Standing still in clutter of things
The memories of old stored in each bit
You carry some
Some you throw away
They weigh you down
But you keep them for the sake of old times
Or so you say whenever I ask you, why
But inside you try to find the reason everyday
On busier days you ponder late at night
Chasing away the sleep with tendrils of spite
Spite, you did not know you had before
Till you were among those things again
You still keep them and they remind you of what you had
I don’t know why it was better than what you have
When you do, would you let me know?
Till than I am sure you will stay awake
I can wait or walk away
Maybe I would be a memory you keep
Or a thing you throw away
I wish, I knew
I wish I could stay awake too
Share some of that burden with you
But the lights are bright
And night is not past yet
And you make me feel alone
And I know I don’t deserve to be left behind
So I will sleep but not leave
I guess, I am sucker for memories as well
The thing about imagination is that it is incoherent. There is more visual approach to our imagination littered with junk of real life and stories and dreams and what we make up. Imagination is a beautiful thing. A crazy thing, a vivid thing. A thing that we need to make it through the day. Tamasha is a story of man who makes stories of stories. Who lives a story who is a story within himself.
We are two people, one is the person who we see ourselves to be, not really see but more like its the narrator of our brains. It how we think and respond to things the conversation we have with ourselves, the conversation we would have with people we are never going to meet.the things we want to say but never do. The conversation we have have with dead writers and kings and historians. The past that we imagine in our head. The picture of the different worlds and eras dinted with colors of what we know about things and what we think about things. Its a play in our heads, a play where there are similar faced character playing thousand different roles in thousand differnt scenarios. Juliet, laila, heer, sassi or any other heroine of a folk tale. The tale remains the same the place changes. Is not that a living proof of that we have same characters in our head but like hundreds of different scenarios the same story can play out. That’s Tamasha. Running the fine line between who we are in front of the world and who we are in empty house by ourselves. When you start talking loudly to people in your head when Ginn is out of the box, when sword is unseathed, when sun is covered by grey, when cherry blossoms bloom in Rawalpindi when possibility is just conjuring of a thought away.
Tamsha is a lovestory but its more then that it a story of our deepest desire to know someone who sees us. Who really see the story we are part of. The story we made up. The story that even if put in a novel or movie or series would never be enough. Because in our stories we just can not be one thing. We have to be everything, every character we fall in love with, every era we live through. One novel can just not hold all that. A series of novels cant hold all that. People will never understand why the person who looked like a american teenager in last novel is now twenty something pakistani woman in this one and bella swan’s twin sister in third or a witch in age of Joan of arc or a warrior in ranks of mongols or a princess in mongols. It does not matter who and what your name is you are part of a story. But if you meet a person who see’s your point. Who can actually keep up with the fact that bella swan’s has a twin sister and that girl could easily be a Pakistani girl. Then your world falls out of balance. We had a god thing going this world and i. There was me and people inside of me. It was alright we were in a good place. Then someone sees all of us. My secret is out. They see me as one of them not as a normal person. Balance of my world rests upon this secret. The secret is out means they are out as they are the secret and then they take over, they are angry at me for hiding them for so long for lying to them that no one can see us but when that person see’s us that means there is something in this world some place where it is okay to have people inside you. They might not be real and may not be seen but that does not mean they dont exist and that they are not there.
Tamasha was perfect, i dont know how they did it but it was perfect. Not all of us have same imagination not same agaitation but there is this ismorphism between all of us imaginative lackeys the fine line between what we are and who we are. I loved the movie i smiled all through it. If you dont understand what they were talking about its alright. Its not your fault. One can not miss something they never had. One can never love something they never felt for. One can most definitely not understand someting they dont have any experiance of. Ranbir kapoor, i am no fan, but that man is one man show, everywhere else is just there to asist him. Depika Padukone is most natural actress. All in all i would not recommend. But i could relate to everything in this movie.