Friday, 21 December 2012

Shame


Doctor, I think I am in need of a treatment
Please spare me from this public embarrassment

They are Men, they say, Men do not cry
Let them do as they wish, just don't ask "Why?"

It's an instinct, they say, lust, desire provoked by sight
Not their fault really, after all it's their birth right

Stop that barking and whining, your shouts and cries are futile
Two choice you've got - turmoil of uncertainty or certainty of turmoil

Don't you dare talk about morality & justice, liberty is a curse
Just thank god that you are alive, it could have been worse

If this is what a Man is, Doctor, I can't do it anymore
Please give me some place to hide away from this folklore

Why do I run away, you ask me, why do I need to hide?
Tired of being eluded by the hope and blinded by a false pride

Doctor, ashamed that I am on the verge of losing my sanity
All I see are humans around but no trace of humanity



Friday, 9 November 2012

The Ultramodern Poetry


So much has been written on Modern art and Contemporary poetry over the years and in that sense, it’s rather surprising that the literary critics are unaware of a new, evolving form of poetry. For the lack of a better word, let’s call it the Ultramodern poetry. To quench my curiosity, I decided to explore this domain in more detail and the findings were astonishing and ground-breaking.

Dr Oscar Wilde – an expert literary critic, famous for his doctoral thesis on The Influence of Zombies on Contemporary Feminist Poetry, offers a fresh perspective on the Ultramodern poetry. He says, “Unlike conventional forms of literature, this form explores different themes and varied spectra of life while still retaining its loyalty to the human-centered nature and yet literally as well as metaphorically seeks to address the moral dilemma that a human being frequently encounters on the crossroads of life...” He further goes on to claim that the Ultramodern poets are not expected to be literate in traditional forms of language. For more clarity, consider below-written piece of poetry for example- 

U r mah luv – me luv u & u luv me….
Dunno y bt u broke ma heart & left me…
U wer ma dream and u wer awsm..
whn I lukd at u & u lukd at me…

Here the poet’s total disregard towards punctuation and grammar is a symbolic representation of his pursuit of freedom and liberation. Rather it can be viewed as a revolt against the established regressive structure of language that restricts one’s creativity and originality. Further poet's tendency to make huge grammatical errors, intentionally or unintentionally, adds a humane touch to the literary piece of art that has been sorely missing in the traditional form. So in that sense, the Ultramodern poetry, according to Dr Wilde, is superior to the Modernist poetry.

Tears rollin’ out of mah eyes
& mah heart is burnin’ fr u lyk fire
Nuthin i cud do abt it baby,
just temme da reason y u left me…  

As observed through the keen eyes of an elite critic, Dr Wilds seeks to draw our focus on the level of detailing. For example, the usage of phrase such as burning like fire instead of burning like air or water or chocolate is an excellent example of poet’s observational power and his insistence on detailing.
One of the recurring themes in the Ultramodern poetry is arguably the most important aspect of human life – Love and break-up. Clearly this issue is of the utmost importance since it digs in depth of human mind (and anatomy too… e.g. breaking heart, etc.) and supersedes irrelevant and trivial themes frequently found in traditional as well as modern literature such as sacrifice, humanism, eternal love, social or political dilemma, racism, impersonality, objectivity, etc. For his brave and ballsy confessions, the poet definitely deserves an instant acknowledgement from the reader.

Wid u, i felt i was on da moon…
widout u Baby, its feel lyk hell..
Plz cm bck to me, u r mah everything
u changd mah lyf, widout u its Nuthin !!!

In the epilogue of the poem, the poet demands for closure. By making use of words such as moon or hell metaphorically our poet not only attempts to describe the internal conflict but at the same time offers the reader a sneak into his mind. Dr Wilde says that the mention of words such as Baby or Nuthin (Note that N is capital) heightens the impact of the poem exponentially and undoubtedly leaves a lasting impression on the reader’s mind.

I really believe that for the Ultramodern poetry to survive, evolve, prosper and stand the test of time, it deserves an active support from all of those, who are concerned for the future of literary arts. I beg all of you to contribute to this very cause, that inevitably affects our life in literal sense.

P.S.- Other perks of Ultramodern poetry include singing it as a song on guitar and an exceptional number of facebook likes.


Saturday, 13 October 2012

Cinema Cinema - Part 2


When asked why he makes films, Woody Allen had once famously said, “My films are therapy for my debilitating depression. In institutions people weave baskets. I make films.” I think, in a way, it’s more or less true for Indian audience too. We are unique in a sense that we are so hopelessly addicted to cinema that it is no more just a form of entertainment. It has become part of our life. I remember how my uncle and my grandfather would argue ferociously over who should be called the best actor of all time. My uncle, a diehard Amitabh fan, could never reach a consensus with my grandpa - who had always thought of Amitabh as being hugely overrated. In his opinion, Dilip Kumar was miles ahead of Amitabh, who just happened to be slightly better than his substandard contemporaries. In normal circumstances, I would be made a scapegoat in their fight. My grandpa would lecture me for hours on how Dilip Kumar had managed to inspire the whole generation in late 50s. Obviously my uncle could not tolerate ill-treatment given to Mr. Bachchan and I would find myself dutifully listening to the success stories of Sholay and legendary dialogues of Deewar.



During my early teens, there used to be a lot of talk about New Wave Cinema - the cinema that apparently offered something new. I was totally ignorant of any such films. (I still am !!) So one day I asked one of my friend who was a self-proclaimed film-buff about this so-called new wave and his answer puzzled me even more. "New wave cinema is essentially a befitting gratification of our emotions with subtle undertones of solitude shining like a beacon in this malevolent and spiteful society of ours " So for days I was living under the impression that any incomprehensible film would fall under the category of new wave !!!


My father was very proud when he learned that I wanted to be a police officer. He finally felt that I was probably not a bum that he had initially thought of. The reason for this inspired choice was, of course, Salman Khan. The Salman Khan era of Wanteds and Dabbangs was a revelation and I would find myself dancing before a mirror on the tunes of “Udd Udd Dabbang” flaunting my 6 pack (?) abs. Wearing “Being Human” shirts was the new definition of coolness in schools and colleges. (One of my friend- an avid Salman fan himself, once told me that wearing such T-shirts would give me a new societal outlook and that this was the new fashion trend for all wannabe social workers). I finally decided to follow Salman’s inspiring (?) footsteps and announced the intentions to join the Police duty. My mother was so exuberant that to me it almost seemed like I was on my way to achieve Bravery medals. But as it turned out that the system in our country was so regressive that some stupid rules on passing the irrelevant physical fitness, IQ and GK tests saw the nation missing a dutiful, brave and intelligent police officer (I so pity you people – forced to watch the perils of CID. Sadly that’s the price you got to pay for not having an eye for real talent).


And as you must have realized, my life is about few hits and rather plenty of misses. I wonder what would have happened had everything gone according to the plan. But one thing is for sure if it were not cinema, I wouldn’t have been where I am right now. I hope it pretty much explains the reason why I turned out to be like this !!

P.S. - I generally work on the premises that the readers are intelligent enough to tell the difference between reality and fiction. But if anyone is really that stupid not to tell the difference this is to clarify that this post is  fictitious. But then what is real anyway?

Cinema Cinema - Part 1


October 19, 1995 – the day marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life. Sounds ridiculous, right? I was just 4 years old back then and judging by my current state, many of you might wonder if I had a mental growth of just 4 months old. What could I have possibly done to trigger such a drastic change? In fact, I did not do anything at all. Rather, it was all Raj’s fault. Now before you start judging me for my political understanding or the lack of it, let me make it clear that I am here referring to Raj of DDLJ. That was the day when DDLJ released!!!
The moment my Mom came out of Aaradhana – a local single screen cinema theatre, (which had screened superhits like DDLJ, HAHK, KKHH is unsurprising replaced by a huge mall now) she was all teary-eyed witnessing the epic romance between Raj & Simran. In her books, it had even surpassed the greatness of Romeo-Juliet and Mughal-e-Azham. SRK was to be the greatest actor ever lived on this planet. The DDLJ obsession was so intense that it inevitably led to a heated argument between my parents over which European country I should be sent for further schooling. (Ironically the head-teacher of my local school had earlier refused to enroll me because she deemed me unfit and inept for any schooling and also cited more than 27 reasons just to convince my parents). It was quite clear that my parents had foreseen the glimpses of future me in SRK’s Raj. My child-like behavior – which was normal for a 4 year old with a relatively low IQ, was now admired and gloriously compared to SRK’s mischief and European brattiness. They were daydreaming of a Simran-like Bahu who had now become a shining symbol and an ideal combo of modern yet traditional and strong yet obedient Indian woman. 


Fortunately or unfortunately, my parents’ grand plan never took off for a number of reasons and I was left deprived of thick British accent, mannerism and of course a charming NRI love interest. And my parents missed on an ideal daughter-in-law incidentally cherishing a typical Indian culture and family values. But this incident did not deter my parents from making ambitious future plans for their less-than-ordinary son. Well.. Bollywood had an unlimited supply of interesting career options.


The year 2001 saw the release of Lagaan and my mother was presented with a tailor-made future career for her son – a Cricketer. Now in India, Cricket being the National Sports (Oh wait… Is it Hockey?) and considering the hefty fortune that someone like Ashish Nehra makes, I guess in ordinary situations, it was not really a bad bet. Well… mine was not really an ordinary situation!! Frankly speaking, I hate Cricket or rather any sport for that matter.  Being the youngest and physically weakest of the lot, I was generally bullied by my so-called friends. So playing sports was never a pleasant experience. I used to be the last person to hold the bat and would last not more than 3 balls. I was a pathetic bowler - my ball would not even cross the half-pitch. So when my mother took me to watch the adventures of Bhuvan and his fellow teammates just to inspire me, I was quite bemused to say the least. To make the matters worse, Lagaan went to the Oscars and now my mother was determined more than ever to make her dreams come true. She bought me an expensive Cricket kit and also enrolled me in the best Cricket coaching academy in the town. The coach with his small mustache looked like Hitler and spoke like Shatrughan Sinha. He would shout "Khamoshhh.." every 3rd minute. Despite being afforded a little more time with the bat and ball, mine was a hopeless case. The evil coach finally phoned my mother and politely (?) asked her to withdraw my registration.
                                                                                                                                     To be continued....