Friday, June 10, 2011


Deekshith is back and so are all those awesome conversations. The art of conversation is probably the one most underrated, underwhelmed; We tend to forget how stimulative, provocative they can be. And you can't converse the same way with everybody; there's a way you talk to different people you know. There's always a wavelength you emit when you are talking to one person which is different from the one you emit when conversing with another. Fuck, why do I sound like Deekshith. I had missed these conversations for about a year now, these topics and talks with Deekshith. Both of us are quintessential dreamers, we worship our heroes, want to imbibe them but strive for originality. Atleast that is what I understand about us. So, Deekshith is back and so with him are talks about Ashok and "Them.". Like Sravani just pointed out, Ashok for me is a myth, a legend, the protagonist in all those stories weaved about him by his ardent devotees, Deekshith, Raghav and partly Sandeep, and that is what makes him so alluring, having me imagine somebody who fits into all those characteristics as I've heard of him. And that for me is a good thing because it helps me dream, helps me see that that there are people in the world like whom I'd love to be. It's not wannabedom. How do I explain? Just because you like Chiranjeevi's dance and want to be like him, doesn't mean you want be another Chiranjeevi. You want to be all that Chiranjeevi is; a demigod, an illusion, an embodiment of superhumanness. I seem to be getting back to touch, the words now are coming out easily. Deekshith just left and I got onto Love and Squalor. I've never read anybody like Aishwarya. It's beyond real, I crave to reach that aura, it's hard to explain. We spoke for a long time, Deekshith and me. He's changed, like hell too. This is a drastically different person from the one I expected to see. His voice doesn't flinch like it used to, when we are talking, he doesn't fade away into mortality anymore, and most importantly he looks straight in the eye. 9 months of London and this is what is delivered; fair. But the one hour or so we spoke today at the SaroorNagar katta was awesome. He told me this fabulous Picasso story. Pablo Picasso is in a party and this little girl comes upto him.She says, my dad tells me you are a great painter, so will you sketch me. Picasso draws the girl in three minutes and the crowd applauds hailing his genius and asking him how anybody could sketch in three minutes. To which Picasso replies, Its taken thirty years for me to do this in three minutes. One hell of a story ain't it. But yes, I've seen it now, hunger and solitude can do this to you. I was talking to Amma yesterday and I hailed myself the starving artist. She smiles at me and says, no you aren't, you wish you were. You need to starve before you become a starving artist, not sit home all day and wish you were one. What could I have said. Before I leave, there's a line in Nolan's Following when one character looks at a desk scattered with papers and a typewriter and corrects the other character, who thinks it belongs to a writer, that if he really was a writer, he'd have got a word processor. "This guy isn't a writer, he wants to be a writer. Those are two totally seperate things."

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