A major turn in my career came when I asked myself many years ago what I should be doing for the rest of my life. The job I had was okay but I never saw jobs as 'mine', and though I think I did my jobs competently (and sometimes well enough to surprise my peers and bosses), I never had any ambitions of scaling the way to the top. So I flitted through.
When the above question came up I decided to do something I could drown myself in fully, passionately, in something that was 'mine'. So I decided to test my theory out if I was capable of drowning myself in things I thought I liked doing. Cricket was one thing, but I was past playing days to drown myself to the extent I liked. Writing was another, but I had no clue what to do and where to start. But I decided on writing, and in that one moment, graduated from writing long, rambling letters to anyone who cared to receive them and read them.
I went off from my job one day, gave myself four months, and started writing. Articles, small stories. Anything worth writing about. The only test for me was, would I be able to sustain my enjoyment even after working 12-15 hours a day for a month and more.
A small break, thanks to friends of mine who found this idea of writing interesting, and they found me a new newspaper that wanted long and rambling articles to fill space. I was perfect for the job - long and rambling articles were my forte. In a couple of weeks I was fortunate to see my name in print. That spurred me on. More articles, some for the paper and most for myself, mostly nonsensical and highly affected writing but the key was to write 12-15 hours. In four months I thought I found what I could do for the rest of my life. Writing 12 to 15 hour a day was no problem.
I loved the process. Capturing an idea as it flits past. Filing it away. Then writing the article or story based on the idea. Watching it take a life and shape of its own as I wrote, sometimes with no idea what was coming next. Most times many new ideas came inspired by some word or phrase and added substance to the skeleton, at times overshadowing the original idea itself. Sometimes serious articles became funny articles and funny articles became great tragedies.
But seeing the article get richer and finding the right words and lines as I edited and reedited gave great pleasure. Laughing at some of the lines, finding some flat. The stretching, cutting, adding, taking away, fitting the right piece, checking the flow, saving up the idea well and presenting it with a flourish was nice. I thought I could do it even if no one read those, just because the process was fun to me. Like some private workshop with words and ideas. I was no Shakespeare. Writing was hard work for me. Always has been. But I just loved the hard work. Articles, stories, series of them, poems too -that my boss Mr. Subaraman saw as too dark and depressing and advised me to keep away from.
The idea of writing a novel came much later. Until then the good writers intimidated me. Some bad ones came up and depressed me. But it was the really bad writing that Indian fiction churned up in the early years that started me off. If they could write such trash and get published, maybe so could I. Once that idea sat in my mind, the project took off with some definite purpose. Long lonely hours, ideas that started and fell flat, ideas that were too pretentious, ah it was fun those days of trying to find a story to write. It took me a long time to find a 'story' - my first was a vague collection of thoughts and events that I pieced together later.
It is the question that I think one should ask oneself. Would I do something for 12-15 hours a day and still enjoy the process of creation, of doing it, even if no one was watching and clapping and paying you me it? If the answer is yes, try it out for a definite period of time (like my four months). If the process draws you to it more than the fear of being stuck with the menhirs you have created, that is what you must do. Create the menhirs with great care for the rest of your life.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Inglourious Basterds - Movie Review
Watched this highly acclaimed movie by Quentin Tantantino on HBO. It started off very quaintly with Chapter I, a lovely shot of a farmhouse somewhere in France during World War II (why am I getting all these Word War II movies?). The farmhouse owner (and his young daughters) are paid a visit by the Germans who have already occupied France. Leading the visit is Colonel Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz, who to me was the star of the movie with a brilliant performance) popularly known as the 'Jew Hunter'. He quickly forces the farmer to show where the one Jew family in that area that is not accounted for is - they are hiding under the floorboards. Landa calls in his soldiers and makes them shoot through the floorboards killing all in the family except one - Shoshanna - a girl who manages to flee.
In Chapter II, a small group of US soldiers, jews all, led by Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) a battle hardened American, is sent to France to infiltrate behind German lines and strike fear in German ranks. He makes his men pledge him a 100 German scalps each (he actually wants them to scalp them) to him. They go about their work in right earnest and earn a good name for bludgeoning German soldiers, knifing them and scalping them. For the ones who survive them, Aldo carves a swastika on their forehead as a mark of who they were. Their reputation goes far and wide, to Hitler's ears - they are known as the Basterds.
In subsequent chapters the Basterds head to Paris to carry out a strike at a cinema theatre where some of the top Nazi authorities including Goebbels are likely to be present for a premiere of a film glorifying the Nazis. The Americans and the British come up with a plan - a British actor playing a German officer is to meet a famous German actress who is also a spy, and finalise the details of the strike. The actress is to get the Basterds and the Englishman into the premiere. But in a shootout in the meeting place, where some German soldiers discover that the Englishman is an impostor and not a German officer, everyone is killed except the actress. Aldo Raine decides to go ahead with the actress to the theatre. Now there is a bonus - Hitler is attending the premiere.
The cinema theatre in Paris is now owned by the young Jew girl who ran away in Chapter I, now with a different name of course and legitimate papers. A German sniper, who acts in the film that is to be screened is smitten by her and gets Goebbels to host the premiere in this cinema. The girl decides to blow up the cinema by locking all the Germans inside and setting on fire all the film reels that are highly inflammable. She also cuts the movie reel and put in a small reel of her laughing at the audience and telling them how a Jew girl got her revenge.
Meanwhile the efficient Hans Landa quickly makes all the connections and kills off the actress inside the theatre just as the premiere is about to begin. He takes Aldo Raine hostage along with another Basterd and lets two others who are sitting in the theatre with bombs, alone. Landa strikes a deal for American citizenship, a house in Nantucket, pension etc in turn for letting the plan to bomb the theatre continue and end the war that very night.
At the theatre the girl is killed by the actor, the girl kills the actor, the girls lover blows up the reels, the two Basterds in the theatre fire and bomb away as Germans try to run out of the theatre but cannot as the doors are locked. The theatre is blown up and we assume that Hitler and Goebbels, Bormann and others perished in the fire. In the last scene as Landa takes the Americans to safety and what he thinks is freedom and a new life, Aldo carves a swastika on his forehead, his masterpiece, before they leave for America.
Christopher Waltz blew my mind away with a fantastic performance as Hans Landa. As he takes his role higher and higher one wonders how much better can he get. Exquisite. Pitt is perfect as the Southerner, Raine, the bloodthirsty, no nonsense, tough talking Apache. Tarantino takes the film through carefully and slowly and twisting all fact to make his own ending - where Jews in the form of 'Basterd' soldiers and the French girl take revenge on the Germans who tormented them in exactly the same fashion as they did - bombing, shooting, killing them in a locked chamber as they run defenselessly around. Hitler's end was not in a theatre nor was Goebbels so Tarantino pretty much used the film to create a fantasy and get back in some storybook way. To me the distortion of facts did not appeal so much. The violence was muted and the story moved along smoothly, almost like a cartoon book, with no adrenaline. Maybe that was the idea behind the chapter wise showing of the movie. Interesting effort, though not the greatest for me, since it is rather a pointless fantasy with grossly distorted facts of a not too long ago story. Tarantino squeezes the tense moments dry of tension - and builds that well in almost every situation and one can see why he is a master. But if there is one single reason for watching this movie it must be to watch the mercurial and unpredictable Hans Landa and the wonderful way Christoph Waltz played that character.
P.S. About why the film is called 'Inglourious Basterds' Mr. Tarantino apparently said that basterds is spelt that way because we say it that way. About the rest he revealed nothing!
In Chapter II, a small group of US soldiers, jews all, led by Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) a battle hardened American, is sent to France to infiltrate behind German lines and strike fear in German ranks. He makes his men pledge him a 100 German scalps each (he actually wants them to scalp them) to him. They go about their work in right earnest and earn a good name for bludgeoning German soldiers, knifing them and scalping them. For the ones who survive them, Aldo carves a swastika on their forehead as a mark of who they were. Their reputation goes far and wide, to Hitler's ears - they are known as the Basterds.
In subsequent chapters the Basterds head to Paris to carry out a strike at a cinema theatre where some of the top Nazi authorities including Goebbels are likely to be present for a premiere of a film glorifying the Nazis. The Americans and the British come up with a plan - a British actor playing a German officer is to meet a famous German actress who is also a spy, and finalise the details of the strike. The actress is to get the Basterds and the Englishman into the premiere. But in a shootout in the meeting place, where some German soldiers discover that the Englishman is an impostor and not a German officer, everyone is killed except the actress. Aldo Raine decides to go ahead with the actress to the theatre. Now there is a bonus - Hitler is attending the premiere.
The cinema theatre in Paris is now owned by the young Jew girl who ran away in Chapter I, now with a different name of course and legitimate papers. A German sniper, who acts in the film that is to be screened is smitten by her and gets Goebbels to host the premiere in this cinema. The girl decides to blow up the cinema by locking all the Germans inside and setting on fire all the film reels that are highly inflammable. She also cuts the movie reel and put in a small reel of her laughing at the audience and telling them how a Jew girl got her revenge.
Meanwhile the efficient Hans Landa quickly makes all the connections and kills off the actress inside the theatre just as the premiere is about to begin. He takes Aldo Raine hostage along with another Basterd and lets two others who are sitting in the theatre with bombs, alone. Landa strikes a deal for American citizenship, a house in Nantucket, pension etc in turn for letting the plan to bomb the theatre continue and end the war that very night.
At the theatre the girl is killed by the actor, the girl kills the actor, the girls lover blows up the reels, the two Basterds in the theatre fire and bomb away as Germans try to run out of the theatre but cannot as the doors are locked. The theatre is blown up and we assume that Hitler and Goebbels, Bormann and others perished in the fire. In the last scene as Landa takes the Americans to safety and what he thinks is freedom and a new life, Aldo carves a swastika on his forehead, his masterpiece, before they leave for America.
Christopher Waltz blew my mind away with a fantastic performance as Hans Landa. As he takes his role higher and higher one wonders how much better can he get. Exquisite. Pitt is perfect as the Southerner, Raine, the bloodthirsty, no nonsense, tough talking Apache. Tarantino takes the film through carefully and slowly and twisting all fact to make his own ending - where Jews in the form of 'Basterd' soldiers and the French girl take revenge on the Germans who tormented them in exactly the same fashion as they did - bombing, shooting, killing them in a locked chamber as they run defenselessly around. Hitler's end was not in a theatre nor was Goebbels so Tarantino pretty much used the film to create a fantasy and get back in some storybook way. To me the distortion of facts did not appeal so much. The violence was muted and the story moved along smoothly, almost like a cartoon book, with no adrenaline. Maybe that was the idea behind the chapter wise showing of the movie. Interesting effort, though not the greatest for me, since it is rather a pointless fantasy with grossly distorted facts of a not too long ago story. Tarantino squeezes the tense moments dry of tension - and builds that well in almost every situation and one can see why he is a master. But if there is one single reason for watching this movie it must be to watch the mercurial and unpredictable Hans Landa and the wonderful way Christoph Waltz played that character.
P.S. About why the film is called 'Inglourious Basterds' Mr. Tarantino apparently said that basterds is spelt that way because we say it that way. About the rest he revealed nothing!
Friday, July 15, 2011
Thought for the Day - We Get Exactly What We Want
This is a thought that has been with me for many years - I do not remember when exactly. That we get exactly what we want. Our success, failure, fortune and misfortune, if we look at it very honestly, if we can really bare our souls and our thoughts and our hearts, we will know that whatever we got was exactly what we wanted. There is really no one else to blame!
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Fairy Tale - A True Story
Watched "Fairy Tale - A True Story" a 1997 film. It is based based on the 1917 incident famously known as the Cottingley Fairies incident in the UK where two young girls aged 10 and 16 took photographs of fairies. The young girls, cousins, took five photogrpahs near a stream they would play.
The film begins with the older cousin Frances coming to stay with her aunt Polly, cousin Elsie and Uncle Arthur, since her father is believed to be missing in action. While playing in the nearby stream they tell their Aunt Polly, who admonishes them for getting wet, that they see fairies near the stream and take a photograph of the fairies as proof. These photographs stir up the household as Polly believes in the supernatural as she is still grieving the loss of her ten year old son Joseph, and Arthur dismissing it as a trick. But the girls take another picture. This time Polly takes the fairy pictures and hands them over to the Theosophical Society which at that time was arguing for the case of angels being a reality. The photos are verified by photographic experts and said to be original and not tampered with.
The photos catch the attention of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle who was a known spiritualist and who argues for the case of the two girls and the fairies. Harry Houdini the magician and a good friend of Sir Arthur is also brought into the scenario though he is sceptical as he has always been of the supernatural. The girls take yet another photograph with the cameras that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle presents them, the fifth. Though the authorities do not accept the photos as proof Sir Conan Doyle uses them in his article with the Strand magazine. As news of the Cottingley Fairies spreads people come there in droves to see the fairies. The fairies are shown fleeing from the stream, entering the room where the girls are and then, Frances's father returns miraculously from the war.
It is based on a true story and is shown well. The real cousins however, confessed that the first four photographs were a hoax, but the fifth was not, at a ripe old age (they died in 1986 and 1988) though the movie does not dwell on that. If you believe in fairies, you see fairies. If you don't, you don't. It is a matter of faith and one should leave it at that. Surprising how so much is raised about the existence of fairies when the whole world believes in a God they have not seen. If God be seen in the wonders of creation all around, so too can fairies be seen in all the good that happens!
The film begins with the older cousin Frances coming to stay with her aunt Polly, cousin Elsie and Uncle Arthur, since her father is believed to be missing in action. While playing in the nearby stream they tell their Aunt Polly, who admonishes them for getting wet, that they see fairies near the stream and take a photograph of the fairies as proof. These photographs stir up the household as Polly believes in the supernatural as she is still grieving the loss of her ten year old son Joseph, and Arthur dismissing it as a trick. But the girls take another picture. This time Polly takes the fairy pictures and hands them over to the Theosophical Society which at that time was arguing for the case of angels being a reality. The photos are verified by photographic experts and said to be original and not tampered with.
The photos catch the attention of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle who was a known spiritualist and who argues for the case of the two girls and the fairies. Harry Houdini the magician and a good friend of Sir Arthur is also brought into the scenario though he is sceptical as he has always been of the supernatural. The girls take yet another photograph with the cameras that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle presents them, the fifth. Though the authorities do not accept the photos as proof Sir Conan Doyle uses them in his article with the Strand magazine. As news of the Cottingley Fairies spreads people come there in droves to see the fairies. The fairies are shown fleeing from the stream, entering the room where the girls are and then, Frances's father returns miraculously from the war.
It is based on a true story and is shown well. The real cousins however, confessed that the first four photographs were a hoax, but the fifth was not, at a ripe old age (they died in 1986 and 1988) though the movie does not dwell on that. If you believe in fairies, you see fairies. If you don't, you don't. It is a matter of faith and one should leave it at that. Surprising how so much is raised about the existence of fairies when the whole world believes in a God they have not seen. If God be seen in the wonders of creation all around, so too can fairies be seen in all the good that happens!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
10 Rainy Day Songs
It rained hard today in Hyderabad after a long time. Driving past Husainsagar lake in the afternoon rain I was reminded of the rainy day songs that I like hearing. Here is a list of 10 of those in no particular order.
1) Kabhi to nazar Milao: Adnan Sami's soulful song reminds me of an entire monsoon that we spent listening to the song. Soulful and lovely to play on the drive.
2) Downeaster Alexa: Billy Joel's number from Stormfront has been an all time favourite with me ever since a wonderful summer back in the early 199os when it rained and rained. How i loved listening to that song.
3) Rim Jhim Gire Sawan: Fantastic number by Kishore Kumar in Manzil. Sung as well as the original by my college mate Ramesh who excelled at the Kishore numbers. I remember a rainy evening being stranded at Paradise and borrowing Ramesh's bike. When I returned the bike I was drenched but there was some rum and Ramesh was singing this song and it was still raining outside. Heavenly.
4) Rain: Madonna's not too well-known number got to me in my Mumbai days. I would play this song and listen to it as the rain poured outside at my flat in Nerul. Or even at my desk at office or in the local on my walkman.
5) Everybody Hurts: REM's slow number has always been a great favourite ever since I heard it in Mumbai. Rainy evenings at Cafe Mondegar!
6) Words: Boyzone's take on the Beegees number is a must fantastic song and perfect to listen ton on a slow drive in rain.
7) Annie’s song: John Denver’s soulful ballad is another lovely slow number to listen to on a drive in the rain. Sets the mood perfectly.
8) Drive: A wonderful ballad by The Cars. Soothing and great to hear anytime quiet and tranquil. Night drives, rainy drives, rainy days at the window.
9) Father Figure: George Michael’s slow number. Another all time favourite of mine. Good for the drive in the rain.
10) Kiss From a Rose: Seal’s soulful number from Batman Returns makes up the first list.
More to join these later.
1) Kabhi to nazar Milao: Adnan Sami's soulful song reminds me of an entire monsoon that we spent listening to the song. Soulful and lovely to play on the drive.
2) Downeaster Alexa: Billy Joel's number from Stormfront has been an all time favourite with me ever since a wonderful summer back in the early 199os when it rained and rained. How i loved listening to that song.
3) Rim Jhim Gire Sawan: Fantastic number by Kishore Kumar in Manzil. Sung as well as the original by my college mate Ramesh who excelled at the Kishore numbers. I remember a rainy evening being stranded at Paradise and borrowing Ramesh's bike. When I returned the bike I was drenched but there was some rum and Ramesh was singing this song and it was still raining outside. Heavenly.
4) Rain: Madonna's not too well-known number got to me in my Mumbai days. I would play this song and listen to it as the rain poured outside at my flat in Nerul. Or even at my desk at office or in the local on my walkman.
5) Everybody Hurts: REM's slow number has always been a great favourite ever since I heard it in Mumbai. Rainy evenings at Cafe Mondegar!
6) Words: Boyzone's take on the Beegees number is a must fantastic song and perfect to listen ton on a slow drive in rain.
7) Annie’s song: John Denver’s soulful ballad is another lovely slow number to listen to on a drive in the rain. Sets the mood perfectly.
8) Drive: A wonderful ballad by The Cars. Soothing and great to hear anytime quiet and tranquil. Night drives, rainy drives, rainy days at the window.
9) Father Figure: George Michael’s slow number. Another all time favourite of mine. Good for the drive in the rain.
10) Kiss From a Rose: Seal’s soulful number from Batman Returns makes up the first list.
More to join these later.
Police Story III - Enter Crime Branch
After the unhelpful and bullying methods of the Circle Inspector who refused to take complaints where the value and weight of the jewellery lost was mentioned, and where he was more inclined to believe that people should be more careful and make it difficult for robbers and also that people better not come to him for such affairs where they are to blame and not the police which has already put up notices on their Police Stations on how people should be careful and the police have thus discharged their duty and all this in a tone that appeared to insinuate that man, you guys got what you deserved and actually it looks slightly fishy how you have so much gold and money with you (when all you are talking of is a value of probably a 3-4 lakhs which my man servant had in his own little hut even) and maybe there is a case to investigate you but in the end with some call from someone he knew 'higher up' the reluctant CI finally became a little more helpful and agreed to file the FIR which prompted another gang of six members from the Crime Branch to come to the house and investigate but obviously four days had gone by now and the local PS had refused to take any fingerprints anyway saying that it was too difficult to get fingerprints off certain surfaces and so the Crime Branch went away wringing their hands and assuring the aggrieved and by now kind-of-bored party that unlike the police in movies they will do all they can and will ensure that the jewellery is recovered and we can all sing Jai Ho to these Crime Branch guys and only hope that the trail leads to where it should and all the guilty of commission and omission are brought to book especially after one has heard about a recent report in the Eenadu about a gang of jewellery thieves who have been reportedly caught in Secunderabad selling gold in the Regimental bazaar area in a case that was found to involve all the cops in that region from the constable upwards to the CI and even the ACP who were apparently getting 40% of the loot Jai Ho and now part IV of this story will come on when there is a breakthrough in this case and to the cynical me all suspicion is focussed on certain reluctant parties involved in this whole sordid affair with some quick help from someone close by who knew of the movements of the aggrieved party and so be it unless otherwise proved by the Crime Branch chaps who seem to be the probable saviours in this story!
Thought for the Day - Gratitude and Living the Moment
It suddenly struck me this morning that gratitude had several subtle shades to it. So many that it could well qualify to be the one key that opens many locks as the Masters say).
One of other keys that I truly believe unlocks all doors is the 'Power of Now' (as Eckhart Tolle puts it) or 'living the moment' as all other gurus put it. Tolle says, in the Now, there is no pain. In Vipassana too, the Buddhist meditation, the focus is on intense awareness which brings you in touch with the 'here and now'. A 'now' that dissolves pain.
There are days when I feel small sparks of gratitude and it is a blessed feeling. I had this wonderful experience today and with it came another Eureka moment. Was not this feeling of gratitude the same as being in the now? As being intensely in the now without feeling any stress of being in the now? Was it not one of the best ways to live and feel life deeply? Again to use a phrase I am more and more in love with, to kiss life deeply? Is not gratitude that liberating contentment that makes you feel a deep kind of love? The present moment. Just a deep, perfect moment.
I always thought that meditation helped to get to the state of being in the now. But meditation is hard work. It is easier to do something else you love with deep concentration and do it like it were a prayer. But still, both the above tasks, meditation and doing what you love with total concentration, may not always be possible. Gratitude is much easier to access - just step down into the moment as you experience it while eating, running studying, watching, playing etc and you suddenly find that wonderful peace, contentment, depth, tranquility and feeling of oneness.
Gratitude then, appears to be the master key that unlocks all these doors. Step down, sink into the moment and feel life enveloping you.
One of other keys that I truly believe unlocks all doors is the 'Power of Now' (as Eckhart Tolle puts it) or 'living the moment' as all other gurus put it. Tolle says, in the Now, there is no pain. In Vipassana too, the Buddhist meditation, the focus is on intense awareness which brings you in touch with the 'here and now'. A 'now' that dissolves pain.
There are days when I feel small sparks of gratitude and it is a blessed feeling. I had this wonderful experience today and with it came another Eureka moment. Was not this feeling of gratitude the same as being in the now? As being intensely in the now without feeling any stress of being in the now? Was it not one of the best ways to live and feel life deeply? Again to use a phrase I am more and more in love with, to kiss life deeply? Is not gratitude that liberating contentment that makes you feel a deep kind of love? The present moment. Just a deep, perfect moment.
I always thought that meditation helped to get to the state of being in the now. But meditation is hard work. It is easier to do something else you love with deep concentration and do it like it were a prayer. But still, both the above tasks, meditation and doing what you love with total concentration, may not always be possible. Gratitude is much easier to access - just step down into the moment as you experience it while eating, running studying, watching, playing etc and you suddenly find that wonderful peace, contentment, depth, tranquility and feeling of oneness.
Gratitude then, appears to be the master key that unlocks all these doors. Step down, sink into the moment and feel life enveloping you.
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