“Bachpan kay din bhula naa dena”, this is one of those songs that is true both philosophically and psychologically(as for some philosophy is a science of fools and escapists. We play,wander,roll around,with the least care given to its consequences. But ,but….that childhood of our’s has some follies,has some phobias, which make us cry, which let us awake in the midst of a dreamy night, and yes, they are serious. One such fear was essay writing. Those long, ever so solid ,structures of prose, to me , they were like some ghost ready to gulp me in one go. But like all those poor chaps ,me too passed those days.
One of those ghost riders that I got in the examinations were “WHAT I WISH TO BECOME IF BORN AGAIN?”. The mere sight of the word limit instruction preplexed me. I was close to getting loose motions.I forgot all those verbs, adverbs, passages, be it seen or unseen. The whole situation was proving to be an anathema of sorts. So after grave research, I came to the conclusion of becoming SHAHRUKH KHAN ,if born again( as I was in awe of his youthful avatar(and the euro-trip) of DDLJ,and of course that KKKKK KIRAN(which still haunts me).
But now,many days have passed since that exam day ,and much water has flown and has polluted even more in the rivers of India. Whatever but stilll ..I mean its a bit strange but that essay topic ,now comes to haunt me....comes in my dreams, and asks ..."OK, lets keep the marks aside..but what is it that you want to be". So here is an essay of class 3rd revisited………………….
“they say you get this body, once in every 84 lakh births. And they are the one who also say that we have seven back to back births. I don’t know if they are fools or what but yes what’s the harm in getting a rebirth. So what would I become, or tend to become,and after some stuoid research I come to the conclusion that I would like to become AHEMM…. A DOG….a barking ,sniffing,bone licking dog. I hear you cry, “what for why for, whom for”. I guess for me being alive what I need right now are reasons. Quite clear, crystalled reasons.
So here they are….one thing I lacked in my 22 year old career as a guy is athleticism, 100 mtrs, 200 mtrs. are a dream for me which I win in my dreams only,and dogs with their un-obscure sprint can get me out of that slumber win. Most importantly there is no discipline, anything( I mean it) can be done anytime, no need to worry, about recessions, year backs, love affairs, do it when you feel like doing it. Thirdly for me being successful as a man, I have to be a hard worker , you know one who burns that midnight oil,toil,learn,hit the road.. But being a dog,no shitty business, either just get born in a good breed and somebody like Paris Hilton will take you in her arms ,or else you are just a dog ..who cares what you do in life!!!.
There are some other reasons I love about dog but for a dog, they are the reasons why it dies dog’s death. Being a dog at least I would be able to serve those who once served me with never ending affection. Being a man we never realize the importance of parents, our well wishers, being a dog at least I’ll get rid of being selfish. Being a dog I’ll wait for someone I loved ,someone I cared about, perhaps I may die too, but surely what a death it would be. At least I will be getting rid of that “moving on in life”. Homo sapiens are said to be making the best use of the brains, in a way killing emotions. Emotions, which doesn't make you live life , but enjoy life, savor this gift of God. That’s why by being a dog , I, if nothing,would want to enjoy life.
So that’s my ambition , my mission , if born again….BOW VOW till then."
Friday, March 27, 2009
AN ALTERNATIVE.....
India , as we all know from our naive years, is a land of festivals. There are thousands of them some joyous, some pious, for each scrap of human emotion we’ve got a festival of it’s own. One great multicultural,multilingual,but uni dimensional festival we started celebrating since ’52, we gave it a more technical name,which so on and so forth was more apt…”THE GENERAL ELECTIONS”. We tend to celebrate it every 5 years, if something goes wrong in between ,we celebrate it again with the hope that everything goes right again.(remember…..its just Hope….)
So for this term’s elections, in order to make it memorable one great pol party leader announced….that we will (I don’t know if ‘must’ was included here) build the temple. You see, elections are those swords which redesign those lines in our hand, consequently improvising our future. And temples, according to me, is a place,where you meet the infinite, a force with undefined acceleration, which doesen’t take you towards your dharma, but guides you towards your karma. So temple,elections, and our future our quite relative terms, are’nt they?
We all know about that dreaded history of that temple(once a mosque), or the mosque(once a temple). Keeping them aside I often wonder, purely as a to be engineer, that “is building a temple on that dreaded site the only alternative. I mean if one general election’s temple manifesto, is defining our future, then how can that temple end the recession we are facing. Can that God’ abode clean the Ganga at Kanpur. These days when I pass my days studying subjects of pure logic, I find the aims of that temple a bit illogical, so to speak aimless.
So are there any alternatives? What if, we built a school in that place, school which tells you about your country about you duties , responsibilities, about the comforts we have taken and the penance we have to take? What if, we built a hospital there , treating those infants which quite well be the apostles of our development, those war heroes that stand on that snow just to make our lives a degree warmer? And what if, we built a residence for those slum dwellers who submit their days and nights for the people who have a lot more bucks, in the end finding nothing for them, absolutely nothing.
Well , I am not giving any conclusions, I don’t believe in them,as dynamism is the charm of the universe. I am just placing it in front of you. So won’t these aforesaid buildings take us towards the goal we always wanted to achieve, towards that karma we always wanted to be guided to?. Won’t we in a way built a temple of our own…our own India. I gues we will.
So for this term’s elections, in order to make it memorable one great pol party leader announced….that we will (I don’t know if ‘must’ was included here) build the temple. You see, elections are those swords which redesign those lines in our hand, consequently improvising our future. And temples, according to me, is a place,where you meet the infinite, a force with undefined acceleration, which doesen’t take you towards your dharma, but guides you towards your karma. So temple,elections, and our future our quite relative terms, are’nt they?
We all know about that dreaded history of that temple(once a mosque), or the mosque(once a temple). Keeping them aside I often wonder, purely as a to be engineer, that “is building a temple on that dreaded site the only alternative. I mean if one general election’s temple manifesto, is defining our future, then how can that temple end the recession we are facing. Can that God’ abode clean the Ganga at Kanpur. These days when I pass my days studying subjects of pure logic, I find the aims of that temple a bit illogical, so to speak aimless.
So are there any alternatives? What if, we built a school in that place, school which tells you about your country about you duties , responsibilities, about the comforts we have taken and the penance we have to take? What if, we built a hospital there , treating those infants which quite well be the apostles of our development, those war heroes that stand on that snow just to make our lives a degree warmer? And what if, we built a residence for those slum dwellers who submit their days and nights for the people who have a lot more bucks, in the end finding nothing for them, absolutely nothing.
Well , I am not giving any conclusions, I don’t believe in them,as dynamism is the charm of the universe. I am just placing it in front of you. So won’t these aforesaid buildings take us towards the goal we always wanted to achieve, towards that karma we always wanted to be guided to?. Won’t we in a way built a temple of our own…our own India. I gues we will.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
DATE WITH DIVINITY
I had once gone to Kanpur for some ICAR examinations,so on my way , well ,I don’t remember the place,I saw her. She was not that majestic ,as people called her,mystique though she was. And that mysticism was something which enthralled me towards it. But…..nothing crazy about her..all the more,I didn’t get selected. Next year same place, same journey, same mysticism,and phew…same result….not selected.
That image was not a containable image and in due course of time seeing some somnasoporific beauties I clearly forgot about it. A bit darkish, not quite slim, and most of all quiet, not silent ,but quiet because you see silence is quietness with added beauty and mascara. It was as if that lady is quiet after seeing some hundred, what hundred , a thousand years of penance, torture, and what I wanted was a silence,beholding her, taking her proudly above the seventh heaven .
This time ,barely a couple of days back I saw her again ,(this time in Haridwar and Rishikesh). Or you can say, I saw her for the first time because formerly it was my devilish incarnation that saw it, as the beauty was majestic, divine,bovine, reminiscence of the greatest bliss God has ever blessed earth with. She was a figure models envied, that stretch of her from the groin to her stomach, was indispensably seductive. There I found that silence, that flowing silence, those breath that she was taking ,eventually converting the whole atmosphere breathtaking. That walk of her,which carried a caress, a push that pushed the world to dance to the tune of her rhythmic gate. I loved her. She was /is my latest crush, her name is GANGA…sometimes she likes being called the GANGES.
I did’t know her profession ,didn’t know who her parents were , what I knew was that she’s got her home somewhere in the heart of Himalayas from where she had stolen all the greatness of the never ending snow. So what…. I loved her, so,I got to know her, I didn’t call her, nor mailed her, but met her, talked to her(in Haridwar). She was a simple girl, but had got moods , sometimes she was jovial, luckily with me she was. Sometimes she was aggressive, falling from the mountains as if announcing the Doom’s Day. Sometimes she was just great, how could I explain her greatness , when we the Upites are bye-products of her greatness.
If you have not slept throughout this write up, I told you that back in Kanpur , it was the mysticism that enthralled me. Well now it was a question mark(exclamation too). It was, like, what is in her despite my love for her I want to close my eyes before her. If I wanted to kiss her, some force intervened and I started worshipping her,with that much joy. Some times I thought she was mine, sometimes she was of the whole world. That exclaimed me, as well as, irritated me. And I asked her,what’s so special and what so different about you that my simple love is turning out to be a sacred worship. She smiled and turned away.
Next day our last day of our trip(this all happened on the trip to Haridwar/rishikesh), we went for river rafting. There in the middle we all jumped in the water,but I was taken aback ,by a flow , a gush of water,no she was Ganga, but I saw water all around. I thought I am drowning, I am dead , but in between my commotion came the most comfortable thing of my life. It was the voice of her,but she was no where I cried within myself,” where are you, where are you???”. A voice came,”I am here , there, everywhere, in that rock ahead, in this chilling water, in your raft for the adventure, in this drowning for death. You wonder that why you worship me,perhaps because you imagined me as a girl, you got that feeling that each one of you gets. The problem is I am not a girl, not a guy either, I am force serving this country for years, that’s why I am nothing but mystic in Kanpur, because there I lose it all except for my spirit to serve. So love me kid, man or darling whatever you are but do remember for me, service is the greatest love and vice versa which eventually is love.”
Sooner I got out of the raft , stood near Ram Jhula, closed my eyes and joined my hands , this time with utter satisfaction.
That image was not a containable image and in due course of time seeing some somnasoporific beauties I clearly forgot about it. A bit darkish, not quite slim, and most of all quiet, not silent ,but quiet because you see silence is quietness with added beauty and mascara. It was as if that lady is quiet after seeing some hundred, what hundred , a thousand years of penance, torture, and what I wanted was a silence,beholding her, taking her proudly above the seventh heaven .
This time ,barely a couple of days back I saw her again ,(this time in Haridwar and Rishikesh). Or you can say, I saw her for the first time because formerly it was my devilish incarnation that saw it, as the beauty was majestic, divine,bovine, reminiscence of the greatest bliss God has ever blessed earth with. She was a figure models envied, that stretch of her from the groin to her stomach, was indispensably seductive. There I found that silence, that flowing silence, those breath that she was taking ,eventually converting the whole atmosphere breathtaking. That walk of her,which carried a caress, a push that pushed the world to dance to the tune of her rhythmic gate. I loved her. She was /is my latest crush, her name is GANGA…sometimes she likes being called the GANGES.
I did’t know her profession ,didn’t know who her parents were , what I knew was that she’s got her home somewhere in the heart of Himalayas from where she had stolen all the greatness of the never ending snow. So what…. I loved her, so,I got to know her, I didn’t call her, nor mailed her, but met her, talked to her(in Haridwar). She was a simple girl, but had got moods , sometimes she was jovial, luckily with me she was. Sometimes she was aggressive, falling from the mountains as if announcing the Doom’s Day. Sometimes she was just great, how could I explain her greatness , when we the Upites are bye-products of her greatness.
If you have not slept throughout this write up, I told you that back in Kanpur , it was the mysticism that enthralled me. Well now it was a question mark(exclamation too). It was, like, what is in her despite my love for her I want to close my eyes before her. If I wanted to kiss her, some force intervened and I started worshipping her,with that much joy. Some times I thought she was mine, sometimes she was of the whole world. That exclaimed me, as well as, irritated me. And I asked her,what’s so special and what so different about you that my simple love is turning out to be a sacred worship. She smiled and turned away.
Next day our last day of our trip(this all happened on the trip to Haridwar/rishikesh), we went for river rafting. There in the middle we all jumped in the water,but I was taken aback ,by a flow , a gush of water,no she was Ganga, but I saw water all around. I thought I am drowning, I am dead , but in between my commotion came the most comfortable thing of my life. It was the voice of her,but she was no where I cried within myself,” where are you, where are you???”. A voice came,”I am here , there, everywhere, in that rock ahead, in this chilling water, in your raft for the adventure, in this drowning for death. You wonder that why you worship me,perhaps because you imagined me as a girl, you got that feeling that each one of you gets. The problem is I am not a girl, not a guy either, I am force serving this country for years, that’s why I am nothing but mystic in Kanpur, because there I lose it all except for my spirit to serve. So love me kid, man or darling whatever you are but do remember for me, service is the greatest love and vice versa which eventually is love.”
Sooner I got out of the raft , stood near Ram Jhula, closed my eyes and joined my hands , this time with utter satisfaction.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
MOVIES …MY VIEWS…
I missed the Oscars this time. If I go in the right path via my medulla to my sub-conscious mind ,I used to watch it with an awe, awe of don’t know what , but , yes there was something fancier in the Oscars than the BAFTA and the Globes, for sure. I watched Denzel Washington grabbing it, even watched it slipping from the hands of Amir Khan, saw Russell Crowe admiring it and even saw Mel Gibson accepting it with a Brave Heart.
This time as I have stated before, didn’t see it but such was the range of hearing the vibrations, the fascinations of the event that it went past all the benevolence of my vision. Slumdog … was in it, though a British film but as the critics say its body heart and the brains are made in India. We won it, won it big time now and, also in a big way, but somewhere the foreign element remains. They say that the fair skin that slender rim, of Danny Boyle, and hopefully the posh brain of his did the trick. No points still are given to Indian style, Indian songs , Indian actors and therefore amidst all the jubilation a simmer comes that…”had this not been a foreign film then ..tch..tch…tch.
The point is that after so many ‘ladies in gold’ we still , I mean the Indian films still find themselves suspended in a rusted iron chamber. Movies here come and go, perhaps in largest nos but still we lack, lack many things , let’s list these so called accusations in a point form……
ACCUSATION 1 - We lack the ever so important thing, the concept, the logic, which you know is the backbone of a motion film.
MY VIEW – I guess for a film we need not have a strong concept, it’s the feel, the emotions that matter, eventually which turn out to be the divine logic. And films here or anywhere are not made for a particular engineer or a doctor ,to churn out all the logics, its made to give a person a new world of 2.5 hrs. which we surely do provide.
ACCUSATION 2 - The songs, useless dabble of 3 minutes, should cut them off.
MY VIEW – If they are so , so useless then why have you kept it in the Oscars. And yes, songs are not dabble, they are like rivers that take past the boats of our feeling in the most peaceful way , to an island, which we fondly call heaven. They are not 3-4 MBs of space , but a soulful 4 minutes which fills the heart with unnerving ecstacy , thus defining humanity, they are pure, there are pious and we, the followers of a 3000 old great culture, are proud that they are the part of our films.JAI HO…
ACCUSATION 3 – We are too long….2.5 to 3 hrs. are too much.
MY VIEW – For us , films are not a lesson , they aren’t a chapter either,they are like a story, a story which is created for a person, not just to see it but to visit it, get inside it and live that story. We don’t make film of 3 hrs , what we do is that we make a world of its own which plays in you, lays in you, lives in you for 3 hrs. 3 hours, this way is a very short time.
ACCUSATION 4 - We are not committed (esp. in intimate scenes). We don’t have guts to move further.
MY VIEW – Yes you are right , we don’t have guts, guts to move against our values, our tradition. You know where we fall short, eventually catching the soul of the film, its just that we bring film for the masses, not for stringently divided classes. And as far as intimacy ,the euphemism for sex, is concerned, sex is too great, too divine, too logical a thing to be shown in a film. And as far as boldness is concerned movies like Page-3, Corporate are enough bold , enough committed to even teach us a thing or too.
ACCUSATION 5 -We lack stories………..
MY VIEW – To this lot of people I want to say that, first watch RDB, watch the ever so serene Saransh, get a closer look at Devdas, and then take home the idea of what a story is all about, what a script is all about. Of course there have been copies, I would be lying if I deny it, but I will be lying all the more if I deny the fact that the stories of ours are like a guitar ,cords of which give goose bumps to the westerners through the Oscars taken by Gandhi and Slumdog.
So like these , there are many other accusation, but let’s stick to them. These aren’t that much of our problems, the problems are the people who make them and sadly they are WE. Yes some of the bigger hypocrites amongst us. Bigger because someway or the other we all are hypocrites, never admiring our own , but yes envying the other one’s , all the more if its TRANS ATLANTIC. The need of the hour is not to answer those accusations , but to shed that cruelity in us and believe in the BPL’s logo ,’coz we certainly are the BEST.
This time as I have stated before, didn’t see it but such was the range of hearing the vibrations, the fascinations of the event that it went past all the benevolence of my vision. Slumdog … was in it, though a British film but as the critics say its body heart and the brains are made in India. We won it, won it big time now and, also in a big way, but somewhere the foreign element remains. They say that the fair skin that slender rim, of Danny Boyle, and hopefully the posh brain of his did the trick. No points still are given to Indian style, Indian songs , Indian actors and therefore amidst all the jubilation a simmer comes that…”had this not been a foreign film then ..tch..tch…tch.
The point is that after so many ‘ladies in gold’ we still , I mean the Indian films still find themselves suspended in a rusted iron chamber. Movies here come and go, perhaps in largest nos but still we lack, lack many things , let’s list these so called accusations in a point form……
ACCUSATION 1 - We lack the ever so important thing, the concept, the logic, which you know is the backbone of a motion film.
MY VIEW – I guess for a film we need not have a strong concept, it’s the feel, the emotions that matter, eventually which turn out to be the divine logic. And films here or anywhere are not made for a particular engineer or a doctor ,to churn out all the logics, its made to give a person a new world of 2.5 hrs. which we surely do provide.
ACCUSATION 2 - The songs, useless dabble of 3 minutes, should cut them off.
MY VIEW – If they are so , so useless then why have you kept it in the Oscars. And yes, songs are not dabble, they are like rivers that take past the boats of our feeling in the most peaceful way , to an island, which we fondly call heaven. They are not 3-4 MBs of space , but a soulful 4 minutes which fills the heart with unnerving ecstacy , thus defining humanity, they are pure, there are pious and we, the followers of a 3000 old great culture, are proud that they are the part of our films.JAI HO…
ACCUSATION 3 – We are too long….2.5 to 3 hrs. are too much.
MY VIEW – For us , films are not a lesson , they aren’t a chapter either,they are like a story, a story which is created for a person, not just to see it but to visit it, get inside it and live that story. We don’t make film of 3 hrs , what we do is that we make a world of its own which plays in you, lays in you, lives in you for 3 hrs. 3 hours, this way is a very short time.
ACCUSATION 4 - We are not committed (esp. in intimate scenes). We don’t have guts to move further.
MY VIEW – Yes you are right , we don’t have guts, guts to move against our values, our tradition. You know where we fall short, eventually catching the soul of the film, its just that we bring film for the masses, not for stringently divided classes. And as far as intimacy ,the euphemism for sex, is concerned, sex is too great, too divine, too logical a thing to be shown in a film. And as far as boldness is concerned movies like Page-3, Corporate are enough bold , enough committed to even teach us a thing or too.
ACCUSATION 5 -We lack stories………..
MY VIEW – To this lot of people I want to say that, first watch RDB, watch the ever so serene Saransh, get a closer look at Devdas, and then take home the idea of what a story is all about, what a script is all about. Of course there have been copies, I would be lying if I deny it, but I will be lying all the more if I deny the fact that the stories of ours are like a guitar ,cords of which give goose bumps to the westerners through the Oscars taken by Gandhi and Slumdog.
So like these , there are many other accusation, but let’s stick to them. These aren’t that much of our problems, the problems are the people who make them and sadly they are WE. Yes some of the bigger hypocrites amongst us. Bigger because someway or the other we all are hypocrites, never admiring our own , but yes envying the other one’s , all the more if its TRANS ATLANTIC. The need of the hour is not to answer those accusations , but to shed that cruelity in us and believe in the BPL’s logo ,’coz we certainly are the BEST.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)