The elements within

I am writing this as the idea is forming in my head (where else)...

Lately I have been passionately doing portraits... esp. on the street.
Mostly, when I approach subjects I know, the best portraits come out of moments I never planned. But, somehow, I do have a blurry premonition of the final output even as I start clicking. I was trying to think through this feeling. Moreover, I was planning some future portraits of friends/relatives and, still, I have some idea of what I want.

The idea is this - each of us are defined by a peak in the various elements that make our personality. I liken it to the five elements - water, fire, earth, air and ether(the unknown). A portrait that captures us in our basic element is the one that captures the essence.

I would like to work upon this idea more but my knowledge of history of the elements and their connatations in the human context are hazy at best. But the thought came to me when I was trying to figure out the best portrait for one of my sisters who is as elemental in her fire state as anything can be. The reason that I have not been able to do a good portrait of hers so far is that whenever I try to do so, she is too serene and calm to be her essence. So what finally comes out is not essentially "she". On the other hand (in case one thinks that anyone in the heat of passion would be a great portrait), a picture I remember of my grandmother captures the essence of the earth in her in her almost sad peace.

I will think on this a little more.

I also wonder what my essence is.

Here is a list of the elements I would associate with some people I know-

Sarovar - Earth
Kholu - Air
Prachi - Water
Meen - Fire
Tarun - Earth
Pareekh - Earth
Riju - Ether(?)

Apocalypto

There might be historical inaccuracies here and there, there might be leaps of faith - but this is amazing.

After Passion of Christ, Mel does it again. He's actually showing history the way it happened and making it heard in the tongues it was spoken in.

I am surprised, if not shocked, at the lack of publicity taht this film got. Along with "Little Children", I think this has been grossly under-served at the Oscars - thanks, I reckon, to Mel's drunk Anti-Semitic rant.

If overblown, historical dramas like Dance with the Wolves, done-to-death Holocaust movies (Schindler's list, Pianist), atrocious fare (Titanic) could get the Oscars, why not herald this superhuman effort? Creating a piece of history about men, languages; all but lost and forgotten.

Consider the effort reqd. in recreating the Mayans (and that too the dark side) before the Conquistadors instead of Cowboys and Indians, The Holocaust (with only a million books and a thousand tons of documents to refer to) and an ocean liner over-hyped for the sole reason that the men it drowned were vvverrry rich.

Even Mel's Braveheart is, to some extent, Hollywood cliche in a new exotic Scot legend (though the signs of breakaway are already appearing in this good production).

If you thought Passion for the Christ was refreshing (tho' I still hold the Monty affair of Brian to be a more actual depiction :) ), try Apocalypto.

To quote a review in imdb - Clearly Hollywood is incapable of even conceiving of such a movie, much less bringing it brilliantly to life. Hollywood has an agenda and very narrow perspectives. It's agenda has no room for illuminating the humanity of non-Westerners, and there's too much relying on the same old set of sensibilities and intuition. I think if Hollywood is up in arms it ought to be because Gibson is making them look inept.

Metroland and How I read

I bought this book on a whim around a year ago from Blossoms.

My reading is dictated more by my guts than grapevine for the simple reason that I started doing some serious reading only after college. In college, we exchanged the odd copies of Ayn Rand and Godfather and rarely went beyond that. I dabbled with Tushdie, Marquez but that was it.

The eyeopener was a course I undertook on modern literature under Neelkanthan that introduced me to Joyce, Woolf, Fitzgerald and Saul Bellow.

But the real push came from Tarun; if a mighty heave off the cliff of ignorance can be called that.

But still as work separated us and even our tastes started diverging just that very little bit, I have had to rely more and more on my instincts and the odd reviews. I had the phase where I read everything I could lay my hands on about Holocaust, the Ishigoru omnibus and anything in the top10 of either the NY or NDelhi. The only cases of indigestion have been the Chetan Bhagats and the (Very) Mediocre but (very) arrogant.

So coming back to Metroland, isn't it wonderful how books like apples just ripen for you at the right time? One year ago, I tried to read the book by force but couldn't go beyond 3-4 pages in an hour of the struggle of the will against timing. yesterday, I picked the book again and reall all but the last 30 odd pages in the space of 3 hours.

Metroland is a delightful discovery: delving into the childhood and adoloscence of an intelligent being. Intelligence to the point of insolence. I think that's why I disliked the book at first attempt - my own insecure, underachieving and far-from-satisfying childhood made me resent the smugness of the author and Toni.

Nishith loves to say "You can either be meaningful or relevant"

To explore this phrase, Chetan Bhagat is relevant, Upamanyu Chatterji is meaningful. The greatest work spans both - Catcher in the Rye, To killing a Mocking Bird, Shame, Midnight's Children, Tin Drum...

Further, Pawan says that a book should have quotable quotes. More than literally, he means that there should be that odd line that catapults your reading experience to a catharsis or epiphany or, at least, a happy sigh.

Metroland does that while remaining incredibly funny.

It does not have the emotional pull of Of Human Bondage or even a Dickensian childhood, but it is full of clever insights nevertheless. In fact ,a portion of the text where the author tries his first "position" actually brought tears to my eyes from laughter (I think the first author to do taht to me since Thurber).

Sample one of those- I just turn to a random page and quote -
"Still, the larger the question, more the naive it always sounds"
and the SST measure of the desirability for a girl - Soul Suffering... Tits


I think ultimately why I still won't classify this as a great book is this - this is not an out and out humor like Thurber. Hence, though it makes me laugh, want to salute the author for passages of clever insights and an overall crisp style, It does not make me empathize that much.

Violence has no religion

Case 1

Rakesh, a friend, was driving from Moradabad to Delhi on the eve of Moharram. He stopped by a Muslim village where a taazia was being taken. Out of the blue, a mob decided to attack the cavalvcade of cars waiting ofr it to pass. Swords were drawn, Allah-hu-akbar was scremed, babies wailed. Some of the fieriest participants seemed to be the 8-9 year olds. Ultimately, it was a posse of 8 policemen who had the balls to charge a 150 strong mob with lathis that saved his life.

Case 2

I2 was attacked on the eve of Dr. Rajkumar's death. Again, half the mob consisted of 8-9 year olds. Some English-speaking employees were roughed and some cars broken.

Case 3


I was in Commercial Street on Sunday when the RSS decided to counter a Muslim rally on Friday by their own show of strength. I passed rows of shops with broken windows till I finally chanced on the perpetrators still breaking some more. Till then, I didn't know whether they were Muslims, Hindus, Dalits, Kannidigas, whatsoever. I was shocked by the cool efficiency with which they applied their violence. Buses on buses pored, their saffron flags finally revealing the identity of the violators of the day to me, and activists from villages came out to make a field day.


Can any one single segment claim innocence over acts of daily violence that are unleashed on innocent passerbys?
We are a country of more violence than non-violence.
Division - religion/caste/regional - are mere excuses.

Pursuit of happiness

this thought follows 4 threads-

1. My ongoing thinking regarding happiness since almost a couple of years
2. Readings from Bertrand Russel and general philosophy
3. Recent visits to friends in Delhi and Lucknow
4. A play I saw last nigh

Last things first.
Anish, a theater veteran in Bangalore, performed a 1-act adaptation of dostovoesky's "Dreams of a ridiculous man" last night at CFD. The premise was that the madman had a dream of a simple world that he corrupts by his very presence and gets branded a madman. I won't comment on the performance but the script. Specifically, a point -
Today, knowledge of happiness is more important than happiness itself.

It caught me as it followed a train of thought I was on.

During recent visits, some pals protested or philosophised their happiness to me. even I do that to myself now.

But there was an age when happiness was unthinking, unconscious.

I still get moments of pure exhilerating happiness now also. But now, always, I am conscious of the elation and the euphoria.

Why?

Back!

Udaipur, Lake Pichola, Shot with 30 sec exposure from atop Rainbow restaurant


In the past two weeks, I have travelled across three states and met bosom friends after years. I am feeling totally relaxed and, for once, the weight of the world and my own role in that, does not weigh me down.

Rajasthan was an experience taht would last a lifetime. Thanks to my two brothers-in-law (though I have still not attested the legality with any lawyer) I got to see almost the whole of it. Jodhpur-Udaipur-Jaisalmer-Pushkar-Ajmer-Jaipur.

The only thing that remains is the Ranthambore Tiger Sanctuary and a propah Desert safari.

I have clicked like crazy during the trip and would post the best when I have the courage to dive into that humongous dump on my laptop.

I missed all you a lot. Seriously. Had a great Xmas (my younger brother-in-lawis of the Catholic persuasion) this eyar.

Till then, Happy new year!

The incredible dumbness of being

One of my friends is getting married and e sent me his foto along with the would-be. The would-be was dressed in a traditional sari with all the jewels bedecknig her torso and even some sparles on her face.
She was a woman. A full-grown woman.
This unsettles me a bit. As much as a kid callnig me an uncle.
At 28, I still feel very young. My concept of girls is still the - backslapping, beer-mugs clinking and making-out in the back seats of an empty cinema hall- kind . A woman overwhelms me.

Every day I perhaps become more bitter or wiser (or probably both are the same thing), but there is this restlessness taht refuses to settle down. Inspite of the fact that each passing day makes the fact of my ultimate non-impact more obvious. But somewhere I still feel the fire. The only thing holding me back, and perhaps a generation is -
1. the fear of poverty (no matter how rich some pals are making it, I still feel this underlying fear very strongly, esp. in friends coming from middle class bkgrnd. )
2. unwarranted peer pressure (esp. strong for those graduating from "premier" institutes
3. the kind of unreal, hyper-hyped, over-paid corp. work taht we do that alienates us from true human reality and art

I see this gonig only two ways.

Either I will leave my MBA career and do something in the next couple of years.
Or, I will push my head deeper into the grinder and die silently.

A moment passes
An energy drains off
I sigh
I think it's gonig to be the latter

Cruel Intentions

Of all the shitload of teen movies to come out in the recent years, it is this adaptation of "Dangerous Liasons" that has interested me. The film revolves around the amoral duplicity in the lives of super-rich kids and their games.
See it if you stil haven't. Nice treatment and an amazingly good-looking cast.

What lies beneath

I can never be a "great" man. I am a terrible listener. My ears only prick at the unusual. A man tellnig me 10 great places to invest in tomorrow so that I can reap 100% a week afterwill lose me. But if he mentions just a little about a friend who shits standing up, I am all ears.

Since childhood, my fascination has been two fold - stories and the people in those stories. I like seeing people. The way they move, scratch and mutter. I discovered this when a friend from school met me last month and told me this. In IIMB, I had a guy named Anurag Hans sitting next to me and he followed the same interest. We had a whale of a time discussing why everybody wore the clothes they had worn to the class then, which of the guy might turn out to be a wife-beater, dear old Vibhor Kumar and other odd topics.

Now that I have started clicking a few, I find that it's again people that interest me. Caught unawares. I hate getting fotografed and fotografing people striking a pose. A digitalSLR gives me the freedom of keep on clicking till the person drops the pose and gets oblivious to my antics and gives me something more soulful.

Here is a collage of people who have interested me in the past 2 months and whom I have clicked.

Top - San, Nilanjan, San, Srijit, Prachi, Me (clicked accidentally)
Middle - Prachi, Prachi, Ronjon Da, the very handsome and very young Raheem, my favorite subject - Rajeev
Bottom - San, Vibhas, Gulshan, Tara, Vibhas, Tammy

The need to be seen

A friend who professes to be above base-human desires and hubris (if this was not pride itself!), inadvertently let his slip show yesterday. We were discussing a celebrity and not very flattering at that. My friend told me that he'd met this start once and, with a touchof pride, had a photograph clicked enselmble.

I've met some celebrities also. And tho' I don't live in the shadow of those events, I still wonder - that did they affect me even for a little while thereafter? Did I feel elated by an aura of celebrityhood (the phenomenon of strangers pointing and gaping at you from across the street instead of just ignoring you) experienced second-hand? Did I make more of a casual meeting with a comedian who rarely makes me laugh, a thspian who does, a singer who brays just because the no. of people knowing the guy-girl outratioed those konwing me by a factor of 10000:1?

Another seemingly related point. Since I have started clicking strangers, I find the ratio of people interested in getting fotografed to those indifferent to be huge. Sometimes with an enthusiasm which is difficult to explain since it's very clear that they're never even going to see the foto.

Why do we all have this craving, this need to be noticed?