Thought Overflow

(Read Part 2 of this post)

Back in early 2007, when I was going through the motions of 2^nd year of engineering, a good friend (Aditya TB) found out that Iron Maiden was planning to perform in India. But you bet your life I was excited. A real rock show. I wanted to go. We all wanted to go. When we started planning, we had at least 4 people who wanted to go for sure. Yeah.

Poster for Eddfest (Iron Maiden Live), Bangalore - March 2007

Then, people started dropping out. TB and I were still interested though. As soon as we could book tickets online, I tried it. Then, when we heard that tickets were available at Music World stores, I went and stood in line, refusing to budge until I got tickets, which I did. Yes!

Once we got the tickets, I started cramming. I wasn’t big into Maiden at the time (I was more obsessed with Tool at the time, if I remember right), so I had to listen to all the potential songs they’d play. At that time, for me, Metallica were on a (much) higher pedestal than Maiden in the corridors of heavy metal music. I distinctly remember saying at the time—“If Metallica ever come to India, I’ll go see the show, no matter what.”

Well, guess what. Four and a half years later…Bangalore, 30 October 2011, at the Palace Grounds (same place as the Maiden concert).

Poster for Rock N' India (Metallica Live at Bangalore)

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Holy cow! A whole month since my last post. What a joke, haha! I remember how many posts I’ve written about being more regular with my blogging, and how many of those posts have come after extended periods of inactivity, just like this one. So, let’s just be honest.

I’m not going to be more regular with my posts. Let’s face it. I’m only going to write when I feel like it. Writing is enjoyable for me. Let’s not make it anything other than that.

On the other hand, I need to build commitment. Even in small things like this? Does commitment to writing a number of posts a month (weekly, bi-weekly, whatever) reflect in my general level of commitment to other things in life which conventionally would be more “important”? Hehe. How fun life is, isn’t it, when you make these little connections, read between the lines, draw a line between two distant dots thinking they were meant to be connected?

Here are the lyrics to Metallica’s “Where the Wild Things Are”:

So wake up sleepy one
It’s time to save your world

Steal dreams and give to you
Shoplift a thought or two
All children touch the sun
Burn fingers one by one
By one

Will this earth be good to you?
Keep you clean or stain through?

So wake up sleepy one
It’s time to save your world
You’re where the wild things are
Yeah, toy soldiers off to war

Big eyes to open soon
Believing all under sun and moon
But does heaven know you’re here?
And did they give you smiles or tears
No, no tears

Will this earth be good to you?
Keep you clean or stain through?

So wake up sleepy one
It’s time to save your world
You’re where the wild things are
Yeah, toy soldiers off to war

You swing your rattle down
(Hand puppets storm the base
Flags up now cannons rage
Hand puppets storm the base)
Call to arms the trumpets sound
(Flags up now cannons rage
All clowns head for the rear
Slingshots fire to the air
All clowns head for the rear)
Toy horses start the charge
(Slingshots fire to the air
Slip into the edge of death
Crossfire to the marionettes)
Robot chessmen standing guard
(Slip into the edge of death
Crossfire to the marionettes)
(all together)
We shall never surrender

All you children touch the sun
Burn your fingers one by one
Will this earth be good to you?
Keep you clean or stain through?

So wake up sleepy one
It’s time to save your world
You’re where the wild things are
Now, toy soldiers off to war
Off to war
Off to war….

So close your little eyes

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In the past, I’d frequently surmise that man’s greatest gift is his ability to forget the bad experiences and remember the good ones…at least, in general. Now, I think maybe that’s not the case. I don’t understand how nostalgia works, though. Because when you feel nostalgic about the past, don’t all your past experiences seem like good ones? On the other hand, yeah, when we think about certain things about our past, we feel uncomfortable. Meh, I’m just rambling.

Whatever.

This is not really a post about nostalgia. This is a post about things I miss.

Things everyone misses, I suppose.

School days. Videogames. College days. Not having such a critical outlook about everything. Not being dissatisfied with just about everything. Movies I enjoyed in the past somehow seem not to be as good when I watch them now. Things fall flat. Everything is imperfect, and that’s beginning to bother me more and more.

And try as I might, I can’t seem to put my finger on what’s causing it.

RAMBLE ALERT! I want my car.

~fin

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Ok, first…I admit I copied that line from Rio Ferdinand’s twitter (SHOCK HORROR!!).

Second–holy crap, what a match!

Third:

Arsene Wenger apologises for United mauling

Arsenal to offer fans free ticket — “The north London club confirmed that they would be offering to compensate the supporters who made the trip by paying for a ticket for another away game.”

SERIOUSLY? GET OVER IT! You lost 8-2 to a team that seems to be untouchable at the moment, while your team its probably at its lowest ebb, having lost 2 star players to other clubs, and a bunch of others injured. Plus you were playing at Old Trafford, where we went undefeated last season. I know 8-2 is a drubbing in *ANY* circumstances, but seriously, get over it and get on with rebuilding.

Arsene Wenger watches his boys being given a lesson in footballing excellence

To be honest, this was the first Arsenal-Man Utd match that I was sure of winning even before kick-off. Arsenal’s injuries, suspensions and general lack of confidence and self-belief meant that they should have come here expecting the worst. It probably didn’t help Wenger that he didn’t have enough options to pack up and park the bus even if he wanted to. Meh.

As the season progresses, I expect Arsenal to get stronger, if only out of respect for Wenger’s football. If he has any shred of shrewdness whatsoever, he will buy players in the next couple of days, and things will start getting better. I also expect, at the end of the season, for Wenger to resign gracefully and move on to other challenges–probably to Chelsea or Man City.

Heh, actually think about the irony. Arsene Wenger managing clubs that sweat money. That would be interesting to watch, seriously.

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I was going to write a post about why I hate the world. It’s simple, actually. It all boils down to the fact that I’m cynical and a pessimist. I look at the dark side of everything and have belief in very little. We could explore the reasons for this character trait, but I’ll leave it for another time. Instead, this post is a positive one. About two people—a girl and a boy.

The boy is one of my closest friends, in a very weird way. We get along, most of the times. We go weeks without speaking. We probably hate a few things about each other, and will never understand each others’ choices in a few things. We’re like chalk and cheese about most things. I’m occasionally jealous of him, I don’t think he cares. I don’t think he’s ever been jealous of me either. But at the end of the day, what’s important is that everything else is trivial. Our friendship goes beyond everything else, and I’d probably not trust my life to anyone else if not him. End of.

The girl is also one of my closest friends right now. We talk every day. We get along famously well, except for the few times we bicker about trifles. I don’t really need to write more. You know who are you.

Thank you two for making me happy about some things in life. Cheers.

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When I saw the trailers of this movie, I wondered to myself how brave it would be. Reservation is one of the most polarising topics in recent history. This movie could be controversial, yet brave. It could cause a sensation or riots…or both. It could present this difficult topic in a particularly clever way. The scenes in the trailer looked enticing—various stakeholders and their reactions to the reservation rule.

Aarakshan Theatrical Poster

But you know it’s a bad sign when the movie begins (more or less) with a song. However, the action does move along fairly briskly. We get an introduction to each character, and then the SC judgement in favour of reservation creates all kinds of problems all of a sudden. Yay, so far so good…what I’d expected from the movie, it was delivering. In fact, I was tingling to see on which side the movie would lean and how it would present itself without displeasing the people on the other side of the fence.

And yet, a short while later, the movie completely loses its marbles (pun intended). The OBC reservation becomes a backdrop to something else entirely. It becomes a typical Hindi movie, a tale of personal vendetta. Amitabh Bachchan plays the role of a principled educationist hell bent on challenging the system. Manoj Bajpayee is absolutely brilliant in the role of a corrupt opportunist. Easily, the best actor. Saif Ali Khan hammed his way through. Deepika Padukone is pretty. Were we to expect more from her?

Anyway…the plot itself is in shambles. After starting off with the whole reservation fight, the movie veers off into the evils of professional coaching classes. The solution? Free coaching centres, in the guise of “remedial centres”. It’s a ridiculous. The film doesn’t tell us how these free remedial centres will sustain themselves. Nor does it really give an answer to the question everyone would have been hoping for—is reservation a good thing?

All in all, this is a movie that just falls flat of all expectations. Even the actors fail to live up to any sort of expectations, with the exception of Amitabh Bachchan, against whom it’s not easy to find fault, and Manoj Bajpayee, who was truly outstanding in every scene he was present in.

Rating: 3/10 – and I normally am very generous with my ratings, if only to acknowledge the effort put in by the film-makers.

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I’ve read a lot of opinions about how musicians need to keep reinventing themselves and not stick to a formula. There are quite a few bands who’ve managed to do it. Metallica, from the Speed/Thrash metal Kill ‘Em All era to the simpler, more hard-rock sound of Load/ReLoad, the tin can drums of St. Anger and then “back to the basics” with Death Magnetic. I love their musical journey—I’ve enjoyed every Metallica album, more or less. Linkin Park is another band that’s not followed a pattern. After the abysmally disappointing Meteora, I think they’ve grown musically with Minutes to Midnight and A Thousand Suns. And of course, while I haven’t really followed their journey entire, Radiohead and Led Zeppelin are the best examples of bands that have changed their sound and grown creatively with every new album.

And then there are bands whose music I love just the way it is, and I wish they don’t change. For me, Incubus’ golden period was during the albums Make Yourself, Morning View and A Crow Left of the Murder. And now, after Light Grenades, I’ve got my hands on their latest album—If Not Now, When?

Album Cover: Incubus - If Not Now, When?

I wanted to write a scathing review of this album. It’s everything Incubus were not meant to be. They’ve progressed from an awesome rock band into a bunch of guys who get together in someone’s house and make up tunes. The album is full of soft rock songs, perfect for background music while you do something else. Don’t get me wrong. The title track kind of sets the tone. It’s a slow, dull, monotonous chug-along song. Jose Pasillas’ drumming is more or less single-beat, Boyd’s vocals are uninspired (whatever that word means). The next few songs just come and go without your realising that there’s something going on here. The first song that piqued my interest and kept me hooked was the 7-minute long “In the Company of Wolves”, when finally every member of the band puts effort in to do something special, to earn the millions of dollars they will get from the sales of this CD. The second half of the album is definitely better, there’s a lot more going on.

But the reason why this isn’t a scathing review is because I’m going to give credit where it’s due. I do miss the hard rock, energetic music of ye olde Incubus (maybe that’s why I’m bitter?). But Mike Einziger is fantastic throughout this album, even in the simple riffs he executes so brilliantly. Ben Kenney, stepping into the big shoes left behind by Dirk Lance, once again is outstanding (he was brilliant in ACLOTM and Light Grenades too). The bottom line is this: Incubus have changed. They’re no longer punks or hardass rockers. They’re much softer, simpler, catchier, more pop. It’s ok, because it’s soft music with a little bit of depth if you listen for the sound of the guitars.

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In one of the many flights I’ve taken recently, some sitting on the aisle seat next to me asked whether I’d done a web check-in to take the window seat. I smiled sheepishly and said yes. He smiled and said he always prefers the aisle seat, even though most people prefer the other. Sure, it makes sense. You get to move out quickly when the plane lands, have to disturb no one when you need to use the restrooms, and you get to see the air-hostesses a lot more.

But look what you’re missing:

When you take off at night, the lights of the city leave you spellbound. It’s like looking into a sky filled with multi-coloured stars. Houses and offices twinkle in vast stretches of darkness; roads, lit up by the ever-present headlights of traffic appear luminescent, criss-crossing across the dark blanket of the city.

Cityscape at night

And when you take off in the morning on an overcast day in Bombay, you wonder what you’re going to see. You look at the wet runway with trepidation and hope the huge monstrous aircraft doesn’t slip or skid. A short while after you’ve left the ground behind, you climb up through the first layers of clouds, look out the window and find yourself unable to look away—layers upon layers of clouds of various colours, sizes and shapes. It’s like looking into a mountainous landscape, except that everything is in varying shades of white, some incandescent.

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Maybe I’ve grown so used to being by myself and with the idea that my most romantic moments have been spent in solitude that my definition of romance has blurred.

I find a starry night sky romantic. I’d like to lie under it, with just the stars above me…no buildings, no artificial lights around. I think walks can be romantic—on a cloudy day, by the side of a lake, with the wind sweeping across my face, listening to music. I like silence. I look out the window of my room at night at the traffic and the Delhi metro, its lights reflected off the glass buildings on the other side of the road. I turn down the TV, pull the curtains shut around me and sit peacefully. I like hearing the voices in my head. I like my thoughts running around, uninterrupted by others.

Heh.

It also reminds me of how much of an introvert I am. I know a lot of people disagree. I know I sound like I’m a complete extrovert. But I’m so not. I like my solitude, thank you very much. I’m cynical and occasionally misanthropic. Gimme music, gimme a place to write, and that’s all I’ll need to be happy. (Oh hell, if I am making a list, I wouldn’t mind a video-game console and a decent amount of money.) I like driving for the fun of driving. But in all these things, I like being on the inside, looking out. At the various people on the road around the car, at the headlights of the traffic outside this hotel window. On the inside, looking out.

Oh, for the record, those who think “romance” or “romantic” is just about 2 people in love:

— n

1. a love affair, esp an intense and happy but short-lived affair involving young people
2. love, esp romantic love idealized for its purity or beauty
3. a spirit of or inclination for adventure, excitement, or mystery
4. a mysterious, exciting, sentimental, or nostalgic quality, esp one associated with a place
5. a narrative in verse or prose, written in a vernacular language in the Middle Ages, dealing with strange and exciting adventures of chivalrous heroes
6. any similar narrative work dealing with events and characters remote from ordinary life
7. the literary genre represented by works of these kinds
8. (in Spanish literature) a short narrative poem, usually an epic or historical ballad
9. a story, novel, film, etc, dealing with love, usually in an idealized or sentimental way
10. an extravagant, absurd, or fantastic account or explanation
11. a lyrical song or short instrumental composition having a simple melody

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Today’s post is very much like what this old XKCD comic is about:

XKCD: Grownups

I think that when you move out and start to live on your own, you’re expected to grow up, grow mature. Become older. So far, that’s not happened with me. I find that living on my own has given me more freedom to never have to grow up. I listen to music in my room until I sleep. Sometimes, I leave it on all night and wake up to music. I feel like going out driving in the middle of the night … nowhere in particular.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m learning all the important skills required to live…like how to deal with the maid, how to do the dishes (properly), how to wash your own clothes when required, how to take the garbage out and replace the garbage bag, etc. I’m even having to learn how to cook!

But I just feel like with the freedom I’ve been given, I’d much rather be a kid. I know that involves sacrificing a lot of things, but that’s just who I am.

In the words of Chili Davis (what were his parents thinking?):

Growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional!

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