In her nascence, she hung like an adolescent sky full of dreams. And then she constipated, appeared sad, colorless and wearied. My desire to make a film got aborted so often for infinite reasons. Yet interestingly she conceived again, reborn every time with a fresh fizz, which no longer remained adolescent, still, a dream indeed if I say so.
I say so because I don’t quite remember when and how the idea of making a film entered my head. I leaf through my diaries and assert that by the end of Std. 10 th, I did manage to write a script, a boyish thriller, inspired by voracious readings of mystery books. Far from those days of innocent aspirations, after three years at a film school, here she stands now, at my doorstep, my desire to make a film, more intimate and eloquent than ever, in divine digits of a dream.
A dream because initially it did sound game, and an absurd one later, the mathematics of expressing numbers in ‘zero’ and ‘one’. The binary digits as our teacher explained, veiled all their divinity when I first met them. They didn’t provide even the slightest hint of the indelible imprint they were to make in the later stages of my life. And as the academic sessions ended, they sublimed to exist as an oblivious chapter in my maths book.
A chapter, I touch now, as I write, before starting my first feature film and dreaming to wrap it up on a white fabric before people.