Tag: Hansal Mehta

A Companion Meditation to “Train Dreams”

I have found myself returning to Train Dreams again and again. Not always by watching it. Sometimes in fragments. Sometimes in memory. And sometimes in a place beyond memory, where certain images or sensations drift in without warning and settle quietly somewhere inside me. The film has become less of an object I’ve viewed and more of a space I now visit. A landscape I enter without planning to.

But this is not about Train Dreams anymore.

This is about the journeys we seldom acknowledge.

There are days when I feel painfully aware of how small we are. How brief. How limited by the boundaries of our existence. We are born, we stumble through the years allotted to us, and then we leave. And in the vast theatre of human history and beyond that, the unfathomable scale of the universe our little lives seem too minor to matter. Too fragile to leave even the faintest mark.

Yet the more I sit with this thought, the more I realise that the smallness we fear is an illusion.

Our lives may not be large, but they are infinitely deep.

Every single person carries within them an entire cosmos – not metaphorically, but truly. An internal expanse shaped by every joy they’ve felt, every grief they’ve endured, every memory they cling to, every conversation that altered them in ways they couldn’t explain, every moment of surrender, every moment of courage, every dream that died and every dream that insisted on living.

These inner worlds are so vast that we often spend a lifetime trying to understand even a fraction of our own selves. How can that be insignificant?

Think of how each of us negotiates with love. How we navigate heartbreak. How we find ourselves in unexpected friendships or lose ourselves in familiar relationships. How we learn to forgive, or fail to. How we grieve : not just for people, but for versions of ourselves we’ve outgrown. How we break things beyond repair, and how we find the strength to begin again from the fragments.

Our relationships with nature, with creation, with destruction, with the people who bruise us and the people who heal us are nothing but universes in motion. 

And yet we pass through life unaware of this magnificence.

We rarely pause to look inward long enough.

We rarely celebrate what is uniquely ours.

Perhaps it is because we have been taught to measure significance by the world’s applause. By what is seen. By what is recorded. But the truth I keep rediscovering is that the most extraordinary parts of our journey happen in the quiet. In the unseen. In the internal spaces no one else witnesses.

We love to imagine the soul as something that outlives us. Something that slips out of the body and continues into other lives, carrying its karmic luggage. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it isn’t. But lately, I’ve begun to feel that the soul is not waiting elsewhere. It isn’t a prize at the end of the road. It isn’t an invisible passport between lifetimes.

The soul might simply be the journey itself.

The lived experience.

The inner narrative.

The continuous becoming.

Every moment that shakes us awake. That is the soul.

Every moment that softens us. That is the soul.

Every moment we choose tenderness over impulse, forgiveness over pride, curiosity over fear – the soul grows a little more defined.

We are not travelling toward eternity.

We are carrying it within us.

Maybe that’s why Train Dreams stayed with me. Because beneath its landscapes and silences, beneath its stories of love and loss, it holds a quiet truth: that the life of one ordinary man is as expansive, as mysterious, and as eternal as the wilderness he walks through. That every human journey no matter how private or humble is worthy of being witnessed.

And in witnessing his journey, I found myself turning inward to mine.

To the roads I’ve travelled.

The ones I’ve abandoned.

The ones that still wait patiently for me to take the first step.

Perhaps this is what cinema sometimes gives us. Not answers, not lessons, not conclusions, but a moment of stillness in which we can finally hear the faint echo of our own universe.

I think that’s why I keep returning to this film in my mind.

Not for the story.

Not for the craft.

But because somewhere in its quiet, I heard something of myself.

Something of the journey I’m still trying to understand.

Something of the soul I’m still in the process of becoming.

A still from “Train Dreams”

Rohith’s Last Words

The death of a 26 year old PhD scholar at the Hyderabad University on 17th January 2016 disturbed me. Rohit Vemula’s death continues to disturb me very deeply. That someone so young should even contemplate suicide is disturbing enough. That he did commit suicide gives me sleepless nights even now. Was it cowardice? Was it despair? Was it discrimination? Poverty? Caste? Loss? Pain? Protest?

I do not endorse suicide. The act is neither symbolic nor worthy of my sympathy. However, in Rohith Vemula’s letter I found expression to my own despair at the way our constitutional freedoms are systematically being snatched away by an apathetic establishment. His last letter is a reflection of how our polarised social order has made it impossible for the ‘other’ to even aspire for equal opportunity. His last letter made me realise that sometimes what we deem as suicide is actually an act of collective murder by a stifling society and a dictatorial establishment.

Here is my tribute to Rohith. Here is the last letter of a sensitive young man who should not have died. Here is Rohith Vemula’s last letter.

Narrated by Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub
Translated by Swanand Kirkire

 

 

with thanks to :
Arnab Gayan, Apurva Asrani, Harshit Sharma, Alok Tripathi, Vipul Arora

 

 

 

 

 

Palak Chicken

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My wife loves spinach. So do I. Both of us love this simple yet delicious curry. I had surfed the net and my collection of cookbooks for a suitable recipe but found most either pale/dark colored or too greasy or just too convoluted. This recipe is my own concoction out of the many websites and books I referred to before embarking on my own exploration. I might not be a trained chef but now I can call myself an experienced adaptor of published recipes.

Ingredients

1.5 kg Chicken (medium pieces)
2 large bunches Spinach (palak), roughly chopped
3 medium onions, chopped
4 medium tomatoes, chopped3 tbsp ginger-garlic paste
2 sticks (1”) cinnamon (dalchini)
2 bay leaves (tej patta)
5 green cardamoms (chhoti elaichi)
2 tbsp oil or ghee
1 tsp red chilly powder (additional 1 tsp if you want it spicier)
2 tsp coriander powder
½ tsp turmeric powder
1 tsp garam masala powder
½ tsp dried fenugreek (kasuri methi)
salt, to taste

For tempering (tadka)

2 dried red chillies, halved
3 cloves garlic, chopped finely
1 tbsp oil

Procedure

  1. Put the spinach in boiling water for approximately 12-15 minutes (do not cover).
  2. Drain the spinach and reserve the water. Put the spinach in cold water and let it cool down completely.
  3. Puree the spinach or finely chop (I prefer to chop the spinach but my kids prefer the pureed spinach). Keep aside
  4. Heat the oil in a pressure cooker. Add the cinnamon sticks, bay leaves and green cardamom and cook until the begin to crackle.
  5. Now add onions and fry until they turn transparent.
  6. Add the ginger-garlic paste and fry for 5 minutes (until the raw smell disappears)
  7. Mix the red chilly powder, coriander powder, turmeric and salt in 3-4 tbsp water to make a fine paste. Add this paste to the pressure cooker and sauté for 3-4 minutes.
  8. Now add the chopped tomatoes and cook until the tomatoes are mashed.
  9. Add the chicken pieces and garma masala powder. Cook on high heat until the chicken pieces change color, their juices are sealed and the masala envelopes the pieces. This may take 3-5 minutes.
  10. Add ¼ cup (or less) of the reserved spinach water. (If you have drained the spinach water, just use plain water). Bring to a boil.
  11. Cover the pressure cooker, reduce flame to simmer. Let the chicken simmer under pressure for 8-10 minutes. Turn off the flame and wait until the pressure is released from the cooker.
  12. Open the lid of the pressure cooker and cook the chicken curry for another 5 minutes or until the gravy is reduced considerably.
  13. Now add the chopped or pureed spinach to the curry. Let it cook for approximately 5-7 minutes. Adjust the seasoning.
  14. Sprinkle kasuri methi and let it cook for another minute.
  15. Heat some oil in a pan. Add the chopped garlic and fry until it turns golden brown. Add the red chillies and let them fry for 2 minutes.
  16. Pour the tempering over the Palak Chicken gravy. Mix and cook for another minute.
  17. Serve hot with roti, naan or rice.

This recipe is simple, nutritious, satisfying and vibrant. My daughters who are usually averse to spinach now demand that I make Palak Chicken every time I am asked to cook a chicken dish. Add more red chilly powder and coriander powder if you like your curry spicy. I prefer my curry to be subtle and particularly light if it is being cooked for a weekday dinner.

Its been a long time since I shared recipes on the blog. There are many new recipes that I promise to share soon!

Twenty Years On The Fringe – Incoherent Ramblings

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In 2014 I completed roughly 20 years in the industry – of course encompassing my work as a TV producer/director, editor and filmmaker (and atrocious makeshift actor at times). I call these 20 years my life. The remaining years were another life, led by another person, lived by another soul. In 1994 I was a directionless 25 year old bored of computer software, a failed entrepreneur, a young father and basically a young man without a vision for life. 20 years later not much has changed. Except the fact that I have survived. I have survived these 20 years like many other nameless, faceless individuals do in this industry – on the fringes.

Being on the fringes of this industry means that –

  1. You rarely get invited to parties or premiers or previews.
  2. You don’t get written about often. Your personal life is very personal and is of no interest to anybody.
  3. You are rarely / never perceived as a threat to established insider stereotypes.
  4. You don’t expect or win awards.
  5. You make less money.

Essentially, this oblivion means that you can focus on work, lead a simple life and most importantly it means that you do not have to be politically correct all the time. Being on the fringe also means that your mediocrity is often looked down upon as mediocre and you have to ensure that your most mediocre work is less mediocre than the insider’s least mediocre work. You can also be irreverent, impolite, even honest and fearless as an outsider – your survival after all does not depend on your conformism or your sycophancy.

Yes, there are disadvantages, mostly self-inflicted, of being a fringe player. You can get cynical very easily as you see those less talented and more fortunate than you get all that you believe you deserve. You can get very bitter and you can waste immense amounts of time limiting your own creative growth. Nothing will ever seem worthy of your appreciation – not even your own work. Yes, cynicism is the greatest danger posed by oblivion as you will soon be unable to look at yourself in the mirror and you will constantly lower your own standards to belong to a place that you will never belong to.

I write from experience. I was once happy in my oblivion. Then I was dissatisfied. I desperately wanted to belong. I got cynical, frustrated and directionless. I stopped holding a mirror to myself. Fortunately, failure helped me recognize this. I took some time off from myself and my ego. Today, I am comfortable in my own little world. Shahid emerged out of this comfort with my own aspirations and my own inner self. I now inhabit an independent universe that is driven by me, my own benchmarks for growth and my own levels of satisfaction.

I write this because I see many like myself fall prey to the perceived pressure of oblivion and because I see them afflicted by the rampant mediocrity around them. I often see these people fading away and resorting to desperate measures that either undermine their talent or see them fading away beyond the fringes that they belong to. The truth is that being an outsider is far more fulfilling than having to belong to a place that you never belonged to in the first place.

…Jayate – My First Film (with a link to the entire film)

Here is my first film … Jayate uploaded by Rajshri Films for free viewing. This film produced in 1997-98 was never released commercially but it had a small festival run through the Indian Panorama of 1998-99. Made at a meagre budget …Jayate marked the debut of cinematographer (director, Antardwand and DOP Laaga Chunri Mein Daag), writer Anurag Kashyap, editor Girish Madhu, sound engineer Arun Nambiar, actors Sachin Khedekar and Kishore Kadam. It was produced by R.V. Pandit, a big hearted producer who risked his money on a nobody like me. I got this film because Mr. Pandit was impressed with my work on the promos of Maachis and Darmiyaan. I owe this film to Vishal Bhardwaj who introduced (pushed) me to Mr. Pandit and because of whom I met Gulzar saab – an association that will remain my most precious one forever. However, the music score was by the violin maestro Dr. L Subramaniam on the insistence of my producer.

On hindsight …Jayate was a wordy, good hearted, often amateurish first film with some wonderful performances and dialogs. The film’s first cut was nearly 3 hours 40 minutes which we cut down to its current length of approximately 2 hours 20 mins.  Despite its many flaws it remains my debut feature film and very close to my heart. In many ways my recent film Shahid (2013) is a result of some of the lessons learnt from …Jayate – particularly the courtroom scenes.

…Jayate was also special because it was made at a time when the old fashioned film editing era was about to end. I was adamant about using the Steinbeck to edit this film and I think this process taught me a lot. The entire sound post-production was done using analog media and the final mono mix was done in two nights. Carrying reams of magnetic tape, film positive and audio tape in my old car from studio to studio remains an experience that I will cherish forever. This film taught me about how technology could not substitute simple story-telling – a learning that I have tried to incorporate in my better films with or without success.

This film was made at a time when Mumbai had no multiplexes, no studio system and when the old territorial distribution system based out of Naaz Cinema was in full swing. Distributors would leave my previews either mid-way or without saying anything about the film. Nobody was interested in a songless film without major stars at the time. Friends from the industry often derided me for making a film like this as my debut vehicle. It took me nearly 2 years and massive financial / personal burden post …Jayate to put my next film Dil Pe Mat Le Yaar!(2000) together.

I look back on …Jayate as one of my earliest attempts to break free from a populist mainstream system that I did not belong to. With Dil Pe Mat Le Yaar and Chhal I tried to continue with that independent streak but somewhere in the ensuing years I lost that drive to strive on. Shahid marked my return to roots and my return to a path of making films without fear of stars, returns or flak. Shahid and its success has given me the impetus to continue my aborted journey of which …Jayate is a humble beginning. Do watch it…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GxenWZpCYI0

Independently Yours!

(This piece appeared in Indian Express Play on Friday, 27th December)

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I made independent films much before they became fashionable and remotely feasible. Let me also clarify that i am personally against this branding of films and filmmakers as mainstream and independent. I am a filmmaker. Period. My job is to make films. And i love my job. For me independent is a spirit and not yet a refined business model.

Also let me clarify that it is too early to celebrate. The game has just begun. Change is still around the corner. It is still not there. Hence, I would throw in a word of caution here. We should not jump at the success of Shahid, Ship of Thesus and The Lunchbox. Not yet.

The exuberance and excitement around gems of the 70s-80s such as Ketan Mehta’s Mirch Masala, Shyam Benegal’s Manthan, Govind Nihalani’s Ardh Satya, Kundan Shah’s Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro died when a lot of trash was passed off as ‘parallel’ or ‘art’. Parallel soon turned into a movement that created poor clones of celebrated works. It almost became formulaic. Which is why I recommend caution while being optimistic. The focus has to be on content, passion and fearless spirit. There is no place for conservatism in this climate.

This year was iconic in that respect as what won over was the audience was presentation and content of independent films. For me Anand Gandhi emerged as the voice of this nascent movement. He is fearless, subversive and a unique story teller. I hope he continues with more striking work in the years to come.

IN order to sustain this emergence of independent cinema we need to come up with stories from the heart, stories that reflect a deeper collective consciousness. We must throw caution to the winds and exercise our creative freedom through our films. We are by nature complacent creatures and we seek comfort in the ‘formulization’ of content. Any attempt to do so will lead to an eventual decline and finally demise of independent cinema. The creative challenges are great and it is very encouraging to have big studios like Disney coming forward to give our films a respectable outlet. It is a step in the right direction. But I feel independent content must be created without studios at the helm while making the film. We will need to find more avenues for funding and completing our films before we take them for distribution or acquisition to the studios. My belief is that studios with their current rigid corporate structures and creative mandates are not equipped for producing such films. The way forward in the short term is to produce content independently and then seek partnerships with studios for promotion and distribution. I say this from my experience with Shahid – the independent producer and the studio have to share risk. At some stage it is imperative that the careful corporate culture will seep into the independent space. My contention is that it should be nearer to completion of the film than during development. The two entities have yet to understand each other better and until then they must cooperate with an understanding of the others strengths and weaknesses. But we are making a beginning in this area as Citylights, my next film (produced by Fox Star Studios and Vishesh Films) is being made with the fearless spirit of Shahid. Both of us are learning in the process and hopefully this cooperation will open doors for more audacious content from studios in the future

2013 could also prove to be a game changer if we learn from our experiences with festivals, sales agents and studios. Most of us were basically wide-eyed greenhorns at international festivals, trying to find our feet in a vastly competitive and mostly alien space. The Lunchbox was an exception and there is much to learn from its success. There is also much to learn from the release strategies adopted by Disney for SOT, Lunchbox and Shahid. Rational publicity outlays, limited release and focus on sustained runs might be the way forward. Time will tell.

Honestly, I don’t see this as a movement. I see this as a system arising from creative bankruptcy inflicted by self styled blockbusters and an unwieldy star system. I see the success of our films as the rebellion of a section of audiences that crave for greater intellectual, emotional and ideological stimulation than what is supplied to them in the name of ‘mainstream cinema’.

On a personal note 2013 has been a year of redemption for me. I have finally exorcised the demons of my past by making Shahid. I made some terrible films and succumbed to a system that thrives on mediocrity. My producers Anurag, Sunil and Sid have played important roles in this self styled resurrection. Anurag Kashyap was my voice of conscience when I faltered in the past. He backed my conviction with his belief. Sunil Bohra invested in my madness and trusted a failed man. Siddharth Roy Kapur is truly a CEO with heart and I will always remain grateful for the passion that Disney UTV poured into acquiring and releasing my film. The road was tenuous at times but eventually it was very satisfying. I discovered a young team that matched my passion and selflessly strove to make the film. It is in these young men and women that the future of our cinema rests. The onus is on us to take that leap of faith.

Khursheed Mistry

SHAHID-WP-1

I’ve watched Shahid thrice; the last time, I even paid to see it!  What can I say about Shahid that hasn’t been said already and by many, far more eloquently than me? This time around I had half my attention on the reaction of the audience as well. They laughed when I did and cried when I was weeping copious tears (I promise I heard many sniffles during some overwhelming moments in the film). At the end of the film, we all cheered for our 2 hours well spent and worth every rupee!

I must admit rather candidly that I am guilty; of the same prejudices that most of the population of this country have towards Muslims. However, when I was watching Shahid, I forgot about his religion or his faith and could only focus on his zeal. What made Shahid tick? How did this young man so full of life and such goodness, deal with all the adversities in his life? The answer is simple. Shahid Azmi was a man of choices. Even the wrong choices made by him, he endeavoured to rectify. At every crucial juncture in his life, Shahid chose to listen to his instincts and heart. This man of internal steel weathered every storm in his life stoically and in a matter of fact manner, that warms the cockles of the heart. He never bragged about his achievements nor cursed fate for his problems. This country needs more people like him who turn to education to beat jingoism and the system rather than beat up the people.

Hansal Mehta has proved his worth by rising from the ashes like a Phoenix. By showcasing and with such skillful accuracy as well as sensitivity, the life of Shahid Azmi, a lawyer who was mercilessly killed for helping innocent convicts, he has shown one and all, the depth of his capability and evolution. From raw intensity, emotions, subtle humour and Shahid’s passionate belief in righting the wrong, Hansal has drawn out nothing short of natural and perhaps some of their best performances from his cast and crew.

There are some actors who define the roles they play so strongly that audiences find it unimaginable that another could have played it better. Raj Kumar Yadav, the unconventionally attractive actor lived and breathed the life of Shahid and infused a freshness that was very refreshing in the way the story was told. So convincing was his performance that he had me crying and laughing in the film. This multi-talented and gifted actor will go a long, long way!

In all this, due accolades must be given to the ENTIRE crew and cast of Shahid without whom this success would not have been possible. Baljinder Kaur, Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub, Prabhleen Sandhu, Kay Kay Menon, Vipin Sharma, Shalini Vatsa, Yusuf Husain and many more, complemented and enhanced this labour of love with their contribution and presence.

Sameer Gautam Singh has expertly woven an excellent and well researched story. He painted it lovingly with myriad emotions and some unforgettable moments which had me spell bound!

No story is every complete without the contribution of the Editor. Apurva Asrani’s crisp and ever definitive cutting edge style leaves us with a visual delight beyond words. Precise and beautifully timed, this brilliant and talented Apurva has contributed greatly to the success of Shahid by also Co-writing the screenplay along with Hansal Mehta. No one tells a story with such purity as this award winning Editor!

Mercifully, this movie was devoid of raucous and idiotic songs. The music by Karan Kulkarni resonates hauntingly in the mind long after you leave the cinema hall. Anuj Dhawan’s cinematography is truly gasp-worthy. The capturing of iconic streets by day and night, opening credits of the film are only some of the many good scenes captured on celluloid by this bright professional.

As I left the cinema hall last night, on my way home it donned on me that all those, including me who saw and understood Shahid Azmi better could in fact actually change the system by drawing some inspiration from this larger than life man! Mr Shahid Azmi, you have our respect; your story will live on forever…

SHAHID IS NOT A 100 CR FILM; IT IS PRICELESS!

The Stink Operation

I was in a meeting with two friends this evening. We were talking about getting another friend’s film made and about how there was a businessman who wished to invest in the film. We had no idea about the business of this businessman. We had no idea about whether we would get money or not. All we wanted was to get the film made.

As we spoke I got a call from my father. He told me there was some sting operation on CNN-IBN exposing black money in bollywood. That conversation with my dad had me intrigued enough to trudge back home with the ‘noble’ intention of deriving some vicarious, voyeuristic pleasure from this sting operation.

I normally sleep by 10.30. I stayed up to watch the drama unfold. I wish I’d watched Bol Bachchan instead.

I was expecting a potboiler spiced with titillation, drama and some comedy. Instead, I was subjected to a cheap tragedy. Here was a stink operation that looked for an unidentified, unbearable stench in lowly gutters of the neighboring slums without bothering to flush its own toilet.

An aspiring movie mogul, a director on the decline, a producer who was once big, a producer who wants to be big, two starlets and a faceless voice that did most of the talking. Correction. A faceless voice that put words into their mouths. The ‘sting’ exposed desperation of people either on the decline or people on the periphery of an imaginary land with an unfortunate name – bollywood. This was not an expose on black money or the dark underbelly of bollywood. Once again our news channels bereft of ideas and anchored by brain-dead loudmouths subjected us to a shoddy operation without investigation, research or basic understanding.  It is disturbing that an opportunity to expose those who exploit this desperation for money (black or white or any color/currency/form) has been totally wasted.

A system has been in ruin with tainted money from politicians, brokers, gangsters, betting rackets being laundered in films (also perhaps in property, but that is another story).  The film industry in particular has always been an exploitative place. Stars have exploited producers. Producers have exploited workers. Financiers have exploited producers. Distributors have exploited producers. Producers have exploited directors. Directors have exploited writers. The list is endless. The web is complex. Corporatization of the industry is simply the introduction of management jargon to justify traditionally exploitative practices. Here is an ecosystem in total ruin. Lack of transparency, mistrust and manipulation form the core values of the film business. Lies are freely traded. Nepotism thrives. Sycophancy flourishes. This is a safe haven for a larger system that creates unimaginable sums of ill gotten wealth. This larger system will continue to flourish while our government will continue floundering, while our fourth estate will continue regressing, while our desperation will continue increasing.

I have a lot to rant on this but I will stop. But this much I will say… Hamaam mein sab nange hain

Spaghetti Bolognese – My Version!

This is my version of the popular sauce (ragu alla Bolognese) that originated from Bolgna, Italy. Traditionally this is made with beef mince but my version uses lamb mince. The recipe is a variation of many recipes that I have tried earlier and it incorporates the best of both worlds – knowledge derived from expert chefs and my own unique ‘genius’!

Without further ado I present my version of a dish that is easy, delicious and a great prelude to a romantic night.

 

 

 

 

Ingredients

500gms Lamb mince

2 Medium Onions, finely chopped

6 Garlic Cloves, finely chopped

1 Glass of Red Wine (any decent, cheap red will do)

2 tbsp Balsamic Vinegar (optional)

½ tsp Dried Rosemary

¼ tsp Dried Thyme

1 tsp Dried Oregano

3-4 Fresh Basil leaves (optional)

8-10 Medium Tomatoes

2 Green tomatoes, chopped (optional)

Salt to taste Parmesan / Cheddar Cheese

Half a packet of spaghetti

2-3 tbsp Olive Oil

Procedure

  1. Boil water (approx 500 ml) and throw in the tomatoes. Let them boil until the skins begin to peel off. Remove the tomatoes from the water. De-skin the tomatoes and blend into a thick puree.
  2. Heat oil in a pan. Throw in the dried rosemary and thyme. Fry for around 1 minute or until slightly brown (do not burn)
  3. Add the chopped onions and garlic. Fry until they turn soft.
  4. Add the mince. Fry for another 4-5 minutes until it just changes color.
  5. Add the wine and balsamic vinegar. Cook on high flame until the gravy is reduced to nearly half.
  6. Add the tomato puree and chopped green tomatoes. Season with salt. Bring to a boil.
  7. Cover and let the sauce simmer for approximately 30-40 minutes or until the mince is cooked. This is your bolognese sauce – simmering gently waiting to be done and gently put over steaming spaghetti!
  8. Boil some more water in another pan. Add a teaspoon of olive oil and some salt to this. Cook the spaghetti in the boiling water as per the instructions on the pack.
  9. When the spaghetti is done, drain and keep aside. (Ensure that you do not make the spaghetti too early as it will dry up really fast)
  10. Tear the basil leaves and mix them into the bolgnese sauce.
  11. Make a bed of spaghetti on the serving plate. Put a generous amount of the bolgnese sauce on this.
  12. Generously sprinkle grated parmesan or cheddar cheese. Enjoy the meal!

I was so delighted with my recipe that I had my son make it the following night. It was successful. I polished off two glasses of good Indian wine in celebration of this wonderful dish. Dim the lights, serve this to your beloved in a nice white plate, with a glass of wine, soft candle-light and even softer music. A fresh salad on the side will be great but not essential.

Let Her Rest…

She sleeps. Yet she is. Without rest.

She gazes. Into the dark ceiling. The seamless cover. Of black.Lit by a thousand twinkles. Interrupted by. A hazy foreground. A gray lining. Partly covering. Silver stars.

Her mind wanders. She lingers. Over the past. Worries. About now. She thinks. About tomorrow. She wonders. About how. It will unfold.

She knows. Tomorrow. Will be no different. From today. Or yesterday.

The stars will shine. Over her. While she dies. A thousand deaths. Will not end her journey.

A journey. Of colorless infinity. Spotted. With small speckles. Of colorful bursts. Within many. Light years of dark nights. A journey. Of little truth. And many lies.

She will live. Through this. And many other journeys. Sometimes disturbed. Sometimes limping. Mostly numb. Otherwise unhindered.

She will find solace. In the blackness. She will hide. In the seamless. In the distant. In the near. In the cries. In the tears. In the whispers. In the torment. In the hidden. In the laughter. In the mystery. Of a naked night. Like million. Other nights.

She will survive. While I die. A million deaths. While I seek. Countless desires. Impossible dreams. While I lust. For life. With her.

She will just. Survive.

Survival. Is not. A sin. It is not. Defeat.

Survival. Is. An instinct. Driven by necessity. Emerging. Out of darkness. In the hope. Of a brighter. Morning. In the hope. That every little speck of brightness. Illuminates. Her soul. Like. A million suns.

I am. Entangled. Intertwined. Bound. Within your bounds. I live. Your dreams. I feel. Your darkness. I see. The brightness. In the little sparkles. Like you.

Come my beloved. Embrace me. Forgive me. For I have. Caused this darkness. Upon you. I have slit. Your belly. I have entered. You. I have. Violated. You. Until. You accepted. My attack. As you did. Darkness. You embraced me. Without complaint.

Upon you. I spit. I shit. I fuck. I fornicate. I procrastinate. I create. I destroy. I multiply. While you tolerate. While you endure. While you remain. Constant.

I want you to know. Today. Now. I attacked you. Because I felt. I had to. To survive. But. The truth is. I am you. You are me. We live. We exist. We dream. We survive.Together.

I am your spirit. And like you. I will never perish. Yet. Abuse. I will. Not out of hate. Or disrespect. Just. Out of habit. Terrible. Human. Habit.

Let us. End this duel. Of day. And night. Of love. And hate. Of laughter. And tears.

Let us. Cuddle up. Curl. Into each others arms. Let us. Share the warmth. Let us smell. The toil. And make love. While we await. Another dawn.