There's heat. There's anger. There's expectation. There's emotion. There's hatred. And you're in the middle. Don't deny there isn't music playing in the background; in your acoustic brain. Every moment of my life, i can associate with a song. Yesterday, I planned to say something to him so that it could evoke a response i had dreamed of. [strings. already.] I say it exactly how i had heard it in my rehearsals. [applause.] And i wait. Its not that the reaction does not match with my plan, but there isnt one at all. [off tune. shit. jazz is it?] I cannot figure even one remote reason how it could turn out that way. which is always the case. [warning sign.] Im ok. Im comfortable. I have been here before. Many many times. I turn around, slyly change the imaginary script. [there's always a back up.] I know i have to head home in the rain. Not feeling good about anything. [yesterday.] [stop.] I need to start my bike. And turn down that tear that has threatened to swell up. I put my head up and take off. [turn the page.] I feel strong. The rain's beating down. I thought it would be harder than this. I feel drops of fresh May rain trickle down my face in an orderly style; that's my rhythm. My video. My spar. Just all mine. Still going strong. Stronger now.
And suddenly, the rhythm breaks. [%*@#!] Did that drop break the rules? What was it? [The scientist.] [Rush of blood to the Head.] I cannot handle it. I did not plan this either. No... that alien droplet could not have been a tear. It should not have been. [Amsterdam.] I cannot stop it now. That's nine minutes already. Its still not gone. I want metallica back in my head. Its an order. Now. [Stuck in the moment.] The rhythm is a forgotten thing. The song is like radio; I am not listening. I am straining to keep my eyes open. There's water everywhere. Its freezing. There's rain on my helmet. There's rain on my spectacles. There's an ocean pouring out of me; my eyes. This was wrong. Wasnt it? I was taught to be strong. But, i thought about it now. I do not have to be strong, so strong all the time. Its ok to give in sometimes. What the heck? [Najaanay kyon.] I am drenched. I'm soaked. I'm cold. But, did i care at all? I was loving it so much. I did not even remember why i was singing these songs. [with arms wide open.] But they never fail to save the day for me. My shiver now was my rhythm. Boy, you should feel this to know heaven. [coming back to life.]
fade to end...
17 comments:
Wow! what a narrative... you got to write art movie scripts!! I bet you will be famous in no time! Am I hearing "Cannes!"?!?!?!
ok...ive gotta tell ya thats a sad sad story ...hahaha...ok i guess im not funny(the fez way)!!!
i must say very well written, i was almost visualising u in the rain on our pep...all details explained brilliantly...love the title, so applause...applause!!!!
ehhhhmmm cannes????? no way u deserve more than that...u deserve the CHOMSKEY AWARD OF EXCELLENCE!!!!
Awwwwsome deepika.. I wish I could write like you, seriously... can I make a tune for that song ??... Shucks... !! You rock and u tell me that I write well ??? I SUCK..
-Rohit
Thanks everyone... this encourages me to write more dil-se kinda stuff...
neat!
Very best site. Keep working. Will return in the near future.
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Nice! Where you get this guestbook? I want the same script.. Awesome content. thankyou.
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