Tuesday, 11 June 2013


It is strange that the person who wants to act in movies doesn't watch as many movies as other people do.. i used to find it rather awkward and some-other-word that i can't quite place right now.. 
I thought myself to death and then realised  the difference between the audience and the character n a film.. if it wasn't for a handfull of authors , the world would have been deprived of a brilliant reading habit..similarly, if it wasn't for a number of directors, producers, actors, writers...the world would have been deprived of an almost obsessive addiction of watching movies..
a "watcher" is prime..
The fact that he can watch a dozen movies in a day calling it "the movie marathon" is the reason why the difference exists..
Its a li'lle difficult to articulately put in words but its he who makes our industry survive..with his constant flipping through the net for new "weed".. movies that release and are not affordable in the daily routine of a "commoner" (as shakespeare refers to the underprivileged society in Julius Caesar)..

It is them that keep us alive, the strugglers, the A-listers, and the veterans.. we turn audience to our own films knowing where the director said "cut" and where he let the camera rolling for the emotion must have seemed real enough in spite of the glycerine warming up to a tear stained face.. 
The curse of being an actor is the knowledge of what was real and what was unreal in a film.. the million dollar sets were real , yes, but only for a tight scheduled budget line, which when expired, so did the million dollar dream of the perfect mansion, the perfect waterfall and the perfect bed on which we made love..
The realisation of the unreal is such an ache that it ceases all other sensation, those of adventure, of wishes and dreams and callous beliefs in a certain red-coated, white-bearded man called Santa.. The tooth fairy seems nothing more than a fellow actor out of work trying to live up to the so very lived-in lavish lifestyle..

The flaws stand out more for an actor with every new film when her favourite contemporary actress seems to look a li'lle more beautiful on the screen-palate.. she blames not her age or the worries of the world that has lent the tired scratches on her face but the color-correction and the technical disadvantages of a small-budget meaningful movie where she was not meant to look beautiful, but real..

The audience.. the common man only sees the glorious her..lost n the lust for the woman whose his fantasy come true.. the last surviving unicorn for which he keeps yearning everyday and misses not one wrong footing.. the actor slowly becomes god.. an then desire to achieve that god.. then the sudden realisation of her favours to another man whom the commoner cannot harm in jealousy..makes her nothing more than a conniving little whore who betrayed his undying love..

We are merely pawns to our own kind..pawns to their stories built up in their heads.. a character from the film which becomes their reality.. they accomplish relationships with those make believe characters without really knowing the person..
But thats allright.. where would we be if they didn't lust for us?? 
How else would we be saved if we weren't "playing" the "damsels in distress"??
its all fair..

And for us??
cinema remains the magic mirror before which , each day, a forgotten yesteryear actress stands in her best velvet and silk.. and commands,"MIRROR MIRROR ON THE WALL...WHO IS THE FAIREST OF THEM ALL???"

and the answer's always someone else...

Friday, 12 April 2013

The Unborn

She sleeps so sweet..
my angel,
the girl of my dreams..
i crumple in peace..
in pieces..
though bliss it still seems..

such a boon..
like spring,
seamless as the sea..
like parchment maps..
so fragile,
a note hidden under my morning tea..

like summer curtains..
swaying always
something old, something blue..
like unread chapters..
of the favourite book,
something borrowed something new..

i know she hears me not..
the unborn,
and she shall never see..
but i'll crave yet..
for her some more..
and always know how she'd be..

they say she's gone..
for forever..
for no stars shine above..
li'lle do they know..
she lives..

fast asleep in my cradle of love..