Since I was a kid I planned my life with the assumption that I will be famous one day. I dnt recall giving it a deliberate thought why and how will I be famous, but the assumption persisted till maybe 8 years ago. I was always caught up in the decision of writing my own biography or making a movie on it, 16 yrs of age I decided I was going to do both. My favorite pastime would be to re make songs and movie scenes in my mind, and later try to compare them with the actual ones. All that time convincing myself of my directorial abilities, preparing for the classic of all times.
Between then and now is reality. Im a nobody. All I ever had was my imagination. All Im left with is my perspective. I dnt want to make the movie anymore, or even write a book....but somewhere sometime when something reminds me of somebody, I do want to dedicate a chapter to them, as I had vowed earlier. The only problem is that I dnt seem to remember them . Names, faces, events all is blurred images only ..I see em as lights from some faraway car highlight a tree on the roadside for a minute, and then it sneaks back into darkness...I dnt knw what happened and what did not anymore. What I saw and experienced may never have happened, may have been a creative escape from reality is what jolts my mind and holds my hand. Writing it as real maybe a lie , writing it as fiction would be a dishonesty...but then, all reality is fiction itself. People I have dedicated chapters to in my life may never have even existed is something that scares the hell out of me. As I try to write about them I feel like Anna Olson, baking cookies of different shapes and sizes...thats all I do now...bake cookies, name them after the ones who got away...the ones I never even had a chance to call back. Im standing where they left me, trying to find my voice....silently baking my cookies..and throwing them away !