Conversations elsewhere and in my head…
December 23, 2007 | Filed Under Books, Point of View | 2 Comments
Altaf gifted me the book – The Reluctant Fundamentalist – a novella by Mohsin Hamid. He signed the book saying – To the only peaceful fundamentalist (writer) I know. Altaf has the most eclectic taste in books, and I was very happy to get a book from him.\r\n\r\nI finished reading the book and I loved its simplicity. How it all happens in an evening. The evening is clearly fictional but there is a lot of truth hidden in it. In fact let me not call it the truth, as we all have our versions of the truth. Let me just say that central characters feelings are very true.\r\n\r\nThe book offered me the perspective of a Pakistani writer. It is an important perspective. It is the perspective of a Muslim whom the west eyes with suspicion, it is the perspective of a Pakistani who fears that India will attack his country. But it is still a perspective.\r\n\r\nOff late I have begun to treat all perspectives with respect. At the same time, I question it and try to uncover the thoughts behind them. My questions cause people discomfort. I take pleasure in their discomfort. I like to uncover the mystery, whether the perspective is inherited or caused by introspection and questioning. People end up generalizing a lot, and it\’s very unfair. To top it all the reasoning behind it is flawed. It\’s like saying Hitler was evil, Hitler was a Christian, hence all Christians are evil.\r\n\r\nIt\’s important that people explore their thoughts and belief on their own. It\’s only possible by reading first hand, questioning and discussing in a small group of friends. One has to be true to oneself at the least. If you are all lusty and horny, sporting a beard can\’t make you pious, but you could be lusty, horny and pious at the same time irrespective if you sport a beard or not. But that\’s not how the world perceives – you are what you look. It\’s important that we don\’t base our perspectives on the basis of how the world perceives.\r\n\r\nHow one looks is one\’s identity. India in 50s was largely dhoti and saree clad. Today there is a wide choice. Looking a certain way does not make you feel a certain way. When I was a child my grand mom would not like it if my mom wore a Bindi. But I think even she has changed with times. It does not bother her much now. More importantly to feel a certain way, you don\’t have to look like the clan.\r\n\r\nYou might disagree with me. You may say (am taking the example of a muslim here) - A muslim is a person who lives in a manner that Islam preaches and it includes things like the style of living, clothing, etc. I don\’t consider these important really, it\’s really the principles you live by and your dealings with others. So we could just be on a different page altogether.\r\n\r\nSometimes we just don\’t allow people to think for themselves. If you were to hear the priest\’s sermon in a mosque, you would know how great a sinner you are and how there 101 different reasons you will go to hell and when you have almost lost all hope, you will be told of 102 ways to make it to heaven. I sometimes feel like going up to him and saying, “chill man.” But instead consume the pill myself.\r\n\r\nBut then again very few people want to think for themselves. They are ok with just following blindly. They inherit reasons or just obfuscate their thoughts to continue supporting a line of thought. I feel American masses hear similar sermons from their leaders like the muslims in a mosque, just that they are given the patriotism argument, and the “we are America” slogan. Amongst them too there are people who think.\r\n\r\nAnyone can think, while most freedoms can be taken away from you, the freedom to think can\’t be. Thinking and reasoning without a bias is a very exhilarating activity. Try it, it\’s not rocket science, it\’s just common sense.
Theatre High
December 19, 2007 | Filed Under Theatre & Movies | Leave a Comment
Saw Aisa Kehte Hai yesterday – a play by Manav Kaul at Prithvi Theatre yesterday.
It’s a beautiful play. What’s remarkable about it is, it has been written by the director himself. For something that’s contemporary, it has a shine of brilliance to it. It is a musical. And it does not fail as a musical. In fact it is a musical with great music, with great choreography, with great drama, and great energy between the performers. It also has a lot of philosophy blended in with humor. I have not seen a more complete play since Charandas Chor by Habib Tanvir.
Go watch it, it is playing at Prithvi tonight (9 pm) and tomorrow night (6 & 9 pm). I have half a mind of going and watching it again.
The Last Song of Hope
December 16, 2007 | Filed Under Poetry | 2 Comments
Hurry up Spikey!
You will miss the bus.
I couldn’t find a dove today,
She must be waiting for me,
I didn’t send her my love today.
Upon the street a fool man walks,
Too drunk with his foolish talks,
He didn’t drop his line today,
He’s running low on wine today.
Hey Kitkat, hang in, don’t throw your shoes
They are green and they beat the blues.
Monday morning comes like flamingos,
A tad too late to celebrate,
A tad too early, to count our woes,
I can wait you know, I really can,
I drink beer, I drink beer,
I eat the beach, I drink the sea,
And when they flash at me, I take a tan.
Wait dear boy, it’s not yet over.
The last song of hope -
Here, catch this rope, and sire,
Don’t struggle, it’s not the sea, it’s the mire.
Hi there, I am a hug seller.
I sell hugs, one for one rupee,
After the 2nd the third is free.
(I know there’s a better deal.)
But I can’t kiss you know, my lips are burnt,
It’s a tragic story, that I can’t tell,
Let’s just say, you have to earn the kiss,
The roasted kiss that I can’t sell.
Two little birds on a tree.
One says hello, one says hi,
One bakes me a word filled pie.
Fill my glass, with wine you jerk.
Did I call you a jerk, you jerk?
There is something awfully wrong about me,
I can hear the music, but I cannot see,
The winds are changing you know,
Changing for good, you old pile of wood.
And when the wind changes,
I will drink my wine with a straw, you jerk.
Sidd boy, I crossed the Ganges, the dirty Ganges,
They fucked her bad you know, I couldn’t save her.
I am running away, I can’t save anyone, anymore.
Let me go.
The music, it has stopped. And I am ready to cry.
Almost ready, like – almost famous.
But my tears have to wait a bit.
It’s just the hiatus, no fucking shit.
Who cares for the king’s permission anymore?
Don’t drop dead on me, my friend,
Here hold my hand, lead the way.
We are just two blind men wearing thongs,
Making crude remarks, singing lewd songs,
You lead the way, your imagination is better than mine.
They didn’t understand me the other day,
They thought I was saying something profound,
I do not know my exact words, but it went like -
“Blah, blah, blah, something something, bullshit, bullshit,”
And then I said, “Another round.”
And then they all clapped in glee, and waited for another simile,
And they waited, because I had to pee.
I wish you Shakira my friend, I really do.
Her hips don’t lie, and so don’t I.
But she is an illusion, don’t you think?
But wtf, so are you.
Sing me another song, my friends.
I am dying slowly. The world is a one long cigarette.
And there’s hardly anything left to smoke.
Red smoke, red smoke in the air,
Open your eyes if you care,
If I have ever made you sigh,
Wave your arms and say goodbye,
I am feeling Mr Mesmer Mesmerized,
And my blood is all vaporized.
Sing me the ‘Last Song Of Hope’
As I rise into the sky.
I could have been the Christ, you know.
But I never tried.