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Wind on my head. You on my mind. I travel. An uncertain journey. An arduous path. The mountains. Loom large. Your thoughts. Invade my mind. I wonder. I wander. I seek. The unknown. I crave. A future. I live. A present. I fear. A past. It was 2007 when I took the decision. I was
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So many lives. In one life. So many deaths. Relationships are such. They mirror life. They resemble death. They create. They destroy. They consume. They get consumed. They are warm. They are cold. They are beautiful. They are old. They are ugly. They unfold. They never leave. They come back. They remain. A reminder. Of
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Man. Wife. Two sons. One daughter. A tata car. Packets of masala wafers. Immersed. In meaningless. Group activities. In pointless. Logistics. Clicking away. Creating memories. Unable. To savor. To enjoy. To reflect. To meditate. A facade. Of happiness. A picture. Of togetherness. Makes me. Suffocate. I hope. They leave. A selfish thought. I hate. Being
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Somebody. Who meets a stranger. In his room. For the first time. Kisses him. Lets him. Feel her. Just the lure. Of the forbidden. Of rebellion. An expression. Of disdain. Of boredom. An act. Of impulse. Of lust. Without regard. For the past. Without respect. For commitment. Just another moment. In a life. Where. Every
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Stoned last night. Saw clearly. Smiled honestly. Laughed openly. Dissipated anger. Accumulated bitterness. Unadulterated lust. Unbridled love. Unconditional existence. All there. In the clouds. Shining through the stars. Emanating from the flowers. Rustling through the trees. Then I wake up. With a headache. With little recollection. With half a smile. From a dreamless night. Awaiting
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There is pain. In my heart. It happens. Every time. I embark. Upon this path. A path. That is agonizing. Yet full. Of ecstasy. My breathing. Gets hurried. My mind. Searches an answer. To a riddle. A riddle. That I call. A story. My heart. Seeks salvation. In a temporary moment. Called creation. I also
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When I was in school I was often reprimanded by my parents for spending time with kids who were seen as errant, disobedient and generally rebellious. The fear that their child would not conform to what the world perceived as ‘correct’ and ‘good’ made me believe that spending time with them or secretly trying to
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Last night. I saw you. Old. Ethereal. Beautiful. Glowing. The future. Was. Exactly. As I envisaged. You. Me. Laughing. Crying. Bickering. Sulking. Always wanting. To stay away. Yet. Never a moment. Not together. The elusive. Road trip. Like our life together. An endless drive. Through every terrain. We arrive. Slightly scathed. But refreshed. Each time.
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Friday, August 03, 2007 4.25 am IST Directors are an insecure lot. In fact I feel that most of us in the film business suffer from a great sense of insecurity. To some it is the insecurity of sustaining a livelihood. To some it is the insecurity of sustaining fame. To some it is the
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(first published on passionforcinema.com, Dec 15, 2008) The last schedule of my new film is fast approaching. The office is like a fish market. I feel like the most important person on earth. The very next instant I feel small and insignificant. I am a bundle of contradictions. Production staff scurrying around with reams of
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Hansal mehta 