Rush

Monday, February 20, 2012

Human nature is that irritating kid without whose help you cannot convince your mother to let you go to that school trip, that night out or that lip gloss at the mall. I kid you not. In the last 72 hours of immediate attempt to study Joseph Butler, I've done it all- planned a surprise birthday, replaced beer with water, taken in adequate amount of anti-histamines, dressed as Judy Jetson and flirted with Obi Wan Kenobi. If you think I'm slightly off key tonight, you're getting your money's worth.


The deal is, we were told around a month and a half ago that this fucking assignment's been scheduled for monday. Now, Shivratri happens to be on the 'day' (Patrons of Lord Shiva worship Penis, hate the players; not the game) and the assignment is scheduled to be day after. Some amount of Math can easily specify how many hours have I wasted procrastinating and planning this post for most of today, when I could be finishing my essay on Butler but instead chose to plan execution of arch nemesis from college and spent most part analysing content for this and maybe, a new blog, in pipeline.

Let's trace back to most of yesterday. Spent in procrastinating for the damn assignment. Reading adorned by bed for most of day until I decided to go down to Comic Con. Last year, I dressed up as Pucca for Cosplay and no one recognized me. Due to lack of interest and time, I decided to just put down a signature look and go. No character in mind. Judy Jetson came to me when I was getting back.

Coming to Comic Con was like moving to pre-historic times. No inhibition. Just walk upto anyone you fancy, in costume or not (aha, a little story there) and ask if you could get a picture. Simple. I stalked a Johnny Depp lookalike who could give all 'dressed' up characters a run of their money. Sadly, he wasn't dressed as Depp, and that made me flush a shade of pink, resembling my Dolores Umbridge choice of sweater. This and that, familiar Delhi University faces. The crush from office with his girlfriend- brief eye contact. More eye contact, less talking. Superman making out with his pretty girlfriend, ugly version of Jack Sparrow, Hulk who was more of Peter Pan and many others. More mothers of superheroes and villains than characters themselves were present there. Met an old school friend who me and friend who accompanied me (from school, again) didn't recognize. Awkward conversation, she's going to try for Indian Idol, she's the idol of her college. Nice, let's go? See you soon. Good luck.

A friend was kind enough to do a cartoon on the whole creepy-awkwardness and decided to make my Depp conversation as central theme. Posting the tumblr link here. You could stalk her comics, she's brilliant. Also, I don't know any other comic artist personally. It's one of those rare artist that I know and have deep respect for her work so yeah, do take a look.

The thing with artists and art theories (and this is completely my take) is that most of them differ. An artist might experience what the observer learns from text so you can never experience the feeling. Replicating that feeling with words can never fetch you that same experience. Not denying the power of words. That, is an experience in itself. It can take you to another level, transport you to places you've merely seen in photographs and demos on computer but art experience is something you can live through only if you've created/performed it. Having said that, it is only extremely stupid for aestheticians to write essays and give papers on this. You cannot, I repeat, cannot explain this experience. It is like the Vedantians say, cannot be explained in words. Has to be felt experience that is transcendental. Good/bad art is another thing but merely transforming the experience to words and asking a philosophy student to study is a bloody waste of time. I am, contradicting myself by writing this, as I am critiquing the whole methodology but this is something that has been brewing in my head ever since I spoke to the talented friend.

Talented friend gave me a call and asked me if I'm home. Yes, *crunch* home, what's up? Coming home? "Yeah, want to catch up? Hello? Hello? Your voice is crac..", ten minutes later, it was set. Friend was picking junk from Mcdonalds for the two of us and coming over after what seems like ages.

Friend did come, and what a trip it was to the memory lane. Tenth standard, night before math board exam- both of us vomiting and swearing that we'd never, ever do math again, never touch numbers. Hello, 12 grade. Oh wow, you're in accounts tuition, what stream you're in? Haha, commerce? Oh me too! From that, we've seen vomiting night before to accounts exam and actually managing a decent total by the end of school to run from pillar to pillar for college admission. "A, he's leaving. He's leaving me for his graduation!" Shh, don't cry. It'll work out. We've seen a lot. Together.

However, in last two years, I've not seen her, let alone facing things together. Now it's a lot like, you didn't hear it from me. Come to South sometime? Why don't you come and see me perform? You missed my gig, bitch. It was homecoming of a sort. Four hours of non-stop yapping. Unabashedly telling her, "you've given me a lot of content to write about". Yeah, exchanging life changing experiences. Some shock-worthy, other, just realisation, of the things that came and passed by. Breakup, rehearsals, moving out, separation, love, destruction, loss, life, abortion, sex, politics- all coming down to, the world is so small. We all know each other and all talk about each other. Everyone knows everything, bottom line still remains, "you are not sharing this..!". Just fucking sham, this whole lifestyle, social circle.

My friend here works 14 hours a day. She starts her morning with rehearsal for first production she's doing in the morning, rushes to catch metro for college- grabs breakfast when the announcement is made "kripya dhyan de, metro me khaan-paan ka sewan naa kare" and shoots an apologetic look back to the ladies staring at her in the reserved compartment 'I-will-passout-if-I-don't-consume-oats'. Barely makes for her class to find out it's been cancelled for the day and only one class now at 2 pm. Attends that and fights with the auto-driver to go by meter and charge rs 25 instead of 35 till the nearest metro station, so that she can go back and make it on time for the rehearsal for second production, in between managing to grab a plate of idli, cause only that is allowed under her current diet plan. After rehearsal, get half an hour break by 6, to consume green tea and a plate of bhel, once a week. Goes in make up room to get layers of foundation slapped across her face to make her look like the princess she's playing. Performs on stage, ear-to-ear smile and acting-flying across the stage. Crashes on bed with make up, only to wake up next morning and repeat the ritual.

Frankly, her views on performing arts inspired the whole idea on living the experience. Damn, you cannot fake the feeling. We spoke for over four hours and I lived back last five years in these four hours and every minute of it was an eye opener. Her life. My life. We started from an end and now it's all different.

Okay. I'm done. I had to puke words. Assignment- oral and written due in less than 12 hours. No water in the house and I'm yet to sit and figure out how conscience surpass passions. Later.

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