In The Mirror

                                BOOK REVIEW : I 'm Heartless - a Real Confession

Confessions are always intriguing. And, when it comes in a paperback with a bold-lettered title of “I am Heartless” – it is sure to grab attention. Moreover, the graphic cover design and an attractive intro at the back-cover of the book are provoking enough to give it a try.

There is an eerie feeling about the very term “confession”. It comes with a heavy baggage of expectation of witnessing some dark allies of human behavior or emotions – a sly wish of peeping at one’s nasty secret. Added to that, George Clooney in his “Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (2002)” gave another dimension altogether with voyeurism. And, the debutant author chose to trod this rare path – much away from mushy campus romances.

I 'm Heartless By Vinit K. Bansal

The plot here revolves around Viren – the protagonist. In “Confessions of a Dangerous Mind”, Chuck Barris(the main character of the movie) was torn between the woman who loved him and the woman of his fantasy. In the very first few pages, precisely after the prologue, the author has introduced us to Pari, the girl of Viren’s ultimate fantasy. And, the fantasy got shape in his post-grad days in form of Rashi. And, now began the age-long mockery of “very-good-friends” by Rashi and hapless effort of Viren. And then, there is realization and an attempt of self imposed seclusion. Enter Manasi, the good old friend and the life began once again. Same old filmy melodrama?  Naah !! It’s only the half! The author made an attempt to explore the extremities of being a loser. The protagonist is a tragic hero who realizes his loss when it is already lost. The last chapter justifies the tagline “A Real Confession”. It ogles out the dark emotions and portrays the curvature of human psyche in a state of ultimate repentance and frustration. It painfully personifies the grey shades of human emotions – a conflict of sadness, contempt, regret, shame and guilt.

Vinit K Bansal has done a decent job in his debut novel. The character sketching of Viren is excellent and deserves accolade. The constant eccentricity of the egoistic character is captured in a fantastic way. In the first few chapters, when the character was building up, the author gave a glimpse of the campus life through a few subplots. The characters as Max, Sunny are very real and you will definitely bump upon them on a single campus visit. But the two main subplots revolving around Freddy and Max are too weak and half-baked. A bit more tightening of the sub-plots could have helped the characterization itself and supported the plot on the whole.And, unintended pregnancy is unnecessarily tabooed all-over. Even, the character of Rashi(read Pari) faded suddenly. How can the author who has the potential to create Viren with all dedication can be so abrupt in creating his Pari. 

The book definitely stands out of the crowd of Indian fictions that revolves mostly around candid college romance. And, Viren definitely stands out as a character – a loser in love.

The character reminded me of a Bengali master story-teller Mr. Sharat Chandra Chattopadhyay. He in one of his novels wrote at the end note as “Please, spare a single drop of tear for him”. The “him” here refers to as a character that created history in Indian cinema – Devdas. Be it through Dilip Kumar,Shah Rukh Khan or Abhay Deol, Devdas was successful in justifying the end note of his creator.

Perhaps, Vinit could have quoted the same line here at the end.

From the Crow's Nest

                               



                   


 

        The Age of Perversion ...

“Boss, ek packet condom dena!!”…thus speaks the main protagonist of a recent Bengali movie in one of the scenes … and the hall erupts in wolf-whistles, claps and catcalls... and The Perversion Age has arrived finally. Within the very radius of our drawing rooms, from the point where the Idiot Box aka TV is placed, forms the epicenter of moral and psychological corruption.

We thus find ourselves in 3 types of perversion in this present time-space. Cultural, Technological and Political.

A backtrack in time would be required to find the source of this corruption, of this inner rot. ‘60s? ‘70s? ‘80s? 2K?

A backtrack in history would be required to find the source of this corruption, of this inner rot. Marilyn Monroe? Pamela Anderson? Madonna? Hugh Hefner? Richard Branson? Mark Zuckerberg? World Wide Web?

Delhi Belly opened the floodgates. Of moral corruption. Here on-screen representation of “obscene gestures” is thus “Seen” by the viewers. “Shit” becomes the “It” thing. “22she Shrabon”, a successful Bengali film of 2011, completely does away with the Purdah system. Imagine the pangs of knowing all those 4-letter and 8-letter words yet not being able to use them publicly. People thus got liberated from the inner turmoil of only listening to Ma-Behen gaalis but not being able to respond to these gems. We can now relish in an AC auditorium, laughing our heart out with each wave of abuse washing our feet. We can now happily ignore the decadent smell of the putrefied souls. And the circus thus comes to town. Uncouth is not “Uncool” any more. A cinema not having these dialogues or shock-values is now considered as yesteryear stuff. The viewers, in sheep-like formation, look up to the sky now. They now ask their Father in an equivocal bleat, “What’s Next?”

In an age of constant surveillance and carpet-bombing of question-marks, we live rat-like, with human masks on! We mock the Nazi-regime, oblivious to the fact that Humans then have given way to a sinister combination of Human+Technology now. We live in a time when status-updates are the new status-quo and suddenly life has come under a large, invisible CCTV… somebody, somewhere is watching all our moves, making careful notes of our daily sustenance.

The Hubble Telescope reminds me of a similar instance. When They (Read Uncle Sam) installed It up there, the main objective was to constantly monitor the updates from the outer space; as if in the anticipation of galactic signals of long-lost fellow space dwellers’ home-coming. We live under a similar telescope on Earth. Constant updates about our daily movements are streamed, aired, mailed and tweeted to known ether and unknown ethereal levels.

A technological perversion haunts us.

A recent advertisement campaign of Coca Cola 

Political scenario has always been dirty. But then, there’s a distinct difference between dirty and dirtier. What we have in front of us today is a product of exhausted resources. Take an example. Depleted water-levels are giving rise to the death claws of arsenic. In a similar fashion, exhausted moral and physical reserves are giving ways to predatory ways of carrot-and-stick politics. With each passing day, the protest-marches are increasing by the numbers. The dissidents are hitting the streets while the media is busy reporting otherwise. Tones of newsprint are being used to cover up issues. Mole-hills and mountains are constantly being confused. Deliberate, most of the times. With each passing day, we are proudly looking into the barrel of the gun. We can become sure of the hole in the hull. A persisting downgrade continues throughout the four corners of the world. In the pursuit of an ever-rising profit curve, we have chosen cancerous growth. The perverse nature of politics is at its best when every one of us is perceived as a product. And here we are, balancing skillfully against an imminent drowning. Political perversion is now an aura around each one’s head. A part now of “We, the People”.

As a mise-en-scene, we can always remind ourselves of Coca-Cola’s campaign: whatever be the misery around you, you should always buy a coke and “open happiness”. Period.

In The Mirror ......

BOOK REVIEW: Love, Me and Bullshit!

The year was 2004!! The paperback revolution in India started in that year itself. With the advent of a new trend of narrating self – experience in colleges – the long starved readers started relating with the dizzy nostalgia of umpteen recklessness of their own post teen days. Or repenting for what they missed. And for the mass, it was relishing the glimpse of their larger than life dream college life. And, in no time, the trend became a style – a shield-like attribute that any IIT/IIM alumni should possess. And, it increased the readership exponentially – the youth of India once again returned to the age old habit of reading novels – hats off to Chetan Bhagat !! and also to Peter Robinson !!

And, in Love, Me and Bullshit! – the author too acknowledged Bhagat’s contribution to inspire him for getting started. But, he has chosen a different path. Perhaps he was not too keen on making his book an “inspiration” for another Hindi movie.

The narrative is set on a time frame of 3 years – that portrays the juncture of any human life – the complexities of desire, love, lust and all that jazz.

Through the eyes of the protagonist, the author gives a vivid description of the inner conflict of a human mind. The mind that feels depressed as a friend gets to ride on his dream – the mind that repents for not chasing a “lion” – the mind that longs for someone to share his biggest happiness of life with – it is actually a graphic narrative of an honest mind that does not hesitate to unleash the feelings hiding in the darkest and the furthest nook of the heart.

The narration of the deep frustration is very real.Raw. It hurts. Itches your skin. The story makes you identify the poet, the philosopher and the beast in you.  It reflects the strength of inner belief in the God throughout.

 Love, Me and Bullshit! by Vivek Kumar Agarwal

The writing is smooth, sometimes allegorical with imageries. I loved the way the author portrayed the essence of love. It has no reason. Not physical. Not platonic. It simply happens and slowly creeps into the highest rung of prioritization of our mind. And, we become ready to sacrifice anything – just anything.

But the story strangely restricts itself only within the inner feelings of the protagonist. Though the readers are highly acquainted – it does not even trod the way of fun and glamour. Although it is humorous at times, the story mostly reflects the gloomy side of human psyche. The conflict within. The author proclaims himself as a victim of melodramatic Hindi movies – but he safely avoided a gripping climax. Be it the same old story – we always love to bite our nails in the climax scene.

But the book scores differently.  It scores in the odd way that inspires one to listen to his heart against all possible odds bypassing all lucre of prosaic grace.

And, in the end it will make you stand in front of the mirror. You will notice the poet in you on your right, aloof – you will notice the philosopher on your left, aloof – and the beast in you is …… well, some things are best when left unsaid. The position of the beast in the mirror I mean!!

from the Crow's Nest ...

“Forward-Thrust: 2012”

Caring a fig about Morality:

"The question of morality stems from the society and culture we are brought up in."

From a metaphorical point-of-view, the same steel-o-glass building will be seen as an architectural marvel by a city-boy. To the small-town girl, it’s claustrophobic, maybe brazenly show-off(ish) !!

Maybe the other way round too …

Thus, while we keep making off-hand comments and gestures about “How could he .. !!” or “Even she too … ??”, we fail to realize the dialectics, the dichotomy and the tight-rope that develops in the meanwhile.

 The same single mother gets a warm welcome in one corner of the city; she gets a cold shoulder or a frown in another part of the city. Interestingly, almost as a corollary, it is to be noticed that the city also grows up in diff. directions and frequencies over time. The south part may not grow up exactly with the same mindset and logical congruencies like the northern belt of the city.

And when we dissect a situation on the altar of morality under the cross of Society, we must keep this same above point in mind, of the same Society growing up in diff. time-frames zones and mentality. What is crime or unusual to a section, can maybe an eye-opener to another group of people.

What we need as collective souls is the need to open up and let more to come in. When we put dark glasses on, it becomes difficult to see the sunnier side of things. We need to walk in the other person’s shoes and gauge the condition prevailing on the other side.

We can have this as our new-year resolution. Maybe as one of the resolutions.

from the Crow's Nest ...

Rear-view Mirror - 2011

“Converting KHANs to Balan : deciphering the code … ”

Acting is a nice childish profession - pretending you're someone else and, at the same time, selling yourself.
Katharine Hepburn

2011 came as a nice complement to the above statement, the actress this time being Vidya Balan. What Vidya brings onscreen is a home-grown charisma, a chutzpah that is unique to her presence. The magic worked at the start of the year. The magic worked at the end of the year.

“No One Killed Jessica” saw a resilient version of Vidya. The morning showed the day. Audience rejoiced the sturdy avatar of Vidya. While Rani Mukherjee almost stole away the thunder from Vidya, she steadied her ship till the very end. Almost Dravid-like compared to the flamboyance of a Sehwag-like Rani Mukherjee.

Let’s take a look at the reviews:

“But it is Vidya Balan's Sabrina who steals the show with her quiet courage, her absolute ordinariness and her complete disbelief at how someone with a pistol in his hand and power in his head could shoot down somebody for a mere drink. Watch Balan's body language and her aimless travels in Delhi's public transport and you'll understand how the common man survives in India: against all odds, albeit with courage and dignity.”– Times Of India

“It makes Vidya Balan's stand-out act -- her hesitant body language, her faith, her helplessness, her rage, her sorrow and her gratitude all come across beautifully; you don't even notice her pared down dialogues -- all the more commend-worthy.” – Rediff.com

” The first is personified by Vidya Balan, who plays Sabrina, Jessica’s beleaguered sister who fights in vain, against the might of Manu Sharma, a powerful politician’s son. Unlike her glamorous, party-girl sister, Sabrina is painfully plain and sober. Wearing drab clothes and spectacles, Vidya is a portrait of anguish and strength.” – NDTV 

Morning showed the day .. January paved 2011 for Vidya Balan in this case. And in what manner! The dream run continued till the fag end of 2011 with the release of “The Dirty Picture”. The premise was controversial enough to give the film that extra share of eye-balls. But with the sight of skin from Vidya Balan was a vision rather than a move. And boy! How it worked.

Coupled with her power-packed performance, and with that dare-to-bare frames, Vidya threw a challenge, Gladiator-like. And one, who has seen the movie, will agree that she comes out unscathed in the end.

Vidya Balan throws an open challenge to the protagonists who have played the lead onscreen till date and how she comes out of the ring!

Eat these:

“The Dirty Picture is essentially Vidya Balan's film, all the way. She gives a towering performance as the protagonist who remains unapologetic about her life till the very end. The high point of her act is the fact that despite portraying a sex bomb, her sexuality never ever gets vulgar and crude.” – Times Of India

“In terms of creativity, it's a middling effort. But where bravado is concerned, The Dirty Picture kicks ass by virtue of three very strong reasons: Vidya Balan. Vidya Balan. Vidya Balan.” – Rediff.com

“And Vidya Balan pulls off Silk in a manner no current female actor can. Heck, no actor in recent times has -- if I may say so -- the balls to give himself/herself to a role as wholeheartedly as Vidya has (barring, probably, Ranbir Kapoor in Rockstar).” – DNA

The innings was not over yet … 2011 also saw the poster release of her 2012 release “Kahaani” where she plays the role of a pregnant lady in search of her lost husband. The poster depicts her in another stellar performance.

The thermometer keeps climbing up, the mercury seething with expectation from a lady who has changed the way Bollywood ladies have played on a quintessentially male-dominated turf.

After the “The Dirty Picture”-success, Vidya pointed out that she should not be compared to the Khans, rather on the contrary, the Khans should change their surnames to Balan. Even “confidence” becomes a clichéd word in front of such a statement.

Ms. Balan took the road-less-travelled in 2011. 2012 doesn’t seem any different either. We drool in anticipation of another stellar performance. Another riveting overture of the unexpected.

from the Crow's Nest ...

Rear-view Mirror - 2011

“Mi Anna Hazare Boltaye” or “Me Anna Hazare Speaking”

“The middle-class rises” or “the middle-class leaves PM” – the headlines since April 2011 read somewhat like that.

The headlines hovered round somewhere around the above quoted lines.

They still are.

The point is how does one assess the claim?

First, the middle class is not about the few chosen ones who were at Ramlila Maidan. Nor they were the ones who are on a symbolic fast in front of the camera. They were not either who had printed “I Support Anna” flexes and did candle-light vigils. Soft patriotism and foolish jingoistic war-cry are not the order of the day.

The middle class is still the one who jostle for a foothold in the bus. They still negotiate Rs. 10/- in a shop. They still hate going to the local bazaar because of inflation. Son’s school fees still give them high BPS. Insomnia. Hyper-tension. Bring it on.

The middle class is being given the illusionary-mislead that the salvage of the black money is the key to all the problems. And while the middle-class is being mislead, fellow Indians are still lying on the ground, clutching on to their farm-lands, waiting for the bulldozers to crush them.

This is the same time when the police are firing in another end of the country for another piece of land.

A chunk from the same middle-class.

And while we are fighting corruption in high spirits, we will come back home and beat our wives to pulps for a salty sambhar.

We will not let out our homes to single mothers or divorcees or widows or a young couple.

We will discuss “Anna” while sipping Green Tea.

We will nod our head in unison over a glass of red-wine and discuss how our country is rotting from within due to corruption.

While Anna fasts on the dais, people flock around the free-food stall. While Anna poses inside the Tihar Jail, the Tihar Jail canteen gets emptied up.

A chunk from the same middle-class.

And the same political drama unfolds in the background - the Congress through its colonialist, feudalistic, hereditary techniques, allowed Rahul and Priyanka to decide on the JanLokpal bill. That makes it Rahul vs. India or “the next PM thinks...” kind of a scenario.

Brand Rahul gets yet another launch-pad.

And AD 2011, we got Brand Anna. Gandhi reincarnated. The toothless smile. The Gandhi topi. The background flex. The white attire. His armour flawless. The middle-class, always hungry for an icon, laps him up.

And another woman has been on a fast since the last decade. No candle-light vigil or hunger-strike or media-frenzy has been there. Because of a stupid reason. AFSPA.

Another man dies of fast. Because of a stupid reason. A polluted Ganga.

RTI activists keep receiving bullets as an answer to their letters.

The market sees no brand here. No business here. No media thus.

And we have the hype around the issue. Clear winner. Sanjay Leela Bhansali promotes “My Friend Pinto” at Ramlila Maidan. A man fasts in Vadodara. A man fasts in Howrah. And media-frenzy reaches inexplicable heights.

 “Anna Diaries” in newspapers. "Anna-using-I-Pad”. “Anna-fart-has-no-smell”. The long-shot of Indian flags being waved. The close-up of a dreamy-eyed kid. All the hypes. All the mechanisms at work. The blatant media-tricks to sell every bit of the septuagenarian.

This is no awakening. Ramlila Maidan is no Tiananmen Square. Not even a Tahrir Square. The land-mafias are still at ease. The coal mafias are at large. Goa, Orissa, HP, Noida, Gurgaon, West Bengal, Seven-Sisters ... every individual is looking down the barrel of a gun with no land beneath their feet.

The clever manipulation of a Gandhian aura. The slow build-up to a joyous climax. The illusion of a victory-of-the-middle-class.

And I open the newspaper to an advertisement stating “Farmer’s pride. India’s pride. Bollguard-II” by “Mahyco Monsanto”.

Jai Hind !!


(Rear-view Mirror - 2011 looks back on the year 2011 as it is passing by. We look back on events that shook us. We take you through the lanes and by-lanes of our minds. Hope you enjoy the ride.)

from the Crow's Nest ...

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond ....

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

                  ---- E.E.Cummings