Like your smile
And your fingertips
Like the way that you move your lips
I like the cool way you look at me
Everything about you is bringing me
Misery

Dylan

100 !

I have been thinking long and hard as to what i should post as my 100th post.
Dropped all the ideas i had. Here goes.

Tendlya might not have scored a century in the past 3 matches, i am beating him to it !

Also,

To "eye,"
You have been a great friend ever since my first rant post the Porbandar jury, Second Year to the last rant post 5th year.
And all those miscellaneous thoughts, frustrations, etc in between the rants.

Thank you.

work in progress

this rant has three parts to it.
note: do not take this personally, its addressed to no one in particular, and to everyone.
1. past-future
2. present
3. hair loss

part 1 - past future.
world, because of you, i went to the finest institutes for a good education.
world, all you kept on telling me through the 23 years of my life is, " i am competitive, do not get left behind. you have to work now to make it big." you lied !
world, because of what you told us, i had to sit for extra tuition classes, as i was dumb not to understand how chemistry works, or was not efficient at mathematics, in school.
world, because of what you said, i spent most of my time reading one textbook or another, none of which i remember, all of which i regret.
world, because of you, i had locked myself within the 4 walls of my room for 2 months before march 2003.
world, because of the above, i scored well, and barely managed to get into the next finest institute.
where, by the way, i had to enroll for tuition for every subject they taught in that institute.
world, those days, i used to leave home at 545am and return at 930pm four times a week.
world, i did not sleep some nights, as i was mechanically doing nonsense mathematics, algebra, calculus, physics and chemistry.
all of which i regret, none of which i remember.
world, this is what you put me through.
then, even after scoring a decent percentage, o world, you made sure admission to the next finest institute would not be a cake walk.
as luck would have it, i did get into it, despite your best efforts.

now listen carefully dear world,
once in the finest professional institute, I decided for myself to work my arse off and learn. learn what it had to offer.
world, i learnt over there to think for myself, to fend for myself, to be independent, have a rational mind.
world, i learnt that architecture is more than a bunch of clowns parading a fashion show in bkc.
world, i learnt about art, music, film, building technology.
i learnt to read ! which you never allowed me to.
i learnt about the masters, about good architecture, about phenomenon and about light, about space and about more than just building.

world ! you might be happy to know, i ended my course on a personal high.
so,
to sum up,

world, i have been in servitude for the past 23 years of my life.
you told me to work for a future that isn't there.
you promised and you lied !
and now you have the audacity to ask me to be patient !

part 2 - present.
world,
as i already mentioned, 23 years of my life i willingly gave up for the sake of some distant dream image.
now, you listen good,
world, the last 5 years of my life have been by far the best and the most memorable. i leave the institute a changed man.
i have a set of beliefs, morals, ethics and more importantly dreams of my own.

i have not worked so hard for the past 5 years,
to hear you tell me now, to forget it all, loose my morals and beliefs, bury my dreams and become a prostitute, because that is your way.

to hell with you !

one day you come whisper in my ear, offer sympathy and support my decision to not be a slave, to have patience and offer encouragement.
on other days, you have the nerve to walk up to me and advise me to become a prostitute in your system !
you demoralise, frustrate, depress the living daylights out of me at times, and if that isn't enough, serve a constant reminder of the hair loss that you have very lovingly blessed me with, at the age of 23, i am balding ! i thank you from the bottom of my heart !

part 3 - hair loss.
yes ! world ! listen loud and clear !
i am loosing hair, i am balding ! it is major !
do not discuss it in my face ever again !
also,
do not offer sympathy and tell me its due to the stress.
i will tell you why.
if you want to pin this one on stress, blame yourself ! think about who put me through all that stress, and why ?
so you are the reason.
further more,
do not offer advise and do not ever tell me to go see a doctor,
because,
no amount of medication, treatment or surgery can undo what is going through my mind, every single day, stress if you want to call it, and it has all been supplied by you!
for the last 23 years.

i am done with the rant.
so world, one last thing you have to hear,
so keep your ears open.

23 years i lost.

i did not read, i wanted to, but did not.

i loved to draw, and i couldn't do anything about it.

i loved my cycle, and you took it away.

when i should have out playing, exploring the neighbourhood, i was indoors, memorising Shakespeare, or solving sums. i never got out much except for the odd escape to the terrace where you couldn't tell me anything.

so,

now, is my time !
it is my time do what i think is right.
you do not get to tell me what .. anymore.
you have to sit back and watch me do, watch me give form to my dreams.
the way i think it fit.
by my way, my morals, my ethics, my beliefs, my terms and my conditions.

now is my time !
my time to create.
my time to live.
my time to love.
my time to be loved.
my time to roam, my time to see.
my time to draw, paint and write.
my time ... its my time.
my time to study, further study, when i want, where i want, how i want.
you have done enough.

watch it unfold !

so do yourself a favour and shut up !
the more you speak, the farther i will get from you.

to the world . .

dear bastard world,

i did not spend 5 years in the finest institute, learning to think for myself, develop a rational mind and have a multi discipline approach to architecture, to forget it all and become a prostitute to someone else's thoughtless mindfuck you call architecture !

you can label me a rebel/escapist if you want to,
but,
i don't care!
- apurva p.

i apologise, i am not supposed to use abusive language, but, this time i could not hold myself back.

new decision

its a new dawn, its a new day, its a new life.

(borrowed from someplace, thanks to someone ! )

done ??

The Pp viva, the last obstacle in a rather long five and a half year course got over today. It was a cake walk.
But, I am not happy. I don't know why.
Now that everything is complete,
The emptiness is larger than ever.

Missing/missed certain people.

I also learnt,
The pp viva has nothing to do with what is written in a text book, but is relevant to the time spent in office and learning each day spent on a project.

Town/Fort is most beautiful to walk around especially if its overcast and its winter, which means the absence of humidity.

It takes half an hour to walk from Kandivali Station (via SV Road and then from Poisar), 20 min. to Raghuleela and 10 min from there. Its 10 min more than taking a bus, but given the beautiful cool weather, its worth the exercise.

The King of Good Times ensures Good Times provided the company is right !

november rainS

This weather demands that you be outdoors, enjoying the cold rain. A short journey to Borivali station has never been so exciting ! I left home with an umbrella looking at the dull overcast sky outside which made everything appear in tones of gray. just as i set foot outside, it began to drizzle, it was magical ! There was freshness in the air and the colours were screaming for attention. The green on the trees and that of the grass, the green on the traffic light too ! Every colour appeared fresh painted onto the surface it occupied.

The winter rain has a different happy feeling that accompanies it ! It isn't hot and humid in between showers like our seasonal monsoon weather.

The evening renders everything into shades of silver and blue, and brings pitch darkness early. With no streets lights on, the shops that dot the street, the vehicular lamps and the traffic lights paint the most gorgeous pictures ever !

The weather also demands music, beautiful music. November Rain (an obvious choice) but only for the music, not so much for the lyrics. Jimi Hendrix, especially Voodoo Child and Gypsy Eyes are perfect to add to the mood !

I wish i had a car on day like these.

On such days i also miss my old home, where i could go to the terrace and lie on my back and stare at the sky and sometimes read on the top of the overhead tank.

( last image has rain drop on the lens ! )

sonal's monster

skywalk / parking infrastructure ?

This is just another example of politically driven useless development in the city which is obviously myopic.

These sky walks reduce the cross section of available road width, freeing up a lane in the centre of the busiest roads in the city. In a bid to remove people off these arterial roads leading to and fro railway stations, they lead to banalisation of the informal architecture and the street that once was.

Now, when i walk down Vile Parle station road, it is nothing but heartache. A memory of the glorious market that once was. Hovering over it is even more painful, as i can see the beautiful bungalows that once lined the market street with fountains and stain glass windows, make way for malls.

These sky walks should be re-looked at as parking / market infrastructure, and integrated into the informal fabric of station precincts all around the city, because, that is the purpose they are serving now, with more people below it, and cars parked in between over designed sections and heavy piers which stand on the space once occupied by autos.

Its useless suregery performed in a desperate attempt to keep the flesh of the city from falling apart.

travelling on the footboard.

The foot board of the local train is the best way to travel and view the city, especially if you are commuting on the harbour line. There are no parallel tracks.
It is like viewing the city as a longitudinal section, it tells a million stories of the past and the present, and simultaneously a projection of the future.
Fascinating parts of the journey are between,
Khar Station and Bandra - the railway colony, and a muslim burial ground, otherwise invisible.
Bandra and Mahim - slums and new high rises in the background, also the bridge over the Mithi, the BWSL can be seen as an elevation. There are also buildings with scissor slabs staircases where the mid landings meet.
King Circle and Wadala, where once again the train takes a bridge, you hover above the slums, its like living google earth, the dome of the VJTI building can be seen against new highrises and the BPT colony with its massive ESRs.

reading- William Shakespeare

All men are not alike; clay and clay differs in dignity, whose dust is both alike.

There's a divinity that shapes our ends, roughew them how we will.

When we were born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.

A merry heart goes all the day, your sad tires in a mile-a.

O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults looks handsome in three pounds a year !

The worst is not so long as we can say "This is the worst."

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water.

Who makes the fairest show means most deceit.

Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law my services are bound.

Where is any author in the world, teaches such beauty as a woman's eye ?

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive;
they sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
they are the books, the arts, the academes,
that show, contain, and nourish all the world.

Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.

Truth is truth to the end of reckoning.

war !

Tonight the electric power to the area was cut. It felt like the city was under siege. The buildings in the vicinity were covered in darkness, for the first time in the last ten days, all colour had abandoned them. Some roof tops were active with rockets being launched into the air periodically. Some, resembled flares going up and one falling to the rooftop nearby, others, floating to the ground, as I looked around for ground infantry. There were explosions in the distance, some large, others smaller resembling gun fire. The explosions of all intensities surrounded the area, echoing in the hollow cavity of the towers across me. The immediate surroundings were engulfed in regular explosions.

Is this what it must feel like when the city is at war?

Is the City at war? I wonder....

Missing in action were hundreds of G.I.s storming buildings, landing on rooftops, and air support – helicopters, planes, bombing pre decided targets, army jeeps and trucks in the street and snipers atop terraces.

Then the buildings in the distance suddenly awoke to life, the colour of Diwali shouting out in the darkness, making the noise of the explosions less sinister.

diwali

diwali arriveth

the room cleaned, the book shelf organised, everything put in its place.
at the same time, the first sweet "mawa waalo ghughro" made its debut.
the lights have been put up, the toran on the house door in it place.
diwali is here.
i wish people did not burst crackers.

navu warash sharu thashe. sau ney saal mubarak !