Experiences

 Anand L Rai is one of those few left who understand the roots of Bollywood; Hindi cinema and its rich history of dance,music, songs and dialogues...vibrant colours, the extravagance of emotions, the euphoric relationship it has shared with audiences through all these years. The grand syntagm-Romantic melodrama has been re-awakened. What I comprehend here is Ranjhanaa one step further. But his kind of Bollywood is incomplete and lifeless without his muse- Dhanush( who can be a pop culture icon with Kolaveri; give you goosebumps with Asuran and made you teary eyed with Ranjhnaa)..this story the soul of it is Dhanush. Sara is not very different from what she did in Kedarnath; but Bihari mannersims praiseworthy. Akshay is good at what he does best being a medicore star, the thread that makes complex texts comprehensible. The story which follows in the tradition of Hindi cinema by being simple yet enduring, romance at helm but yet it gives a contemporary  touch by experimenting and opening

 Stories are immortal, they are meant to stay in our heart forever. This one will stay eternally, the exuberant frames, the beautiful use of lights...which takes us for a flight of stars and back to reality; from a company of two to solitary lands.  The love story of 'to be or not,to be'. The sense of self journey, the love of couple moments and the sudden halt to reality and eternity of our chosen paths; the time together might not last forever but love does, and so does ,what it does to us...becomes us. Seb and Mia bring in the connotations from 'Rebel Without a Cause' not in the story but in the context of characterisation. Mia stands for what Seb believes in and Seb believes in what's inside Mia...consequently Mia reminds Seb of what's his capability...the art of bringing evolutionary joy to his audiences. A love story which is a dedication to our dreams , no matter how unreal they are.. A tribute to Paris, which really is 'The city of love'...not in

 Happy Teachers Day!!!  I am one born in 1980s, so the kind of frame people from my era used to see teachers in was altogether different , it was someone right next to God and parents (the ones who are image of that God for us, the one's who create and manifest us, our first Teachers...no no it's not going to be a Barjatya melodrama...jus my thoughts according to my conditioned mind, and I really like who I am). I grew up, post-graduated and decided to join the teaching fraternity; my mom being an excellent teacher was my first inspiration. I had teachers to look upto; my love for English language (love though it will take a lifetime to understand an iota of that language) comes from the teachers who taught me in school; they carried the stories inside them and rendered them beautifully...so much so I still can visualize those memories from school. Graduating days was all about learning more outside than inside the classroom; I would like to thank friends and cousins who groom

Besides the bay, below the stars Existence looks minimal. The enormous meet and silence speaks. As we trudge in the sparkling black territory, Love,fear and an awareness erupt; Love of life, fear of unknown And an awareness of how insignificant we are. The venomous waves, the melancholy song...maybe a soul lost and forlorn... Looking beyond the mundane, Looking towards the infinite. A day that was unbearable suddenly lost its power. And my happiness erupted out of my awareness of insignificance...

Illusion or Resolution? Lost in the desires of heart, When we leap waves of time, Little do we realise how frail are dreams... Upon the petals of your happiness, They grow and nurture. Its gradual and its personal. 'Time is a construct... Time is artifical...' they say. But it is this invisible weapon, Which withers away your dreams. Leaves you empty, Within and without. You smile but you learned to contemplate, You learned to manipulate. Finally you evolved. With the ways of the world. Pain which cannot be seen One for which words are incomprehensible. It leaves you hollow yet so full. Full of visions of awareness, Full of empathy. But sans dreams and passions... Little fellow. Learn to find solitude. For its 'you' And its your journey... How illusionary or illuminating... Its your own. Just let it be. @ Kanika Kachroo

Venomous Dreams A heap of sand, Upon which we build our dreams, The enchanting magic, Of desires sweet. Of expectations humongous, Time condenses and beholds them. Upon our heart and in our mind it ages moment by moment. The mortal mesmerizes in its webs, But once caught the poison leaves you... Unquenched. Paralyzed. Impenetrable. The numbness of the mind doesnt leave, The venom kills its self image day by day, And all that is left is 'you' The serenity of your emptiness. The stillness of your being. The understanding of this world, Its limitations and limitlessness. And the world within.... The mysticism calls... But the cries are feeble. Get overt the animalistic side, Get over the guilt, After all 'existence' survives. @Kanika

Experiences: The Window: A SHORT STORY : The Window She scrubbed frantically. Her life was an annoyance, she thought. The urge to clean was turning into a habit and this was...