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Monday, August 23, 2010

The Deluge - Script

FADE IN

INT. CLINIC- MORNING

(Anushka and Bose are facing each other separated by a large mahogany desk. Anushka is peering over her notes, Bose is sprawled in his seat nonchalant with his eyes fixed on a window away from her.)

ANUSHKA

[Looks at Bose and his posture and shakes her head] Is everything alright?

BOSE

[Has his gaze fixed on the window, a certain silohette passes by seen only by him. He does not reply.]

ANUSHKA

I hear that you've refused to take the medicines again and cooperate. He's not real, Debashish, and these pills ensure he doesn't harm you, or you end up in more difficulty.

[She notices his silence with resignation, assumes his gaze and goes back to her notes]

BOSE

[Voice Over]

They always refer to him in third person. As if he has no rightful name, no identity.

[ Sarcastic Laughter] As if he is nothing. I've known him as a good mate for sometime now.

ANUSHKA

Debashish, has he spoken to you again?

BOSE

[Shakes his head and sighs]

ANUSHKA

[frowns] I'm having a hard time believing you.


INT. HOSTEL CORRIDOR- DAY

BOSE

[He is standing at one end of the corridor, the camera zooms in till it catches his strange expression and keeps zooming till it reaches his eye uptil the pupil and the screen goes black]

ONI

[He is standing in the other end of the corridor in the shadows and walks towards where Bose is standing. The footsteps and the knock of his broken heel is heard distinctively. He walks down the corridor till he is close enough and his face is partially revealed, a strange smile dancing on his lips.]


INT. HOSTEL ROOM- DAY

(The bare room has two figures facing each other, contrasting in the looks and the moment. Bose is sprawled out lazily like a cat on the bed half facing towards Oni who is pacing back and forth the length of the room in a restless obscure pursuit. The Tibetan Book of The Dead is lying open and faced down on Bose's stomach, as he is busy rolling a joint with sheer glee. Every now and then the dark figure of Oni looks at Bose.)

BOSE

Finished…

[Picks up the joint with a sense of satisfaction and shows it off to Oni whose face is half stuck in a sneer and a scowl. He puts it to his lip and picks up the book.]

ONI

Cute!

[Pulls out a cigarette and lights it flamboyantly.]

BOSE

I know, I'm getting good at this.

[Lights the joint and focuses on the book.]

ONI

You think this is real?

[Shoots his arms wide like a gothic christ and sneers, cigarette hanging from the lip.]

ONI

This is the GOD DAMN EXTENT of our existence! What the fuck do we know of the world beyond. And don't get me wrong, even with all our notions where does it come from? However did it reach us? Who as the right to say what is real and what is not? After all there is an opionion and then there is a clash of perception. And we all know humans are prone to make mistakes along the way!

BOSE

What’s it to you? Fuckin' anarchist!

[Takes a deep drag off the joint and exhales a billow of blue-grey smoke. Oni goes back to pacing as Bose is caught in coughing fit, the books falls off his hand till Bose catches him self with a heavy whack on his back and picks up the book.]

ONI

Think about life and what it exactly represents. What good are ya'll? Yeah breathe, you live, you eat, you shit, you kill or you get killed and you die! Ever thought of that?

BOSE

Ho-hum.

ONI

[Stubs out the cigarette on the floor and reaches out for an apple lying on the fruit basket and peers at it. He motions close to take a bite, smiles and keeps it back.]

BOSE

Yeah? And Macintosh is Satan. How? Think about the brand representation with the apple and the bite bitten off. Now think about the fall of man from the garden of Eden and the image that goes with it.

ONI

You were better off with the fuckin' (Sun Tzu's) Art of War than that religious, all knowing, spiritual piece of...

INT. CLINIC- MORNING


ANUSHKA

Debashish, we're all here to help you. You know how you've been addressed regarding this issue...


EXT. THE COLLEGE SPOT- MORNING

(Bose and Oni are sitting like the best of mates conversing animatedly in what seems an intense conversations till a group of girls pass by.)

BOSE

Stereotyping and generalizing is after all human tendency, mate. Its hard on all of us but we learn something at the end of the day.

[Oni has not yet remarked and Bose catches him staring at the women with an intense look on his face and a classic smile.]

(The girls look at them in an obvious and distressed manner)

BOSE

Onie...

(The girls head off hurriedly and Oni keeps on looking at their dissappearing figures)


INT. HOSTEL ROOM- EVENING

[Bose is sitting on his bed looking towards where Oni once stood and stares into the empty space. He picks up the book and throws it against the door, the sharp THUD is heard.

(Oni is on the other side of the door when he hears the thud ad he closes his dark eyes in a painful expression.)

BOSE

[Take the bottle of the pill and violent unscrews the top and gulps down a few till he chokes.] Why... why... why...

[Bose who bursts into tears, tears at his hair till he loses out and sobs and holds his head in his hand.]


EXT. COLLEGE MORNING


(Bose is sitting alone and talking to his side as if he is conversing animatedly with someone till a group of girls pass by.)

BOSE

- Its hard on all of us but we learn something at the end of the day.

[He keeps looking to his side in an inquisitive manner.]

(The girls look at him with a distressed expression and start walking away fast)

BOSE

Onie...

(The girls head off and Bose is left with the fading monologue.)


INT. CLINIC MORNING

ANUSHKA

Do understand, Debashish, from what you have told me and trust me I've checked, there are no records of this character called Oni. He did not study Delhi University, and no he was not in Alliance Francais. Nobody close to his appearance lives in the East Side of Delhi in Kirti Apartments. What is surprising me is that the areas exist but the man does not and there is a middle aged couple living there.


EXT. THE COLLEGE SPOT- EVENING

(Bose is sitting brooding looking at the people walking by, he starting tapping his feet in a strange jittery manner and puts is head into his hands. Oni comes in and bumps into him, deliberately pushing him aside.)

BOSE

[Furiously] WHAT???

ONI

Qui? You looked as if you needed a push in the right direction.

[lights a cigarette and leaves it hanging on the lip.]

ONI

By the way, the name is Oni! In the orient... it means the devil.



INT. CLINIC- MORNING

ANUSHKA

- We're all here to help you, Debashish. And I promise you from here on it would only get better in the times to come. But I must insist that you take those pills that I gave you and I'll see you again next week around this time to see your progress. Try not to be late...

[Without a word Bose gets up and makes his way out of the officer. The only thing noticed is the door that closes behind him that reads out her name in bold caligraphy "Anushka Sharma, Psychiatrist".]

(She sighs and walks out from her chair towards the window; pulls out her cigarette, lights it and inhales deeply. Her calm face is distorted and screams of an adolescent girl is heard.)


EXT. ROAD TO HOME- MORNING

(Bose is seen walking morosely and he looks behind him every now and then as if looking for someone till he sighs with resignation. He hears the rumbling sound of an Auto and hails it. As he's about to board it he lights a joint.)

(A black figure is noticed out of focus in the distance as Bose lights his cigarette. The figure is smoking as well; Bose boards the Auto and moves out of frame.)

(The figure is noticed to be that of Oni smoking and as the focus clears and zooms, the intent on his face is noticed. He is standing in what seems to be a circle of cigarette stubs, a sign of impatience.)



INT. CLINIC- MORNING


(Anushka is still smoking her cigarette and staring out the window.)

BEHIND ANUSHKA, HER DESKTOP PICKS UP STATIC AND STARTS ON ITS OWN WITHOUT HER NOTICING. AN ARTICLE/ FACEBOOK PROFILE IS NOTICED SIGNIFYING AN ACT OF MURDER WITH THE PICTURE OF A YOUNG MAN NOTICEABLY WITH ONI'S FACE.

[Anushka stubs out her cigarette and chucks it out the window. She takes a room freshner and sprays. As she moves back to her desk she notices a book lying next to where Bose was sitting and she picks up the book. She opens the book and turns.]

ONI

[Appears out of nowhere and mutters in a raspy whisper] MISS ME?

ANUSHKA JUMPS IN FRIGHT.

FADE OUT

(A small montage alongside the ending score: Picture of Bose with a caption that reads "Debashish Bose pursued his love for music and became a successful blues guitarist. He never saw Oni again...

Picture of Anushka with a caption that reads: She was found dead that evening, the cause of death remains mysterious.)

CREDITS

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2JAaftYdTj8

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Ouch...

How often have I been introduced as a writer and how often have I been mistaken to be creative or artistic. There is absolutely nothing genius about writing. On the contrary it can be regarded as a more socially acceptable form of schizophrenia or worse...

Writing is not unlike fornicating. At first you do it for a simple childish curiosity till you come to like the feeling. Then you do it for the sake of friends and the people you come to like and eventually you end up doing it for the sake of money, subjected to the fantasies and the insults of god knows how many...

Getting around the maze of my thoughts

Today after a long long time did I find the chance to get back to my roots and write and scribble. I sat here on my chair for hours staring into the empty space looking for a single word to write of my thoughts. This is what followed:

Cut open my veins and you'll find ink. Tear the pages on which I write and you'll find my blood.

Oh well, life can never be more clear after a few hours of loafing around. At least it's productive in some sense if not morbid once the realization hits of what I did to myself. But then again, I guess the whisky will be a lot more agreeable than my pen.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Keep Soldiering On

Just a traveling soldier
walking the path forgotten long
searching for a clover
hiding beneath the grass
who would care to remember us
and who might we forget
need there be any regrets
or a woe, perhaps two to despair
keep soldiering on, boy
now is not the thought to look back
nor the time to walk
keep marching onwards, lad
spare not a farthing for a word
odds are towards lies and deceit
or an abuse flying as dart
shiny glimmer of an accusing threat
clickity clack as we march on
towards the looming sun on the horizon
somehow the skies are different today
thought there may never be enough love
or even the sight of respect
but breathe steady as you scare to scramble
or seeds may never bear to root
for there is only one hand for courage
and another for the sligthtest care in grace
As destiny would cross the bridge of time
and this life be put to measure
I remember I looked to the heavens as a child
wondering what they meant
when they said godspeed
From the run of games I stooped to march
did i stop to love and understand
what was it like to live again
all that i saw, is it any more than a dream
I know it changed within the moment of wake
and wait for everything to come to an end
as we soldier on to yet another day

*
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Raw
Rambling Rambling Rambling...

Sunday, July 25, 2010

So much for Rogue? Correction!!!

It wasn't courage. Turns out it was the following:

1. 3 beers
2. 2 Tequila Shots
3. Single Vodka
4. A shot of Rum

All that it takes for your ex to want you back and profess undying love without any memory of it and deny everything the next day.

And yet there so much to life to look forward to...

On the other hand there is a girl who is supposedly claims to love you and you love her and yet life cannot be prioritized or addressed in accordance to the words we feed each other day in and day out and at times like this you feel like a bigger man to give it back to her and watch her cry.

I didn't mean to, but the moment you see her face go red and the single tear fall down her cheek... how might one react?

FUCK YEAH! SHE HAD IT COMING!!!

I wish there were a better way to sort out things and not fall into emotional dilemmas but isn't that why books are "men are from mars and women are venus" made to exploit?

Saturday, July 24, 2010

So much for Rogue?

To my absent readers and to all those beloved people from my life who have cared less to venture here... I wish to say...

The Rogue returns again...

Yes, its been a few months and I too see my enthusiasm fading when I note the number of posts for this year. What can I say? I've been busy catching up with my life which seems to have taken the strange austerity as the roll of a dice.

So I haven't been writing much and I barely read now as well. Not even MANGA!!! BELIEVE YOU, ME! (School Lingo I picked up) Is this the sign of chronic adulthood? I think not... I haven't touched a newspaper yet and nor have I bitched about nothing that I read there to somebody who might lend half a ear during breakfast and smoke breaks...

Now that the term is almost closing in and my grades have shown to be the in-numerous D's with the meager B's, lets get back to the roots. Before that, Woot! Technically I passed and my overall grade is an average. Hey, at least I'm average somewhere. I mean before this I was just keeping my nose above the water. Oh, let us not digress further.

Hows life?

Good? You don't say...

Well, I've haven't had much to do except for being morose, boggled around, drunk stupid, running around organizing assignments and failing to submit them out or sheer lethargy (that explains the D's now, hahaha!), getting stomped on verbally because everybody nowadays is an intellectual and I ain't no genius (wait a minute, correction = AREN'T A GENIUS!!!), physically assaulted and thrown out of the class for dozing in a lecture (don't look at me, I think the guy is a retard for doing that!) and to getting into a bar brawl in the supposed peaceful place in the country during world cup night. Go me!

But that is not what is disturbing me now, is it?

The only thing that has been keeping me at bay is a girl far far away who says three magic words and the world becomes rosy again. Add "so much" to those three words and the world is my oyster. And I don't mean the freedom to pee anywhere I want either! I've been sober for longer durations that now last more than a fortnight, found some faith in temples (it was unconventional and peaceful) and guess what, the brawl I spoke of before, I walked out of it! Yeah, I did!!! I can't believe it either...

So in this slanderous life, what can disturb me out of my mind?

Its when the old flame's call or visit!

Normally when something like that happens it either to boast about their pro-efficiency in their careers and how they are further along their paths than YOU and YOU means YOU LOSER for YOU SUCK NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU TRY!!! Or its about this great new bugger they have just met and made out with and how YOU ARE NOT ONLY A LOSER WITHOUT AMBITION BUT YOU LET A GOOD ONE SLIDE BY...

Or its to remind you of what a horrible person you were and how you took great care and pride in ruining their life's...

No, that is not what is disturbing me either...

It when they call and they're nice to you and they still want you and they miss YOU!

WHAT THE F***!!!

Yet I'll give respect and credit where its due. Must have taken a lot of courage to admit to that and I shall tip my bonnet in a gesture of a class act.

For the love of all things holy how did that happen? Call up your mates and they'd rile you for being a sucker enough to pick the call in the first place. They ain't the one's awake at 4 in the frickin' morn thinking about it in the first place, now are they?

And then the girl you love is far because 2 and half hours of difference in time makes all the difference in fate.

So this is the point with the thin fine line that you gotta toe...

Mates, I'm royally screwed in the head.

Symptoms:

1. Knees weak
2. Gut knotted
3. Heart clamped
4. Throat constricted
5. Mind racing

Relationships are made complicated and so streamlined in its pursuit of obsession that is has got half the world wanting it desperately and the other half being stomped on.

Look around...

Majority of the information found online is based upon this subject matter in various shades and forms.

As if there is nothing more to life...

Time chases by...

Sit down and put everything that comes in your head, then you're a writer. But an author is one who can judge his own worth without pity and destroy most of it!

Colette

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Selective Memories: The Road of Dreams (part 1)

The kettle whistled hard, its lid already dancing in a threat to set everything aflame or at the very worst, drenched and scalded till a pale hand reaches out and turns off the gas. The kettle composed itself and returned to its former docile self and allowed the hand to pour the water into a cup which already had the dregs of tea from its overuse.

There are some things that he’d have liked never to see again, but every time he closed his eyes, it kept staring back at him. There is that blast like that of a musket tearing the darkness, a woman against the sunlight where the colors dancing in her hair sparkled far more vividly than the spectrum in the rays of the light itself. Her eyes were on a vase which held a bouquet of violets, and her pale squared fingertips were going through a sheaf of letters. The last thing he saw was the vase as her hand nudged it and it tumbled over the edge of the table top, and he could see every turn it took in the air till it smacked the floor hard and broke into a burst sending sharp bits flying everywhere.

Andy hugged his knees harder, staring out of the window into the distance and he kept reminding himself that “it was just a dream and nothing more”, even though there wasn’t much sense to see in it, he remembered it as if it was already a part of his life.

Looking at the clock, he learnt that it was about 5 in the morn and he’d slept about for only a few hours. He pulled down the curtains and reclined back, with his fingers knotting through his hair and he closed his eyes till his thoughts eventually picked up and carried him back into the dark emptiness of his mind.
“WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP, YOU GIT!!!” a loud voice ranted from somewhere nudging him for sometime now.

He opened his eyes for a moment and saw a black and red botchy face with metal glinting on it, strangely the sight vaguely reminded him of an old friend, but his focus was lost before the recognition. Lethargy prevailed! He yawned and turned to the other side and mumbled, “just another 5 minutes…”

“ANDY! ITS ALREADY QUARTER PAST 8!!!”

And in that very instant, the sheets went flying as the youth sprang out of the bed and rushed towards the shower one hand tearing at his night clothes and the other reaching for his tooth brush. Before he realized, he was already drenched and soaked through his clothes as he looked haplessly with the brush sticking out at one side of his face. His mate had left the shower running and in his haste he’d slipped right into it.

He looked up to the mirror and took a long glance at himself. Staring right back at him was a man, whose hair was longer, a flat temple falling short to eyes red and doused heavy with sleep and a five o clock shadow that must have lasted for ages. He took whatever that came into his hand, wore them without a thought and walked outside. There was already a migraine threatening to creep up on him and he muttered “just another long long day”.

After sleep walking for the next two hours, where time doubled its pace as the world remained beyond his comprehension as voices turned to exaggerated phonetics worthy of chipmunks, he now found himself on a beach with a few friends from school and caught a half burnt cigarette between his lips. He took out the packet from his pocket and noted that he was already short of a few. Strange -

The sickly sweet smell of the sea stung his nose along with the stench of the fish boats and the gutted remains of their surplus from one side of the beach, he caught his brows twitching. Next to them were vendors trying to sell their colorful wares of sweetmeats and licking ice, while constantly harassed by the flies which probably dissuaded most of their potential customers as he noted in the reactions of his friends.

On the other side he noted a stray line of couples in an attempt to catch a moment with each other against the boundary wall. He noticed that they were almost on the verge of inventing a new Olympic sport which strangely involved their tongues and their hips, and out of the corner of the eye he noted one of his batch mates recording them with a small handi-cam. On a second glance, he noticed that there was a curious kid, no more than 13 years of age, with his torso hanging over the wall trying to catch a glimpse at the scene of obscenity below. It was nauseating and he almost retched. His batch mate was more engrossed in trying to capture the entire spectacle in a still, a grin frozen on his face already picturing the finished image in his mind and how many tags he’d make off the social networks on the internet.

He took off his shoes and knotted the strings together and he slung it around the neck and folded the ends of his trousers till his knees. Within the first few steps, it was as if the warm sand underneath his feet had already clambered on and claimed him. His feet had almost disappeared into it and the moist grains dotted all over his ankles till his knees glinting like mirrors in the light. He walked till the end of the beach, until he reached a board that said forbidden zone. He took a look around and noticed that most of the populous was on the other end of the beach, only a small fence and the board was keeping him from the unexplored terrain, and a few shadows hovering in the distance against the horizon.

As he tried to sneak his way over the fence, a loud noise came from the west and he noted a tall life guard waving his fist and smacking his hand yelling something. He took no further notice, turned and made a run for it.

By this time, he’d noted that across the waters, there were a few islands stretched in the distance shadowed by an imposing figure of a monastery whose golden dome seemed as if kissed by the very sun itself. His eyes attached to the monastery, he made his way towards the group.

“What a dump!” exclaimed Andy, as he closed in on his friends; Manish looked at him with a quizzical stare and Andy smiled coy. “Dirty clumped sand, no sea shells in sight, murky waters that brings back the pollutants of civilization (points to a polythene bag wading in the waters), not to mention the stench.

“Shall we make it to the monastery?”

“We’d have to take the ferry. It’s about 35 bucks…”
Fishing around in his pockets, he caught hold of a few notes and counted it to be around double the amount necessary for the fare.

“See who all wants to come and let’s go for it…”

He turned and walked towards a cigarette shop. He took out a note and handed it to the burly dark man and asked for “gold flakes” as the man smiled back at him showing his stained teeth. Taking the change and muttering a thanks, he returned to his friends who were now in a small group buying the tickets. He grabbed one from Manish and walked with him to the ferry.
While climbing on the rickety iron plank, it was as if the sand was almost pulling him back to the shore warning him of the cruelty of the sea. In defiance, he made his way to the boat bobbing with glee in the water trying to set itself free from the anchor.

The boat was already half full, and he noted that there were a few red plastic tires hung on the grating, obviously not enough for all them if the boat had to drown. There were already too many people for all of them, counting the group of college students at the back where a huge man-woman was trying to top the banter in defense of her shy friend next to her against the two loud men. There were two couples next to them who were discussing their past travels, a youth and two women across where the youth was actively interested in the one next to him where the other was trying to put herself back in the conversation. The girl caught him looking at her and she stared back, where Andy went red and quickly looked to the other side.

Suddenly, there was a roar amongst the men in uniform as they clamored on aboard and the boat jerked to a start. And almost every one hurrahed in delight, and he heard a few of his mates clap each other on the back. As the boat started making its way towards the destination, Andy stared out in the waters. It was murky and there was a foul smell that lingered about it, and as the boat cut through it, he could see the snake like ripples chasing it till it disappeared in the waters.

As he blinked, the sea disappeared in a haze of smoke. And suddenly he saw that sepia sunlight caressing her hair again. Only this time she wasn’t distracted by the vase or the letters, she was looking at him and smiling. He smiled back, till he realized the monastery was dead ahead, the waters were clear and there was a man walking on it (obviously on a platform) cleaning with a long handled net. He looked towards his hand and saw the ring and thought again of the promised day.

That night, he was with his friends and it was the same setting as last night replaying itself. It was the same seedy bar they’d crawled out, another half full pitcher of beer, his friend Bones (with the comical grin, the broken nose and the eye brow piercing), laughing to a girl from somewhere who must have made another sadistic remark zinging him (something he’d been ignoring for past few weeks), and Dushu looking at him in a mock disapproval marking her victory in the banter.

“Oy, where you lost?” was the last thing he heard before he poured himself another drink.

Sweet Nothings: A Rogue Production

Scene 1: A day on the terrace
Location: The terrace

The setting is somewhere around dusk, where there is the silhouette of a boy and a girl sitting at the edge of a 4-5 storey terrace set against the horizon. From the focus, it is evidently noticeable that the boy has long brown hair and is sitting in a contemplative position looking at the sea crashing against the shores, throwing a shy glance at the girl every now and then. The girl has short red hair, tattoo on her back, and multiple piercings on the ear as the metal glints in the setting sun. She is dressed in a casual attire of tank tops and shorts, and there is a bubbly aura about her. The camera moves towards them and sets the closure, when it suddenly pans forward and shows both of them from an overhead angle. The boy’s converse shoes are shown tilted towards each other, whereas the girl is wearing home slippers, her toe nails painted in an off beat color and the heels of her feet bouncing off the wall every now and then. Moreover, it is easily noticeable that there is a pavement below their feet with a flow of people making their way by foot and an occasional car passing the curb.

Scene 2: The Conversation
Location: The terrace

The camera focuses on the lovely profile of the girl, and it is noticeable that there is laughter in her face and she is obviously swaying from one shoulder to the other expressing the joy in her heart. The boy’s side profile is noticeable from the angle, and it is evident that his piercing eyes are set on the horizon.

Girl: So, what now? We have the world at our feet…

Boy: What if they don’t exist?

Girl: (laughs) Lets find out...

And the camera pans in an overhead shot which shows their feet and the pavement again as the boy turns towards the girl.

Boy: How?

Here she looks down and a shingles single slippers off her feet and its drops to the flow of the pavement below. It almost misses the trunk of a man, who is walking and attending a phone call at the same time and hits the pavement with a smack. Nobody notices the slipper and they keep walking on. The next shot is that of the boy and girl looking and laughing with all their hearts.


Scene 3: What’s the difference?
Location: The terrace

Alternative 1

The camera is set on their backs and as the sun is setting, they huddle closer to each other till the girl kisses him on the cheek and rests her head on the shoulder looking down at the people making their way beneath her feet.

Alternative 2

The camera is set on their backs and it circles them both. The boy still looking at the horizon with piercing depth, and there is a grit resolute on the girls face. As the camera reaches their back, it is noticed that the girl is holding on the ledge with all her strength. Suddenly she let goes. In the next angle, she is shown flying towards the ground with a smile on her face till she reaches flat on the road and the blood drips from the orifices of the face.

At the hospital, the girl is shown lying on the bed with a cast on her leg staring out at the world beyond the window. The guy strolls towards her and with a shrug hands her the flowers and smiles as he notes the delight on her face.

Boy: You know, there is nothing much to matter in the world out there. But for us, my world resides in you as yours resides in me…

And the camera closes in on the girls face as the emotions cloud her eyes with his form obvious on her pupil.

Icarus Rising: A Rogue Production

Scene 1:
Location: Whistling Woods
Scope: Black and White, low frame rate

The focus is set in black and white (with distortions giving a vintage effect) on the luminous sight of the sky and the clouds hovering by and gradually moves on to the institute building with the students and faculty piling in and guests lolling about. The engagement of the human activity is shown through a slight jerky and archaic footage with major distortions (white spots and lines) till the camera deliberately pans right and focuses on a single individual who is mopping the floor.

Transition is shown through a deliberate err in editing where the screen blacks out for a second or half till the next scene


Scene 2:
Location: A & D Wing
Scope: Black and White, mediocre frame rate

The camera focuses on the man mopping the floor with a dull look on his face till a waltz number begins and his face perks up. He listens to the music with intent and then looks at the mop and bucket and continues with his work. Only this time he slowly starts dancing with the mop while indulging with the work. His little number becomes more and more romantic, as if the mop were an imaginary woman till he tips it and comes back with only one hand on the mop and the other in the air. He turns and slips, the mop drops and clatters to the floor.


Scene 3:
Location: A & D wing
Scope: Black and White, Increased frame rate

The man comes into the frame in an attempt to catch his balance. As soon as he does he notices the sudden change in his environment and he takes a look at himself. He finds himself dressed in waist high trousers, suspenders and hat and says something but is barely audible. He tries again till he says something obviously silly and then laughs as he realizes he can speak but there is no sound coming from his lips, instead he gives up and claps his hand to initiate a burst of sound in polka/ clarinet instrumental and does a silly jig. He tries to spin around and this time he finds a small red rose in the backdrop, whose red sparkles against the black and white back drop and he picks it up with a shy look in his eye.






Scene 4
Location: A & D Wing to Recreation Room
Scope: Technicolor

The footage shudders and the man thinks he is in and earthquake till he finds ground and balance and he sees himself without a warning in a Technicolor frame and looks at himself with an audible “aha!” He looks around at his surrounding and hears a small romantic tune playing in the distance.

Alternative 1:
See’s a woman in the distance wearing white/ blue and attempts a romantic interlude by handing her the red rose. They hold each other and he looks her in the eye, till she turns and in a dramatic mood throws her face in her hand and with the other pushes him away. He turns dejected and notices a door with the quote “Exit” and walks through it.

Alternative 2:
Hears the tune and follows it till he reaches a door (recreation room) and knocks on it with a romantic look in the eye. Instead of the door opening, there is another knock on the other side. He knocks again to hear another knock in reply. He knocks musically, to get another musical reply… till he bursts through the door.


Scene 5:
Location: Recreation Room
Scope: Eastman Chrome tone

He finds himself at the billiards table with the sound of jazz, and the footage mostly continues with shots of cigarette in hand, smoke twirling in the air, the clink of whisky tumblers and the activity of the billiards with emphasized focus on the pocket balls flying helter and skelter with a cue break, and the obvious passing of the gave with a few frames devoted to the roll of the red ball towards the pocket and the cue ball hitting the 8.

Scene 6:
Location: A & D Wing
Scope: Eastman Color.

Coming out of the room, the man walks back down with a simple smile as he forgets about his earlier activity and the wet floor, till he slips and falls hard to the floor.

Scene 7
Location: A & D Wing
Scope: True Resolution

Finding himself on the floor, the man is shown rising to the sound of inspirational music and finds himself rising back in his overalls and reaches the mop to look around at the true resolution. He goes back to work, the camera focuses on him and slowly focuses out spanning in a few seconds as the credits start rolling.

Film Name: Icarus Rising

Duration : 3 minutes

Basic Concept
The cinema is a basic compilation of random footage with a slight sync in the storyline constituting the life of cinema and the men behind it. The cinema starts with old format analog countdown timer which fades into blackness and the first footage is shown in black and white of the material depth in life through the focus on the institute building till it comes across a single man with limited means and destitute looks mopping the floor (in a very low frame per second rate) and a sound which suspiciously sounds like marching behind. This is shown through the old school thought of video reminiscent of the late 1900’s

The second scene chances on the imagination where the man picks up his mop and dances with it at the sound of a waltz number (Mozart/ Wagner) as he continues mopping the floor. This is shown in the same archaic footage as the start till the mop drops and he slips on the floor and gathers his balance.

In the third scene the man finds himself in the next frame into the depth of his imagination and way deep into in his logistic schools of humour (still in his conscious mind) which is represented through his costume of waist high trousers, suspenders, tie and complete with a bowler/ fedora hat. He looks back where he dropped his mop and finds a cane instead which he picks up. The footage is comparatively a lot more improved than the former with a slightly increased frame rate, the sound of a whirr against the soothing essence of a clarinet playing and reminiscent of the time of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton in a blend (reference: limelight).

The progress of the concept carries on giving scope of the various shades in cinema right from the romanticism of the Technicolor in the 60’s with romantic music calling for a lover, to the bohemian and beatnik 80’s with Eastman Chrome Tones and the setting of the present times in true resolution. .

Film Name: Icarus Rising

Duration : 3 minutes

Basic Concept
The cinema is a basic compilation of random footage with a slight sync in the storyline constituting the life of cinema and the men behind it. The cinema starts with old format analog countdown timer which fades into blackness and the first footage is shown in black and white of the material depth in life through the focus on the institute building till it comes across a single man with limited means and destitute looks mopping the floor (in a very low frame per second rate) and a sound which suspiciously sounds like marching behind. This is shown through the old school thought of video reminiscent of the late 1900’s

The second scene chances on the imagination where the man picks up his mop and dances with it at the sound of a waltz number (Mozart/ Wagner) as he continues mopping the floor. This is shown in the same archaic footage as the start till the mop drops and he slips on the floor and gathers his balance.

In the third scene the man finds himself in the next frame into the depth of his imagination and way deep into in his logistic schools of humour (still in his conscious mind) which is represented through his costume of waist high trousers, suspenders, tie and complete with a bowler/ fedora hat. He looks back where he dropped his mop and finds a cane instead which he picks up. The footage is comparatively a lot more improved than the former with a slightly increased frame rate, the sound of a whirr against the soothing essence of a clarinet playing and reminiscent of the time of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton in a blend (reference: limelight).

The progress of the concept carries on giving scope of the various shades in cinema right from the romanticism of the Technicolor in the 60’s with romantic music calling for a lover, to the bohemian and beatnik 80’s with Eastman Chrome Tones and the setting of the present times in true resolution. .

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Looking Back

The clouds are crashing, there is thunder and lightening
And these are the times when I feel there is nowhere for me
To hide, under the blankets or under my skin;
My mind is like a Siren, wailing with so many questions
Run away, run away, run away before the riders come riding
Before it starts, there’d be a past you never could forget
And all those reasons for which I waited for you
Would start to seem wasted…
There is a canvas waiting on the bed, begged for us to make it
The mirrors against the green, acting coy for you to be touched
Fill it with the colors of love, in every way we can
I am but the cloud drifting in the distance, I can’t be held
Bury myself in those valleys, locked in your embrace
But I better run away, run away, run away, and never look back
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RAW
There is a question that comes to mind when you search for a mate and then realize what its like to be found wanting. The measure of the ages past lacks a measure in integrety and tears the other from within. How can the valour of integrity in itself can be treated like loose change in the pocket? How can hope, curiosity and frolic be an excuse to shield yourself from the falling curtains of truth and reality? Perhaps a loss of regret in itself makes for human deluding themselves in mishapen world of conformity. People, these days, can only measure so far till they wake up one to realize that the moment they've waited for come to them arrived, but what they made of themselves made that moment come a little too late. All set against the times when you love till that love makes a living lie of your fate...
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Godspeed,
Rogue
Poet of the Shadows
Back from the dead!