Book ends, Bookends

Not even a lie of an original thought in my head today. Perfect time to write that book, methinks.

Of fuchsia and green

The colour of dishonesty is a dark shade of fuchsia. Go figure.

PS: Based on the very scientific theory that you go green with envy and yellow with Jaundice.

Rhetoric

When was the last time you believed. Yeah, I thought so.

Burn

You will scald a little but it is important to keep the candle burning. The pain is important, it will remind you everyday that the light you saw in the distance was just a flaming lie.

Time in a bottle

Time, locked in a bottle, wrapped in brown twine. Fragile, don't shake.

Random rubberish

When I was six years old, give or take a couple, someone stole my white, scented eraser. It was white with a green crown, smelt divine and didn't taste too bad either. It has been bothering me ever since. So, if you have it, please return it, all is forgiven.

PS: While you are it, please return my half-eaten Parle G too.

Bad chicken karma

Nameless monsters have taken over my sleep leaving their heavy bags under my eyes. I wonder if it's the soul of the chicken I had for lunch. Bad chicken karma, not good.

The Painter from Paris

I could tell he was a painter from the smears he wore proudly on his rags. He recommended the house brew to me before launching into a delightfully one-sided conversation. He was surpsingly garrulous for an artiste.
He said he learned to paint in France because he couldn't speak French. They tied his tongue but freed his hands. As he rambled on like a lumbering locomotive, I couldn't possibly comprehend how Paris kept him quiet. But then it didn't.

Echoes

The weary old man in the cafe reminded me of my grandfather. He always smelled of books, tobacco and defeat.

Fire and Ice

The burning jealousy in the room set off the fire alarm. But is there a compressed chemical that can douse a green-eyed monster?

Sharif as Gabbar?

I am in a mood for some reverse colonisation. Suspend reality and let's get some Hollywood heroes to snarl "kuttey kaminey". Who would you pick to play some of Bollywood's most iconic roles. And by that I don't mean picking Anil Kapoor to play Amitabh Bachchan like Boyle did. That's just lame.

Gabbar Singh: Take one part menace, one part lunatic, garnish generously with maniacal laughter. Is there a phirang good enough to play Hindi cinema's most iconic character? The closest I can think of is Omar Sharif in Mackenna's Gold. Sharif's Colarado is not really Gabbar, but close.

Rahoool of DDLJ (or any Chopra-Johar torture device): Only two people in the world who can outham SRK, Tom Cruise and Hugh Grant. My vote is for Grant, he can flutter his lashes and has dimples.

Bhiku Mhatre: RGV got everything right in Satya, except the title, should have called it Bhiku really. Manoj Bajpai has never been able to better Bhiku, can someone in Hollywood outdo Bajpai. Tough call. For my money no one can combine quiet menance with combustible anger like Sean Penn can. Penn for Bhiku then?

Don: Try this in English for size ... "it's not just difficult to capture Don, it is impossible." There is only one man who can deliver that with you not reaching for the barf bag. Who filleth size Big B boots?
Pacino is too short and Brando is dead, so my vote is for the young Clint Eastwood. Rewind to Dirty Harry if you want to take a second dekko.

Langda Tyagi: Tough act to beat Saif's inspired cowbelt Iago. The evil in his eyes, the physicality, the naked ambition, the twisted humour. Saif's brooding, limping presence lifted Omkara to a whole new orbit. Bob Hoskins as Iago in the BBC adaptation pales in Saif's evil glow and Hoskins is no spring chicken. Who then? Only one actor I know who can be anything he wants. Johnny Depp. Can't think of a better man to play Langda Tyagi.

Anand: Couldn't have been written for anyone but Rajesh Khanna. No one can play the lovable tragic like Kaka, see Kal Ho Na Ho and barf into your tears if you don't believe me. Who in Hollywood can sell misery like Rajesh Khanna can. Tom Hanks?

Raju: The joker not the gentleman. Raj Kapoor's Chaplinesque loser requires some affectation and a whole lot of hamming. And a slightly comical screen presence. Jim Carrey in My Name is Joker, for my ticket money.

Just a number really

"How old are you again?," asks the voice behind the counter.

Old enough to be legally stupid, me to voice.

He's got Pacino eyes

The next time you watch Al Pacino do the Tango in Scent of A Woman, don't watch his feet, watch his eyes.

Faces on a carousel

Today, I surface for fresh air and perspective. Faces pause for a moment before speeding past on a carousel. And more faces. So many. Flickering memories ride a flashing carousel.

for whom the clock ticks ... or is it tocks

End of the week ... hurtling through to end of year. When will it all stop?

Bee my guest

There is a buzz in my ear ... I need to find that bee in my brain.

Riddler on the roof

Do you always have to write within the fence of form and structure to make sense? I doubt so.

Absolute power doesn't absolutely corrupt? Big bad mafia chief is a family man. Never take sides against his family. There is always a prodigal son. And he always returns. If you live by the sword, you will die in a patch of tomatoes. There will be blood. Blood is thicker than water, especially if it's Sicilian vintage. Child is the father of man. All hail the new king. There is enough white space for a sequel and a remake in a faraway land.

Capisce?