22 Crossroads

Hello KGP In all probability this is the last blog written/posted from KGP. I started blogging after I came to KGP, and it’s been five years of rambling for me, and just somehow as I get ready to pack my computer for one last time, this turns out to be the 50th post on 22 Crossroads. Five Years. Five years can do a lot to you. They can make you well up at a stupid farewell ceremony holding a stupid cup in your hand trying to make sense of some stupid words while kids around you chant 'speech speech'. Well, goodbyes are full of clichés -- it’s the end of an era, life will never be the same. And as Myth pointed out in his blog ( link ) , Life outside Puri gate is a bitch . Five Years. I started writing this blog on the day Sanjay Da, while serving, in the mess said, 'Aaj mere haath ka akhiri fish hai. Fir na aap rahiyega, na hum rahenge'. He always used to save a good (if not the best) piece of fish for me, and well, so the sento nerve was struck. Thank You Sanjay Da and ...

Top 2 ON. Baby ON !! 4 years. 7 events. It’s been a long journey ... one filled with roadblocks, preconceived notions, mindsets and apprehensions. For you I have been a long haired devil, a fat bare-chested cannibal, a camouflage-trousered terrorist and a bald megalomaniac. In these 7 events I have probably managed a total of 7 different expression at max (you know where I tilt my head a little, open my eyes big, then rotate the head in a plane and them smell something weird :P (watch 6:10 to 6:20 of this video for reference) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y9BvDtiD7gg ). A loudspeaker in my vocal chords and my audacious experiments with hair has been my saving grace as an actor. I have been as lethargic a director (Mythun will vouch for that) as I have been whimsical -- cracking jokes and shouting at people within 5 minutes of each other. But, I have dreamt and fortunately seen some of them come true (we pulled off a f***ing MUSICAL dude). Yes, in 2006 Patel Drams was a dream -- 1 Bron...

1. JEE counseling brochure 2. Morrison and Boyd 3. Constitution of the Patel Hall 4. Half a bottle of Kahlua 5. Manuscript of two 13 year old poems (written in 97-98) 6. Script of "The Pie and the Tart" and "Me Against Myself" 7. Secretary election funda diary 8. A half written ____-letter ish thingy [;)] 9. A bottle of hair oil (yes from those times) 10. Load Runner Quarter Final Result Sheet 11. This photograph Top-10(+1) things found while cleaning the room.

It was 4 pm. I was hungry, having not eaten anything for close to 15 hours. I had spent the last two hours in an examination hall where I had found out the actual name of the course for the first time. Common sense dictated – get food and get rest. Thankfully I had 2 missed calls, when I checked my phone after the exam. They were from Mom. I called back and found out that He was batting on 75. If I did not believe in serendipity earlier, I do now. We all know what happened next, and papers tomorrow will be full of it. In few or more words they will all call Him a living legend – there was never a doubt over that. They will all salute His genius – one would be blind not to have observed that already. They’ll say men like Him are born once in a century – and surely time will stand witness to that. They’ll all say cricket will never be the same without Him – and I dread to think of the day when He decides to say “that’s all folks” . Somehow, I always feel that my words will do justice to ...

We are cynical. We are judgmental. We are audacious. We laugh. We fight. We shout out throats out. We are superstitious to the point of insanity. We forget pain. We cry with joy. We doubt. We fear. We are India, as long as HE is there. and WE BELIEVE. It has been an honour to see you play.

She was not sure what had happened to her. She did not want to cry – not this time. She was not sure how long she could hold it. Although she hated herself for these moments, sometimes the urge and the fear were too strong to control. This certainly wasn’t the first of those moments. She felt like shouting, shrieking, crying, making a scene – something – anything to make her feel better – about herself. But she knew there would be none of it – not this time. She had resolved there would be no pleading and cajoling either. This time she had to be strong. Not knowing how long this resolve would last, she stared at the roses. He wasn’t sure why he was there – like that. Had he done something wrong? Again? He did not dislike answering these oft-repeated questions periodically. But he did not like them either. He was fighting the urge to wisecrack. This was not an appropriate time. Off late, there never seemed to be an appropriate time. He was not angry, he was not displeased, he was not di...

As some of you may have noticed this blog has shifted to 22Crossroads. That is my personal website that launched last month. There is much more at 22Crossroads .. just follow the navigation menu at the bottom. Also update your bookmarks. Hope you have fun at 22Crossroads.