story about me

This is a story of a girl. She is ambitious, determined, and worthy, which sets her apart from her peers. During her early days, she realized she would have to struggle passionately for what she wanted to achieve. It was not about her parents, who were just about well-to-do, but it was about herself. She never wanted to spend an extra penny from what she had collected through her vacation jobs. These were, though, not sufficient to pay her school fees, but enough to pay for other activities she immersed herself into. She spent the hard earned moolah develop her talents by learning music, dancing, and dramatics, as well as buying new books. When her small feet working hard during the vacation, she got involved in various activities during her school days.
“What do you get by doing all this?” one of her school friends questioned her, wondering if she had any time to play.
“One day I will become the world's best scriptwriter, and for that, I have to train myself. I have to learn all the nuances of cinema – a complex whole.”
“You are stupid. There are better things to do than to be a scri… scribble writer… or whatever it is…”
The days passed like gushes of wind. Like everyone else, she had her ups and downs, but all that mattered to her was to achieve her final goal. She always loved her independence. Every holiday, when her friends were partying, she was serving. Soon she entered her college, where her earnings seemed to be a little part of what she could pay for an expensive media course. She asked her parents for a loan, which she tried to repay as and when she earned a little dough. It was her determination to be a creator, one day.
“One day mom, you would see me on that stage receiving the Oscar for Best Screenplay and you would hear the whole world applauding.”
The loan was obviously agreed upon. Finally, she completed her Bachelor’s degree. All set to be a writer, at least. Is it all that simple? There were almost negligible doors opened for writers, and they demanded experience. It was a Catch 22 situation.
“Oh, don’t worry about my daughter;” I heard my mother telling her friend, “She is one of those go-getters.”
She soon found herself some worth and joined a company as a content writer. It was not screenplay writing in anyway, but ‘work is worship’. At last, she was able to pay the loan. Being close to the industry, she realized, there is something still missing in her to write a terrific screenplay. The only way to achieve her aspiration was to complete her Masters in the said field at Hollywood, USA.
She lived in a “third world” country. Her currency valued only one fortieth times the dollar. It was like a major blow to her. If she wanted to study, she would have to pay the fees in dollars. It would take her five more years to collect such a huge amount. The only source was her parents; but, it would mean they would have to spend all their savings and earnings of a lifetime. Her parents agreed to give her the credit. However, she knew they were growing old and would need this money. She would repay them, but that would be after a minimum period of three years. Does this mean she has to put an end to her dreams?
Just then she came across, something called scholarship grant. This was the solution she was looking for. At last, here was a chance to fulfill her ambitions. Her desire to be the most passionate scriptwriter, devoting her life to entertaining movie lovers worldwide was now set to be a reality. No more would a lack of money come in the way of her embarking on her career in films. This is a story of a girl, who is me.

Dangerous illusions

Since couple of days, I have been listing down number of topics that I can write for this blog. These, as I may say so, are day-to-day occurrences and consequences. Alas! I really regret the fact that the list has been always made in my mind. Thanks to my short-term memory, due to which I fail to type them in morning. So, I decided to select the topic only in morning, while venturing to my work-station.

It all happened when I was making my way from Metro theatre to office. I idiotically had a collision with a bicycle. It was my mistake and I admit it. I could see the bicycle goading towards me at full speed, yet, I stood there like the Statue of Liberty (she is the only lady effigy I can remember). Why did I stand there like a fool? Well, that is the story and it starts some years back… fade out (can’t get rid of my filmy touch).

I met a guy, Ashish (name changed) for the first time in my sister’s engagement party. Since then we had been pretty close friends. We talked with each other for hours on phone. I had no “love” for him at all even then. We were just good friends. No boy was ever so friendly with me as he was. Being an adolescent, I was vulnerable to the situation (not physically, but mentally), and so, I thought it was like a film, and we were friends forever. But this was not to last very long. Like a usual scenario - there were misunderstandings, fights, unpleasant occurrences between the two of us. This was mainly due to my inclination towards career, which he did not quiet appreciate and I stepped out of the cocoon to experience the new world, where people like Ashish were described as nothing but a male chauvinist pig. This just added to the situation and I realized how fragile it was. It made me coerce to leave him and move forward. Later, since he belonged to my community, he started spreading rumors about me. Soon he understood I was least affected by any of those and everything finally ended. This I now describe as the worst period of my life and my biggest mistake. So what this story has to do with the tiny accident I had with the bicycle today?

Hmmm…I was listening to one of his favorite songs, unfortunately happen to be my preferred one too, and was suddenly dragged into the past. Being a scriptwriter, things often come to life when I am thinking something, as if I was watching a film. I was not aware of the surrounding and that is exactly the moment, “bang”, the bicycle came and knocked me off. Well, the rider had all the rights to abuse me, as I was standing in the middle of the road staring at him but not even moving by and itch. But you see I am a girl and he really couldn’t do anything. Neither of us spoke a word and departed continuing our journey.

Sometimes, unconsciously though, we jeopardize our lives for someone who does not even matter to us in slightest of its sense. But when we think about them, our mind takes us to another plateau, where things are not like the way we see them, and yet, we are compelled to believe their existence. What happened today was not in my control. So I cannot blame myself for it. Ashish or the bicycle riders were too not at fault. Yet what happened could have been graver than just a passing by affair.

suspending light...

In many ways than one I always thought marriage is a disaster. The time just proves me right. When I happen to offer an opinion, I have more oppositions than could be counted on fingers. Exculpate me for going against the traditional belief that a nuptial is obligatory – something we owe to society. I do not say that those who want to get married (I know girls desperate to tie a knot) are attempting an incessant crime, but nonetheless, I have been given freedom to lead my life as I desire. And I, to say the truth, deny blemishing my life and freedom for someone else. I have seen many people around me getting a connubial bliss even without knowing their partners for more than one university term.

I have seen Indian ready to spend their life with a person who lives in one of those first world countries. They don’t even have tête-à-tête with their sweetheart twice before making ‘the decision’. If the situation in India was as bad as Vietnam or if we lived in an autocratic country, then I wouldn’t be amazed on their pronouncement. However, today India stands as one of the global leaders and I see no need for any girl in modern Mumbai, I stress on the word “modern”, to commit to someone ajar to them.

“Who cares about the global economy,” one of my cousins declared, “all I want is to go to United States.”

“Even if you donno the guy properly?” I was little surprised by that statement.

“Even if I donno the guy properly,” she said assertively, “why do you care? I don’t want to make big out here… and if I have to it will be there.”

Did I really care about her? Nope. I just couldn’t digest the fact that she had just seen her fiancé once before engagement. I was still a little jittery, when finally I blathered (of course to her), “but you hardly know him…”

“Oh you!” she seemed a little goaded with annoyance, “haven’t you heard something called Internet? I-N-T-E-R-N-E-T? That’s how you spell it right? Besides, his parents stay in India, very much in INdia.”

I thought it was better I ceased my banter as it had reached its pinnacle, and who likes to get indignant?

She still had a point to get married, I thought, but what about those who are coerced into this?

One of my friends got into a conjugal bond in December. I enjoyed his wedding thoroughly – no two ways about it. I tapped my feet; my first Christen wedding…yeah…everyone was enjoying seemed happy – but the groom and the bride. What about them? (I know they weren’t happy through internal source.) Besides, my friend, who also happened to be the groom (nope, not the bride, I am a straight girl you see) was excessively jovial and I just don’t mean stupidity, but what I consider a true sense of humor, got married to a grim girl. What a stupid pair!
Aren’t these sufficient to discern me from something that is called, “M-A-R-R-I-A-G-E”.

atonement

“Aditi, you know Gaurav Joshi has gone to USA… If he happens to be there in feb he will see the preps for Oscars,” my friend called me up to give me a news that didn’t only surprise me but made be so envious. “I don’t buy that…” I tried fooling myself… huh! An unsuccessful attempt. But I was rather surprised when I actually called my friend Gaurav to confirm if he has actually gone to U.S.A. First the call went missed. But later the same name flashed on my screen. I grinned.

“Hello, Aditi?” a matured lady spoke from the other side. I knew my happiness was short lived.

After a short conversation with that lady I actually felt ashamed for two things: being jealous and actually cross-confirming something that wouldn’t have bothered me much, that is equals to wasting time, money, and…

So what do I do when I feel ashamed of my actions? I write to convince myself that I have babbled my sin in front of a pope/God whatever. Hmmm… So am I still found to be guilty? Am I going to be imprisoned for an insane crime? C’mon do you find my puerile look feigned?

So will god punish me for a small bad deed that I did? Is he going to cancel my trip to U.S.A.? I hope not…

So when will I say…Los Angeles…Oscar….Go………….

me!

I have never felt uncomfortable to this level. I don’t understand what is happening to me? I don’t know what am I getting from writing this passage, but I am sure enough it will distract me from my ailing body. I feel as though there is no muscle left inside my stomach and where is the blood? Has it disappeared? Nothing tastes so good. “I can at least taste,” I try to convince myself. I am struggling to keep up with my situation. The mind that has no sync with my hand movement…wait…then how is it that I am writing? I am not even sure what I am writing is the thing I want to write. A cold piece of food that I chew with disinterest belongs to my favorite dish. God! What is going on? Is it that I am going to faint soon? Vomit? No… stomach…oh no not that…what do they call it… yeah food poison? I have no clue… I am not a doctor – should I visit one? I am sure everyone, including you, will advice me the same. But I am in office. I can only consult a doc when I am at home. Gosh! How I recall there is a client call in an hour that I am supposed to be… what?? Where was I? What were my thin fingers typing? I can’t read… my eyes are blurring… I will sleep for sometime I guess. Give my below par body some rest. Hmmm… what was the synonymous for that word… what am I trying to search? I am writing…no sleeping… this is my dream…blue…red…white…black….zzzzzzzzz

cinema through my eyes

It is long time since the glamour world is considered to be “adulterated”.

“Not really,” I argue with my father, “look at the creative part…”

Without listening to me further, he conveniently refused to sign my admission form. I felt a castle of dreams non-deafeningly coming down to dust. I wanted to bellow, holler… all I could do is stay quiet and stare at his commands.

In India we still respect our parents and at the age of twenty-two, I would avoid raising my objection to something my dad said. Sometimes, though, it out of compulsion rather than… huh, let it be. Mom, like usual mothers, is always there to support me. She could not see me disheartened.

“I will try if he can see your point-of-view,” she tried to stop tears that were all ready to march down. I silently nodded and left the dinning room.

All wanted to be was a writer, for the industry that I have adored for years. It breaths; it lives; it makes… the music is so well synchronized; the fight sequence just so perfect (well I am talking about a good film); and those characters reveal so much about every human being… ummm…it is like having the best food in the world. Cinema is just so beautiful. From the figment of someone’s imagination to a complete whole…

People are not crazy to spend their hard earned money to watch a film or buy a television, are they? It has magic – a magic that takes you to another world. It is brighter than any diamond. It is carefully polished and bhooom comes a creation that really doesn’t belong to this world. Who is not touched by cinema, film, or television? It is the best escapism.

There are extraordinary people out there, who understand the potential of cinema – they work day and night to produce what is not less loved than their own child. Sometimes, probably more… haven’t you heard the stories about film-makers, who became rich to rag because of one flop film? If you ask him, I am sure he has something else to say about the film, which on the …eee… didn’t do so well. Nah! Nothing to get disappointed about…

I am a writer. I am base of “The Industry”. I will create those rats that can talk; those people who wear knickers on their pants. I want to exchange my shoes (my shoe size is 7½… but I don’t think that really matters, does it?) I want to be you - to create you.

I just have a small appeal to people: please respect this industry. It is an epitome of novelty. Those who put their hard work (I mean even the spot boy) may not be MBAs or MBBS, but they have mastered their field and without them I bet even you will feel incomplete. In fact they can recreate MBAs or MBBS or even change their definition and I bet you will still like it.

ashwini is god gifted

Ashwini is god gifted. She must have survived the toughest time known to me. A through metal torture as I would describe it. No support, no sympathy, and no one to rely on. No shoulder to cry. Her soul, so soft, was made to rip again and again. No once that she could have said I loved the way I am… Deteriorating self-esteem and a four month baby that was seeing everything from inside her womb, was all she had to show the world.

But those unfaithful days passed. What we now had was an ideal sister, mother, daughter, and a wife. She forgot everything like a passing breeze. But I haven’t. Not that there was anyone to blame for what she went through, nor was anyone to be spared – not even me. I need to compensate the loss I caused to her, when she needed me the most.

I feel sorry and guilty of what I have done in partial innocence. No, I am not justifying myself, but I am telling you the truth of what I feel.

After realizing that the time would never come back – it never does; I have decided to keep her happy, giving her what she wants. That kid which equally witnessed all the atrocities are been given the best comfort possible. I get him what he wants before he even asks for it.

I would just want to say sorry to my sister and God, as he did not create me to join up against any human being.