Saturday, August 28, 2010

Friends At Last


Music: Bickram Ghosh, OST Little Zizou, Friends at Last

One of those tunes that can pop back into your head after months and suprise you completely. From the movie Little Zizou. I saw this movie many months back and it still feels like eating your most sinfully favourite dessert alone. Absolutely love the lilting tune.

There's no stopping the heart once Dilshad Patel comes on screen... and Ataxerxes Khodaiji... I want a name like that!

The song's picturised beautifully in the beach town of Udvada where Xerxes and Iliana finally become friends and seal it with a mudfight on the beach. The song takes off with these two kids running amok in the muck and the setting sun in the background.


Still have to fulfill the promise I'd made myself years back; Still have to visit Udvada. I used to be fascinated with Parsis and still look curiously into Cusrow Baug everytime I pass the place on the way to Theo's.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Jump Little Children - Mexico

Song in my head. On infinite loop.

Pardon the horribile colour scheme. I really am awful at tinkering with html code.  NOT!

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Oil on canvas

I guess I can say with some surety now, me and oil paintings, we'll go the distance. After the catastrophe that was my first oil on canvas the second has turned out to be rather presentable. Hopefully the subsequent ones shall raise or meet the bar or even if the bar tanks, it won't be very difficult to ignore it.

Oil on canvas seems to be a relatively easy medium as you can keep working on the same piece over and over again for a couple of days since one painting could take over a month to dry completely. So a painting's never really lost as long as you keep working on it. Of course the flip side is one could worsen it further with contrary intentions. The most amazing thing about the medium is the flexibility of being able to add layers on layers and therefore adding multiple dimensions to a painting. Once someone is a little adept, painting really is SO much about a painter's point of view, a personal interpretation of the subject.

I think it satisfies my inner being, this deeply philosophical, extremely serious, bearded dude in constant need for complexity. But it's nice to have a potential new hobby. And that too a rather fancy sounding one.

Do look up Leonid Afremov to see what force is required to turn a dreamy vegetable like me to go and buy art supplies and finally get down to painting.

Sunday, August 01, 2010

Weekend

I stopped writing about my daily life quite a while back on this blog. Not maybe cause they ceased to be significant. Just that at some point I didn't want to do it anymore. Also, the assumption that people reading it would be interested about my mediocre existence was rather ambitous for my abilities. But again, the argument against it is that we all live interesting lives or atleast we like to interpret it like that. Here's a beautiful explanation of this phenomenon. Anyways, I'll stop being boring (hoping of course there are people reading this to be bored, but even if I'm addressing an empty room they do say that walls have ears!).

I think I MUST put on record my day since yesterday evening. Hopefully many years down the line I'll look back at this post and remember this day and it'll make me happy.

Late night bike ride through old city. Getting wet in the rain. Eating the most amazing club sandwich and drinking hot chocolate after being drenched, at a place by the banks of the river in the old city. Sitting up the whole night listening endlessly to Colin Hay and pouring myself generous amounts of Vodka distilled from fine French grapes. Deciding on a whim to drive off to Thol Lake at the break of dawn. Hitting the road; sunrise on the way to Thol in between two villages on a beautiful road flanked by the darkest green vegetation and a horizon fringed by dark misty clouds. Sitting by the huge lake looking out at the distant islands and the flocks of birds flying to and from them. Surrounded by birdsong for two hours straight hours, not a single human voice, the sun rising and glinting off the lake trying to make the perfect calendar picture; best Sunday morning ever! Return, sleep like a log. Wake up in the afternoon to find that the skies have darkened and are darkening still, like a director building suspense and dimming the lights on screen. My nerves are taut with anticipation; I cannot wait any longer to see how violent this downpour is going to be. And then it breaks, as the general sounds the horn I can hear the leaves rattle from far as the army advances in fury! Within seconds the rain is outside my balcony in a huge roar. Thick fat drops drown everything and all I can hear is the gushing sound of torrential rain.

I’m hungry and I order a pizza. I put on an old Woody Allen movie and wait for my pizza to come. But I can’t put my mind to the movie entirely; the rain draws me out constantly. I’m caught by a scene in the movie, where Woody Allen who fancies Jenny Nichols suggests they sit and watch Singing in The Rain and order food in. As the camera shows both of them watching the movie and eating, this song starts playing! Suddenly I’m gripped with this urge to drive out in the pouring rain. I finish my pizza and drive off. The roads outside are flooded, water flowing from one side to the other. I drive off into the university area. It’s beautiful, this part, since there are hardly any vehicles that come here. The road is flanked by the university grounds stretching almost to the horizon on both sides and dotted with shrubs and trees. As the sun sets over the grounds in the west I recall having googled the time for sunrise almost 12 hours previously.

I return to my room. Soaked to the bone, cold and shivering!