Nights – 922

On Gratitude, Restlessness and Yearning

1. The ones who know me since I was a kid, would know how huge a fan I was of Lucky Ali when I was growing up. So much so that while I was in college, I made this huge website dedicated to him (to bad it was on geocities and I dont have any copies of it). Back then, it became a reason. I couldnt stop thinking about his music and the website. I tracked every visitor and updated every broken link multiple times a day. Now, in 2012, it sounds funny and inane, considering what 19 year olds create now. But those were the days and there I was.

2. There is this show on MTV that probably is inspired by Coke Studio, which in turn is probably inspired by some other famous show from the west, that invites amazing musicians and puts them on a stage and ask them to perform their best tracks, unplugged and slightly tweaked for the live audience. And to jazz up the offering, it makes these artists talk about the music and why and how of their music. So much so that there are times you get to hear behind the scenes conversations between these guys. Nevertheless, it reveals, to some extent, what the artist was thinking while writing that song.

3. This video. And the brief interpretation of the lyrics by Lucky. And to be honest, all music by him.

4. sgMS. And everything about her. And I. And how Lucky’s interpretation/reason for O Sanam is so apt, so befitting, so true about sgMs and I. And that after all these years, the realization that the song I loved as a kid will actually become a true story some day. And my story at that.

5. Nights in Mumbai are brilliant. You may think that the city is fast asleep, but its not. Under the covers, everyone is dreaming about something or the other. Then, there are people on the road who dont really have a place to goto and there are some who dont want to goto any place and just stay on the move (like me, dunno if everyone loves the feeling of being on the move as heady as it is to me). Each lost in his/her own world. And in their dreams – after all this is the city where dreams can come true. Some of them actually do. And each person, each dream has a story that could make you envious.

6. I, alone. With nothing but music. And a million thoughts swirling around in my head. Ranging from music to life to travel to poker to money to dreams to “holocaust to quality of cucumbers in winters“. And the sad bit is that I cant seem to find any answers to any of these genuine questions despite the Mensa membership and all that.

Club all the 6 above together (Apart from this list thing, I dont think I could have written this any better). I dont know the nature of resulting concoction but its like that amrit that makes you restless, fills you with gratitude and makes you yearn. All at the same time.

Restless because despite trying everything, there is something that binds you to her. Because despite trying everything you cant seem to get over her. Even her rebuttals, her insults, her public display of affection for everyone else refuse to work. And funnily she if of the same opinion.

Gratitude for people like Lucky Ali for cooking ups songs and stories like these. And for people on the streets of Mumbai. And their dreams. And all the efforts they put in. Everything gives you inspiration and hope to continue to work and pray that someday the hardwork is redeemed.

And finally, yearning. Yearning for achievement, for greatness, for immortality. And for sgMS.

Romancing the city of Mumbai

There is something about Mumbai that makes it special. As special as your first love is.

I mean, as on last count, I have been to at least 34 different cities, across 4 continents and yet there is something, something about Mumbai that keeps calling me back. Back to its arms, the hug, the embrace, the womb, if I may. You know, its like that illicit love affair that you know wont take you anywhere and yet you cant get out of. Wait, you can get out, if you try. You just dont want to. Coming back, in my case, I think the reason why I keep coming back, the obvious suspects are Neo and sgMS. And may be all those amazing memories that I have, of times, people and places that I have enjoyed while I was living in Mumbai.

This time, on one of those impulse trips to Mumbai, as I was landing in Mumbai, I realized something that I had never noticed in the past. Funny how you still notice new things about Mumbai even though you have been here a million times. Mumbai looks amazing at nights. Amazing because I dont have a better word to paint the picture. Its as decked up like a bride is on her wedding day. Probably better.

The city is showered with amber lights. For some reason, that’s the
only
colour of street lights in the entire city. May be it is easier to spot,
cheaper to install/maintain or whatever but the effect is, all the
more,
electrifying. Things get accentuated when they are under the amber
light. You
actually begin to notice things that you never cared to even glance at.
Take street boards for example. The boards that have pincodes and the
official names of the roads on
them. The blue ones. Before I saw them with amber tint, at night, I dint
even know
that they existed in the first place.

You see a different side of Mumbai at nights. The roads are not as narrow as you know them from your “interactions” during the day. They are wide. Wide enough for you to zip around in your car and actually overtake other vehicles. The pesky rickshaws and taxis from the day, are parked in perfect neat rows along the sidewalks. All the filth and garbage you try to avoid during the day, is mysteriously gone. And so are all the signs of life. The beggars, the hawkers and the urchins that create that constant cacophony during the day, are all sound asleep and only sound that they make at nights is when they’re snoring.

And then, when most people are off to sleep, when everyone but the romantics are still awake, the ones who love the city
the most, come out. The cops, the whores, the chai and cigarette sellers on bicycles, the omelet hawkers, and the romantics. The romantics, the ones who just want to be left alone with their love. The city of Mumbai.

P.S.: Of course Mumbai never sleeps and you can get stuck in traffic jams at even 2 in the night. But then, that’s select busy intersections. Right? And at least the romantic in me refuses to believe that Mumbai never sleeps. It does. See it for yourself next time you are out. At night.

P.P.S.: Trying too hard 😀

Aug 07: So Gaya Ye Jahan

Another day on the road. Another post from the phone. Since am on road, I shall write a piece about romanticizing roads. Will try for fiction. Let’s see what comes out.

Jack loved driving. And he loved nights. And the only thing he loved more than the two, was driving at nights. He had this theory. That while you are on the road, you not only burn rubber and add kilometers to the odometer, you travel within and you get closer to yourself. Ofcourse no one understood a thing back then.

Fast forward to today, while Jack is away, everyone misses him. They know somethings missing from their lives but they can’t pin point what it is. May be that intensity, or that earnest expression, or that attitude that challenged all norms. Or may be it was his armchair philosophies and theories on everything under the sun! Most of these are unspoken but they do talk about his exploits on the race track.

Back then, it was really tough for a boy of his means to get active with underground racing. Wtf, even now, its tough for any boy/man with any sort of means to get an entry into motorsports and we are talking about a 15 year old rubbing shoulders with men twice his age and grinding them to dust.

Some attributed it to his luck. Some said it was his foolhardy attitude. Some even went to the extent of saying that since he was what he was, he had nothing to loose. And the glory, the aura, that came with the podium finishes released more testosterone than a boy his age could handle. And it showed. Though he kept to himself, he was very intense. Even at that tender age, most people found it hard to meet his gaze.

Life was all good before that fateful night. They were to collect toll road slips of all the 4 toll points around the city. They could choose to do them in any order, take any road, do watever. But they had to reach the starting point fastest. To make things exciting there were no finish lines and no audience. These guys were gonna be following the racers they could catch upto.

What happened that day, is the stuff legends are made of. And yet there has been some sort of silence reigning over the sequence of events that night. That night changed Jack. He was back to being a normal 15 year old and soon faded away into the oblivion. And one fine night, when people had grown indifferent to Jacks absence (or presence), he packed his bags and slipped out of the city.

I wish I could write about that night. The race. The victory. The defeat. The brightest flicker of a nebula, before Jack and his story turned into a blackhole!

This is day 07 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.

Late Night Shifts

Love working at nights. No phone calls. No pesky bosses. No door bells. No girlfriends. No traffic. No Aaj Tak. No breaking news. No where to go. Nothing else to do. Work. And bliss.

While writing this, I was in the middle of composing a long email (to VP and RK), working on a sitemap (for SS), a phone call (from VG) and a session of poker (on FB).

Written at 1:31 AM, Friday, December the 4th, 2009.