an unappealing 50k line script .. amazing how uninteresting things form the perfect background
for nostalgic recollections...the memories all vivid in the backdrop of fading numbers on screen.. everything that i possessed, now they are gone... dream on..

Scene 1: A picture of sriram and me performing the sacred 'samidadhanam', a ritual which succeeds the sandhya vandanam ritual, in front of rama vadhiyar, sriram's grandpa. The zeal in my eye is evident although i have absolutely no knowledge on the whats-what of these shlokas. Never knew that peace of mind is something which someone can actually crave for.. circa 1995

Scene 2: A picture of me running outside my house to trip on someone's footwear and land on a railing edge. Me being taken to Dr.Raghu's house. 5 stitches.. The pain in my voice is evident. Never knew pain would take an altogether different form today. circa 1994

Scene 3: Me and our team getting walloped by vijay's team in a local cricket match. nicky and me arguing on what went wrong that day. Judy telling me not to tear the team badges that we had carefully made esp for the match. The passion in my eye is worth a look. Never knew passion would go out of fashion someday. circa 1994.

-Atavistic vestiges after the rain (Dali, 1934)

all the world is circular,

you get back what you have thrown...
said the dad to his young nipper,
we have atavists of our own...
i dont agree father, said joey,
you cant conclude from mere bone...
you can very well bet on it my son,
look at the heart as hard as stone...

shadows of dawn

silver robe, grass swept gently,
gleaming drops of honey dew land...
the whiskers of the kitten fondle her feet,
as the night queen descends on the sand...

the dust of the war just settled,
the eerie silence and the calm..
the moonchild lends a hand,
to save the ones from the dreaded storm..

the sweet wave of the wind blows,
pampering the rustling leaves...
softly, they whisper secrets,
of the lost lives, the carnage and the peace..

the world is a lonely place and im all alone,
the warm corner i seek, to be on my own..
memories of my master, are as hard as a stone,
the faithful steed whines, in a melancholic tone..

Cold blood on her cheeks,
the orphaned girl grieves...
someday the dirt will be below me,
the beanstalk believes..

Milky white, fragrant and surreal,
the tired earth goes to sleep...
knowing very well, at dawn,
is an all familiar tale, a painful journey so deep...

an all familiar tale, a painful journey so deep...

Gimme the beat boys,
and free my soul....
i wanna get lost in your rock and roll,
and drift away.....

How it was,

While in Montreal on the Animals tour, a fan kept screaming and letting off fireworks during the acoustic "Pigs On The Wing Part II." The fan, obviously distracting the band, was making Roger increasingly irritable. When the fan started climbing up the fishnet that separates the band from the crowd Roger spat in his face. Later that night at the hotel he felt bad for what he done. He realized in order to perform he had to isolate himself from the crowd. What he envisioned himself behind was a wall. The rest is history.