I have always harboured outrageous dreams. Deputy Chairman of the Planning Commission maybe? Or what about the Numero Uno of the World Bank? But a defunct 'Secretary, Cinema Club IIT Roorkee' was not on the list of my sky-rocketing ambitions. Yes, I did know that they blindly picked the biggest ghissu in the 360 acre vicinity, and after 26 long months in The Palace of Illusions I don't mind staking claim to the title (*sigh*), but the associated 'responsibility' did give me the creeps from the zeroth hour.
Then there were a few who saw me 'there'. To them, my friends, I apologise. Your foresightedness was a li'l too fantastic this time around. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown and I wish not to stress my bird-brain with more junk. Oh, and for those who are interested, I loathe 'Microprocessors and Peripheral Devices'- the main culprit of my miseries. I will live to see the downfall of Intel. Well, not really. You never know.
So as I look forward to being a part of Kissa Gaddi Ka- 2010, it is with a sense of complacency that I admit that things will be no different from the ones previously witnessed. The onus of screening a film for the Roorkee junta lies with me, and I wish to deliver.
In the meanwhile, let me check the hard-disk drives of the people around me. Fishing for films, Je suis!
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Platform No. Fate
Railway stations intrigue me. They always have. At a platform, one can see a plethora of people showcasing a variety of feelings. A train pulls over, and then there are separations, a li'l whine and a li'l melancholy. There's also hope. Excitement about the travel and the eagerness to reach the port of call.
So what makes a railway station so disparate? Is it the congregation of people belonging to the entire spectrum of the society in one place? Or is it the gamut of varied emotions that one can see on everyone's face that makes the place an entertaining one?
Just yesterday, I took my 22nd (or was it the 23rd?) train ride back home. Much to the dismay of my 'local guradian' (!), I shall be giving her extremely important class on Time Delay Simulations a miss on Monday (yey!). And whilst I was waiting for the C-3 coach to arrive on platform 3, I looked around. There was a veiled mother trying to placate her toddler that the 'gaadi' would come anytime now. Fact of the matter: it was running 5 hours late. Then there were the quintessential Indian Youth of today- you know what I mean... The garish shades, the embroidered jeans, the slick oiled hair- waiting for the ride of a lifetime. Where else than at a Railway station?
I reached the New Delhi Railway station a li'l past 11 PM, and as expected, there were hugs warmly exchanged between passengers and their reunited families. There were also some thoroughly disoriented blokes who didn't know what had struck them at this odd hour. I think Delhi does that to you if you have no acquaintance in this big, bad city. After all, the 'common('s) wealth' gets drained in a jiffy here. Need I explain more?
So as I comfortably perched on my ride back home, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the railway station. I wonder now, whether it was the hustle-bustle of the junta or was it my new found respect for the transient pit-stop in everyone's life.
So what makes a railway station so disparate? Is it the congregation of people belonging to the entire spectrum of the society in one place? Or is it the gamut of varied emotions that one can see on everyone's face that makes the place an entertaining one?
Just yesterday, I took my 22nd (or was it the 23rd?) train ride back home. Much to the dismay of my 'local guradian' (!), I shall be giving her extremely important class on Time Delay Simulations a miss on Monday (yey!). And whilst I was waiting for the C-3 coach to arrive on platform 3, I looked around. There was a veiled mother trying to placate her toddler that the 'gaadi' would come anytime now. Fact of the matter: it was running 5 hours late. Then there were the quintessential Indian Youth of today- you know what I mean... The garish shades, the embroidered jeans, the slick oiled hair- waiting for the ride of a lifetime. Where else than at a Railway station?
I reached the New Delhi Railway station a li'l past 11 PM, and as expected, there were hugs warmly exchanged between passengers and their reunited families. There were also some thoroughly disoriented blokes who didn't know what had struck them at this odd hour. I think Delhi does that to you if you have no acquaintance in this big, bad city. After all, the 'common('s) wealth' gets drained in a jiffy here. Need I explain more?
So as I comfortably perched on my ride back home, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the railway station. I wonder now, whether it was the hustle-bustle of the junta or was it my new found respect for the transient pit-stop in everyone's life.
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