Second part of the Pratham video finally up! Check it out here :)

Below are my efforts at making a Times New Roman Rupee font and an Arial Rupee font. I’ve used the same grave symbol ` (button above the tab key) to be the Rupee symbol.

Here are the Times New Roman Rupee Font & Arial Rupee Font. Available for download in ttf and odf.

Click to download:

Times New Roman Rupee (33)
Arial Rupee Font (36)

How to install:

1. Click on link above, save file, OK
2. Unzip and extract files
3. On Windows Vista, right click on “Times New Roman Rupee” and press install.

Click to download:

Talent is what they say
you have after the novel
is published and favorably
reviewed. Beforehand what
you have is a tedious
delusion, a hobby like knitting.

Work is what you have done
after the play is produced
and the audience claps.
Before that friends keep asking
when you are planning to go
out and get a job.

Genius is what they know you
had after the third volume
of remarkable poems. Earlier
they accuse you of withdrawing,
ask why you don’t have a baby,
call you a bum.

The reason people want M.F.A.’s,
take workshops with fancy names
when all you can really
learn is a few techniques,
typing instructions and some-
body else’s mannerisms

is that every artist lacks
a license to hang on the wall
like your optician, your vet
proving you may be a clumsy sadist
whose fillings fall into the stew
but you’re certified a dentist.

The real writer is one
who really writes. Talent
is an invention like phlogiston
after the fact of fire.
Work is its own cure. You have to
like it better than being loved.

—

Writers Anonymous: A 3 Step Program (Quentin Huff)

[Step One: Resentment]
Hi, My name is Quentin.
I’m a write-a-holic.
I can’t control it, can’t curb
the urge to write.
I need help.
I want my life back.

[Step Two: Commitment]
I write poems on fast food napkins,
with toothpicks, using ketchup for ink.
I jot ideas for poems
on my arms and legs. When I run out of space,
I use my shoes.
I make motions
similar to Michael Jackson’s moonwalk
when I need to erase.

I make up stories
while making love to my wife.
She left me. Who needs her?
She was suffocating my creativity.

I await submission replies
like an addict, hands trembling,
head shaking in disbelief.
Not another bout with rejection!
I’m manic depressive.
I’m happy to be here.
No I’m not.

I live for revision.
Instead of sex, I have poems.
I eat feedback.

[Step 3: Contentment]
As a recovering write-a-holic,
admitting my problem
has provided a much needed catharsis.
Joining this nurturing group has

(Excuse me,
but are you going to throw away that paper cup?
That’s good paper!)

taught me to reconcile my past
and move forward.

Within a few days the man is shot dead. He is labeled a terrorist, an agent for the LET, conspiring to kill political leaders including Narendra Modi. His name, Sohrabuddin, suitably fits the profile of a terrorist. The woman is alive for a few more days, after which she too is killed, her body burnt, her remains missing forever.

The friend is safe – for the moment. On December 28, 2006, a little over a year later, he too is shot dead. Police claim he was a member of the Sharif Pathan gang. In actuality, he was a witness to police terrorism.

It is now 2010. Rajkumar Pandiya, one of the IPS officers accused of killing Sohrabuddin, is brought to court for a bail plea hearing. Through his counsel, Ram Jethmalani, he says that he “should have been honoured and not hounded” for eliminating a notorious terrorist. He continues, somewhat ironically, Sohrabuddin may have been “killed in a fake encounter, but for that the process of law cannot be subverted.”

On the same day, another man is brought to court in Mumbai. He is accused of a similar charge. Shooting innocent civilians at a point blank range. His name is Mohammed Ajmal Amir Kasab – the lone surviving terrorist of the Mumbai attacks in 2008. It is yet to be decided whether he will be sentenced to death.

The similarity between the so-called protectors of the nation and the so-called enemies of the nation is uncanny. The point is there is always a justification. Always a few words which can make an action seem right. Whether it is a corrupt police officer staging an encounter, a young man with an ideology and an AK-47, or even a court of law sentencing a criminal on the basis of verifiable evidence, everyone has a reason.

Without going into the finer details of what is justice, I believe it is safe to say that there is no ‘honour’ in killing. If Ajmal Kasab can be sentenced to death for killing, I believe the Indian state is guilty of the same crime. Should the Indian state then be sentenced to the same punishment?

1. We’ll show you a frame from the music video (we being they)
2. You copy the pose with your webcam
3. We add your image to the music video (we being they again)

Go forrr it! :D

Featuring all those wonderful people around the wide web wob who took a minute to help us out:

Perhaps it’s the driver’s kid – greeting you with an enthusiastic ‘Good Morning’ every time he sees you. Morning, noon and night. Or the jhadoo-pochcha waali shyly asking you if have an extra Class XII maths book lying around. For the eldest of her four daughters. Or the two foot rascal at the redlight who holds your car ransom with a dirty rag and a brilliant smile. You feign anger, asking him why he’s not in school. His smile widens and you can’t help but fall under it’s spell. You crossly relinquish a few coins, telling him he better start studying soon.

You’ve thought about it. Often enough. You may have even tried to do something about it. Gathered a few kids from the neighbourhood in on your front porch.

‘Let’s start at the very beginning,’ you say enthusiastically. ‘When you read you begin with A, B, C.’
‘A, B, C,’ a chorus of voices chant back.

The first day passes with great results. You are impossibly happy with the kids. They’re bright and full of potential. And you make a wonderful Julie Andrews. However, soon enough, the newness of it all wears out. The kids are still enthusiastic, but you tire to see that their progress is slow and at times painful. They are learning at different levels. You find it hard to manage them. One kid wants to draw. Another wants to play. One can read. Another can’t recognize the alphabets. You hate to say it but their enthusiasm irks you. Gradually, the frequency of the classes lessen. Till they entirely stop.

So where does that leave you? Incapable of ‘giving back’ to society despite wanting to? I don’t think so. Not all of us are born teachers. There are other ways you can help out. Read on:

1. Ads4Good.org: ‘Ads4Good is a unique initiative which allows everyone with a blog or a website to raise funds for their favorite cause for free.’ Basically, look at the ad at the bottom right side of this page. Instead of making $8.33 on Google AdSense in 3 years, I’m giving whatever money generated by clicks on the ad to Ads4Good in support of education. Akshay Surve, the very nice guy I met last year who gave birth to Ads4Good, sent me a mail yesterday saying that Ads4Good has made enough money in the short span of time its been running to send 12 kids to school for a year on a recurring basis (or to plant two hundred trees!)

If you want to add the widget to your site, just go the the Ads4Good  website.

2. Avanti Fellows: ‘Helps underprivileged students study at the best Indian Universities. We support our students with coaching for competitive exams, mentorship and financial aid through their high school and undergraduate education.’ Avanti Fellows was founded in 2009 by another Akshay (Akshay Saxena) and Krishna Ramkumar as well as other undergrad students from IIT Bombay. From what I gather, the main aim is to get kids admission into an IIT by offering financial support as well as mentorship by current students/alumni of IIT Bombay. It’s similar to Bihar’s Super 30 in it’s intent, but is more participative according to me. You can recommend a student for a fellowship, offer your support as a mentor or even give a donation. While this is a great idea, I would love to see a more self-sustaining financial solution (this usually my biggest problem with non-profits).

Anyway, I think these are two examples of a great idea being actualized. It’s awesome to see young people dedicate so much time and energy into things which can’t exactly be termed as lucrative.  Also, being the ‘creative-type’, I’d love to see similar support for the arts. Not everyone is born with a logical frame of mind. Not everyone can be an engineer. Some people are simply more visually inclined. I think it sucks that if you don’t have money to fall back on – you simply can’t pursue a career in the arts, be it writing, photography, design, fine arts, etc, etc.

Fireflies 2010 saw a huge, huge crowd. The organizers say there were 4000 to 5000 people. More than double of last year. The venue obviously doesn’t have the capability to handle so many people. The amphitheatre had so many people that once you were in – there was no way out! If, by any misfortune, you decided you needed to pee – well, may the Earth spirit by with you!

The sound system wasn’t the greatest. A lot of feedback happening, the artists complaining that the monitors sucked.

Individual reviews:

1. Jalshaghar – A Hindustani jazz/fusion band from Pondicherry (I think). They were good altogether. Very tight – played typical ‘world’ fusion music. The drummer, the saxophonist and the keys were trained more in jazz. The sarod player and the tabla player were the Hindustani touch. Although the jugalbandi between the sarod and the sax was interesting, altogether there wasn’t anything too unique about Jolshagar. There seemed to be distinct Hindustani moments and distinct jazz moments. The instruments are tight but now they need to experiment and move beyond the world music tag.

PS: The tabla player was quite hilarous. Standing up in resignation, complaining that the monitors were too terrible for him to continue.

2. Hulivesh: Folk dance involving crazy dancing tigers. The little kid tiger was fun to watch. The body art and costumes were nice – but the crazy dancing went on for a bit too long. A story line would have made it more interesting.

3. Lounge Piranha – A post-rock band gracing a ‘world music’ fest with their presence. But something was wrong this time. But their first few songs just seemed off. The guy in the grey shirt with curly hair – Abhijeet? – was going off a lot. The flute prodigy Pervez squeaked his way into some song too. That didn’t work.  Things started to sound better when white shirt guy – Kamal? – took over vocals and Shalini came on bass.  Then things sounded better. George Mathen on drums was, as usual, awesome. The humour was there, slightly lamer than usual. But something was wrong. I’ve heard them at B-flat, in a smaller, more personal space. They were way, way better there. Perhaps it was the amphitheater? The music didn’t seem wholly interesting or original either. I think we’ve reached a post-post rock stage!

4. Prakash Sontakke group: This fusion group had AMAZING percussionists last year. 4 guys making awesome, awesome music. This year, it was anything great. Prakash Sontakke on slide guitar played the same old fusion. Then came his award winning Canadian friend – Pradhan (?) Michael Johnson weilding a guitar in a kurta and a strange topi. He sang some completely non memorable songs. The only memorable part of the show was a verbal jugalbandi between the drummer and the tabla player.

5. Bharat Sargam and group: If you have Indian blood in you, you will HAVE to raise your hands and thrust your hips to the qawalis of the Bharat Sargam group. These guys got the crowd going crazy! They spoke in simple Hindi and were understood by the majority of the crowd. The must-have qawal, Mast Qalander, was performed, although it wasn’t the best rendition I’ve heard. The accompanying instruments were surprisingly tuneful. They weren’t the best qawals on the planet – but they knew how to please the crowds. They strangely played some Bollywood tunes and Daler Mehndi instrumentals. Crowds went mad.

6. Vayali – Kerela folk music surviving on the USP of having no string instruments, only bamboo instruments. Duplicate of last year. Need to innovate. They were followed by drummers from Kerela too – Aadum Pambe got the crowds going again!

7. Low Rhyderz – hip hop and reggae! God nooo! Please noo! They’re Bangalore song was the only passable song. But please please please – no! No hip hop and pseudo-reggae next year!

8. Bharat Mata Nach Kud Baja – Old folks trying to play music after watching their instruments rust for many years. Thats wat these guys sounded like. The first song was out of tune – the bass and guitar weren’t going. The rest of it was uninteresting. A waste of time.

9. Kyle McCloud and Hayley  Sabella – greeted the morning with a prayer. The guy’s vocals kept going off, but the girl had a pleasant voice.

Feedback to Fireflies: If you organize an annual 12 hour music fest, you have to make it better with each year. More thought has to be given to the line up. You can’t have good artists only in the first half – and bring crappy artists for the morning hours. People have come from miles away just to listen to the music. Subjecting them to bad or passable music in the morning isn’t okay. It’s torture! Also, you can’t bring the same artists back year after year. There are a lot of extraordinary musicians in the country – who would happily play for Fireflies.

And please – say no to Indian hip-hop!

By Charles Bukowski

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.

if you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.

if you’re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don’t do it.

if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.

if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.

if you’re trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you’re not ready.

don’t be like so many writers,
don’t be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don’t be dull and boring and
pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-
love.

the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don’t add to that.
don’t do it.

unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.

unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

—

Shilpi sent this to me a few days ago. It got me thinking about my writing process, my book in progress. I haven’t verbalized what I’ve done so far, where I’ve suffered, where I’ve gained. This would be a good opportunity to see my writing progress.

I started in chaos. No plot, no script, no idea. However, what was there was this urge, this drive. To do it and to do nothing but it.

Trying to make sense of chaos!

I have a problem. It is a problem of patience and commitment. A problem more of impatience.  The drive to do something – anything – lasts for precisely two weeks. In the last 2 weeks of Jan, I edited films. In the first 2 weeks of Jan, I did animation. In the last 2 weeks of December, I jogged every morning. In the first 2 weeks of December, I sketched. In the last 2 weeks of November, I made political cartoons. And in the first 2 weeks of November, I wrote 50,000 words. Actually, something closer to 51,400 words.

The problem, as you can see, is as much a virtue as a problem. The drive to do whatever I’m doing consumes for the entirety of the 2 weeks. Won’t eat, won’t sleep, won’t watch How i met your mother. Okay, will watch a few episodes of HWIMYM.

So, in the first 2 weeks I wrote 50,000 words. It required a LOT of effort and concentration. I was inspired and encourage by Nanowrimo - (Inter)National Novel Writing Month – a US based non-governmental organization that encourage people to do one thing – write! A novella in a month. You can track your word count on their website. They send you short mails of encouragement – where fellow writers cry and crib, whine and vent. And encourage. Keep going. Don’t give up till the last word is down. Don’t look at the past. Don’t think of  the future. Look at now. Write till you forget the world. Write till all that you see and feel is in the paper before you. And when you have the last word down, remember the world. Remember to breathe.

And I kept going. I kept writing till I had 50,000 words. Till the last word was finally out of me.

Of course, what I had written made no sense. It was a jumbled up boo of words. A story which had started somewhere. A story which had ended so far away that I barely recognized it.

But printing out the 137 single-spaced A-4 sheets was sheer joy. Just holding my work in my hand – the feeling and weight of it was awesome. Despite knowing that editing would be another nightmare.

The editing. Ah. The editing! No we’re not talking about grammar and punctuation. No spelling. Nanowrimo encourages you not to edit while writing. If you’ve written it, let it go. Go back later. Don’t get stuck on one word. Get the story out of  you first.

The story was out of me. And I, the plotless, would now almost 2 and a half months later, begin editing. Restructuring the entire damn thing. It was such a bloody difficult thing to do. Harder than writing the thing, I would say. Trying to find a thread of order and semblance in a chaotic world, a world before light, was freaking hard. But it was harder because now I was reading my own words.

Because now judgement had come into play. Not only would be killing my irrelevant words (the words which I had previously toiled over), killing characters, killing scenes, killing chapters  - but I would now begin judging everything I had written.

And the judgemental conclusion – what shit have I written. It is corny and immature. Sure, there are some parts which leap out at you – where the words are honest. Where there is truth and reality in the words. But the majority of it – is not real. It’s artificial.

Does that mean I give up. I think not!

I spent another 10 days in isolation restructuring the book. That bit has been done. I’m still not wholly satisfied with the structure. It’s slightly lame. But I will deal with that. I’m not giving up. And the beginning of the book, the words which I have stared at too much – have become artificial. Why? Because I’ve editing the prose too much. It’s too pretty, it’s too perfect. Too unreal. I will deal with that too.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

Mr. Bukowski – I’ve fallen into so many of your “dont’s” that I shouldn’t be doing it. But until I die or it dies in me. I’ll keep going :)

—

Now, I was reading a collection of articles on Smashing Magazine about Story Telling and User Experience. One particular article was super interesting in the way that it taught me something about writing and design. Where the two interconnect. The author of one of the articles said that design, particularly web design is just prettiness. Pretty prose. Pretty visuals. Pretty animations. Without a concept. Or on the other hand. It can be just concept. A wonderful concept. But without anything visually appealing about it.

It was like a story without a substance and only gorgeous prose. Or a story with an idea – but communicated terribly. Now a story, like any good design, needs both.

And the author of the article, a screenwriter, said that THE moment while writing a book or a screenplay for a writer is when he can answer the question – what’s the main idea behind the book or screenplay? Once the writer understands this, he understands why he is writing. Everything else will fall into place and make sense.

So far, whenever someone has asked me the same question – I’ve been very hesitant. Haven’t really conclusively said what it’s about. There were many issues, I thought. How can I clearly state one is more important than the other? I got thinking and came out with a list of what I actually wanted to portray in the book. This was what I came up with:

- how history occupies both the past and the present.
- how history exists simultaneously in two or more places

- how having everything can be as debilitating as having nothing
- how having every opportunity can be equally or more debilitating than having nothing

- how there is nothing to fight for any more

- how art has very little space in a commercial society
- how being an artist is impossible unless you have the financial backing.
- class matters

Earlier I thought that the love story in my book was intrinsic to the story. But now I’ve come to the conclusion it’s secondary. There is love, there is magical realism, there is death. But all these are limited in their scope.

What I want to write about is the struggle and the lack of struggle. What I want to write about is history – which in it’s circles brings us back to where we were.

Then I came up with these ‘prophetic’ lines:

The book is written, the story is yet to be told.

So much to be done! :)

Ludo has been desecrated as a mindless game totally dependent on chance. But I would like to disagree. Over several carefully conducted clinical trials of Ludo in an observed setting, I have come to several conclusions:

1. When Nam, Dham & I play – Namrata HAS to lose. No matter where she sits. No matter what colour she chooses. Chance says that she should win won out of 3 matches. This does not happen. She loses after loses after loses. Does this mean that chance/fate/destiny does not favour her? Or that she simply strategizes incorrectly. A little bit of both would be my argument – although more likely to be the first.

2. It’s not random – it’s strategy! Of course, there is strategy involved in Ludo. If you were a soldier moving around squares with the license to kill, would you kill someone if you were vulnerable to attack? I think not. Similarly, with Ludo and its safe havens, homes and attack zones, there is a lot of strategy involved. But the end move, whether you pull the trigger, whether you escape from attack – is dependent on chance. Just like – life!

3. When the four people playing are 2 Indians, 1 Canadian & 1 American – The Canadians and the Americans will be too busy trying to kill each other (and saying “sorry” afterwards – apparently the game is called “sorry” in the ‘West’) that they won’t even notice when the Indians have won the game and walked away. In such a situation, Nam won’t lose.

4. When the four people are Indians – including a Marathi & a Mallu – The Mallu aims to kill and kills eagerly at that. Always the gold digger! The Marathi doesn’t leave his home state (yes, mumbai is yours! blah blah!). My luck seems to depreciate – but Nam’s luck somehow gets better but not extensively. The results of this clinical trial were inconclusive as the participants decided to eat my wonderfully crafted food instead of playing this great game.

5. When you say what you want and you mean it – you get it! … most of the time. In a certain trial, the Canadian, after suffering much loss, decided she couldn’t take it any more. She shouted ‘six’ and threw the ‘die’ into the table with much force – sending the die ricochetting off a glass – and hoo haaa hee – it was a six! Not once, but several deveral times! Similarly, in the trial involving the eager-to-kill Mallu, when the Mallu needed a three to kill and said ‘three’ right before rolling – he got it! When he needed 5 to kill and said ‘five’ right before rolling – he got it! The Marathi, by this argument, didn’t truly mean what he said when he said ‘six bitch, six’.

6. Elephant poo paper doesn’t smell – Our lovely, pretty Ludo board, dice and blobs are made of elephant poo by a company called Haathi Chaap. Poo paper doesn’t smell. However, feedback for Haathi Chaap – your dice aren’t amenable to much rolling – the dots keep falling off! And the blue and green counters look crazily similar – sending fears of colour blindness to your unwitting users. Not good! But otherwise, the Ludo board is very pretty. Elephant profiles, elephant back-files have never looked soo good!