When November ends...

To Mumbai, or not. Two years ago, the question did arise, and was gently swept under the carpet. It has never since been. As much as I would have loved it or wanted it to be, it could not be. And then, I chose to fall in love with Delhi.

November, brings back Mumbai memories. And then someday, along came 26/11, adding another dimension to it, taking the bond from completely personal to some parts national. 

So as November draws to an end, it seemed as if almost by cosmic design, that I stumbled upon this beautiful piece written and recited by Shekhar Kapoor.  

If the teaser above finds favour with you, do try the complete composition here: Goodbye My Love

The resonating melancholy sits comfortably amidst the dulcet voice-over and a melodious track. The contrast weaves magic and leaves an aftereffect both menacing, yet comforting.

Perhaps, they should collaborate more often.  

I enjoyed reading the poem, as much as I enjoyed the recital above, so may you.

"as she left her womb,
thrust out by a violent birth
i knew that she and I
were destined for the most
intimate of all relationships
time stood still
as I watched her
inexorably sail towards me
so she and I would join
in one final embrace
to complete an event
born in eternity
for since the first explosions
that formed the universe
and the first metals had been created
she and I had been preparing for this one event
how many forms must she have taken
how many hands must have shaped her
and how many eons must have formed her
and how many men must have used her
before she left for this final journey
between me and her
as I looked around and saw
the head of my friend’s daughter
explode, the blood sailing outwards
and the drops, finding their own individuality
falling on the table cloth, astonishingly
in the most even geometric pattern
and yet as I looked up
she was still travelling towards me
I said my silent goodbyes
to loved ones that could never be part
of the intimacy with which
the bullet and I would meet
in one final embrace
I looked at the eyes
of the young man
that held the rifle
that had exploded her out
to her final journey
do you know me, young man?
as you avert your eyes
so casually looking for your next target
did you think of me ?
of who I might be
of my loved ones
or yours ?
do you not think
that in the sheer carelessness
of this one event
that you and I now know each other ?
that we will be tethered together
forever too ?
your life as altered
as has mine
as has
all those I love
and who love me
I want you to remember me young man
I would hate to be someone random
that you had no interest in
but the need to squeeze the trigger
occupied as you were
with thoughts of greater glory
of martyrdom
in your own inevitable death
yet you were the mere instrument
one small cog
almost insignificant
in the bullet’s journey towards me
as we finally meet
the anticipation of pain
never coming
as the embrace of death
flowed through my body
goodbye my love
if only I had known
this would be the last time
I would see you
I would have touched your cheeks
looked into your eyes
softy caressed your hand
looked back and smiled
and tried to make time stay still
just for a little while
but little did I know
that the bullet and I
were destined to finally meet tonight
after waiting for an eon"

(Courtesy: http://shekharkapur.com/blog/2008/12/goodbye-my-love/)

So long. 

Love, 

ReviewKaka

PS: Flash mob comes to Mumbai   

दिल्ली: एक मंज़र ये भी (Invibration)

दिल्ली की गलियों में ढूँढने निकलो तो अक्सर ख़ाक के साथ कुछ अपना भी मिल जाता है, शायद दिल्ली में सच दिलवालों का दिल बसता है;
आज इन आम मोड़ों पे मैंने छोटी छोटी कहानियां पढ़ी हैं, कुछ भूले से, पर अपने से गीत और कुछ हमेशा साथ रह जाने वाली यादें, समेट के रखूं तो कुछ तसवीरें...

कभी फुर्सत के दिन, एक बार फिर हम आप मिलेंगे; कुछ किस्से तुम सुनाना, दिल्ली की एक कहानी हम भी सुनायेंगे;

कहने को यहाँ कभी निजाम, कभी ग़ालिब रहा करते थे, यूँही राह चलते, उन्ही के कुछ मुकाम आज भी मिलते हैं, सम्भाल के रखूं तो कुछ यादें ...

दिल्ली शायद आज भी सोचती होगी.. कब  पुरानी से नयी बन गयी. आज हर दिन कि एक नयी कहानी है, फिर भी यह वही पुरानी सी है;

कभी तुम्हारी कभी हमारी सी, और दिल्ली एक खुली किताब सी. 

इन्ही पन्नो को पलट के देखो तो शायद खुद को या ख़ुदा को या ख़ुदी के लिखे चंद शेर मिल जाएंगे....संजो के रखो तो एक ग़ज़ल...नुमाइश पे रखूं तो एक ज़िन्दगी...

कभी जौक कि दिल्ली थी, मस्जिद मक्बरें थे, है वही आज भी - दीवारों पे लिखी कुछ कही अनकही बातें...बूझूं तो पहेली...इस मनन को भटका के रखूं तो दिल्ली कि गलियां...

कुछ समय साथ थी, कुछ पल शायद और भी हो.. यहाँ आषाढ़ का एक दिन था, सवेरा था, सांझ शायद यहाँ की ना हो..., हर दिल कि तरह एक दिल यहाँ भी रह जायेगा, साथ रखूँ तो एक  ख़याल ... 

(Click here (ChaoticOrder: Ek mazaar yeh bhi) for something found by the road that leads home, every day.)

Now, I wish I had written the post above. However, the only credit I can take for this, is a little 'me too'. What started out as few lines written by a friend for the Shahjahanabad post, some exchanges later took a shape and form of its own.

So by invitation, and collaboration hence - Invibration :). Will let that be the Kaka quirk for the day :P  

Greetings and love,

ReviewKaka

Waking Life | One moment at a time

This was long overdue.

After A wrote here about Richard Linklater's intermittently philosophical gabfest in the guise of movie that is Waking Life, I knew I had to throw in some words to bring positive balance back in to the cosmos. 

True to the spirit of the movie, I present my views here (mostly disagreements with A), one moment at a time.

Firstly, the trivial matter of roto-scope as the medium of presentation, an incidental matter of choice which finds much more favour and acceptance with me and perhaps less with others. I like the medium, for it continuously summates and conveys the lucid dream state, an idea that is central to the movie. The other reason, with the benefit of hindsight, that it does not overtly hijack the underlying story. Inception, the Nolan-Di-Caprio classic, tinkered with the idea of dreams and conscious dreams, but the opulent magnificence of photography, at times, can throw the audience off-script. Arguably, it could be a plus for the movie or not, depending on the audacity of execution. 

Understanding Waking Life, depends on your willingness to let go of the comforting and familiar notions about what to expect from a movie, for this is a far more rigorous cinematic experience, relying primarily on conversations. Monologues, dialogues, soliloquies and debates in various forms. Protests to pillow talk. Lectures to outbursts. Featuring people some real and some not. Prominent real life characters in the movie include Louis Mackey, Timothy Levitch, Kim Krizan etc.

It is through these conversations, that the movie touches upon various ideas, philosophical, metaphysical, cultural, anarchist/nihilist, existentialist, evolutionary, reality/perception, political. Floating along the ether, from one point to the next, the narration attaches itself momentarily, taking shape through a conversation and moves on to the next in the same fluid motion with which it initially began. To take one such idea and hold it out as a focal point, is impossible.

From scene one, the movie sets adrift onto a journey touching as many thoughts from our collective consciousness as possible. Progressing from one moment to the next, without any particular transition. There can be none, for a sequential transition would have been antithetical to the idea of dreaming, for we do not follow a logical or linear sequence of events in our dreams. The movie, perhaps in itself is an idea whose time has not yet come.

On a personal note, I believe Waking Life deserves much more credit from the global cinematic machinery than it got. In terms of Linklaters' oeuvre, it fits fantastically and sits comfortably right next to the Proustian Dazed and Confused.  

And to end, I quote the lines from one of my many favourite monologues from the movie. This one by Timothy Levitch:

" On this bridge, Lorca warns: life is not a dream.
Beware, and beware, and beware!

And so many think because then happened, now isn’t.

But didn’t I mention, the on-going WOW is happening, right now!

We are all co-authors of this dancing exuberance, where even our inabilities are having a roast! We are the authors of ourselves, co-authoring a gigantic Dostoevsky novel starring clowns!

This entire thing we’re involved with called the world, is an opportunity to exhibit how exciting alienation can be.

Life is a matter of a miracle, that is collected over time by moments flabbergasted to be in each others’ presence.

The world is an exam, to see if we can rise into the direct experiences. Our eyesight is here as a test to see if we can see beyond it, matter is here as a test for our curiosity, doubt is here as an exam for our vitality.

Thomas Mann wrote that he would rather participate in life than write a hundred stories. Giacometti was once run down by a car, and he recalled falling in to a lucid faint, a sudden exhilaration, as he realized at last, something was happening to him.

An assumption develops that you cannot understand life and live life simultaneously. I do not agree entirely, which is to say I do not exactly disagree. I would say, thatlife understood is life lived. But the paradoxes bug me. 

And I can learn to love, and make love to the paradoxes that bug me. And on really romantic evenings of Self, I go salsa dancing with my confusion.

Before you drift off, don’t forget, which is to say remember. Because remembering is so much more a psychotic activity than forgetting. Lorca, in that same poem, said that the iguana will bite those who do not dream. And, as one realizes, that one is a dream-figure in another person’s dream: that is self-awareness!"

Would love to hear your thoughts on it once you've seen it.

Love,
ReviewKaka

PS: I shared Shekhar Kapoor/MPKK composed Good bye my love, last week. Here's the link to their only other compilation: Today.