldarin binges, I'm really stuck. It's not writers block, its the damn nose block. I also just realized that my film scripts still pending revision, another screenplay for a telefilm must go out tonight, my movie collection list has to updated and I have to write out two new synopsis's that I told people I finished ages ago.

"ACHOO!!"

It's going to be a long night; & it really doesn't help that I'm a hypochondriac.

PS: The "ACHOO!!" is not a work of fiction. It's been pasted genuinely, every time I sneeze.

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head..

Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain. But for some of us, who have, I think it brings even more sadness. I’ve danced in the rain. I’ve taken long walks by the seaside giggling with my soul mate eating butta (corn on the cob) even canoodling under the dull grey sky looking at an earthworm go by.

I’ve enjoyed Zeus’s temper tantrums.

I’ve enjoyed looking out the frosted windows of an Air-conditioned bus, gleefully shivering inside, holding hands and making private jokes. I’ve enjoyed driving in the rain watching my windshield wipers dance their orchestrated "whoop-whoop-whoop" rhythm, to match the heartbeats inside . I can list a million reasons why I love it when it rains. It rained today, in Bombay.

I love walking in the rain, 'cause then no one knows I'm crying.

Boys & Their Toys… (Part 1)

I was 8 in 1988 so I remember most of my toys for that decade. I had so much great stuff I didn't keep or destroyed by not looking after it. I distinctly remember my prized possessions from the era. My castle “Grey-Skull” complete with trap-door and secret entrance (which for some reason Skeletor could never find) My dinky cars that I crashed in insane imaginary “Need for Speed” contests. My little crawling turtle that my Dad tells me today, he skimped and saved to buy to pander to my bawling needy behaviour. My very first Atari gaming console followed by the unbelievable (for its time) graphics enriched Nintendo in all its 8-bit glory.

These are just some of the toys that bring a smile to my face even today as I reminiscence about them. I’m all of 26 and a half today but some things never change. I developed a love for technology and electronics at a very young age; an expensive pastime none-the-less, but an immensely pleasurable one. To my little 8 year ol’ brain, these gadgets were almost like magic and I wanted to know what makes them “tick.”

I found toasters fascinating (especially the ones with the automatic dials for toast control) I was greatly amused by the giant cuckoo-clock that adorned the walls of my small hall. I remember standing at my neighbor’s house on Hill Road staring at a funny doorbell of sorts that would quirt water at you through its pee-pee every time you pulled a string; of course, owning something like that today would start a whole verbal spar on the metaphor of homosexuality, but that’s what I love about being a child – pull string, get sprayed = lots of glee time.

I remember getting my first car; there is no thrill in comparison. The euphoria that follows he first gear shifts is unparalleled and I’m certain, a universal emotion. I’ve owned and enjoyed a lot of toys throughout my life and although my Mom had bet that I would outgrow them, I was sure that bleeping bleeps would always amuse me for life. Today, I enjoy “toys” with the same kind of enthusiasm; sure, they’ve become more expensive, more fancy and have enough processing power to launch a nuke – however, they still does serve their most important purpose. The shiny surface that is uncovered when you unfold the plastic brings the same joy to my face as did the opening of the secret entrance of castle Grey-Skull.

Sure, it’s questionable whether I’ve grown up or not but well, that’s a whole new blog…

Beete Lamhe..

Beethoven once said that Music is the mediator between the spiritual and the sensual life. I would like to add that it is also a painful reminder of the past that we refuse to let go. Music has this therapeutic quality to it. It can uplift your mood or walk you to mellow street.

Dard mein bhi yeh lab muskura jaate hai
Beete lamhein humein jab bhi yaad aate hai

Even today when I hear music with lyrics that bleed within my old wounds, it evokes pain, suffering and extreme sadness. I can go from a super duper hue to a depressing blue. The good times feel terrible, the moments that I own the copyright to, feel pirated.

Teri aagosh mein din the mere kate
Teri baaahon mein thi mere raatien kati

What is it about music that does this? And why? I don't know why people listen to sad songs when they are already at an all time low? I don't understand why people listen to sad songs at all. I tried not listening to songs that connected my painful past to me;I tried evading every sonata, every melody, every rhythm, every lyric and I was foolish enough to think that it would be the end.

Aake mere panaho mein shaam-o-seher
Kanch ki trah woh tut jana tera

I thought that music cleanses the understanding; inspires it, and lifts it into a realm which it would not reach if it were left to itself; I was so wrong, so terribly wrong....

Dard mein bhi yeh lab muskura jaate hai
Beete lamhein humein jab bhi yaad aate hai