Ileana

I saw the film 'Barfi' recently. Its a beautiful movie - flawed, but beautiful. The director of photography has done an outstanding job - some of the scenery is quite simply, breathtaking. But the director himself has shown remarkable finesse in his use of slow motion and unusual camera angles. The script is lacking a logical flow and there are a lot of holes that you'd later notice. I say later because Ranbir Kapoor's acting will carry you through it - with every role he is turning into a true actor - someone who acts so well that he becomes the role and when you see it on screen the performance seems effortless. But this post isn't about Barfi - nor is it a film review. This post is about the magic of beauty and youth. This post is about 'Ileana' . 

There are people who look beautiful when they dress up for it. There are people who look beautiful because of the range of their expressions or because of a specific aspect of their face, Julia Roberts's smile, Kajol's eyes .. you get the idea. But I consider truly beautiful people separate from these - true beauty is intrinsic and complete in itself, these are the kinds of people that you can look at them any time of the day, any place, in any attire and you'll stop and admire their sight. Ileana is of this rare kind - truly and purely beautiful. In fact calling her beautiful is not nearly enough. Ileana isn't so much beautiful as she is Absolute Beauty - as in beauty purified, then re-purified a thousand times over.

[Image credit - http://www.maratechnology.com/2012/09/13/ileana-dcruz-and-ranbir-kapoor-in-barfi/ileana-dcruz-image-2/ ]

Because of her, you have to watch Barfi twice - once to really see the movie and once so you can tune everything out and just see her.  You really have to pause the scenes and then look, no, stare and let it sink in - let your eye wander around her face - observe how the light reflects off her hair - really take your time to savor - because if you look carefully - there is just so much to her to see. 

It is almost like her DNA cheated - the way students cheat on an exam.  Like one fine day it snuck out in the middle of the night and figured out mechanisms of the brain governing our perceptions of beauty then snuck back in and emerged - as her. I am really not exaggerating - there are places in the movie when you don't really see her face completely, its a reflection in the mirror at an angle or a twisted image through a thick glass and it will still astound you. Stunning I believe is the word - but not the way we use it every day - not as a cavalier adjective, but literal - when you really allow yourself to see her - she will find your heart - place it in front and stun it. 

If I were a king, of the times of old, I would find a sculptor from Florence and commission him to capture Ileana in stone. Then erect those statues as part of city fountains to preserve  her for the people - to crystallize her beauty undimmed before the passing of time. And may be some day many years later a boy would wander across it - but then sit down and look at it and in his heart begin to understand the definition of beauty, then go on to find it in the rest of the world. If only ..

And then there is her youth.  Its not so much that she is young - its as if - youth was allowed to pick a time to represent itself - and it picked this specific month of her life. Her beauty isn't one to wax and wane with time. But if there ever  was a personification of youth - of what youth should be - its her in this movie.  She is perfect. Like the morning sun - not at the horizon, red and half formed - not yet the sun starting to yellow - but caught in that perfect moment - not too infant nor quite adult. Beautiful - but more importantly carrying the promise of beauty - of tomorrow. A face that tells you - if you think I look gorgeous today - wait until you see me tomorrow. 

Anyway - if its Ileana you are concerned with, you should be watching her and not be reading about her - and certainly not be reading my ineffectual attempts.  

Yet this one goes out to the artists of the world, to the painters - the poets - and the sculptors - take heart for our muse has arrived - for the Goddess of Allure has chosen a font and its name is 'Ileana D'Cruz' !! 

- Sanket

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Shadows

The flowers have withered,
And their scent is past
The evenings once spirited and bright
Are now shadowed and overcast
Meet me soon, Alas just like them
My smile too is lost ...


 - Sanket

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Moment of truth

This conversation we began

I know not where 'd we start

Threads of thought forked in-numerous

Broke down walls 
And we talked.

Through evenings and nights and hours unheard

Through tears and anger and ecstasies untold 

'Til now that we stand in this net

And wherever I see,

Are tracks of our footsteps

I cant imagine how I travelled alone.

The footsteps are etched,

As tough carved in stone.

They reassure and yet, terrify

For I fear, the winds I once loved

Could erase our marks forever.

Or that you might walk away

And leave my heart severed

We've morphed our likes

To suit one another

And now they are so changed,

Even wanting we can not avert

Alas my friend,

It is the moment of truth

And I have to ask,

Shall we trudge snow and sand

And climb and fall together ?

Or shall you now let go,

And into this earth

Should I disappear ?

- Sanket

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Floating Visions

The earth is soft and cool beneath, 

I can feel the blades of grass

Gently pressed under me, 

Green, young and slightly moist

 Still yet breathing

And I see shifting shadows through closed lids 

Playing - capering - laughing 

As I nestle my head deeper in her lap

Treasuring and preserving

The warmth under my hair

I follow the act and listen to the shadows 

I can hear the merry and begin to smile

A shy, scented drop awakens my skin

And I open my eyes to hold her face

Words elude and sounds fade off

As I marvel a new meaning to beauty

I drink with thirsty eyes

The oval that is my world

Circled lovingly in dark flowing hair

Velvet like silk and soft as silence

Coy and demure

I drink with thirsty eyes

The delicate curve of her neck

Just within reach and yet not

The contours, sensuous and tempting

I nestle my head and smile back

I see myself reflected

In liquid pools of light

See myself anew

Alive and well

Through her eyes

I trace the exquisite lips

Longing their flavor 

Craving through parch 

I want to lift myself

But the warmth lets not

Oh it is such a strife

Painful yet nurturing

An impish pleasure

A sight devine

I drink with thirsty eyes

And I beg life

If this is a dream

Don't wake me up just yet

- Sanket

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Rains!

I woke up and looked out the window. I looked out the window through half shut eyes and I sighed. It was going to be a difficult day. It was raining outside! As I slowly claimed my conscious, I could hear the faint rumble of clouds and a familiar drizzle outside. Ribbons of liquid stained the glass - twisting the images and distorting my reality. I woke up and stepped out to the patio and let myself be soaked - soaked with wave after wave of cold water. And against my will the water washed away my numbness bringing afresh the longing, love and lust - I had so carefully buried away. 

[Image used in accordance of copyright regulations - http://commons.wikimedia.org]

Rains have a way with me. I was born and raised in Bombay - where rains are the life of music and music is the life of our bodies. The bond between rains and our rhythms is deeper, more mysterious and more intricate than anyone can fathom. It reflects - in part India's dependence on monsoons and in part its need to create art. Art to express that which we wish but we can't. Over thousands of years of evolution the rain drops have absorbed themselves into our culture. They fuel the breaths of our soul as much as our blood fuels the beats of our heart. 

In the west as the countries industrialized and reduced their dependence on seasons so did they lose their connect with nature. In India, that connect survives as a faint but distinct hue in our identity. Hence while people in the west have lost their fascination with rains - in India - they still hold sway. 

Years ago the farmers from barren villages gathered and prayed to the skies. They begged and pleaded - they scolded and cajoled the clouds above. To this day the first rains are celebrated with the same relief and joy  as those parched voices did upon a barren soil. The rains are an innate part of our films and our songs. Even today they behold and move us - a whispered reminder of a time when masters like Tansen would sing Malhar and command the heavens to cry. 

I stand drenched and wet and cold and let myself go. The rains have a mind of their own ....

Rains, Rains - 
These rains carry with them many memories and times. 

They have  a way of entering your hearts
They thrill you and play with your thoughts

Drop per drop they symbolize and encapsulate the elixir of life.

They fall from the sky and unite on the earth.

They are precious they are dear.

They are transient they are immortal. 

Some drip as scented pearls from a girl's hair. 

Some glisten as beads of sweat in passion. 

Some trickle as salted rivulets of sorrow 

Some remain untold and veiled behind silent eyes

Some relish, as drinks of pleasure from a lover's lips 

While some are drunk as poison in anger, anguish and hurt 

Rains, Rains these rains, they have a mind of their own

I am swept clean now, I stand exhausted, spent 

The rains have brought me back to life 

They are my repent, and they have let me absolve
A part of my past ....

 - Sanket

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Flashes of the past!

A lazy morning, a sky refusing to light up, a vista of clouds hanging low and grey, a wind caressed with moisture ........ and I think of you.

I remember the clink of steel on china, an italian restaurant. My glance as it traced your silhouette opposite me. The glint of evening sun rays on rose red lips. I remember being intoxicated - in part by wine and in part by your beauty.

There are memories one does not divulge easily. This is one of them. But there is a dream more real than memory - remembered not in your mind - but etched in your body. And this is one of them.

My fingers remember the touch of your skin, the strength of that warmth as I held you in a slow still dance. My will still longs the challenge in your smile. Never since has a woman, so tested my heart.

I have fought long and hard and learnt - there are some things you can not erase despite try.

Some things there are - not remembered in your mind. - Sanket

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तेरी याद में

एक जमाना था जब तुम्हे चाहते थे

एक जमाना था जब तुम्हे चाहते थे

तुम तोह छोड़ कर चले गए

मगर ये प्यार भी है कैसा ....

अब तुम्हारे गम से भी इश्क होने लगा है !

-- संकेत

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Lies to Myself..

On some things I know I have lied to myself – and this is one of them. After swearing to destroy all of her things, I know I haven’t really discarded all ... somewhere hidden in an album lie, now yellowing photographs  - still beautiful with a hint of those times – in an academic file alongside my notes – I am sure -  lies buried - a birthday card – and amongst the modest treasures of my wallet is a guitar pick – that still fancies her touch. ..

Masked cleverly in my words, somewhere lie  - subtle references - to memories only one reader can relate......  In empty corridors of a dilapidated structure, there still can be heard - echoes of her laughter and although, now abandoned – there still flows a river -  now mourning with salted water.

In the waking hours of some nights, the bed still longs her warmth. And the still air – now devoid of her scent – feels like a vacuum mocking my heart.

On some things I know, I have lied to myself and this is one of them ......  Oh! How I wish there were words that could describe – How much I miss her on some days ....  

– Sanket 

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The Ideal Woman!!

Undoubtedly every young person has an image of who his/her ideal match would be. Well! This is my ideal woman - she's not an actual person - she's an idea .... 

My ideal woman should .........

Well, she's got to have amazing patience - as I am a very impatient person. She's got to be sweet - but not girlie. 

An outgoing person -  who can come running with me - and get excited about weird places to climb! 

Should have a clear skin - complexion doesn't matter, but her glow should radiate health! 

BIIG eyes and loooooong eye lashes - haha - I've always had a weakness for eyes! 

Has that amazing voice, a perfect combination of playful lust and sincere depth.  A voice that can be heard in a crowd - unmistakable - one that assuredly captures my attention - and sustains curiosity. Rich and versatile in its tones,  conveying much more than the actual words pronounced.  A voice I can get drunk upon.... 

A smart face, not an Aishwarya Rai - but a Perizaad Zorabian. Can look like the college girl next door - or the head turner professional - when she wants. Has a broad minded, scintillating taste of clothes. 

Has a magnetic sexuality - and knows it  - but doesn't misuse it against me :) 

Has her own moral core - and the guts to tell me "You are wrong!" - when she believes. 

Is unquestionably loyal and 24 x 7 honest.  Is generous - giving and compassionate. 

Isn't necessarily a great cook - but is always enthusiastic about cooking. Isn't necessarily accomplished - but is eager to learn. 

Someone who pushes me to work harder - and achieve more. Who expects and demands my very best - and makes me sleep on the couch - if I fall short :) 

Who enjoys her freedom responsibly and has very clear self-defined boundaries. 

Someone who is positive about new risks - supportive when ideas fail - and benevolent enough to never say ..... "I told you so!"

Has shoulder length, dark and lustrous hair, hair that can fly in an arc and scent the air they touch.  Hair that hold you close and make breathing a pleasure... that have the perfect convenient length from head to lap when sitting - so I can play.  

Weighs light enough to portably carry against her will. 

Has an electrifying touch, firm - yet distinctly feminine. 

A person who understands the sense of pride and never violates it. 

Ok - I think I have had too much alcohol (on a week day at that!) - I could go on and on and write a whole book on her. Truth is .... none of these matter if it is the right person. 

Anyways, thats Maya, its an idea ...... like the lyrics say ..... "Meri nazar se tum dekho toh - yaar nazar woh aaye! "  

 - Sanket

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The Wincing Heart!

Soon a year would have passed

Since the time you last held my heart

The streets have changed

The people have changed

And yet my mind searches ...

Wandering down familiar paths

Long have I bled and hard have I suffered

I should feel anger,

Or I should feel vengeance

And yet, I feel neither.

The days have been numb

And the nights, sleepless

The eyes remain moist,

The Breath, restless .

Nothing can be changed

And Nothing can be done

Yet the heart listens not,

It asks Why and It wonders How?

It doesn't know the answers will never unravel

For questions not be asked

When the day has wound down

And the world is quiet

In the silence of the night

I can still hear your voice.

So fair, so clear

As if you were in my bed - still besides

With the body still living

You took the life out

In return of love, I might have expected many things

But this, I did not imagine

This, I could not

They say forgive and forget

I know not where to start

Should I forget the way we fought?

Or the way you laughed?

How do I remove the scent of your hair

Still coursing, the veins of my heart

I do forgive you

In such a way as I can.

Yet this I promise,

Though far away you may be

Now, in someone else’s arms

On some unexpected evening

In an unguarded hour

You will see the sky turn crimson red

And remember me in that hour.

Remember the smiling eyes

Of a mischievous, yet innocent boy

The boy who gave beyond giving

The man you widowed, without marrying

And you will have to return into his arms

For your sake, I hope truly

He can love you as I once did

As love should be, As I would have!

- Sanket

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A Fall Wish!

From a naive fresh green - they turned a bright yellow, some went orange, some went crimson - as I ran over those fallen - the ones on the trees spoke .....

" Nigh! Is the time, Full is our blossom,

O' Dear friend - Don't run alone

The wind gets colder....

Soon - there will be snow - and off we go

O' Dear friend - don't run alone ...

The clouds are low, the rain is soft ...

The chill air - asks more warmth ..

Two souls, two hearts, two bodies

O' Dear friend - don't run alone ...

True is your heart and strong is your stride

Don't throw your youth - set worries aside

Stop for a moment, you need a pause

Take natures call, sieze the time

And such tricks the nature plays ... I catch my breath, slow to a trot and speak back ...

Great is your beauty and your thought is devine,

But amidst countless duties, in a cruel world

Love is a luxury and Truth is hard to find ..

My heart shares your wish,

But my pride wont yield

Wait I will - until shes truly the queen.

... they russtle with the wind - as though in response

Your words bleed us

But pray we will

We must leave now

But come back - we will

Don't be saddened now

Learn from us and take our hope

Our colors are rare - see them clear

We give you strength - know no fear..

And so I pick up my pace again .. stern are my eyes ... and I run with the wind - till my breath dies.

- Sanket

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Wanna live for you!

It rained here yesterday. Rained correctly - not too less - not too much. And as I took in deep breaths of the cool moist breeze, as I faced the steady wind and as I smelled the scented air, I was moved. A cascade of memories began - questions being asked that demanded answers - questions that I had steadily avoided. A Rainy campus .... us running to get shelter ..... me playing .... me being boysih .... my city .. my Mumbai .... the creek where we spent time alone ..... her laughter .... her complaints .......... our fights .......... our masti. We were best friends.

Life was simple then ... no big issues .. just the semester ....... just my coding .... the ambition was fixed but the steps were distant. The time was good ... and so I didnt really realize when it flew by ... suddenly I had to make a choice ...... and I chose my career .... there wouldnt be an 'us' after.

The thunder from heavens above sounded all too familiar ... and I was wishing ..... wishing - that I wouldnt be alone ..... if only ..... And like always I didnt have an answer .... If I had to make a choice again, I would do nothing other than a 'Deja Vu'.


It seemed cruel to me that GOD must decide to satisfy only one ... either the heart or the brain. But a choice I made. Later on when I left my college and came to the US, I made it clear to my parents that they wouldnt have any jurisdiction over my career or my love life.


We were never meant to be ... to be together .. and I understood that ... asking my parents not to interfere was simple enough. What wasnt simple was .... when you are past that .. when you are on your track .. on the career you want ... how do you get back to being available again .... how do you move past your past and like some one .... how do you compromise just the right amount ... how do you not lower your character or give up your standards ... how do you find someone who can respond to your morals.

And I realized it isnt easy at all ... to like someone and for that person to like you .... not ur hair .. not how fast you can run ... but like ur essence. It has to happen. I dont know of any other matter in which the gods play a bigger role than in the process of - you finding the love of your life.

But theres hope .... albeit little ....... a belief that luck favors those who are good. That a person can find someone whithout depricating his core. And when I do ... it will be .... it will be.

I would really ... really want to ........ want to hold her close .... make her feel powerless .. not because she doesnt have strength .... but because she doesnt need any ..... want her feel comforted ... want her not to let go ..... want it ... want to watch her struggle ... struggle invain .... struggle with her shyness ...... but yeild to my seduction - partly cos I will be relentless - partly cos she wants to ..... want her to feel protected...... want her to feel fearless ..... want her to confront life head on ..... want her to feel loved beyond measure .... want her to feel special ...... want her to feel the only one ..... want her to feel proud ..... want her to melt with joy .... want her happy till she is confused .... want her to feel light - till she doesnt know what to do.

Want her to be mine ......... Yes! Wanna live for you.

So tell me will you please -

What's ur name - How do you look
Will you come along! - Whats ur lat whats ur long?

- Sanket K

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The Water Window

It was a Saturday, he had come home early today. It was his weekly romantic escapade. At 31 he was as smart and successful as any man his profession could boast of. It always seemed strange to him that he called his New York appartment a home. For as long as he could remember, he had always spent more time at the office and the gym than at his 'home'.

His appartment was more expensively kept than a palace. He loved heights, when they had married, he had waited five years to afford this place. It was a top-floor appartment with one of the best views of New York. He had moved to New York despite his better half, but once he had furnished the place and brought her in, she fell in love with their new home. In exchange she had made him promise week ends .......... he usually was able to spend one of the promised four. He knew, they would soon have an argument over this, still, he hoped he could convince her to hold the ship for another four years. Champagne and flowers had usually done the trick for him, he hoped it worked today.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden drop in temperature from his shower. He cursed the fact that no matter how well kept an appartment was, there was only so much time one could have running hot water. He jumped out and dried himself hastily and then to the delight of his boyish mind, he heard the door open. Ha! She was home.



Posed in nothing but his bath robe, he waited in ambush. She was usually alert and immune to such tricks, but today even she wouldnt have expected him so early. She always went to the water window first - to look at the city spread out beneath. As she stood gazing at the tiny specks of people and long shafts of light, he put an arm around her waist gently. With surprise and wonder she turned only to find herself lost in a deep kiss.

Their love making was always like this, sensual to violent in a few seconds. Lack of company had made sure that the passion between them was ever flamable. He loved her dirty and sweaty from work. In the course of their young marriage, he had spent most money over reimbursing her torn suits.

Eventually they slowed down, lying on each other spent and content. She wouldnt allow him to dress, she liked hearing his day by just lying on him, listening to his accelerated heart beat. Oh! How she loved him.

She knew there would be flowers, a great drink and probably an honest hand made dinner waiting for her. Apart from his iron character, it was his skill at boyish surprise that held her from arguing about the increased number of work hours he was putting in. She knew he wouldnt win, if he was any less accomplished, she would complain about that too.

Commanding him to stay as he was, she ran to the stereo to put on her favourite song. He knew, his mission was half accomplished, she would come back and listen to this song over and over again, holding him close, not permitting a spoken word.

Eventually she let him free ....... he came back after the table was set and held her again, not grabbing her, but holding her instead .. .. and as they stood looking through the glass window, he thought of how much he had achieved and how much more he wanted to. And the city beneath stood witness to their love and to his ambition.

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A girl from the past!

Hi,

I was at my local railway station, had just returned from college. Opposite was a train waiting to start its trip to CST. Dulled by a days work, I was about to go home, little did I know that the moment would bring a memory that would stay with me for years.

I was walking towards the stairs and then lightning stuck me! A flash of hair, a voice long lost, suddenly recognition struck me, I didnt have a postive visual and in the middle of a thousand people, I couldnt possibly sure of the voice. But that moment, every sense of my body was on alert, adrenaline rushing, the days fatigue was long vanished, my heart was thumping as if trying to break out and the brain was screaming -- Its HER! . I stopped dead in my tracks, then turned towards the direction of the sound. Slowly I walked to the train compartment and looked in.

I couldnt see her face, her hair was a bit longer, but the voice was affirmative. It WAS her. Her frame looked more supple and sexy than I remembered. It was a yellow salwar kameez. She was laughing, joking, having fun -- the things u do when u are in junior college waiting for your train to start. And then I absorbed the whole picture and its horrifying brutality pierced me to the core.

She was with another guy. Infact she was leaning on him. It could be a friend - my pathetic heart offered. Huh! Its her boy friend! - the inner voice countered. No kidding, it was by all means her bf. You could tell from the body language, when a woman was with her guy.

Then memories returned. She was my first crush. I was so so naive at the time. For a while there was something between us. She was close to her mom. She told her. Her mom said 'Concentrate on ur tenth.'

She met me then, for the last time as a gf, told me her mom didnt approve of our relationship, infatuation, too young, studies, and ofcourse mom is always right, she is my best friend. So tata!

I was like, OK! Wow! That was fast! And there she ended it. Without protest, without fight, without asking any questions and without even thinking about me, as if I was just some dress she got from a shop that her mom frowned upon.

I was numb, when I heard it. I still remember the date - 4th April 1997. It was when I was facing a year drop at school for helping out another student. So not only did she dump me, but she did it at the worst possible time. The cut that I got, went so deep, it still bleeds.

My school prof needed some bribe, so that the matter could be closed and I didnt have any. I couldnt tell home ofcourse, for being blessed with the worst child-parent communication system. I didnt know who to ask money for. I went to see my mentor and my teacher at the tutions where I studied -- he wasnt there!

That moment. That one time - I was felt so alone, so much out there in the cold. It still frightens me. I survived .. somehow .. marred by hurt and in terrible shreds. Thanks to her I had faced my first academic benchmark while being handicapped. I succeeded though, I got into science, then into engineering.

But there she was, infront of me, still beautiful I feared (I couldnt see her face, didnt want to .. rather) . Those big watery eyes, that wonderful line of teeth when she smiled and the laughter that was devine!

She was Ok, infact she rocked right now! Her mom probably approved of a bf in college I thought, or rather she matured enough to keep these matters to herself. It was like a calculated cruel joke, a white hot blade being dipped into an old cut again and again, slowly, the devil taking sensuous pleasure in my agony. I remember the horror of going through it. And I still cant tell u what was worse, the pain or the need to hold back my raging emotions cos I was a guy in a public place.

When in danger, fight, if u cant then try avoiding it, get out of the way, put distance between ur opponent and urself, get out of the lethal radius. Since here my opponent didnt even know there was a fight, I decided to move. As if in agreement, the train moved too, starting its journey.

I forced myself to get into an auto, said the right address .. all the time I was telling myself... HOLD on! not yet, wait .... I got home, not yet .. greet the people in the living room first .. modulate ur voice .. keep facial expression in control .. yes thats good .. say u are tired .. tea? no tea . Get into ur room.

And then I sat there. Finally letting go. NO NO NO! not so loud, U idot , mom is in the kitchen, she might hear, nahi common .. ya better .. use pillow .. aare take care .. dont suffocate urself to death.

I went through the day as if in a daze. I called her that night. I said 'hello' -- then a long pause , I heard a sharp intake of breath, then a fearsome voice asked 'Sanket?' . I cut the line. A stupid pathetic person inside me applauded, 'She still remembers my voice!' . I said what crap! have some respect. Matter closed. No more talk on this subject.

I took out my wallet and extracted a yellowed photo. On the back was her name - in her own hand. I looked at it one last time - and then with an effort of will tore it to shreds and threw it like confetti from my third floor window.

If not from the heart atleast I could remove her from the wallet. There was a solace in that.

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