Graphics

Call me an amateur engineering student, but I absolutely LOVE graphic designers' work! I've seen a few blogs and portfolios over the last few months and few people come close to the levels of creativity those folk inspire. Everything is just so aesthetically correct, precisely in the space it's supposed to be in and just right.

Maybe it's the fact that engineering's forced me to shove my creativity in a little cupboard under an irrelevant staircase in my head (The fact that there's an upcoming Harry Potter movie is clearly affecting my allusions) but I really believe these guys get to really push the limits of thinking, instead of pushing the limits of sheer brain volume. Let's not even go to those dirty tracks of talking about modifications in engineering curricula, but I'm just saying, it ain't fair.

Damn all of you. And damn you too, Bing. You know precisely why.

PS - I must remember to keep a notebook.

It starts

Inauguration. They had to play the Love Story/Viva La Vida mashup SOMEWHERE. Just didn't expect it to be at the end of the mime. The effect when those swooning violin notes of Viva la Vida hit, however, was just as expected. The song was made, it seems, for this occasion. When all that Waves was would boil down to this edition.

The world isn't ending anytime soon, no, but the world as I know it, is. It had to be something fitting.

And this was just the icing on the cake. The real deal was the music society guys, with Aseem, Sigtia, Anmol, Chinmay and Navjyot performing a medley to be remembered for years after.

The next few days will be disillusioning, to say the least.

Culmination

It all began in the first week of college when we just heard of it. It was nothing more than a mere legend, something that'd happened in the past and was far, far away. Then Big Break 2007 happened, and that life-changing video happened. The video that decided what I'd give a major part of my college life to. Slowly things picked up, with the erstwhile Sponz club inductions, getting to know senior folk and finally deciding to take the plunge in the festival. Ever since, everything became too speedy to notice as discrete events. They're all a proverbial blur.

Cut to today. Day Zero of Waves 2010 - Viva La Vida. The culmination of the efforts of students across seven batches, brought to you by people filled upto the ears with enthusiasm.

The more verbose I make this, the less important it will be for me.

Maybe I'll finally be able to feel nostalgic without guilt.

Of bulls

"Expecting life to treat you well just because you're a good person is like expecting a bull not to charge at you just because you're vegetarian."

-Unknown

Tangled Up In Blue, I owe you one for this.

Inclined to believe

John Mayer on a rainy midnight with a Journalism exam on the next day with an inkling of a cold and a hope that the inkling stays as what it is now - an inkling.

Someone wise recently said, "When you're unsettled and disturbed, it often takes a sudden burst of chaos to knock you right in place." Wise words indeed. The calm before the storm is overrated, it's the age of the calm after the storm. After the dust settles and all that.

Some moments are so beautifully ordinary in their essence, one must write about them. A chance of diving into the abyss. Being caught by the scruff of your neck and saved by intangible constants of life. Average on the surface, a tad too average on closer scrutiny.

Vague posts that make very less sense to all but yourself. The best part is, that they make a different kind of sense to everyone else. Realizations dawning everywhere, happier world.

Am I living it right?

Am I living it right?

Am I living it right?

Why, why Georgia, why?

Stepping Stones

There was once a young boy, adventurous and steadfast. He had a simplistic life, with ups and downs, albeit more than the average kid of his age, but remarkably average nonetheless.

And suddenly, there was only failure, failure all 'round. Nothing really seemed to work out, nothing fell into place. No endeavour successful, no achievement added to the roster. He couldn't see clearly, it was all haze and confusion.

But he'd heard failures are stepping stones to success. He'd heard it all gets better and at the end of a long and eventful life, it only matters what your journey has been. Life was the exact opposite of a state function, he was told. It all falls into place, it all becomes okay, as long as you've garnered happiness along the way! That was how things work, he'd heard!

Sadly, it wasn't.

The finer things

(Note: This was written in the library while around a 100 people were studying around me. It's more of a spillage of thoughts, not a carefully crafted article)

I recently happened to read a rather intriguing article in the editorial page of the Economic Times. Does the name Joshua Bell ring a bell? (heh) He's a grammy-winning violinist who once decided to conduct a social experiment on being prodded by a Washington Post columnist. He donned a t-shirt, a baseball cap, a pair of rugged jeans and played his best compositions outside a Washington metro station, as one of those buskers by on the pavement. Out of over a thousand people who passed by, apparently, only seven stopped to listen, and, amazingly, one recognized him. There's stats on how much cash he collected from the people who stopped to listen (apparently the guy who recognized him payed him $20, i don't know how that's a sign of respect and all) but let's not go there.

Of course, the columnist who came up with this idea and later wrote about it got quite a few accolades for it, including the 2008 Pulitzer prize. (Oh, he won another Pulitzer in 2010. For an article on something along the lines parents killing their children by leaving them in cars. Don't ask) The point of this entire charade was to prove that people have "no time to stand and stare". That they pay substantial amounts, $100 for a half-decent seat, to listen to the same guy at his shows, but they really wouldn't stop for him at the metro station.

The idea stands. Strong and steady. We've all got quite a busy schedule. People don't have time today, there is always something or the other on their minds keeping them tensed and taut. What the columnist wanted to convey was that human relations aren't the key anymore, it's all about alienating yourself from human contact, being alone and calling it competition.

But you've gotta admit there's a better way of proving it. This experiment proves nothing except the author's talent of making 45 minutes sound like an epic.

I discussed this issue with a friend over tea. I honestly didn't see the big deal. Agreed, it's a racy life, nobody has the time to appreciate beauty even when it's staring you in the face. And as for recognizing the guy at the metro station - Thin about it, if Ustad Amjad Ali Khan or some other Indian virtuoso were to be standing in a below-average attire at CST station at 10 AM, how many people would recognize him?

What did come out of it, though, was a realization that there's people who're working on it. Working on trying to show the world how out-of-hands the pace of the world in general has gone. I know I'll get questioning looks and advice that it's a dog-eat-dog world, and survival of the fittest and all that, but I still firmly believe that the finer things of life are seldom appreciated.

But what change do I expect? What are these social experiments going to achieve? There is no way the amount of competition, the insanely workaholic habits of people in general are going to change. I guess all that matters is if one realizes what happiness is for oneself.

Whatever be the case, one thing's for sure. Joshua Bell in a metro station is not the way you prove this.

Full Monty

Giving in to a whim I had, I recently decided to watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail again. The last time was more than two years ago, as a fresher in college, kicked about the LAN and what not. You could describe my reaction to the movie as "amused" or even "mostly grinning punctuated by occasional laughter."

This time around, though, such blasphemy I did not commit. At the end of an hour and a half of trying not to fall off the chair, not only did my sides ache, I think there's some permanent damage on the sidelines. No episode of any show, no movie has ever got me in splits such as the Pythons did and it would be the lease I could do to just plainly dedicate a post to those geniuses of humour.

And on the walk back to hostel from the night canteen, I discussed this exact issue with Prashant. Our senses of humour have transformed over the last few years, and HOW! From being almost contrasting, to forming this one fuzzy mesh of jokes and one-liners that are completely predictable and more often than not, funny only to us. The bad part is, I can never get around to writing about this. I've tried to put fingers to keyboard and recreate scenarios, but somehow, never happens.

Yeah, that's about it. I don't think I have a point. Thought in transition. Admittedly, all of the above could've been put much better. That for another day.

Shut the hell up, Johnny. Play some other time.

There's something overtly satisfying about switching off the music in the room, turning the lights off and listening to the pattering of the rain outside. On days when you've predicted the rain seeing the weather in the morning, the sound of drops falling onto the hostel lawn is one of the best sounds you could hear on days like these! And it's rain with the entire works, lightning, thunder, gale and all. 

One of the first thought that strikes me whenever it unexpectedly pours, is that the rains are one of the strongest catalysts to nostalgia and brewing up long-lost memories. Our very own Muggle-world pensieve. (Yes, I make Harry Potter references. Literature elitists, die!) 

Somehow, right now I wish I had Bing's knack for writing fantasy literature. It's the ideal thing to write when there's no particular thoughts that you have, and plus there's just so much more potential to write when the weather's so perfect.

And tonight, I absolutely have no sense of anxiety about tomorrow''s early morning tutorial. Like it's all over, like there's no semester with it's inherent impending doom, like I can spend the rest of my time reading and writing and figuring out the intricacies of music in life. 

Just one last thing. I guess Sinatra wrote "Singing in the rain" because he had loads of space to dry his clothes.

I'm getting really rusty.

Ode to a Sunny Day

Warren Mendonsa decides to name his newest album, rather succinctly, The New Album. And without going into a detailed album review, and before the all-encompassing high of the song goes away, let me just say that "Ode to a Sunny Day" is happiness. No deep thoughts behind this one, no thinking about how the song is making me feel the way it is. Just happiness, in its most raw form. Pure exuberance at something this uplifting, something this perfectly woven. Fiery admiration for the guitarist who converted an idea into something this meaningful.

This post arose out of an overflow of unmoderated energy. If I start baptizing every one of these emotions, hundreds will pop up. But I refrain, for I want the musical high to last longer.

No more words. Just hearing. Click here to hear :)

The moment

One of the most crowning moments in the intricately drawn (drawn as in wire, not a sketch) history of Jethro Tull is, expectedly, in their self-proclaimed epic. Ian Anderson's answer to critics reading too much into their most famous album, "Aqualung" and calling it a concept album. He supposedly got slightly pissed and decided to give them the biggest and the most single-tracked (heh) concept album, Thick as a Brick.

Thick as a brick is approximately forty four minutes long. It segues into so many musical styles and moods, it's hard to believe the song to be even a minute shorter. In fact, fitting so much into hardly a three quarters of an hour is an achievement in itself.

This moment I speak of comes somewhere at 17 minutes, a minute or two after the song's famous intro has reprised. A sudden glimpse of a melancholy theme, a minor scale later, they break into that tune. That moment. The tune which radiates hope, which is the breaking of light from lament, could not have been better. Perfect execution, just the right character, just the right tone. Barrie Barlow is an arrant wizard at the drums, and the moment seems way too wonderful to just be born out of a long song. It deserves a pedestal of its own.

Maybe it is not the technical genius that lends it the beauty. Maybe it's just the hope. Maybe that's what we look for, and maybe that's what lends most things their beauty.

The lady

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

He was a man of creation. A man who had so many ideas, so many thoughts which he knew would one day revolutionize the way of life. Every moment, he was thinking of how to make things easier and automatically applying his mind. It just came naturally to him. He knew he was a prodigy, but he didn't want the fame. In the moments where he didn't devote his time to his creativity, he often wondered why the rest of the folk didn't see the world the way he did. It was all so beautiful and it seemed everyone blatantly denied it! One thing, he knew for sure - it is the fear of failure that makes people unhappy. This fear manifests itself in quite a few forms, but it is the same fear nonetheless!

After all, being criticized and ostracized was nothing new to him. Every radical idea, he told everyone who would listen, is tossed around and cursed like a murderer left to his fate with an angry mob. And it was not just for his ideas that he was ostracized. In his country, his kind were not treated with kindness. He knew, as he knew many things others didn't, that they would be accepted someday.

As time went by, he because obsessed over his creativity. If he didn't conceptualize something far-reaching for a long time, he would get very restless. His inspiration, uniquely, came from people. He liked walking around the plaza, looking at people and figuring out how their lives could be made better.

It had just been a fleeting moment in one of these walks. He spotted her through the crowd, and actually walked back a few steps - something he never did. She was not your average beauty, but there was this ethereal quality about her. She wasn't your average pretty girl you wanted to get in bed with. You would want to talk to her about life and the universe! A few glances at her and one knew she had it all figured out, like she was almost mocking you!

He asked around in the crowd, as discreetly as he could, about who she was. When he heard the name, he startled in recognition - that last name was impossible to not know! From such a family, how could he not have heard of such a beautiful lady so profound in her thoughts? His mind started going far, far away, trying to comprehend what that look meant. Did she know something the world didn't? That subtle look, that amused glint in her eyes - oh those attentive eyes, how they soaked in every detail of their surroundings!

Leonardo shook his head, and made up his mind to get that mysterious smile out of his head. Whoever had the time to ponder over and paint Lisa Sforza, daughter of the Duke of Milan, when there were machines that flew to be made and holy blood to be protected!

Top songs - 1

This, hopefully, will build up into another series. Songs currently spinning around my head, refusing to leave, and leaving that permanent mark. Songs whose lyrics keep popping up while I'm sitting at Nescafe, or whose solo I would hum inappropriatly loudly even while in the library, and very subconsciously.

TS, I shall name it. I've got this affection to short-formed-series now.

Anyway, here goes.

Mr. Big - Green Tinted Sixties Mind

No, I didn't make it for the Big concert. I did hear another incredibly talented band, Slain from Bangalore, perform it in college recently. The first time I heard the song was them performing it a year ago, at the BITS rock night. It is still a mystery to me why I hadn't explored Mr. Big till that late. The signature happy-jumpy intro and the perfectly fitting soloing by Gilbert, Eric Martin's intense emotion-filled vocals make this song an instant mood-lifter!

Zero - Christmas in July

Another song which became so much better after hearing it live. Yes, I did witness the God of tone, Warren, at I-Rock, and good GOD did he own the concert! Among all the other names that performed that night, Warren stood out like a saviour of good music. It poured that day like there was no tomorrow, and we still stood in the killing rain and heard every note played by the man! Something about this song that makes it in the switch-off-lights-throw-head-back-and-drown category! One of the best guitar instrumentals I've heard by anyone ever, let alone an Indian artist!

The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Rainy Day, Dream Away/Still Raining, Still Dreaming

"Rainy Day, Dream Away

Oh let the sun take a holiday!"

Along with his pioneering guitar sounds, Hendrix has never stopped amazing me with his lyrics. The recent showers in Goa drew me to these two songs. The experience of listening to the songs one after the other, over and over again, while the rain pelted down on my window was one of the most memorable ones I've had! Every time it starts raining after that, I can't stop myself from humming those lines now.

The Allman Brothers Band - Whipping Post

Be it that sexy little melody after "Sometimes I feel..." in the song, or the solo, or the haunting bassline running through the song - this one's one of those everlasting ones. One of those that never get old, or you never get bored of. It's the pinnacle of progressive electric blues, what with the 11/8 verse and the 12/8 chorus! And the crowning moment of this song is that 22-minute live epic in the Filmore East tapes. Everything about those 22 minutes exalts pure Blues power!

Grateful Dead - Box of Rain

I had to really think before I typed out the name of this song, mostly because the entire American Beauty album has been one of my favourites ever since the semester began. But what with the weather being at its most beautiful yet (obviously in the middle of tests, when rather than breathing it into my system, I need to sit in the library studying and watch it through glass windows), I thought Box of Rain would be fitting. Not anywhere else have I seen vocal melodies pulled off so perfectly. The lyrics just seem to flow and in the tandem of seemingly disconnected music from three guitars rises a melody so uplifting, so joyful and so comforting! I don't think there's ever gonna be a time when Box of Rain won't get my mood up!

Writing this was way more fun than I thought it would! Hopefully, many more of these!

Take me to a better place.

It's messed up how much the lack of sleep can trouble your mind. Everything turns out annoying. The noise, the sheer volume of everything around you, the frivoulty of most things, the constant bickering, the utter indifference of the world. And on expression of the aforementioned, a blame of being elitist, people telling you to get over it and stop blaming others, accusations of hypocrisy and many such things. 

I just want to drown into There there and let everything go. It's just not worth it. All the efforts, the constant bearing on the mind, the life of an engineering college, the charges of seeking attention, all such things make it not worth it whatever be the rewards. Is THIS the college life they speak of, or is the matter with me? If I could play the guitar today, I'd be strumming Radiohead tunes all night long. To hell with classes, to hell with assignments. To hell with the people.

Like the do-dah man!

I've had quite a few things to say since the last time I posted. Loads has happened, and the happiness levels have shot up by miles. The music keeps influencing, and the music keeps toying with my mood.

Grateful Dead were a recent discovery. Having heard of them for years and labeling their music as slightly above average, I recently managed to listen to the recording of a live show. All of a sudden, the respect was out of the roof and I saw why they were revered to the extent they were.

Grateful Dead - Truckin'

Truckin', got my chips cashed in. keep truckin, like the do-dah man
Together, more or less in line, just keep truckin on.

Arrows of neon and flashing marquees out on main street.
Chicago, new york, detroit and its all on the same street.
Your typical city involved in a typical daydream
Hang it up and see what tomorrow brings.

Dallas, got a soft machine; Houston, too close to New Orleans;
New York's got the ways and means; but just wont let you be, oh no.

Most of the cast that you meet on the streets speak of true love,
Most of the time theyre sittin and cryin at home.
One of these days they know they better get goin
Out of the door and down on the streets all alone.

Truckin, like the do-dah man. once told me youve got to play your hand
Sometimes your cards aint worth a dime, if you dont layem down,

Sometimes the lights all shinin on me;
Other times I can barely see.
Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip its been.

What in the world ever became of sweet jane?
She lost her sparkle, you know she isnt the same
Livin on reds, vitamin c, and cocaine,
All a friend can say is aint it a shame?

Truckin, up to Buffalo. been thinkin, you got to mellow slow
Takes time, you pick a place to go, and just keep truckin' on.

Sittin and starin out of the hotel window.
Got a tip theyre gonna kick the door in again
Id like to get some sleep before I travel,
But if you got a warrant, I guess youre gonna come in.

Busted, down on Bourbon Street, set up, like a bowlin pin.
Knocked down, it gets to wearin thin. they just wont let you be, oh no.

You're sick of hangin around and youd like to travel;
Get tired of travelin and you want to settle down.
I guess they cant revoke your soul for tryin,
Get out of the door and light out and look all around.

Sometimes the lights all shinin on me;
Other times I can barely see.
Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip its been.

Truckin, Im a goin home. whoa whoa baby, back where I belong,
Back home, sit down and patch my bones, and get back truckin on.
Hey now get back truckin home.