Sunday, February 3, 2013

आगाज़


मेरे हाथ की लकीरें
धुंधली सी
उधड़ सी गयी हैं 
वक़्त के इस शोर में
कहीं  से आ कर
लिख दो इन पर
एक कहानी
बुन दो नए किस्से
उमंग भरे
रंग दो नयी तकदीर
सपनों भरी
बिखेर दो नए शब्द
जिनसे निकले
तो एक दास्ताँ निकले
उजली सुर्ख लाल
फलसफों वाली

ऐसे होगा
हाँ ऐसे ही होगा
इश्क का नया 
आगाज़।।।

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 ...

DAMAN


Friday, February 1, 2013

DARPAN



Wednesday, January 30, 2013

DUVIDHA


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
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
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 scent of your skin
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
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’.