So Long.

-Are you filling up the nomination form?

-I think so. But I dunno…might not end up doing it.

-Hey, you filling up the form right?

-I dunno. You’ll get through. You did it last year also.

-This is Vani.

-Err…Hi

-Err…Hi

-Err…Hi. We have a film to work on and we have three hours.

I am actually glad the selection interviews never took place and the fact that we were the only four who had applied. I know I wouldn’t have got selected (what with my silly habit of “umm”ing and “hmm”ing during interviews) and then I wouldn’t have met you guys.

I have been putting this off for quite sometime now thinking I’d write this post “later” but I figured there is no “later” anymore and not writing about the last year with you three would just be unfair.

I came to know one of you only in Agra after you threw up laughing at something I said. You, I thought, were just too cool and well read and therefore we had nothing in common. And you, I thought, are really very pretty and extremely cerebral till you became my our own special child.

But thank god, I came to know you.

Through a year of screening bad films that everyone attended and good films no one did and a year of borrowing staplers from other societies, making glasses out of Coke bottles and seeing files getting chewed up by dogs, we have lived- occasionally losing tempers, weeping, not giving a damn and smelling flowers. The important part is that we lived and lived together.

Whatever we end up doing- FTII film appreciation course as a graying but still as-cool-as-ever fifty year old, assisting Tarantino, peeing off flyovers or just being whiny about life, I just want you guys to remember the last one year and that I’m very very thankful for your tolerance and love.

Ladies, it has been a pleasure.

If any of you three are reading this, you’d know :)

-“We are Projekt with a K, we are cool ok? Hui!”

Being stupid and foolish and daft.All at the same time.

I feel like I am back to being my post XIIth standard self again. The same feeling of insecurity, the same self loathing and the same feeling of being absolutely useless.
And when I say that,I am not looking at only the sorry state of my academic future. I am back to being the stupid girl who was used to being a doormat or the fodder for all the gossip mongering tongues of the school and the extended friends' circles.
If I had to choose, I'd say that was the worst time of my life.And now,this.
I have realised that I can deal with lies, but fakes are just beyond all the levels of my tolerance.Liars only lie but fakes pretend to be someone they're not and almost make you believe in their hoax identities.
But ultimately, it IS my fault because it is I who puts her foot into traps again and again...it is my fault that I smile back to fake smiles and console fake tears, knowing fully well that they are fake!
I am just hopeless and beyond all help.
Because you see, you help them who dont know what shit they are in. But I know.
I, you see, am fully aware.
So here I am-stepping into another mound of shit as I type.

150.

"Chirojibon amar beena-tarey

tomar aaghat laglo baarey baarey,

tai to amar nana surer taaney

Praaney tomar porosh nilem dhorey..."

"All my life, on my veena strings-

You've hit the notes over and over again,

Which is why through my myriad tunes and songs,

I have kept your touch intact in my heart..."

To you, whose words came to me before everyone else's.

To you, whose songs i owe my first dance to.

To you, who has taken care to set each and every of my moods to some song or verse.

To you, who changes forms in every page and yet stays the same forever.

To you...for all your words.