My thoughts on Breaking Bad

I don’t think a few paragraphs can do justice to the amount of hard work the crew has put into making Breaking Bad. But, I’ve been moved so much by this series that I can’t help but pen down my thoughts. I just finished watching final episode of the season finale and I feel extremely satisfied. It’s going to stay with me for many days.


If I were to get a bit poetic about my perception of this show, I’d say it’s a beautiful painting. A painting that you can’t help but admire forever. Strokes of five prominent colours intertwined with each other on a black and white checkered canvas. Five colours being the five main characters of the show and the black and white checks being the contradictory nature these characters display at various levels, various frequencies. One colour influencing all other colours. Oh! it’s beautiful.


Having gone overboard with my admiration to the show above, I wish to deconstruct this work of art below. Namingly, Plot and characterisation, Cinematography, Screenplay, subtexts. A disclaimer well in advance – I have no formal training nor any background in movie making or writing. So do comment if I’ve made any technical mistakes in the below exercise.


Plot and characterisation:

What can I say! A totally well knit fabric of beautiful characters. The plot can be summarised in three lines, it’s that simple. A “good” guy turning a “bad” guy and in the process bringing out the “good” and “bad” of people he deals with. It’s commentary on the struggle of humanity in finding order in a chaotic world. Simple enough ? Yes.


Characters. Well, no character is brought in just to use as a wild card to help the narrative move on. It’s done mostly by some writers when they hit the “Block”, one of the techniques is to introduce a new character and kill the character once its purpose is served. (A callback to the Queen’s Justice of Game Of Thrones.) Breaking Bad on the other hand uses the death of the characters to escalate the situation and the move the narrative. Tuco, Combo, Jane, Gus, Hector, Mike, Hank to name a few.


Like the abstraction above with the painting, the main characters show various shades of themselves through the goodness and the badness, based on how the main character Walter White is interacting with them. This plot here is so amazing, they make the main character stay on top of everything and make the this character script the story, You see the trick there ? With this trick we’re being exposed to how the creator of story is thinking, it’s like the creators talking to us directly through the character of Walter White on how the story goes. Bravo!


Cinematography and Art direction : No effort has been spared to make us feel emotionally connect with the characters, those close up shots really move you. Those wide shots of sprawling deserts, the Point of View shots during intense sequences. If you notice that sequence of Walter white sitting by the pool and turning the gun over and over you’d know what I’m talking about. Just one example that came to my mind as I write this.


Screenplay:  I don’t know if there’s a name to this specific technique, but I’ve seen some screenwriters use this. It’s to show how it’s going to go down in the beginning of the episode and build up the anticipation of the audience. There have been certain interplays in a few episodes that are subtly poetic. Such as, Walter having a baby girl and Jane dying the same time while Walter and Jane’s dad sit in a bar and talk about baby girls. Walter helping Jesse – his pseudo-adopted son –  while missing his own son’s birthday party.


Subtexts: A ocean of them. Everytime there’s a TV or Radio playing in the background, the content playing on the TV or the radio is foreshadowing the show itself. Pick one and you’ll see what I am saying. Thematic subtexts with color of the costume people wear. Purple. You see purple in an episode you’re sure going to be awed with something critical to the plot. Those conversations between Hank and Walter. Every conversation, Walter challenges Hank in his own way.  I am sure I’ve missed quite many, these things come to mind when I think back.


Thank you for reading. Do comment your thoughts 🙂


Make movies like a boss

It’s a hand of a person. Seems like that of a male person. Dressed in black suite and trying to put on a hand glove. There’s a black hat that lay there unattended in the middle of what it seems like an yard. And there there are a couple of kids. A girl and boy playing by the beach.

Christopher Nolan. He’s a Boss. He’s the Boss.

He likes to kill wive’s and girl friends

  • Memento – Do you know who killed Lenny’s wife?
  • The Following – Cobb had hots for the girl.
  • The Prestige – Borden doesn’t know which knot he tied.
  • Inception – She refused to believe in truth.
  • The Dark Knight –  Harvey’s squeeze.

Most likely it’s the Hero’s fault that the wife or the girl friend dies.

  • Memento – You still don’t know who killed Lenny’s wife do you?
  • The Prestige – Secret is the magic.
  • Inception – He did it on her.
  • The Dark Knight  –  He had to make a choice.

He likes the name Cobb

  • The Following – You take it away and show them what they had.
  • Inception – He was the most skilled extractor.

He likes to introduce villains by making two small characters talk about them

  • The Dark Knight – So why do they call him a Joker?
  • The Dark Knight Rises – They work for the masked man.

He likes the opening scene to be part of the twist/reveal.

  • The Following  – The white glowes.
  • The Prestige – The hats.
  • Inception – The kids dress.
  • Interstellar – The book shelf

When there’s a reveal, you’d want to go ” Holy shit!”

  • The Following – White gloves and Cobb.
  • The Prestige – The Diaries and Borden’s secret and the Hats and the Cats 🙂
  • Inception – The kids dress.
  • The Dark Knight Rises – About Miranda of course.
  • Interstellar – The book shelf.

You see what I did there ?


Write a comment down below if you did.

Now. It’s been quite sometime since I played some words on the wordpress ground. Thought I will start by sharing some of my musings, findings and my admiration for Christopher Nolan’s work.  I admire his work a lot. As you may have found from all the trivia I have shared above, there isn’t a single mentioning of his third movie, “Insomnia”. I have watched that movie just once and I’ve not had a chance to watch it again. I promise to update the above once I watch the movie and find some pattern like the once put above.

To see or not to see

So here I am, back digging my conscience about dumping my blog and not seeing her in a long long time.  Sometimes all you needed a perspective and when you get it, you feel you are in control. To get the perspective one has to  stop at once and think  and spend some real good amount of time on it. For that is when you find out things that actually matter to you. I switched my job. Took a break before starting on new work and that is when I found myself. The corporate world is cunning. It sets on a race that has no real milestone. It only gives you an illusion of milestone and keeps feeding the consumer front of our real world. I am afraid that’s inevitable for a person who decides to spend his life in a so called society, holding up the social qualities and living by the code of ” This is how it is meant to be ” books. Thanks to civilisation. So this new job apparently leaves me with some extra time to spare on long abandoned hobbies. I owe that to the proximity of my work place to my house. Trust me. You’d wish you’re office was next door. (I hate to work from home if you thought work from home is even better a solution) . So I am back at strumming my old guitar and today I finally happened to think of my blog. I hope my blog will forgive me. The best way and perhaps the only way to make up to her is by gifting her a post on the eve of Diwali. ..Having relationship with a blog works out cheap economically doesn’t it ?…Anyways here it goes. The following paragraph will say the rest.

It was just another normal day at work. I left work by the dawn of the evening and pushed my bike from inside the parking lot and rode my way to house as usual. Nothing special about the day. And I was planning on catching up with Dexter series that I’ve been watching since a month now. And then do some work later at night. These were the thoughts running through my mind when I stopped at a traffic signal.  I started telling myself that I should probably consider leaving office a bit late to cut traffic and just then I saw one person standing by the road on the foot path staring at me like I owe him something. Something that perhaps I’ve stolen from him. Something he knows for sure that I have what he’s been looking for. I am not trying to improvise here for making this any dramatic to you fellow readers.  He really had this look in his eye that he recognized something that I seemed have robbed him of . I imagine that look even now and I see revenge in him as though he wants to avenge a murder of his loved one (Blame it on Dexter Morgan. I apparently saw that look ).  He was in rags.  Looked like a small time junkie or an ex-convict. I am putting it candidly here as I felt. No offense meant to people standing on the roadside in torn outfits.  For I have seen some well to do people sporting torn T-shirts and Jeans standing on the roadside calling on cabs.  Anyways I shook the thing off my head and looked straight anticipating that the light would turn green this very second. You guessed it right. It didn’t.


Now I see this guy walking up to me. Looking me in the eye as he does and he kept the eye contact intact. All that his eyes  are telling me is “Give it to me. Give it to me”. I pretended to ignore him. And just then another bike came and stopped next to me blocking his path towards me. I thanked my math teacher who taught me probability and statistics and comforted myself saying random processes are so full of shit.  But no. It was not random. He bypassed that bike and stood next to me. It didn’t seem any random to me now. It was as though it was in written in books that I confront someone who thinks I killed his wife. It was like a one time deterministic process that God had scheduled on me, just to have a bit of fun. Whatever it was that was happening to me then was certainly not pleasing. Last time I felt uncomfortable in public was when I was asked by a guy at bus stop if I wanted some “Maja” for the night.

Next. He started staring at my left thigh. He alternated his gaze on my left thigh and my eyes. I literally uttered “What the fuck!”,  but this guy continued to stare at my left thigh. (By the way I was in jeans and I don’t have tattoo on my thighs. You can stop smiling). I checked to see what is it that he is staring at. Turns out its my mobile.  Its shape was obvious and anybody could recognize that its a mobile. Still isn’t that a bit odd?  I kept asking myself if this guy has supernatural powers that will somehow teleport  my mobile from within my jeans pocket to his. It didn’t happen. Then I wondered if this is another gay episode and if this guy is attracted to me because I am unzipped. So I double checked that too and I was clean. So what the hell did this guy want? I had no damn clue. He kept staring and I kept wondering. Finally the traffic signal gave way.

You know there is a sissy girl in all of us ? No matter how manly you are ? So I stopped a little further on the road to check if my mobile was still there. I checked my wallet in the bag. Although practically impossible for him to cut into my bag, I just wanted to double check. For I have learned that these guys have the knack for it and can get their way around anything without you noticing. Check! The wallet was also there. I said to myself “I care no more” and rode my to the house.

I reached home. I parked my bike. I dropped my sandals (Yes. I wear chappal to work. That’s me!) and went straight to my room. I was about to lay my bag on the floor in my room and I saw something on my bag that mad me very very sad. It was a banana housed in the side pocket of my bag and this pocket is towards the left side of the bag. 😦

There happens to be a fruit seller near my office. He sells really pulpy, juicy, big bananas. They come at 10 bucks a pair. I bought a pair. Ate one and kept the other in my bag’s side pocket. Now we know what the guy really wanted. He wanted something we all want. He wanted something that some people are robbed off and he wanted something that by right belonged to him. And there I was, so cynical and insensitive wondering how he was going to mug me. Do I blame myself ?  Do I blame the system ? Do I blame the crime story crew ? I have no answere. Our value system is so degraded. I saw one side of the story and believed that it is all that is there to it. I really can’t think of anything as a root cause to such low morale in me. I think it’s the mental conditioning we all go through and our past experiences that render us so insensitive to the poor.

Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam was right. The real enemy is poverty. And the only weapon we should arm is education. I feel awful to pass the blame on the system for what I did. But if that guy had only asked or even pointed with fimgers towards banana, I didn’t need to be so sorry for myself. So such is our world. The world that is internal. The one that we have created for ourselves in our minds that seem to fit the “haves”. But lets be frank. We only need to choose “To see or not to see”.



Media playing god?

Ok, whom are we to believe? Has it ever occurred to you that you are being conditioned to conform with what the news channels or the newspapers say?

One little instance of what the news channels do. There was this guy out of my locality, a model by profession. He later on went on to become a gangster picking the leads from the contacts he made while modeling. Lets call this guy Mr.P . This guy had an hobby. A very strange and thrilling one at that. He was one heck of a Casanova. Being linked to the underworld, he came across rich people and Mr.P , the charmer, used to make rich girls yearn for him, promise them a happy married life with himself, drain down their money into his credit and finally flee to another state in search of another victim. Isn’t this one thrilling hobby?

Would you believe he did this to a sister of very famous telugu actor? This lady zeroed in on him and got the police behind him. Too bad, she went back empty handed as she had nothing in her purse left to wet the hands of the bureaucrats handling the case while they were all catered to by our hero Mr.P.

If that was one, another woman with the help of a local News channel caught Mr.P red handed when he was all set to tie a knot around another Marwadi girl’s neck in thirupathi. Lets call this woman Ms.V. Allegedly, Mr.P had married Ms/Mrs V two years back and had also impregnated her. He had taken most part of her riches and had fled citing business trip as an alibi. However, now that he was caught committing the act on tape, he decided to come clean. What shocked us is that the news channel that accompanied V itself took a U-turn and supported Mr.P and a defamation case was registered against her. This happened way back in 2007 and I am sure some of you who are into habit of watching Kannada news channels would have a faint memory of this story. What’s even disheartening is that he had full support from his family for these “stately deeds” .

The point that I am trying to make is that, we are being robbed off our right to know the truth. I am not saying all the news channels or newspapers do this. There were times in the past when the newspapers  were less commercial in nature and when the reporters had no pressure to capture patrons by flashy-half true news. It was in fact the free press that spurred our forefathers into nationalist movement. It was palpably one of the major factors that contributed to the wake in the people prior Independence.

If that was then, what we have today are barbaric news channels waiting to make a quick buck. And in the bargain they forget to respect the sanctity of their profession. In country like ours where media has maximum freedom in contrast with peers like China,Myanmar etc, the reporters become layman’s prophet to the divine truth. They are as important to us  as a teacher or even a mother to a child.

The contemporary world is not filled with rainbows and butterflies, it is filled with dust,innocent blood and sweat. How could the media indulge in a spree of begetting gossips when a Palestinian mother is getting  gang-raped in front of his son by Israeli  soldiers? How could the media be reporting about Tiger wood’s sex life when the aboriginals are still being exploited by the late inhabitants?

Some media take advantage of the human psychology and slyly coerce us into fall in line with them. News is something which is as pure and capricious as the time and one cannot ask the media for some kind of news. It is completely in the power of the media to show news to us and we get educated out of such news. Doesn’t it make media a real god? I am not sure if there is a god out there but given the amount of power the media has, it becomes a blatant call to state Media is indeed playing the god.

What I want to urge the media is that there are more Rathores and Ruchikas in this country. They could work harder to dig out all of the rathores out and stride against corruption for they are our sole saviors our sole source of light. Sometimes I wonder what happened to all the sting operations? what happened to the zeal of making full use of RTI  ?

On an ending note I want to call upon the media and say “You have all the power and you must make judicial use of it. And prove the phrase “Children and fools tell the truth” a false statement”

A beautiful mind.

I seek serenity; I am as human as you are

alien I may come along; still I am my own czar

I opt to take my way; what tallies to my inner core

lest in denial I rot, leading  ego to an utter sore

One looks in the mirror; to reassert his appeal

I do so to talk to my friend, to share, to emote and to feel.

He is my comrade, the one who knows the real me

Reassuring me always saying, “I am here for thee”

I strain my mind with gawky musings and demented spree

In the twilight I sleep; to enter another realm where I fly free

I dream of driving on the highroad with wind in my hair

I find myself sleeping in the garage by the dawn, thereof I do not care

Treed I am into solitude, I lack the usual congeniality

Blacked out I get very often, science calls it a split personality

Call it emotions in my mind or chemicals in my brain,

Every soul is special, never call one insane.

Aicha My sister

Let’s stop whining and get out our act together” is what I said one day. Now the life is back to normal. I have found the perfect companion to keep loneliness aloof . An exercise, a simple stretch of the facial muscles around the lips accompanied by widening  of eyes with a degree of dilation in the pupils. This gesture internally  connects with all the organs of the body and then one feels like he has been presented with love of all the world. This is a very simple exercise and it is called smiling.

Now, again,  I have come to believe that my life is all botched up, and it is because of me. If things have to get back to normal, it must be done by myself and it is in none the  power to set me straight. No matter what “Rehab” I run into, and how many counseling sessions  I go through. I must have that want to become better. I  should smile, I should live, I should love, to feel love.There is so much in this world to learn, to explore, to share and most importantly, to get busy with. Why waste life complaining on things. There are issue of major concern, the real complaints, the ones that actually matter.

People are famished, there is ignorance everywhere, blind believes circumventing minds to surmount the feeling of universal brotherhood. There is tension.

There is a side which is supposedly the savior, the superman of the world who wants to suck all that is present in the deep rich mines, and there is a side which believes that they should fight for their religion and die as they do to attain Nirvana which is supposedly is filled with wine and beautiful women.

There is a quarrel between two groups over taking hold of a land that each claim to be of the religious origin.

There is side that is all so good to neighbors with good foreign policies and highly educated representatives who seem to overlook the fundamental problem,

and there is group which wants to uphold its heritage and thinks that can be done by building temples, monuments and by destroying those of other communities.

Why are we not looking at what we indeed are? We are no subject of a super power, we are no Hindus or Muslims or Christians, we are no Jews. Humans are what we are. The only enemy we all have to fight is Poverty as Dr. A.P.J. Abdul kalam states.

Here is a beautiful song for you all to go back smiling while you move out of this page.  Aicha from Outlandish.

So sweet, so beautiful
Everyday like a queen on her throne
Don’t nobody knows how she feels
Aicha, Lady one day it will be real

She moves, she moves like a breeze
I swear I can’t get her out of my dreams
To have her shining here by my side
I’d sacrifice all them tears in my eyes


Aicha Aicha – passing me by (there she goes again)
Aicha Aicha – my my my (is it really real)
Aicha Aicha – smile for me now
Aicha Aicha – in my life


She holds her child to her heart
Makes her feel like she is blessed from above
Falls asleep underneath her sweet tears
Her lullaby fades away with his fears



She needs somebody to lean on
Someone body, mind & soul
To take her hand, to take her world
And show her the time of her life, so true
Throw the pain away for good
No more contemplating boo


Lord knows the way she feels
Everyday in his name she begins
To have her shining here by my side
I’d sacrifice all them tears in my eyes
Aicha Aicha – ecoute moi Is the link to the song.

To all the sisters out there ECOUTE MOI 🙂


Please read this story chapter 1 through 11. DO NOT spoil the fun by reading the END. It is a short story so two rounds of reading will suffice.Do leave your comments for this is my first attempt and I value them a lot. Have fun reading GORE.