I was strolling on the road when I saw it coming, I could escape the collision but I let it go, It shattered me to pieces but I saved the very thing, they call me insane...
Sunday, February 3, 2013
उम्मीद
सुबह से आँख फड़क रही थी
अम्मी कहती है
किसी के आने का इशारा होती है
खुश थी
उम्मीद उगी थी
आँगन में
कई बरस बाद
मन बहका
नयी पोशाक पहनी
ज़री जड़े फूलों वाली
मेहंदी रचवाई
हाथों में
नाम गुदवाया उनका
उसमे
उलझी हुई लकीरों में
छोटा छोटा
ठण्डी अंगीठी में
कोयला डाला
तकदीर झोंकी चूल्हे में
उजड़ी हुई
बंजर बेजान
सरसों का साग बनाया
अब्बा बाज़ार से आटा ले आये
मक्की का
तभी अजीब सा शोर सुना
जैसे कोई गुल्लक फूटी हो
सपनों वाली
बाहर जाके देखा तो
खेत में आग लगी थी
रेडियो वाले बोले
ज़ाहिर की मौत हो गयी
एक प्लेन क्रैश में ...
Friday, February 1, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Saturday, January 26, 2013
LOVE - I
I do not know how to begin.
It’s really very difficult to be honest sometimes. More so, when you know your
honesty would allure so many unsolicited opinions about you. After this you
would always be judged. In a particular way. And tagged with a label. Like they
do in a general store or a warehouse. You would have a new, unanimously elected
synonym to your name. Pronounced in a whimsical manner. It happened to people I
know. People like me. Who just wished to love. They suffered. Were secluded. And
categorized similarly. It’s been a habit. Bad habit. Habits are pain. Always. But
you think I care now? It’s time to be true to somebody atleast. In fact, all
fears emanate from suppression of truth all our lives. It’s time to let it
free. I have resisted myself a lot. But it’s essential you should know this
before the verdict. The evening you rode me to the end of town. I knew it was
bound to happen. People love to meander in fantasy all the time. But you hardly
have control over the things you do. Actions can still be controlled to an
extent. But emotions they know nothing about the hegemony of power. You can
certainly decide for yourself. But not for the universe around you. It does happen.
And when it happens you lose. Everything you claimed to possess. Everything you
so haughtily professed to be true. Certainty is a rare phenomenon. A long,
brutal wait. I have never understood questions people ask each other. When?
Why? How? Or when people say I will definitely or would never…with certainty. As
if they know. Is the answer always so simple? Plain? White? And can these
questions be really answered? Without pause. Without thought. Only if anybody
had never heard of love and death before, doubts could be pardoned. Humor me. I
could never speak those words before. And I have hardly ever known what poetry
is. Also I am aware you could never sing. But how could you…that day? I always whined
about that scar on your forehead. But it seems impeccable now. Did you do mend it?
I cannot even imagine you without. I knew it was going to rain. The air was
moist that evening. Perfumed. Inebriated. Yes. I confess I kissed you. Touched
you. ‘There’. But need I apologize? Is it wrong? Unethical? Immoral? Is it? I deserved
something better. But you returned me words. Big words. Words I would never
understand. What should I do with them? You think it would end. That way. Going
away. As if nothing ever happened. Would it be a justice? You think it was just
a rustle of bodies. A scratch of skin. And an exchange of fluids. Are we so
impolite? You think I manipulated. But was it only me? Did I ever volunteer?
Waved my hand? Or showed a flag? You think I never tried. I too care for
society. What they say what they feel, matter to me too. Blame may be a tiny
word. For those who don’t have a heart. Sometimes a word may end a life. Don’t
they hang for using such words? Am I being irrational? Crime is not always
tangible. One may commit thousand crimes a day. Is it just? Who would resolve
this entire crisis of victimization? Are we trying to propose? An argument? A
consensus? A covenant? Sometimes the world seems ridiculously simple. Naïve.
Innocent. Ignorance is a veil I suppose. A bright black veil. Rigidly stitched.
Essentialised. Can you help tearing it apart? You definitely can. Love can.
Death will. How can you be so blind? Maya is a choice my love. We make in every
moment. You would say I am drifting away. But in fact, I am welding the gap. It’s
comfortable to misinterpret. You save the labor. One can gossip too. Who needs
scriptures? Philosophy? It’s insane. Uneducated. Is there still some space? I
sense it but why not you? We have the same bodies. Anatomically. At least. You always
make unnecessary efforts. Try resting for a while. It would become painless. I
cannot preach. But I can feel. Why can’t you? Have you lost it? The ability.
Can you…really? It’s inherent I suppose. Unmarred. Unscathed. I can even sketch
the face. With eyes. Ears. Nose. Lips. And grace. Can’t you? You don’t need to
label also. Am I being unreasonable again? Names are just to avoid confusion.
But why you use them otherwise? Is it justice? Justice is a difficult word. We
don’t use it very often. But we do love writing it. Prophesize. It may sound
like complaining. But I am just trying to narrate. The truth. Its long I
realize. Boring too. Disconnected may be. But harsh. Like acid. Living is a
choice. Choose. Life. Love. Death. Misery. Death fails. Always. If love
situates. Identify. Realize. I loved you. I still do. Accept it. Turn towards me.
It may burn the skin. For once. But it would heal the soul. Like a shaman.
Believe. Leave the rest. Don’t be scared. Of people. Their words. Their
versions. Love me. This is all I ask. From you. Love you.
Monday, January 21, 2013
HISTORY - II
That night together
Filled with orgasm
Packed with delight
The rustle of sheets
The scream of bodies
You almost choked me
‘Idiot’
I know
I know
You don’t care
You don’t care
But it’s my turn today
To complain
To yell
And cry
I wish I knew
It’s a suicide
A chosen death
You clever
You brought
Me blindfolded
Into the alleys
Of that anonymous town
I don’t remember
Permitting you ever
That evening
When you broke the mugs
In anger
And I pledged to return
In time
I wish I could guess
I am being duped
Again
Like always
Wait! Wait!
I think you promised
To compensate
The scratch on my back
With a kiss
And that week of fever
In June
When you kept me awake
Every night
You promised for the
Cake my dear
The time has made you
Dishonest
I presume
Ah! How could I forget
That monstrous woman
In the next house
Her umbrella is still with me
I thought you would come
And collect
It’s still wet
She calls sometimes
To rebuke
To rebuke
And remind
The list is long
And your crimes many
Come
Collect
Repay
Fulfill
The memoirs
The promises
The deals
I am waiting
I’ll wait…
Saturday, December 29, 2012
HISTORY
The texture of that fabric
The site of those flowers
The fragrance of those words
History
A beautiful history
The prose of your arms
The poetry of your eyes
The expansion of those moments
That stillness of silence
History
I hope
You remember
The kiss that slaughtered us
The breath that glued us
I hope
You still treasure
The rose I sent you
And the ink we spilled over
The words still dance
Around My feet
The bulbs even dazzle
About my side
The chocolate beans
The broken bangle
And the bitten skin
The healing glance
The gentle whisper
And the goodbye tears
Are locked inside
Stamped sealed
Stacked in a box
That Beatles record
You brought me once
Still stuck at
Where we left
Creaks sometimes
Intends
To play again
The damp of those several
Nights
Rusts plastered on the walls
The sobs
And cries
Resound enmeshed in air
The windowpane you
Loved to touch
Cracked some days before
The blue pencil
The sketch of the boy
You made on wood
Is learning to talk
It even complaints
Sometimes
Since you forgot to give
It the hands
The lipstick
The rubber band
The long muffler
You brought from
Tibetan old lady
With a wrinkled face
Is still wrapped
Around the teddy
The book of stories
The coffee mug
The butts of cigarettes
You smoked that day
I went inside and smoked
Them again
They still taste like your lips
Finally I could you kiss again
The day we made love
We both became both
You can go away
And manage not to answer
The question I asked you
You don’t need to come
And respond the way people do
I still hold you
Inside
You are there
You are there
I can feel you
Touch you
Hold you
Love the way I have
Always loved you…
Goodbye…
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
DARSHAN AUR PRATIGYA – III: KAHANI AUR KIRDAR
Taking the discussion further,
Mani Kaul was a filmmaker who tried to oppose each and every structure of
filmmaking through his unique methodology. Even the structures which are
extremely basic to the filmmaking process were brusquely shattered by him. From
the best to the worst of filmmakers of world, everybody consider script to
be the backbone of a film. And every effort is made to follow the script in
detail. Recently, Indian filmmakers have also started giving too much
importance to the script which is something new to Indian cinema. Masters like
Raj Kumar Hirani, Vidhu Vinod Chopra, Amir Khan, Vishal Bhardwaj, Anurag
Kashyap, and Dibaker Banerjee spend majority of time in writing the script as
opposed to the actual filmmaking process. Undoubtedly, this has changed the way
our films look nowadays than they used to ten years ago. This has also contributed
to the improved standing of Indian cinema internationally as well as in film
festivals. Even the film schools in our country have started giving a lot of
stress on teaching script writing to the students in their courses. The amount
of justice done to the script while making a film actually decides the quality
of final product. When Mani Kaul had planned his first full length feature film
‘Uski Roti’ based on Mohan Rakesh’s short story, he wrote a twenty five page
draft of the script along with the author. Mohan Rakesh wrote the dialogues
mainly, besides working on rest of the script and Kaul had explained what and
how the things were to be done. But when Kaul used to reach the location, he
always worked according to his own way. The way Rakesh had planned the script
used to change completely on the set. Finally when the film was done, there was
very little from the script which actually became a part of the creation. According
to Parsa Venkateshwar Rao Jr who works with DNA, Mani Kaul did not mean to
convey the intent and tone of Mohan Rakesh's story, which was more about the
emptiness of rural life. He admitted that earlier he used to believe whatever is
there in the script must be incorporated in film also. But in later years his
perception and method altered completely. This lead to difficulty in finding
sponsors for the films. No sponsor was ready to invest in a film without a
script. He always believed in innovating rather following the order of script
religiously. Kaul considered it a method of bringing polychromatism (anekta) in a creative product. Recently,
Ranbir Kapoor and Priyanka Chopra starrer ‘Barfi’ became an instant worldwide
success. The maker of the movie, Anurag Basu explained in an interview that
original script of movie was written in about ten pages. Rest of the movie
was made through innovation on location. The actors used to arrive on the sets
completely oblivious of the scene they were going to shoot and the director
used to come and innovate the entire scene along with them. This is how the
film finally evolved from a rough draft to a masterpiece.
Kaul made a virtually plot-less
cinema during his career. There was a very little almost non-existent story in
his movies. On asking how his technique was different from other filmmakers,
Kaul expressed that during the process of editing, his shot used to be very
mobile throughout the film. Since there was no big story inside the shot, no
concrete context and no special place where the shot must be placed, it could
be easily taken anywhere. Due to the inherent mobility and impartiality, one
shot could be easily placed in three four different places. Since there was no
strict serial number of the scenes as is usually the case in most of the
movies, the same shot could be taken to scene no 3 and scene no 9 at the same
time. He was accustomed in taking the shot in such a way that rather than being
special it could be mobile and at the same time it was not very regular also.
The shot taken in some context could be used in some other context while
editing. For him shot was primary and the context (sandarbh) was secondary. This
juxtaposition of shot with the context is a chance factor or sanyog according to Kaul. This was
possible because he worked in a manner which could allow randomness to enter
the structure without much hassle. He was a one filmmaker who not only
understood Mahabharata but also tried to interpret it through action. His cinema
demonstrated the magic and exceptionality of Mahabharata which is not only an
epic but also a way of living in itself. The mobile shot in his cinema could be
interpreted to be a representation of Krishna who appears in the epic at
different times, completely dispossessed from the bondage of time and space. Similarly
this time-space concept has been violated many a times in Mahabharata. Sanjay,
an advisor and charioteer to Dhritarashtra, blessed with gift of seeing events
at a distance granted by sage Vyasa, narrates to Dhritarashtra the action in
the climactic battle of Kurukshetra, which includes Bhagavad Gita also. He is actually violating the concept of time
and space here. Mahabharata illustrates that consciousness can be present at
more than one place at the same time. Mani Kaul was fortunate to comprehend
this reality very early in his life so he made it a part of his creative and
personal journey also.
The second structure which is
considered very significant to a film is the character (kirdar). Those actors are usually chosen who can play that
particular character and even if they can’t, good actors prepare themselves to
suit the role. Some lose their weight, some gain extra, some undergo rigorous
training sessions, some go for speech therapies and some even opt for method
acting. The aim is to fit into the sleeves of character. Meryl Streep, a
renowned American actress is well known for her ability to imitate and master
foreign and domestic accents. In The Iron Lady, she reproduced the vocal
style of Margaret Thatcher, from the time before she became Britain's Prime
Minister, and after she had taken elocution lessons to change her pitch,
pronunciation and delivery. Streep believes in the dictum, ‘How could I play
that part and talk like me?’ Christian Bale starved himself for over four
months and lost almost 60 pounds to play the role of a man suffering from
chronic insomnia in a psychological thriller ‘The Machinist’. According to Kaul
there is a context (sandarbh) to
everything. Whatever we do and whatever we are, is in relation to some context.
Otherwise there is no meaning to it. When an actor says, “come here”, then is
it the character who is saying this or is it the actor himself? A character is simply
a context, nothing more and an actor is just representing that context. He cannot
become the character. Secondly while shooting, if the actor is simply
portraying the character, then the shot would have greater mobility. But if
it’s otherwise, then the scene would have a definite position while editing and
couldn’t be placed anywhere else because the scene assumes a different form
when the character is strictly enacted. Kaul says that when an actor is
performing, he is expressing his nature (swabhav).
And it would be great if he stays close to his real nature. Most of the times,
an actor struggles to become the character by parting away from his real self. An
actor playing the same character at different times if liberated from the
actor-character bondage would be able to express it more easily. This would end
the concept of typed casting also. He further elucidates that Peter Brooks, an English
theatre and film director, while making the stage adaptation of Mahabharata did
cast those actors who had no resemblance to the physical personality of
characters. He selected a very thin lean man in the role of ‘Bheema’ who
actually was very tall and muscular. Kaul says that Bheema is a nature which
can be there in anybody. One need not be physically huge to play Bheema.
Therefore Kaul always refuted the concept of character because it negates the
possibility of polychromatism (anekta).
Mani Kaul believed that cinema is
not a hundred page script, nor it is a medium to say stories or a stage for
performing actors. Cinema according to Kaul is a unique interplay of image and
sound which actually should create a magic. Cinema is a beautiful canvass on
which we try to paint the reality of life. But most of the times, it has been browbeaten
as a medium to bear the burden of fiction. More than ninety percent of cinema
till date has been fiction and nothing more. Only a small fraction of it has managed
to be something beyond. Cinema of Ingmar Bergman, Federico Fellini, Godard,
Luis Buñuel, Robert Bresson, Tarkovsky, Kieslowski, Mani Kaul, Kumar Shahani, Béla
Tarr was a colossal departure from the fictional enslavement which majority of
cinema is subjected to. Their aim was to narrate the story through images and
sound. These nonconformist filmmakers endeavored to create a multi-layered,
multi-dimensional, polychromatic visual impression, which at times even trespass
the confines of time and space. Kaul used human face as a landscape and music
as a vehicle to transport the emotions of character. Fiction as my brother, Prof
Sunil comments is the worst addiction. Fiction after a certain point of time is
a dead weight which most of us carry throughout our lives. It is a ‘mayajal’,
which doesn’t liberate us from the illusion of body and mind. Once caught, we
are carried deeper and deeper without even realizing the futility of whole
trap. The worthlessness of this obsession would be realized only in a moment of
darshan. But since the fixation with order
and morality is so strong, we are not able to appreciate this truth. We are
always stuck up in our individual fights. Similarly, a modern man is always trying
to represent somebody else. He is always performing the role of some other person (kirdar). The futility of context is
never ever realized. In this process he forgets his real self. He keeps on moving
away from himself until a point is reached where his true self gets completely eradicated.
The real self gets substituted by some fake mysterious identity. The grooming and
conditioning of the society facilitate to reinforce this identity even more. Gradually
an ego is created which disguises itself as our true self. In Michael Winterbottom’s latest work ‘Trishna’, the protagonist of the
movie Jay (a wealthy young
businessman) asks Trishna (a waitress
and mistress to Jay), that in Kamasutra
sex is permitted with only three women – a single woman, maid and prostitute,
then who real Trishna is out of these
three. Torn by the question and inability to identify her true self, she
brutally murders the man. A woman though plays different roles in her daily
life, needs to apprehend that she is a pure, unscathed and all pervasive
reality, a conscious being first, then anybody’s wife or mistress. Tattered
inside the jungle of spurious egos and identities, a modern woman needs to find
herself. An ego is nothing but a veil which masks the true self with glitter and glamor. True self is hidden somewhere beneath the pile of these fake egos and identities. It
would be identified only if we try and move a bit from our positions. We need
to realize how much damage has been inflicted upon us in this pointless war. The
real self is still lying intact in this chaos. We just need to liberate it from
‘kirdar’.
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