Finde me some Scrubs
January 31, 2009 | Filed Under Point of View | 2 Comments
>маси и столовеve now been watching the episodes of Scrubs chronologically. The first season was nice, interesting, funny, and something “different”. As time went on, I realized it has to be one of the best television serials ever made. It follows the lives of doctors in the Sacred Heart hospital – the characterization is very stark and it takes a while getting used to it but with time you begin appreciating each and every character in it.
Doctors have a tough life. They are constantly surrounded by real pain and suffering. They have to grow immune to all the pain and suffering along with the diseases they encounter. Scrubs does show us that deep inside them they also crumble like the rest of us.
Here’s another of my out of the box solutions for the world. Translate this tv serial in all the languages of the world and show it to each and everyone. Especially show them to people who think killing is a solution.
I am glad, I don’t have TV. (I watch Scrubs on my Laptop.) When I do have access to TV, I stumble on documentaries and News that is extremely disturbing. Last weekend I saw a show on the Australian Network, where a journalist goes to both Israel and Palestine and talks to people there. One footage shows a woman who is proud of her dead son who committed suicide bombing. She even encouraged him towards it. Another was an Israeli woman, who is living in her apparent “Zion”, and doesn’t really mind the attacks on Gaza. Why is it deeply disturbing to me…? It is for many reasons.
Not till long ago, I used to think that I didn’t understand these conflicts. I used to think that there is some deep emotional pain attached to it. Also there was no way I could relate to the pain. I haven’t gone through any such thing myself. But now I realize, there isn’t any real depth to it. And we human beings are such fools that we can fight for the flimsiest of reasons.
There don’t seem to be any reasonable people around. People who don’t have a ego. Even the smart, intelligent ones have an ego. It’s more than fuel to the fire.
Frankly, I don’t have much hope on Obama. I so wish Martin Luther King was around instead. But in these times his voice too would have been muffled. Obama seems like a nice guy but only time will tell if he is amongst those who listens to the voice of reason.
Also on the obnoxious tv channel – India TV, I saw a news broadcast where young children were trained to kill. 10-14 yr olds with AK 47s, rocket launchers etc. My grand ma was also watching along with me. She, who is a very religious person, could not get what was happening. I strangely felt very close to my grandmother that day. I didn’t know if the things that she was saying, came from a place where one has lived ones life and looks back at with some kind of secret knowledge or from a place where she was just being sensible.
I am in the middle of the 5th season of Scrubs. Everytime a patient dies, they feel like they have lost a war. I compare this fiction to the stark realities of life and in some vague way connect to the people who are writing these episodes. In reality we are out their killing ourselves on our own volition.
I realize how fragile life is, and yet we try to find our Zions and Pakistans. We fight for lands and not people. We have concepts like “our people”, “our nation”, “our religion”… and whatever that does not fall in this “our” category, we learn to hate it.
I would have been better off being fictional than real. At least that way I would belong to some “our” category.
Sawai Gandharva Fest – A first timer’s experience
December 15, 2008 | Filed Under Poetry, Point of View, Theatre & Movies, life's answers | 1 Comment
And I almost missed it. Thankfully there were friends around who kept talking about it and it generated enough curiosity for me to experience it. To confess I hadn’t heard about the festival before, there had been passing mentions of it in my life earlier, particularly by a friend called Vishakhadutt, but nothing had prepared me for it. I was amazed.
For those who don’t know: Sawai Gandharva is a music festival started by Pt. Bhimsen Joshi as a dedication to his guru – Sawai Gandharva. It’s now a 56 year old tradition. The greatest of musicians perform here. The genre is purely Indian classical. About 15000 people attend the festival every year, but it could be much more. The festival has grown to be larger than life. It’s also interesting to hear the conversations of people around you, they know their artists and talk about their idiosyncracies, they also know their music. It’s an experience worth taking and revisiting.
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Thank you A & H for introducing me to this.
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While there, i wrote a few music scapes. Haven’t edited them much. So execuse the mistakes.
Here they are:
During the performance of the brothers Rajan & Sajan Mishra (vocals)
The casual droning of the tanpura muffles the voices of a soulless melody that emanates from the heart and reaches the Fingertips.
God lets man supersede him at times. Reluctance of being a man falls apart. Bit by bit it becomes the beats of a tabla. Accompanying the tanpura they leave the man they occupy. They become what lesser mortals will never be.
Ants – They Crawl over what remains, releasing a sigh that grows into a moan. A moan that slowly grows wings and flies. And in its flight it meets another bird, another bird that’s emanated from dead skin, a hint of desperation and a rhetoric gone mad.
Together they fliy over a sea, a sea that has been thirsty for years. They are the bashirs of a never ending rain. But it is still far – the droplets will take their own time to come. For now there is only hope. But unlike before, this hope comes with a promise. The birds Slowly land on to the parched land. And wait in peace.
For only when war is over, will man see who he really is.
The rain will come.
During the performance of the brothers Rajan & Sajan Mishra (vocals)
The dust gathers dust
It’s been a while since someone has even been here
Centuries may be
Seth was last seen here
May be this is what he saw
And decided to be the progenitor of mankind
He too had seen hatred
brother killing brother
He Foresaw The bleakness
he also foresaw the beauty
A Beauty that
Even Methusaleh couldn’t have managed to see in all his llfetime
A beauty that would need at least a billion lives
And yet
The eyes would be hungry
The ears unsatiated
He would have to risk a hundred Kanes
Killing a billion Ables
For the few SethS
Who would assimilate this beauty
And use it
To recreate paradise
The few Seths who would die a billion times
And a hundred More…
And Survive..
During the performance of Ronu Muzumdar (flautist)
The bird soars high
Slowly but surely
Sure of What it’s doing
Sure of the eventuality
Sure of its proximity to the sun
Sure of its descent
Sure Of its eXtraordinary fate
UnKnowing of the outcome
the higher it flies
The lonelier the illusion
The emptier the arena
What it seeks?
A desert in the sKY
For its death is foretold
But its life still a mystery
During the performance of Pandit Jasraj (vocals)
An opening in the sky
A ray of light passes through
Banished from the Kingdom
It seeks to find a meaning
A meaning so ordinary
So simple
That
The puzzle is solved
But what mystifies the man whose eye it enters is the need for demystification
Thus the puzzle is passed on
Only its form changes
an incessant cooing of the cuckoo catches the man’s ear
In an attempt to find the beholder
The ray of light leaves his eyes.
It travels thru the branches of a tree
Who embraces its very being and breaks it into a million pieces
Thus the puzzle prospers
It blooms and bears pollen
Travels on the back of a bee
And discovers honey
For what it thinks is sweet death
Is but humiliation
A theft of freedom
It desires to break free once again
It counts a million moments
And then jumps into a cup reluctantly
Trying to enjoy its freedom between two cages
The last it remembers is hot water flowing over it and the gentle aroma of camomille
Which picks its burnt soul
And rises
And resuscitates it
The awakening-
The cloud opens up…
An angry demeanor hides the wisdom
And lets A ray escape
Another puzzle bears wings
A potter awaits,
the clay is wet …
Shirtless
October 8, 2008 | Filed Under Point of View | Leave a Comment
The morning started on the wrong foot. It spoke about an Indian man in LA shooting himself and his entire family because of the Lehmann meltdown. It was quite sad, the boom had bought the man many riches and the bust had taken it all away. Being a poor poet like me is at times charming. There’s not much to lose.
Heard another news that made me extremely sad but I won’t talk about that here. But it added to the low feeling.
I also read that Ganguly would hang up his boots post this series. I don’t usually read blogs the first thing in the morning. In fact at times I don’t read them for days. But I had a feeling Greatbong would write something about it. I wasn’t disappointed. It was an unusual post – not taking digs at anyone, it didn’t bring out any guffaws, but it resonated with me. It’s a very well written blog post and houses the feelings of a generation who grew up on the cricket of Azhar-Sachin-Ganguly. Do read.
If you have read the foundation series by Asimov – then Dada reminds me of the Mule. An anomaly of sorts in the system, who challenged it and showed us that cricketers could be daredevils and not just gentlemen. He also showed that you can be a cricketer in an Indian team, if you have nothing but a beautiful square drive and a lot of will. Ganguly played cricket like I did. He was left handed, bowled slow medium pacers with his right hand and ran slowly between the wickets. He wasn’t a very good fielder either. Watching him play cricket, I would at times get angry that if he could be there, I could be there too. But since I am an Indian, I will be forgiven for thinking so. Everyone does. (Not forgives but thinks so.)
It was his captaincy that made him. Or rather his will and grit. The Australian series has now become all the more interesting. The tiger would come out with his bat and grit to play for sure. I am not a big fan of Ganguly but he has given a lot to Indian cricket, a lot of which is ingrained in the team even today. And that’s an exemplary contribution.
As a tribute we must all watch the last test – shirtless.