A poor man’s Art!

Is it early morning or late night? My mind can’t seem to figure.
I reach for my half, burnt-out intoxication in an attempt to shrug off my seclusion.
I stand out in the open, my hands full and my mind overflowing with rivers of blood from the battles.
There is fear, there is anticipation, there is doubt, there is provocation.Intoxicated, I consciously inhale the fresh breeze that will introduce another day.
Overwhelmed with no cause, comes to me the poor man.
He is here to reveal and unveil, as he has nothing else to do and sleep only mocks him, be it night or day.
He starts to blabber, ignoring my fidgety, restless, relentless character.
He knows I will listen; he knows I was there only for him.
He knows, he always manages to find me in my escapes.
I pretend to be engrossed in the time of the night, the silence of time, the darkness of the guarding windows in front, the dimly lit streetlights, the sleeping trees, the insensitive parasites. 
I am aware the revelation of beauty, in its infamous form, is at its work.
He gently slides his hand through my neck over the shoulders; he is assuring and sounds wise.
He beckons me to write; he is indignant but more inspired, I know.
And as I finish my calling, he leaves me with a note that read you wrote my mind, the poor man's art.

Gambling Metaphors: Ala Barfi’s Review!

Gambling Metaphors: Ala Barfi’s Review!: By Amy Sandra Before any reviews on the movie ‘Barfi’, I would like to present the credits for the same. Barfi is smitten, oh! I mea...

Ala Barfi’s Review!

By Amy Sandra

Before any reviews on the movie ‘Barfi’, I would like to present the credits for the same. Barfi is smitten, oh! I mean, written and directed by Anurag Basu, known for ‘Bollyhits’ such as Murder, Gangster, Life in a Metro among others that would be quite pointless to mention, especially now that Barfi Ala. The music score is by Pritam, who has also given us hits such as ‘Bheegi Bheegi’ from Gangster and the incessantly singing, ‘Pritam-hit’ band in the movie ‘Life in a metro’. The movie casts Ranbir Kapoor, Priyanka Chopra and Ileana D’cruz as the main leads.

Barfi is set in Darjeeling and Kolkata and brings with it freshness and colours, respectively. The story is narrated and the protagonist, Barfi, a mute and deaf boy since birth, is played by Ranbir Kapoor who falls in love with Shruti (Ileana D’cruz) and is himself found to be, not-so-instantly, stalked and loved by ‘Jhilmil’ the autistic childhood friend (Priyanka Chopra). There is more to ‘Barfi’ than just being caught up in a love triangle. There is freedom, there is humour, there is pain, there is hope—all this and more that beautifully traps Barfi every single time and leaves the two women and many others around captivated by the life he dares to possess, despite some unfortunately failing to experience the ‘incognisable’ magic. Barfi, fearlessly and enigmatically, only knows the language of sense that throws in a paradox and challenges all. This is not it, the movie brings back the rib-tickling and heart-warming times of the classic, comedian/actor, ‘Charlie Chaplin’, flawlessly emulated by Ranbir Kapoor.

Priyanka Chopra has a remarkable side to her, besides the ‘bam on glam’. She undoubtedly knows her power in the movie. It is evident that she likes completing her ‘homework’ with perfection. Ileana D’cruz is fresh, delectable and real, and that compliments her confused, introspective and observant narration in the movie. Saurabh Shukla, the tormented sub inspector of police, is seen breathlessly chasing Barfi and his antics only to bring himself to ridicule that is nothing more than classic comedy. Roopali Ganguly (Shruti’s mother) is like old wine and is a tangible support. The sets, costumes and style are pure 70s and exudes the charismatic drama and the teasing pace of the era. It is too simple to be complicated.

Though every character has a sad, miserable, dysfunctional side to him, there is not an ounce of hopelessness and grief created within, unlike other movies made on special people. And that, my friends, is the beauty of the film.
I left my seat with a smile and not a sigh!

Yes, the movie gets a 9/10 leaving that one mark for improvement, only to sound modest.

Formally yours, Embarrassment

I struggle my way through to find the venue of my interview and, eventually, get myself in a state no fresher than the vegetables lying around in the market past noon. As I reach, I literally stagger at the entrance of the building and clumsily waddle my way to the reception. I was thirsty and sweaty but also delighted to be on time and at the right place, for a change. I needed refreshment before I could get myself at the center of attention, and be judged.

 Therefore, I decide to make use of the facilities of my “would-be” office; I rise, I walk towards the washroom with an air of vanquishment and ostentation. I can see, from the corner of my eyes, my fellow, “would-be” colleagues watching me reach for the door with  an energy of rare kind, and there he is—standing there in the most helplessly natural yet unacceptable form of “release”. I was in the wrong place. Biologically, this was not the place for me; I was in the washroom for the “gentlemen”.

So, what follows my life experience is my interview.

Creative Head (horrified):  Amy?

Myself: …ERR! Hi. Yes, that is I.

Creative Head (with a pause, apologetically): So, it seems we can (or maybe cannot) proceed from where we left.

Myself (to myself): Ouch! I think, I just rushed into “breaking the ice”.

 The “he” was the “Creative Head”.

In His likeness

Far from religion is where I lie,
I'm farther from God, He is religion.

Why should I know Him,
When all that is, is for Him?

He says love is unconditional,
Yet, He commands to love and obey Him.

The good are rewarded,
But is that in heaven?

He wants me enjoy His creation--this earth,
But heaven is my eternal home.

He wants me to leave behind every materialistic gain,
While He continues in His reign.

I am created in your image and likeness, God.
I am just like you.

Fahrenheit

He kisses her as she fumbles,

He watches her as she stumbles,

A Tingling.

Sweat drops down her  lonely back,

Her thighs crave to fill it’s sweaty gap,

The thrusting move, within, she cannot hide,

Heartbeats rising in Fahrenheit.

His hands take the cup,

Sipping on it, He leaves no drop.

He smoothens the edges as his slippery tongue unfolds,

Breathing out every inch of her.

She hears his breathless monologues.

He discreetly watches her as she unwinds,

Now watch them in and out,

Watch them come and go,

Watch them high and low,

Watch them drop to the floor.

Touch Puppy !—Watch her pour, as she wantingly thirsts for more.

She takes him deep, deep inside.

She won’t lose him.

He’ll wear her tight, he’ll sleep in her.

Tonight, her lips give him no closure.

Gambling Metaphors: As flightless as gravity may be

Gambling Metaphors: As flightless as gravity may be: By Amy Sandra With a vision to rise with these wings of aspirations and dreams, Have I somewhere left that comfort by the window pane, Beau...