Journal Rules

Ground rules for the journal:

1. Write every day, even if you have not written for the novel, write as to why?
2. Tell yourself the truth.
3. Write about the influences. Film, music, books, art or people that triggered off the want to write.
4. Thou shalt not lose passion
5. Thou shalt not forget the goal. A finished book by end of December
6. Thou shalt ignore people telling you, you cannot do it
7. Start the first day by reading random pieces written before.

Yehi Hai Write Choice Baby, A-ha!

Enough random thinking. It will still continue, but from today, the blog will see posts about creating my second novel. I plan to do the following things by the year end:

1. Be brutally honest about myself, to myself:

Satyadev Dubey once told me over a cup of chai at MIG club, ‘Lie to the world, but don’t ever make the mistake of lying to yourself,’ It’s about time I took that advice seriously. I am honest with myself but to put it down in words is to crystalize it, frame it up and make it permanent. I am not going to be scared of it.

 

1. Delete the delete:

Negative self- image might help me improve and all, but the negativity about my own work makes me destroy most of the things that I write. From now on, delete does not exist. I will write, and however crappy I think my writing, I will revisit it later and craft it to reduce its level of mediocrity.

 

1. Worker harder on the hard work:

Working hard is simply not enough. I will work harder at working harder.

 

1. Reflections can be beautiful:

Maintain a writers’ journal so I can reflect on the process of writing.

 

1. Share:

Being nervous about sharing my work is bad for my health. And a lady with bitten nails doesn’t exactly look gorgeous. It’s my work, I will share it. So what if someone hates it!

 

1. Do Doddle Do:

I am always guilty of talking rather than doing. I won’t just write these things, I will do them.

Off to start with the second novel. To piece together silly little pieces of the puzzle I have strewn across the different corners of my mind. To piece them together, to bring alive each character and to be the schizophrenic writer I love being. I am off to be restless, to explore where the story goes and where it comes from, to feel the pulse of each character and to be haunted, consumed and bewildered by the story I want to tell. And my readers, darlings, you have a choice, to be involved in this mad mad mad journey over the next God knows how many days. If it sounds too boring, let me know. I’ll sneak in a fun bit or two, but I really *need* to do this. 

Let the madness begin: drumroll!

Woh 7 Weeks: End of a holiday

Past 7 weeks have been pure bliss; ups and downs included. Quality sister time, unique relationship insight (how I love my older friends!), a dash of disappointment, blistered feet, emptied bank balances, crazy credit card bills, tons of food, serving portions I can only dream of finishing, jeans feeling a bit too snug, not fretting about the weight, the beach, pride, inspiration and more than anything LOVE.

7 weeks have passed since I left Mumbai, all starry eyed. And now I shuttle out to Miami airport sobbing. Yeah, you heard me right. I am grateful for all the madness of the past 7 weeks. I sobbed because my sister (she never really was a baby sister) is independent and brave, far braver than I could ever be. Here I was leaving for India, why did it feel like I had forgotten something, someone? The truth is I was leaving behind a big chunk of my heart in Miami.
I hate that I am early at the airport (paranoid as I am, I am always early!) Check-in and security checks, all taken care of, I still have another two and a half hours to kill. I could either brood over how much I was going to miss my sister or see pictures and giggle with glee about the lovely times we had exploring her city with her, going to Disney world or while battling bed bugs (bed bugs was not fun but hey, I m trying to see the glass half full here!)
I could sit and smile about the fun times I had in New York with Roger, Baa and Tarlet. I could think about what an adventure it was discovering what I didn’t want from a relationship… There, I started again. So much happened on the past 7 weeks that I *almost* feel like a whole new person. Okay, I’m exaggerating but, I do feel like Shakti Salgaokar version 8.0.

I’ve fallen in love with solitude and lost my heart to a city. I love Paris, London and Barcelona. But New York, I think we are headed for a serious relationship and imagine the mess that’s going to be when Mumbai finds out!
And yet, I am back to the city I call home. Despite its pollution, dufus governance (the Frenchman working on Mumbai waste management project on my flight brought this to my notice) I love it. There’s so much this city can be if she got the right things to work with, and yet, she sits there, making the best of whatever she’s got. New York is like the sexy woman you want to be. She’s that woman who has the perfect life. A perfect career, she looks hot, so perfect that even her problems seem perfect. Someday, I’ll come back…

And yeah, on this trip I also achieved acute spiritual maturity (yeah, right!).  And I finally figured the prophecy of one my gurus, Mr. John Lennon: Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.

I’m alright to go where life takes me. No more planning. No more superficial goals. Just one principle- have fun.
Btw, Air France: thank you for being a kill joy airline. The cranky me, agrees to go through the ordeal of 19 hours on a flight for two things. Nonstop movies and eating airline food like Charlie Chaplin (dad, u r genius in discovering that simile. Yes I don’t mind airline food. It helps passtime!). Yeh modern day air travel isn’t so bad because food apparently has gotten better and inflight entertainment is supposed to be awesome. Thanks air France for not having a personal screen on my first flight from Miami to Paris and a little note: Hindu non veg meal means a non-veg meal sans beef or pork. It doesn’t mean you serve me rice, veggies and chicken with garam masala tossed on it!

Anyway, the 8 hour ordeal ended at Charles de Gaulle. And look at me, merrily Bon jour and au revoiring people like I knew French, deliberately struggling to read things in French before giving up and settling for English. Whoa! I miss Nani. The last time I was at this airport, Nani and yours truly had flown in from Barcelona on a delayed flight and missed our connecting flight to London. The lady who reissued our boarding cards, issued a wrong one for Nanchan and I put up a classic performance, being the drama queen I am, and got Nani bumped up to business class.
Such funny incidents happen when me and Nani set off to explore the world. ‘Be nice to your siblings,’ is an underrated line from the Sunscreen Song. Love your siblings, pour your soul into them, because trust me, other than your parents they are the only people who know you, your past, your whims, your fancies, your strengths and weaknesses and yet love you like no one else will. My sibling is a part of me, a part of who I am and what I am. I realise this after years of sibling rivalry, friendship, arguments, fights and much more.

So yeah, Nano, this one’s for you. Love life so much that you can be a 70 year old who can tell tales of her life and amuse people by the sheer presence of life in them!
And in case u want assistance, who u gonna call?

Straight From The Art

Art used to be complex. If you loved it, you were fancy. I’d spend time in front of a portrait, clueless to what the brush strokes were or what the colours were or how revolutionary the painting itself was. I was clueless. Until 3 years ago, when I hit The National Gallery and took an art tour on a whim, I thought visiting museums to look at paintings was pointless. Until 3 years ago, no painting other than Mona Lisa at the Louvre interested me. Until 3 years ago, Monet was just a random name.

On a cold windy New York day, with not much to do outdoors, I set out to the MET. “Its one of the best museums I have ever been too!” Far too many people had told me. And as I climbed up the beautiful stairs, I knew why. The museum is enormous. It houses paintings, sculptures. Well, I should stop. Most of you know that the MET is huge and what all it has..

Rewind 3 years. I was alone in London. It was valentine’s day and I didn’t give a shit about the red all around or the love that was in the air. So I went into the National Gallery and took a few guided tours. It was here that I fell in love with knowing the story behind each painting. The era they were painted in, how subtly the artist left a mark of their perception on the image they painted, and of course, I realised that I do indeed enjoy seeing museums. Suddenly, walking down long corridors halting every minute to take in a painting became fun.

Fast forward: back to 20th October 2009. I entered the MET and grabbed a schedule sheet. The first tour I would take was American paintings, followed by an interesting tour: fashion through art and then there was an impressionist tour before I headed out to meet a friend at Columbia University. I wanted to take the modern art tour as well, but then I already liked the sound of my day!

Copley, Homer, Trumbaults were followed by a painting that took my breath away and tickled my curiosity. I stopped in front of it, waiting for the rest of the group to settle. Before the guide told me its story, I knew I was in love with the painting: Madame X.

A woman with a pallid white skin tone dons a black gown that highlights her figure. Her hand rests rather uncomfortably on a table as she looks in an awkward direction. Her longish nose, which might look ugly on anyone else, looks elegant and there’s an air of sophistication, pride and immense amount of attitude about the woman in the painting. Her dress is held by two straps and one strap is noticeably different from the other. She looked gorgeous, and the painter must have been taken by her beauty to depict her the way she looked (beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, and this beholder thought this woman was gorgeous, you could just tell!)

“The painting is that of a well-known Parisian socialite Madame Gautreau. She was born in America and went to Paris in search of a wealthy husband. Known for her glamour and style, Madame was a flamboyant woman. John Singer Sargent’s painting led to a lot of controversy resulting in the fall of Madame. Although her name was nowhere on it, people knew it was her. Now in those days…”

She went on to explain that it was a bit too shocking in the day and age. Today, far lesser than that is worn and yet called classy, but Madame’s outfit, her pose and the fallen strap in the original painting, caused quite an uproar. Didn’t she know she was posing in an outrageous pose then? Why did Sargent paint her the way he did? Who was Amelie Gatreau?   Wikipedia wasn’t going to be enough and hence I got myself Strapless, a novel by Deborah Davis. It’s a well-researched account of Gautreau’s and Sargent’s lives leading upto the painting of Madame X and what happens after the painting.

The book had me hooked. The lives of women in high society, the fickleness of their marriages (it was normal to have affairs as long as they were discreet, huh?) the ways of the world of art, the business angle of art, men and their muses, friendships that were ways of getting ahead in the society. Not much has changed today. The women might not need to find a rich husband, women are allowed to paint (back in the day, women did not get admitted to art school), but we still make friends to make better contacts, we cheat discreetly and the big change: less and less of us seem to believe in marriage.  To be as gorgeous and glamorous as Amelie and to be stuck in a loveless marriage would be a disaster. But what amuses me even more is that after being painted in that fashion, Amelie lost all she had worked for, whereas Sargent gained repute and went on to become a celebrated painter who rubbed shoulders with the high and mighty in England and America.

It’s a story of art but more than anything, it’s the story of a search, the endless pursuit of youth, glamour and fame. In the end, it’s a hollow existence but that hollow existence stands immortalized on a canvas in the MET, looking at thousands of visitors that pass by, thinking, how the times have changed and yet, so many things remain unchanged…

New York I Love You; The Film, Not So Much

NYC to me is a city glorified by films and music. Many directors have romanced this city on celluloid. Quite a few legendary TV series have had the city as a character by itself and not a mere location. New York. It has cinematic magic glued all over it. So when you happen to be in New York when a film called ‘New York, I love you’ releases, you can’t help but be a little excited.

On a pleasant evening, I coaxed my heavily pregnant friend to come see this rendezvous on celluloid. A rendezvous with a city that I have been much fascinated by. Unfortunately, we came out unimpressed. The stories were predictable, random and sometimes, one couldn’t help but wonder if the stories had anything to do with New York in the first place. I mean how is chatting up a woman over a cigarette, a New York phenomenon?

One would expect to see the Empire State Building or the Statue of Liberty or Central Park, Brooklyn Bridge weaved into the stories beyond being mere locations or part of some random montage. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the montage, you’d never realise this film was about New York, leave alone be a tribute to the city. Or how is a squabbling old couple walking down a street innately New York like? Distanced couples rediscover each other all over the world and the musician who has to read Dostovesky could have been in Moscow for all I care? Where is New York in these stories?

I feel no New York love in this one, I don’t see anything remotely fascinating or remotely ‘New Yorkish’ about these films made by a bunch of noted filmmakers and written by some very awesome people. I loved Paris Je T’aime. I loved how the soul, the identity of Paris was weaved into each segment with much love. That love, that soul is simply missing in this one.

Btw, my sandals broke and I had to walk home barefoot! Couldn’t help but think about Neil Simon’s play, ‘Barefoot In The Park’. Had he written something for this ‘tribute’, I am sure he’d have created a fiery little story that would do justice to the madness that is New York City. Dad, I am sure you’ll agree!

 

 

Living a Dream

A day in the life of Shakti Salgaokar: The day that felt too good to be true. The day that was filmy.

A van pulls up in the building. Two girls walk out to the van and hug tight. One of them is dressed a little too much for Miami. Jeans, tshirt and woollen jacket get her some extra attention from people walking around. She hugs the girls in shorts again and nearly chokes up. ‘Have a happy Diwali, okay? And eat well, and don’t be out too late and…’
‘Enjoy NYC. Live it up and have fun okay?’

The girls part. She settles into the van and wipes a teardrop on her cheek. She wanted to see New York her whole life. And she had had daydreams about landing in New York. In those dreams, she always landed with her sister. But then she realised there was no point in fretting. She had to be grateful that she was about to see New York City.

She was early for her flight, so she settled into the lounge with a grande Café Mocha and a chocolate chip muffin. She tried to read her book, but couldn’t focus. A lot had happened around her and a lot is about to happen. Her trip to NYC is a lot more than just a vacation. It has an agenda to it. She has a gut feeling that her dreams are about to come true. She flips through the book: Spouse by Shobha De. A book about marriage and all that one needs to be prepared for. She laughs of many tips that the celebrity authoress dispenses in the book. ‘Why am I reading this?’ she asks herself.

She settles into her seat as soon as the aircraft boards. A window seat on the right, as instructed by her father, she rarely dismisses the father’s suggestions. She has heard about New York from friends, she’s had impressions about the city from movies, tv series and she has painted a mental picture of the city through the songs she’s grown up hearing. But her biggest influence in loving NYC before she’s even seen the face comes from the stories her dad has to tell. She loves seeing the way his eyes light up when he talks about the city. If nothing, she wants to see the city that is such a joy to the person she looks up to all the time.

She keeps staring out the window like a 5 year old who can’t wait for the car ride to end. She keeps staring at the ground below, scanning it to see if NYC is visible yet. And then the pilot announces that they’re ready to land. She sticks her nose to the window and peers. As they close in on the ground, her eyes start to light up. She sees them in a faint reflection on the window she’s stuck to. She smiles, she nearly jumps out of the seat when she realises she is finally going to see New York. And then, some flickering lights make her shriek with delight. Why, it’s Times Square.
She lands, she calls up the one person she wishes was sitting next to her on the plane.

‘Nani, I just landed!’ she says with a wide eyed grin. She knows, she knows its love at first sight, but yet she bounces about into a cab. And takes in the sight of every little thing… Thousands come to New York, why is she so thrilled? Because it was her dream!
–
I am so dreamy eyed about New York. I love walking the streets with a big smile. I love spending time with Raj and Pratibha and I love bonding with little Tara. I do miss Nani, but hey, we have our whole lives to see New York and many other cities.

Bonds and Memories

Day 13&14, Tuesday 1st&2nd October, 2009

I am sorry. I just can’t fit these two days in a blog post. It’s just so close to my heart, this trip. The story of these two days will be something me and Nani will pakao our grandkids with. Be it the Jurassic Park ride, or missing Ross Geller while reading dinosaur labels. Be it taking mad pictures next to the Cat in the Hat or be it getting drenched on the Popeye ride. Be it being kissed by Chip and Dale or be it riding on a Disney train to Mickey Mouse’s house. Be it taking a flight into Neverland or be it discovering a small small world or be it riding the Carousel of Progress. All these things are meant to be treasured in my heart, I wish I could write about it all but I can’t.

Another reason why I can’t write is that we never got to relish the after taste of the trip. Nani had really bad breakouts all over her body and soon, we discovered a bedbug infestation in Nani’s room. Hell followed. Her roommate wanted to leave the house, the lease was on her name, we found out the landlord was being chased by the FBI and then I wanted to leave the house. We had to wash and clean everything, our luggage, books, clothes, sheets. We had to bake all the books. (I know I love baking, but I never thought I would bake books, damn you, bed bugs!)We had to hunt for a house. And it was hell. My little sister was bitten up, her school had started, she didn’t have a home. And the big sister in me obviously was very very upset. Of course, Moody, NewYorker and Roger were constantly trying to tell me it will be okay and I knew it would be okay. Maybe I was overreacting, maybe I was being obsessive, but the truth is, I haven’t been this disturbed for eons.

We finally did find Nani another place. Everything is ok now as I gear up for my New York trip. But I do wake up at night and see Nani sleeping peacefully despite the red spots on her face, and I get teary eyed (yeah yeah very Nirupa Roy-esque I know!) Why should she suffer?

Disneyland was lovely and strengthened our sisters’ bond, true, but the bed bug issue and the entire upheaval made me realise that joy might bring you closer, but a crisis will test that closeness and strengthen the bond. It’s like the heat-test iron goes through to strengthen it.

Childhood Dreams: Priceless!

Day 12, Wednesday 30th September, 2009

The beach can only entertain you so much. There has to be something more done. Now, Disneyland is something we’ve been wanting to do, bachpan se and the cheapest deal also was going to cost us a bundle. It’s at times like these that I wish I’d chosen a profession that was far more lucrative than writing. Don’t get me wrong. I love being a writer. I love it, but it isn’t the place to be if you want to shower expensive holidays and gifts on yourself or others. However, i have done some chindigiri in my last job and I do have a little bit saved up for a rainy day.

That rainy day, I decided, was here. If the money you save doesn’t come handy in giving you some joy, what’s the use? I thought about the joy it would be to see Disney World with Nani, I thought about that chance to be two little girls we used to be again and I thought about all those dream plans of visiting Disneyland that we’d made as 15 and 11 yr olds. Well, quite like a dudette in a Master Card ad, I realised that I would have many opportunities to make money and fatten my bank balance (yeah, I’m being ambitious) but this chance to bring alive a childhood dream, it wasn’t coming back. So, I made a call and booked my tickets. Two days to Orlando, one day in Disney’s Magic Kingdom and another in Universal Studios’ Island of Adventure.

Meanwhile, we discovered that all the inhabitants of the house had been bitten by something. Me and Nani’s roommate not so much, but Nani and the roommate’s friend were really bitten up. We figured the fat cat had got in some ticks and hence the house was fumigated with a flea spray.

We tucked ourselves in at midnight to the excitement of an early morning trip to Orlando. I don’t know about Nani, but I felt the same excitement I’d feel the night before a school picnic to Esselworld. H how I missed feeling this excited! I knew  that the next two days were going to be $ well spent…

You, Me, Hum, Tum, Majja

Day 11, Tuesday 29th September, 2009

The fat cat stared me in my face. I woke expecting the purring to be the dainty Mulayam, but here was Tipper, in all his magnificence, staring me in the face to let him out. Damn, I should have been up two hours ago to make it on time for the walk. Dang. It was too sunny to go out now. So I busied myself with the writing. I was lagging behind in doing my daily posts to the blog and I was fast forgetting little things and what they made me think. Sometimes, I long for a Dictaphone. It’d be nice to record all my crazy ideas (yes, I love all my ideas)

The plan was to get a sushi take-out. But we decided to cook instead. On the menu: Chicken tandoori with boiled veggies and whole wheat bread. I had to make sure my sister was getting good nutrition while I was around.

And then something made me go yaay! Nani replied to me on twitter. She had finally started writing her blog. I have been after her forever to start writing a blog. I think she’s a fantastic writer, has an amazing sense of humor and a keen insight into human behaviour. And yeah, her theories can really get you thinking. I felt she had to write a blog. So, finally a brief twitter campaign later, Nani started her own blog (you can read it here).
I thought to myself, ‘Now I can read all about Nani’s life when I go back to Mumbai,’ and that’s it. The mood swung right back to the dumps.

Don’t get me wrong, I long to go home to my family, my home and my life, but the thought of that life with Nani so far away is a little overwhelming. Yes, I am missing my mom and dad and grandparents. I am missing PiWi, Snehu and I am missing the brother, the better friend and their idiosyncrasies. But then I start each day with Nani and end it with Nani. Yeah, call me an obsessive sister if you must, but I love falling asleep to random jabber with Nanchan and I love waking up a little annoyed with the mad songs she sets on her cellphone alarm. I guess, Mom and Dad will kick me on my backside, but yeah, Nani is like the missing jigsaw puzzle to my life.

I have said this before, but before she came into my life, I remember it being dull. At four, I threw a tantrum and acted up on the sibling rivalry, but Nani is the best thing that ever happened to me. And Mom and Dad, thank you ever so much. I feel grateful for the family we are and frankly, I love all the madness, highs and lows of being us.

I love it and if I had to, I’d do it all over again. Maybe, I’ll cut the sibling rivalry and useless rebellion out. Nah, throw it in. I think it strengthened our bond!

Rain On The Beach Isnt Such A Bitch

Day 10, Monday 28th September, 2009

My plans to wake up early and go walk on the beach were massive failures! I didn’t get out of bed until about 8.30 am. It was nice to wake up late, but Nani’s word from the day before rang in my head. “It’s recently gained weight, it’ll go off,”

What the hell? Why can’t I be one of those people who can eat what they want and still have a body to die for? I have asked myself that question a lot of times and it frustrates me. But gratitude is a better thing to feel. I feel glad to have lost all the weight that I have lost. With that thought I got out of bed and wondered what I wanted to eat for breakfast. Wow, some mood swings I have. Well that’s me!

Eggs sunny side up, toast and chai. Time for some chinwag. “I saw a whack dream! But it was so damn positive.” Nani announced. We haven’t spoken about this, but it is our unconscious ritual to share dreams. Back at home, Nani would seat herself at the corner seat on the dining table (I call it her throne) and I would be scurrying around in the kitchen for food (what’s new? Yeah I’m a hog, are you going to kill me?) And she will tell me what a weird dream she had or I will tell her about the filmy dream I saw. We’ll probably analyse why we’d have seen the dream in the first place and get on with one something in the paper or random stuff about our plans for the rest of the day.

So, in her Miami home (I like how it sounds like ‘Jennifer Aniston’s Miami mansion’) when she shared her dream with me, I felt like she had finally settled in. I loved her dream, just as much as it was about her it was about me. There were old dreams revisited and then we got on with the day.

Loading the dishwasher, getting the laundry done, cooking and in the middle of it all, I was chatting with my friends back home. We finished our writing, in addition to the chores and got out for a walk on the beach. It had just rained and the sun was out. But guess what, right in the middle of the beach, we saw approaching rain. I kid you not. We ran from it. It was like the rain was chasing after us. An empty shack, the two of us, and the rain.

“I should’ve brought an umbrella yaa!” Nani chuckled. We stayed in for almost half hour as the rain played hide n seek. Eventually, the sea, the weather and the girl dancing in the sea while swimming in the rain, stopped amusing us. We made a run for Starbucks in the slight drizzle. How we forget the magic that a cup of hot chocolate spins on a rainy day. As the warmth of the chocolate engulfs you in a tight hug, you don’t mind that it rained on your parade, now do you?
America is making me see the glass half full and that’s not such a bad thing, now is it? Speaking of glasses, my cup was empty, but I held it up and emptied the last drop in my mouth. I love doing that. And the sun was out. We went back on the sea and walked to our spot yet again. This time we perched ourselves up above the rocks and chit-chatted while the waves lapped up the sand on the clean shore.

I loved sitting right there and talking to my little sister. And how I loved gushing, ‘Yeh jo time hai na, yeh bahut acha time hai!’ a la Geet from Jab We Met. But it truly is. Someday, me and nani will be 60 and 64 respectively and we’ll sit on our armchairs and smile when we think of all the times we spent together. But I am sure there will be many more opportunities for us to create more memories. But until then, I’m giving this trip my 100 percent. It is special for Nani and it is special for me.