Thursday, August 6, 2009

recent ramblings

While I try to visualize Kundera’s Prague and his pain, through the corner of my huge balcony gazing into an arrow of streetlights, which is inflicted on every page of The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, I am able to explain the ineffable-what pisses me off the most right now?

I am an evolving audience of both my beloved art forms-cinema and literature.
As a reader I started from Sidney Sheldon and then moved to likes of Kundera, Marquez, Rushdie, Kafka (not as much to be proud of), Ghosh. What made me change my writers?
Its part me and part the authors. I was able to relate to their works, see a tiny Raza or a Zain on some page or the other and a wide array of societies-Prague, Latin America, Calcutta and their idiosyncrasies along with the protagonist which is part me and part someone else. So I’m all of them and they are all me set against that picturesque landscape of fleeting transcendence. Also a completely different idea helps me understand a dime here and there about myself. Now that self-realization is not essential for some, but I believe the best way to understand the motor of the world is by understanding oneself. I think both of us are created from the same matter and along similar principles. The divine intervention, of course. And I also feel that this world is exactly as to what it appears to me. But how does this world appears to me? There is no concrete answer to that question except that you search for all those tiny Raza’s and Zain’s and extract them from various pages and lines and assemble them to get the whole picture.

Same goes with cinema. Earlier it was strictly Indian cinema, popular Hindi films to be precise, seen because time is there to be passed and some activity has to be performed in order to claim that one has passed his time doing something selective.
The change happened due to the repetition of plots and their impact on me which dimmed with every passing movie. So I ventured outside my fixed realm making it a point to learn a thing or two about what I’ve seen through newspapers and other articles. I always try to attain a different height of emotions, which is because when you are at a height the desire to go further up never ceases. Especially with emotions. So here I am continually evolving or contracting, who knows, but there is a prominent change.
But things around me-people, society, parents, relatives, situations, response to situations, even friends, their nuances or wit, similar dialogues, similar expressions, even their stories more or less the same.

If I am going through so many amounts of curves and heights and sometimes absurdly bizarre thoughts in a matter of just few minutes, why aren’t things or stuff around me changing at that similar or even at some pace?

Come on, think just a bit differently, try to see death as something that’s coming towards you rather than you going towards it, search for the meanings to your replies as to what’s the logic behind the explanation you have been giving for the past one hour, look back not just to extract a good story but to extract yourself as to how you were-your stories should be more about you rather than some other loser, you as the loser is much more interesting than a stranger as a hero.

Like Kundera said-when someone says that Children! You are the future. It does not imply that children will one day be adults and so they are the future, but that the society is becoming more and more like a child.

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