A little more than two months back, I was working day and night on this Bengali English Indie film, my third project as a sound designer after graduating from film school. I was so busy that I was yearning for a break to get away from Mumbai, go back home and spend some time working on my music and writing. By the end of September, I got my wish and rushed back to Gujarat .
When you go from working all the time to suddenly not working at all, you start getting withdrawals. Your body loses all it's energy, you have difficulty going to sleep and you don't feel like doing anything.
My body too, which I had been pushing to it's limits at work with lack of sleep, cigarettes, junk food and alcohol, went through the same symptoms. I was tired but I wasn't able to sleep. I wanted to write but I couldn't.
I told myself that I shouldn't be complaining. This is what I wanted right? I should be grateful I got my break. I forced myself to ignore the signals of complete exhaustion my body was sending me everyday. So, I started working out, stopped smoking temporarily, gave up on junk food and only ate home cooked healthy food.
Sure enough, in less than two weeks, I felt energetic and fresh again. I still couldn't sleep on time but that was more by choice because I would write or play the guitar at night. Amidst all this, I get a message that the film I had just finished has got a sound designing nomination at Milan International film Festival .
Perfect! That's gonna go in my CV and it'll help me get more work when I go back. I am gonna get super busy again when I go back to Mumbai, so might as well enjoy my break properly for now.
So when a friend called me regarding some sound designing work for a short film he had just finished, I told him I couldn't come so soon and recommended another friend to him.
I deserved this vacation. Why cut it short for a project? I'll find some other project when I get back.
So I celebrate Diwali with my family and come back to Mumbai and there's no work! No work at all, probably till the first week of December. I've spent all my money. Financial planning hasn't always been my strongest quality.
I start getting those withdrawals again. Being free in Mumbai is neither something I enjoy or am used to. For some reason, Mumbai always depresses me when I am too free. It's weird. I love the city when I am working or busy with something, but if I am not, there's this strong vibe of loneliness flying around you. Meeting or partying with your friends isn't as much fun as it normally is and exploring different areas around the island doesn't feel like a great idea anymore.
"You're a freelancer, you should be expecting this," I tell myself and so I should be. I curse myself for being too cocky and refusing that short film. A couple of days go by and I don't go out much, so I go back to basics.
I convince myself to continue the routine I was following in Gujarat. I spend hours and hours practicing jazz scales on the guitar and spend the rest trying to finish my writing work. Writing everyday is difficult. Sometimes I sit on my laptop, not being able to write a single meaningful sentence, but that's the key to keeping yourself motivated as a writer. You have to write even when you feel you have nothing in your head. You force out a paragraph of garbage from your head and suddenly your mind starts troubleshooting and you're inspired again. Surviving those uninspired moments is key.
Somedays, I go out. On alternate days, I go for a jog.
My landlord is my neighbour. His 95 year old father is always sitting at his doorstep on his wheelchair. Their house looks like a house from another era from the inside, with a 50 year old Grandfather clock, a four poster bed and the biggest ceiling fan I've ever seen.
This is pretty much the conversation the old man and I have everyday;
He asks me how I am and if I am going to work.
I tell him I am good and No, I am not.
He asks me if I am from Baroda in Gujarat.
I say yes.
He says it's a nice place. He bought his car from Vadodara in 1954. He mentions it as if it happened yesterday.
I ask him about his health. He says he's tired of living.
Then he asks me if I'm from Baroda in Gujarat.
I say yes.
He says it's a nice place. He bought his car from Vadodara in 1954. He mentions it as if it happened yesterday.
I say goodbye to him to get out of his time loop. I go out, smoke a cigarette and come back.
He's still at his doorstep.
"How are you?," he says ." Coming back from work? "
I sigh, say yes, rush to my apartment before the Baroda question pops up again, and get back to my guitar.
It's difficult, but it isn't depressing, not now at least. Music is quite a mood changer.I did learn, however, that you don't take long vacations as a newbie in the Mumbai Film industry and I am probably not going to do it again for a few years , but I feel this time on my own is important too and I might as well make the most of it than let depression take over. Work will start again, it has to, sooner or later.
On the bright side, I've noticed this girl who jogs around the same time I do. We run past each other all the time. She's cute. I think I am going to talk to her in a day or two. I've got nothing to lose, so why not?
As I write this, I hear the old man calling me. He calls me Babu because he can never remember my name.
I go to his house and he asks me to get his mobile phone from the othe room, an old model his son bought for him recently. I give him the mobile phone and he puts it in his side table drawer. I talk to my landlord for a bit who has just come back from work and then start going to my room when I hear the old man calling me and asking me to get his phone. I sigh, open his drawer and show him the phone. He cackles with laughter and I leave... " The guy is 95 years old!"
When you go from working all the time to suddenly not working at all, you start getting withdrawals. Your body loses all it's energy, you have difficulty going to sleep and you don't feel like doing anything.
My body too, which I had been pushing to it's limits at work with lack of sleep, cigarettes, junk food and alcohol, went through the same symptoms. I was tired but I wasn't able to sleep. I wanted to write but I couldn't.
I told myself that I shouldn't be complaining. This is what I wanted right? I should be grateful I got my break. I forced myself to ignore the signals of complete exhaustion my body was sending me everyday. So, I started working out, stopped smoking temporarily, gave up on junk food and only ate home cooked healthy food.
Sure enough, in less than two weeks, I felt energetic and fresh again. I still couldn't sleep on time but that was more by choice because I would write or play the guitar at night. Amidst all this, I get a message that the film I had just finished has got a sound designing nomination at Milan International film Festival .
Perfect! That's gonna go in my CV and it'll help me get more work when I go back. I am gonna get super busy again when I go back to Mumbai, so might as well enjoy my break properly for now.
So when a friend called me regarding some sound designing work for a short film he had just finished, I told him I couldn't come so soon and recommended another friend to him.
I deserved this vacation. Why cut it short for a project? I'll find some other project when I get back.
So I celebrate Diwali with my family and come back to Mumbai and there's no work! No work at all, probably till the first week of December. I've spent all my money. Financial planning hasn't always been my strongest quality.
I start getting those withdrawals again. Being free in Mumbai is neither something I enjoy or am used to. For some reason, Mumbai always depresses me when I am too free. It's weird. I love the city when I am working or busy with something, but if I am not, there's this strong vibe of loneliness flying around you. Meeting or partying with your friends isn't as much fun as it normally is and exploring different areas around the island doesn't feel like a great idea anymore.
"You're a freelancer, you should be expecting this," I tell myself and so I should be. I curse myself for being too cocky and refusing that short film. A couple of days go by and I don't go out much, so I go back to basics.
I convince myself to continue the routine I was following in Gujarat. I spend hours and hours practicing jazz scales on the guitar and spend the rest trying to finish my writing work. Writing everyday is difficult. Sometimes I sit on my laptop, not being able to write a single meaningful sentence, but that's the key to keeping yourself motivated as a writer. You have to write even when you feel you have nothing in your head. You force out a paragraph of garbage from your head and suddenly your mind starts troubleshooting and you're inspired again. Surviving those uninspired moments is key.
Somedays, I go out. On alternate days, I go for a jog.
My landlord is my neighbour. His 95 year old father is always sitting at his doorstep on his wheelchair. Their house looks like a house from another era from the inside, with a 50 year old Grandfather clock, a four poster bed and the biggest ceiling fan I've ever seen.
This is pretty much the conversation the old man and I have everyday;
He asks me how I am and if I am going to work.
I tell him I am good and No, I am not.
He asks me if I am from Baroda in Gujarat.
I say yes.
He says it's a nice place. He bought his car from Vadodara in 1954. He mentions it as if it happened yesterday.
I ask him about his health. He says he's tired of living.
Then he asks me if I'm from Baroda in Gujarat.
I say yes.
He says it's a nice place. He bought his car from Vadodara in 1954. He mentions it as if it happened yesterday.
I say goodbye to him to get out of his time loop. I go out, smoke a cigarette and come back.
He's still at his doorstep.
"How are you?," he says ." Coming back from work? "
I sigh, say yes, rush to my apartment before the Baroda question pops up again, and get back to my guitar.
It's difficult, but it isn't depressing, not now at least. Music is quite a mood changer.I did learn, however, that you don't take long vacations as a newbie in the Mumbai Film industry and I am probably not going to do it again for a few years , but I feel this time on my own is important too and I might as well make the most of it than let depression take over. Work will start again, it has to, sooner or later.
On the bright side, I've noticed this girl who jogs around the same time I do. We run past each other all the time. She's cute. I think I am going to talk to her in a day or two. I've got nothing to lose, so why not?
As I write this, I hear the old man calling me. He calls me Babu because he can never remember my name.
I go to his house and he asks me to get his mobile phone from the othe room, an old model his son bought for him recently. I give him the mobile phone and he puts it in his side table drawer. I talk to my landlord for a bit who has just come back from work and then start going to my room when I hear the old man calling me and asking me to get his phone. I sigh, open his drawer and show him the phone. He cackles with laughter and I leave... " The guy is 95 years old!"
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