Emotional Attyachar

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Not one of the characters is new. Not one of them surprises you. And indeed, it's in this very familiarity that you hide, following the crumbling lives of the different characters. The reason these "people" are not strangers is because they are your friends and neighbors. Your boyfriend and room-mates. Your seniors and juniors. They may be roles you have never seen on screen, but they're all well known and familiar.

At some point you are Dev, with his determined path of fast and furious self-destruction. Dev with his wounded pride. Dev with the tears running down his face at his father's funeral while his mother wails as she hits him weakly and repeatedly.
I am Dev's wasted life.

You are Paro, who is Ophelia (from Hamlet) when Dev tells her that his family would never allow for the inclusion of a mere "manager's daughter" in the family. Paro as she goes to meet Dev even though she's married because she is still in love with him. Paro, who, unlike poor Ophelia, moves on.
I am Paro's second chance.

You are Chanda, watching your life fall to bits because of one stupid mistake. You are Chanda as her father shoots himself in the head after promising her that everything would be okay. You are Chanda as she finally chooses to become an 'escort', getting through college in the day.
I am Chanda's shattered innocence.

I read a review about the movie that claims that one of the reasons the movie is so great is because you aren't meant to identify with the characters. Dev is supposed to be the scum-bag that he is shown to be. But the thing is, I think this country(/world?) is divided into three bits. One of which believes such a life is only liveable on screen, another that believes it exists and a third that knows of a world just as fucked up as Dev's.

You can identify with Dev. With his lack of remorse as his dying father sends him a car (the ill-fated BMW). You can identify with Paro's 'practical' decision of marriage. You can identify with Chanda's decision to run away. You know that neon blue light so well, and you understand perfectly how the threads of guilt, blame, hurt and pride get tangled up, forming knots it takes you eternities to solve.

Yeah, this movie is familiar. This movie tells me the futures of the people I know today. It tells me about their pasts. And most importantly, it tells me so much about all our presents. Sooner or later, everything will go wrong. Sooner or later, our parents will find out about the smoking and drinking. They will find out about the abuse. Sooner or later, carries will be failed, attendance shortages will be obtained, medical certificates won't be scammed in time. Sooner or later, a year will be lost. Sooner or later, everything will fall apart. It'll be time to leave. And there will be no escape from our escapes. But until then, one's gotta do what one can to deal with all the emotional atyachar...

"Ankhon ka hai dhoka
Aisa tera pyar
Tera emotional atyachar..."

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Emotional Attyachar (Rock version)

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Bharpa jo ek shor hai,
Pukhta hai purzorr hai,
Agg rag jalte iske sarmaye…

Kal mera bebaaak tha,
Aaj magar kamzor hai..
Khud se ankhein hi na mil payein.

Aankhon ke aage jo hai,
Manzar lava barsaaye…
Jalta hai dil jalta hai…
Til til main jalta hoon…
Is lamhe ki haqeeqat..
Gawaara na kar paaye…
Jalta hai dil…
Til til main jalta hoon…

Hat ja re hat jaa,
pare hat ja re nazron se,
pare Hat ja re hat jaa re,
pare hat jaa re..
arrey jaa re…

Mere lavss ke haar jaise,
hain yaadon mein chubte jaise..
Aasoon mere behte rehte..
Khoon ke…khoon ke…(twice)

Ankhon ka hai dhokha,
Aisa tera pyaar
Tera Emosanal Attyachaar!!!

Ankhon ka hai dhokha,
Aisa tera pyaar
Tera Emosanal Attyachaar!!!

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Girl in the Mirror

She leaned over the gray stone sink, her dark eyes empty and unfocussed, seemingly staring at a point beyond her own distorted reflection. A sad lonely song played on in the background, but she seemed oblivious to it. Someone was banging on the fragile wooden door. The girl didn't move. She did not even seem to hear it. Silence filled the air. She kept gazing at whatever it was that only she could see. The song ended and another began. And her eyes filled up with tears.

For a while, she let them swim there and then... she blinked, a confused look flitting across her face. Suddenly, she reached up and angrily wiped away the forming tears with the sleeve of her white too-big T-shirt. As she accidentally dragged the sleeve down her face, the frown changed to a grimace. Her head snapped up to attention and she stared at the girl in the mirror as if seeing her there for the first time. Her eyes drifted over the straggly dark hair that fell over the pale face, down to the dark blank eyes. Her gaze stopped at the red line drawn across her left cheek. She reached up slowly and winced as her fingers brushed against the mark.

Her eyes widened as the screams filled her head once again. The dark kohl had smeared across her pale face and for a moment the girl in the mirror frightened her. The empty lifeless eyes, the lack of expression on her face, the detached pain the bruise was giving her. For a moment, it wasn't her reflection she was staring at, it was her ghost. The banging began again, but she paid no attention. The words in her head drowned out everything else.

The song changed again. People began to shout, in worry, in fear, in panic... but the girl was too busy listenin to the voices in her head, staring into the mirror, afraid to reach out and touch it because she didn't know whether it was the glass that lay shattered or if it was just her reflection. Either way would hurt her, either way she would break. Either way, it didn't matter, because she knew that there was no real difference between her and her reflection.

A faint smile played upon her lips as the blackness swallowed her. Just a little longer.

(original post - 10th June 2008)

To Seth

Dear Seth,

It's been almost a year darling... I know I gave you the address of this blog. Those emails we used to exchange all stopped all so long ago. And the ids are probably long gone. I don't think you even log in anymore... Not like I can complain... Neither do I...

Except, today, I've realized that if you are ever trying to get in touch with me, this is the only way you can, hence, I shall write you this letter, no matter how completely "emo" it may sound.

But before I begin reminiscing, I want you to know... Remember all those pictures of you and Tira (was that even her name?) you sent me? I came across a couple of them online when I was randomly wasting life on the internet. Those weren't really pictures of you were they? Then, I can only assume Jordan was a lie as well... But I don't understand...

I'm sorry I wasn't there when you got thrown out. Nor when she 'left'... but Mave was... and sometimes I think she believes you will still come back...

Sometimes I think that you will come back too...

I read the last email you sent her. I wish I could say that I wish I hadn't... but I guess it helped. Because honestly (and there's nothing easier than being honest with someone you think is dead), by the end of it all, I really could not think of a reason to ask you to hold on... I know that sounds cruel, but it's true. I didn't have a right to do that... and the little bit of what I did, I forsake when I came to this place...

I'm so sorry Seth darling, because by the end of it, I think I stopped believing. Perhaps because it was easier to think that all you said was a lie... Or maybe because I just couldn't handle what you told me... I guess it all comes down to the same thing...

You may wonder (if you're still somewhere out there...) why I decided to write to you today. Well, I spoke to a really good friend of mine who reminded me of the position I was in at one point of time... except I guess he has it worse. He's met her... I don't even know what you look like. Not anymore.

You know... Half of me always wanted every thing you said to be true. But I shall not deny (not anymore anyway), that half of me frantically hoped that you were just one big lie. Because it would mean one less kid out there in the sort of trouble you were in.

You were the first person I ever met who loved me unconditionally. You were there even before Mave was. And though you knew nothing about me, you listened. You made me one of the reasons everything was worth it. And you gave me a reason to believe in people. Because if someone could go through what you did and still be such a sweetheart, then this world wasn't all that messed up...

or maybe that's exactly why it was...

Anyway, all I really want to say is that if you're still somewhere out there... come back? Tell me you're okay. I don't care if every word you ever said was a complete lie. It's okay. It doesn't matter anymore. Those 9 hour conversations are not what I really miss. I miss you. And what you meant.

I love you and I always will.

Love
Jade

Black And White

If "Black and White" is the opposite of gray
Where are all the colors supposed to go?


Just wondering...