about 6 years old
the inseparable deadly pair
my semi-acoustic
and that fat adorable old monk

epitaph

a soul in the shadows
a heart that bled so easily
and so silently
a mind of its own
always at the crossroads
waiting for a sign
waiting for no one

looking for a revelation
in all the wrong places
you were…
“a rebel without a clue”

wherever you are...
heaven or hell
i hope you have a guitar
in your arms
and a song
on your lips

**dedicated in the memory of Alberto who passed away recently. a friend, and a bro' in my tiny circle of friends. and one of the best guitar players i have ever known.

Never realized how much my life has changed, until this weekend.

Woke up at 4am on Saturday morning to see off S at the airport. The taxi finally came after a 1000 repeated instructions. These guys never fail to amaze me. 99 times out of 100, they won’t know a street or a landmark, and to think they are taxi drivers who are supposed to know a city inside-out.

The charm of Airports/Railway/Bus Stations; they always remind me of call centers, hospitals and police stations. They never sleep, they never stop, they are never boring, and you can think of a 1000 stories at these places 'coz everybody who comes here, has a story to tell.

The security has been tightened because of Republic Day and visitors are no longer allowed inside the airport. S went inside, all alone with the entire luggage. Wanted to be with her so much but as it wasn’t possible, I waited till the departure of her flight. So I walked all around the airport, watching the crowd and their little stories, and the faint glow of the early dawn sky.

Once she was on the plane, I made my way back home. Ever since I came to Bangalore, we have always been together on the weekends. So when I reached home, there was this silence so thick that I could hardly breathe. Left to myself, I hardly make a noise. Once, during a particular phase of my life, I went on for 3 days without uttering a single word.

In the evening a very good friend in Chennai called me up. He was living alone as he had relocated from Delhi because of his new job. His wife and little daughter are still in Delhi. And he said, “R, tell me one thing. How the hell do you manage to stay alone for so many years?”

I have been living alone for about 4 years and people have always asked me that question. This time, I didn’t say, “I don’t know” like I always used to. This time I told him that I understand.

S and I, we fell in love on Christmas Eve, about a year back. We began meeting regularly on weekends only after I came to Bangalore in May, 2006. Before that, it was a very difficult and expensive thing as we were thousands of miles apart.

There’s still two more weeks to go before she comes back; I have spent just one weekend without her and it feels like a whole year. I can say a million things about her but there’s just one thing I would like to say tonight.

She has painted my world and I never ever wanna change it.

Independence. Living on your own. Survival. Easy to say but for a lot of people, it’ll remain next to impossible; the hardest thing in this world.

It’s not related to your place of birth, your parents’ income, your circle of friends, or the story of your life. You, you only can take a decision on how you want to live your life. Being financially independent is not the only thing; there are a lot of other important things too.

I started washing my own clothes back home when I was in the 11-12 age range. Never knew why, but it sometimes offended my mom and elder sister. I could understand a bit about mom though; when a woman’s just known as a housewife because she doesn’t work or bring in the money, she is usually judged by the amount of housework she does.

I left home for my studies before I turned 16. And since then, I’ve lived with friends in hostels and rented 2-room /3-room flats. The first time, I didn’t know a thing about cooking; I was even scared of it. All I did in the first few months was helped the more experienced guys, by cutting the vegetables or cleaning the utensils.

I’ve been cooking since then, for 10 years or so now, and I know almost everything now, except for the fancy stuff like cakes and the other things you get at restaurants. And my approach to cooking has nothing to do with recipes or measurements. To me, cooking is all about sight, smell and taste.

People don’t have to become a chef just because they live away from their homes but they don’t have to be totally ignorant either. Or totally dependent on someone for that matter. So many people I know don’t even know how to make tea. They hire these cooks to buy the vegetables, cook and serve them, and wash the dirty utensils afterwards.

Then there’s another set of people to sweep and clean their rooms, and another to wash and iron their clothes. I get a lot of answers and excuses but it basically boils down to “I don’t know and I don’t have the time to learn” or a very simple and defensive, “Who’s got time?” And I wonder, and I wonder…I sweep and clean my room, wash and iron my clothes, buy vegetables, clean, cut and cook them, and wash the utensils after breakfast/lunch/dinner everyday. Sometimes, I have even sewn a tear or two in my clothes.

And I have been doing all this while I was a student, a customer care executive, a team leader, a project manager, an assistant manager…I have been doing all this work while I was working in the UK shift, US shift and the regular 9-6 shifts. And in between, I have also managed to find time to do the things I love.

Living with parents also doesn’t mean that people should get lost whenever they step outside the gate. In the bigger cities, I always find the migrants know a million things more about the city than the people who had lived there all their lives.

And it makes my blood boil whenever I see people treat their domestic help like dirt. And I wanna kill when they are just students who hire all these people with their parents’ money.

Last week, I met a friend’s friends – a couple in their early 30’s. They have a kid who has just learned to walk. The house was not big but it was not clean at all, the man and wife are both fat, the husband works, the wife doesn’t, and she was saying, “We have just hired a maid; she’ll be coming from next week.”

Oh dear Lord!!! One year down the line, I’m sure they will be spending money on a gym or some “Fuck The Rich and Lazy” diet.

Thought it was going to be a very quiet New Year’s Eve but it turned out to be a surprise. Was damn sure that it was just gonna be me and my girl, S. Had been cribbing a lot to her that she doesn’t know anyone worth meeting on the weekends, for a couple of drinks and interesting conversation.

But then an old friend of hers came from Hyd, and we all went to another friend’s place for the night. Someone mentioned the guitar and we took it from my place. It was a very nice group, and I had a great time though I learned the next day from S that I talked a lot of shit during the night. She and 3 others girls were the only sober ones in the group, and she remembered everything I talked about!!!

I realized too, afterwards, that I finished a whole lot of Vodka all alone – double the amount I used to normally drink on the weekends when I was in Delhi. The Vodka must have really got into my head as I had cut down heavily on drinks ever since I came to Bangalore. NEED to be VERY CAREFUL in the future.

When it rains, it pours. Not so quite, the fucking floods came along too in my case. Had been doing some freelancing work for the past 3 months or so, and then within a span of 2 weeks a total of 5 offers came - one each from Mumbai, Chennai, Delhi, Bangalore, and the last one from Malaysia. The Delhi offer was a huge temptation, the highest pay package and the promise of onsite trainings but the JD was a list of all the stuff that I am very familiar with, and I wanted to do and learn something new. Finally, after a lot of thought and headache, I accepted the offer from the company in Bangalore.

Watched Babel at PVR, one hell of a good movie. At home, on my PC, I’ve been watching movies almost every night. Some memorable ones include American History X, Don Juan de Marco, Fargo, Gia, Goodfellas, Henry – Portrait of a Serial Killer, House of Sand and Fog, It Happened One Night, Kalifornia, Leon, Love Song for Bobby Long, Midnight Cowboy, Of Love and Shadows, Once Upon a Time in America, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Miami Blues, Revenge, Seven Years in Tibet, The Machinist, The Deer Hunter, What’s Eating Gilbert Grape…

Been listening to Killswitch Engage’s “The End of Heartache.” The whole album is just BEAUTIFUL!!!

Heaven is...

that silence and...

the warm caress of your breath on my neck...

when you are in my arms.

You hate it. Or you are crazy about it. There are no middle paths when it comes to rock music, especially the harder, heavier variety – thrash, gothic, death, industrial…

I remember the first time I found Metallica’s Garage Days in one my brother’s room. I was about 11-12 then, and very much into U2 and Bruce Springsteen. Metallica was loud, Metallica was noisy and I didn’t like them one bit. As far as I know, Guns N’ Roses was the band that bridged the divide between the softer and heavier bands. After that, there was no turning back. The words, the music, the talent, the attitude…I just love them.

There are songs that send a thrill down my spine whenever I hear them. There are songs that amaze me with their beauty and simplicity. 2 guitars, a drum, and an inspired/tortured soul – that’s rock music. The music’s for the dreamers, the believers, and the outcasts.

Somewhere on the way, it became “cool” to listen to rock music and all the wannabes came along. And everybody wanted to learn the guitar. And everyone bought the guitar, and that’s when most of them got fucked coz they were never passionate about the music. More importantly, they could never understand or identify themselves with the music.

Their interest dies at the F chord. Believe me; I’ve been with a fair number of wannabe guitarists who doesn’t know a thing about ROCK MUSIC. These people think they know a band after listening to only one or two of their songs - Pink Floyd after “Another Brick in the Wall – Part 2”, The Doors after “Roadhouse Blues,” Metallica after “Nothing Else Matters,” Guns N Roses after “November Rain,” Megadeth after “Countdown to Extinction,” Nirvana after one of their slower unplugged numbers, Fear factory after “Cars”, Lacuna Coil after “Heaven’s a Lie”….and the list goes on.

The first guitar I picked up was a borrowed one from a friend. Everyday I would play it, and if I played it at night after school, my room mates would ask me to go outside as I was just a beginner, and there was no melody at all but just a lot of noise. I would then go to the roof and play till I was sleepy. In that Delhi winter, my fingers hardened, got calluses and finally bled. And they stung so badly whenever I got my hands wet.

After I learned the basics, I didn’t touch the guitar for another 4-5 years. My first guitar, a Givson semi-acoustic was bought when I was in PG. I still believe I'm a beginner and I've a million more things to play and learn.

You will feel a daughter’s pain when you listen to Motorhead’s “Don't Let Daddy Kiss Me”, a rejected and neglected kid’s angst when you listen to Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy”, life on the road with Bob Seger’s/Metallica’s “Turn the Page”…. No other form of music has caused riots, mini-revolutions or suicides.

Seen Easy Rider? Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper riding their huge modified Harleys on the highway, with Steppenwolf’s “Born to be Wild” in the background? That’s the spirit of Rock Music. And I just love it.