to write, and not write…

Posted October 29, 2012 by rudhran
Categories: just writing, Uncategorized

Tags: ,

An empty page on the screen is akin to an empty canvass without a sketch, albeit in mind.

An empty canvass contains many paintings while my hand gropes in pain to seek that one elusive composition, which is unformed in my mind.

My paintings are signed off before they are finished. My music always ends on a false note. My dreams are never long enough to be captured by my memory. My projections are reversed, my thoughtscape is deserted. I wait.

I keep waiting for that elusive word that would enlighten itself into a meaningful sentence. While waiting I just browse through the years that I have lived and wasted. None of them are real as experiences. All of them are faded memories. Like an outdated radio searching for a signal, I keep wandering inside myself to catch that one phrase which would transform my discomfiting silence into a soundless emptiness or a soulful music.

And weeks later as I read all that has been written on this page, just to write that next line, a silent grief engulfs me. Why do I write at all?

Perhaps an understated aggression pervades my alleged allegiance to all art forms, perhaps it is the unending love of deliberate self-harm.

And in the same note, does a stroke of pencil or brush destroy the inviting emptiness of a canvass? Is it a total destruction or a tsunami that leaves patches of life intact?

Where do I go from emptiness when I cannot attain everything? Why the woe of wondering in self-pity’s imposed solitude gratifying, even if temporarily?  Why do I have the compulsion to get obsessed about sadness and anger, the black and red instead of the ambiguous blue which contains the spectrum of emotive hues?

and, why do i keep starting so many pages only to discard them the next hour?

and, and, and why are questions that answer themselves never so easy to answer?

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2012 first day

Posted January 1, 2012 by rudhran
Categories: just writing

Tags: , , ,

It is another day, yet not just.

Calendars have changed their headings, so have newspapers..world celebrates this day; welcomes it with warmth, brandy for some and beer for some, smiles automatically extend lips that always lie, everyone wants to wish the other a ‘happy new year’..whatever that happiness is.

Happiness though  being a totally subjective phenomenon is often used as a projective weapon on the willing sacrificial goats.Go to a wedding and wish the couples, go to a client whom you have just cheated enough to sell a senseless concept, go to a party or a meeting…to strangers, friends, family… You get so used to “wishing happiness”, it is just a matter of time before you don’t mean what you say.

Wishing happiness!!! The greatest farce of emotive intelligence! (If ever that façade of social necessity really is erected not just in minds).

‘Have a happy whatever’ simply means, “let me tell you I sort of care and am sort of interested in you…Well not exactly you, but in our transaction”. Apparently ok. But where does ‘happiness’ fit in? And, by the way whose happiness?

It is elementary business sense that to do a profitable business the buyer or the client has to be in a good frame, rather a happy frame of mind. So it actually means, “Oh god, let this person be happy so that he takes in what I give or say or want”. Wishing someone something is never unselfish, for when you wish you express that you need, and though your need need not be an accumulation or an acquirement, it can simply be a mood state that you temporarily desire- yes, a wish is always a desire, primarily all desires are yours. If your desires are allegedly someone else’s then it is your desire for a masochistic martyrdom.

Coming back to wishing, and that too on a day made memorable by all the clocks and calendars of the world, let me join the chorus in wishing each other a happy new year. We do need each other, after all we all live together here in this world. Be happy, it will make me happy, albeit ultimately.

The Anna hazard

Posted August 17, 2011 by rudhran
Categories: Uncategorized

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Hazards are all allegedly incidental, but here is one that is manufactured and marketed with malice towards all.

Anna Hazare is undoubtedly a hero (not just in the making, but already-made). I do not subscribe to the short sighted congress allegation on his credibility regarding corrupt practices, but, I do have serious doubts about his septuagenarian zeal to set the country right.
He may even rightly be righteously indignant but is he ‘the man’ and are his concepts ‘the formula’?

Where the government is adamantly aggressive about a nuke deal and astute enough to buy the opposition to ‘not oppose’, where a government usurps farmers’ lands for an industrialist’s benefit and beats up its own people who dare to oppose the move, where tribals are thrown out of hillocks that are sold for private mining, where water resources are given away almost free for multinational manufacturers, into that country is delivered the media-made savior. Into this country is imposed a righteousness that ends with a candle lit (not exactly) party.

And where the country has people who unflinchingly push currency into the greasy hands of a traffic cop, where time dictates that they pay to get what actually is ought to be done, where education is bought by the rich and where paying extra is a social flamboyance, into that country does a hero descend from up above through satellites. People need an excuse to be angry about dishonesty!
Anna Hazare therefore, is the need of the hour –for the media!

What has happened to India? Corruption prevails rampantly and at all levels. Gandhi is a name to be uttered irreverently and a picture to be collected assiduously. Public interest is the last item in politicians’ agenda, and no one cares. But these are not sudden tsunamis; they have been slowly cancerous for decades if not generations. Globalized industrialization and its natural element, aggressive marketing have always been clandestinely corrupt in their wooing of the newspaper-reading common folk. Licenses and favors, sponsorships and ‘sops’ are all elementary words in the current socio-political dictionary. Things have to be done, and have to be done fast. Profits cannot wait. Purses cannot be empty for the powerful and full for the public. If anyone murmurs a protest he becomes a cartoon, the cynic’s cynosure. The common man, wants things done quickly, his market manufactured dreams are racing against time. In this scenario there is always a need for mass entertainment that does not eat one’s own time and fortune. When there is no cricket telecast, histrionic anchors need to hit non-existent balls for sixers in the air. And here comes the need for a ‘anna hazare’!

I see the likes of ramdev and sirisiri flocking to flaunt themselves alongside this caricature for photo-ops, but then marketing is always a must for the money-motivated- self styled spiritualists; this is not my primary worry. I worry about the middle class who chose not to cocoon themselves in their couches and dare to spend some of their spare time in social activism.

The ‘middle-class’ always aspires to become the upper class. This is an inherent trait. When they see their erstwhile fellowmen who spiral to dizzying financial heights just by joining politics, they become angry. They want to vent their anger. They have to camouflage their anger born out of jealousy and envy. They have to when time permits voice their indignation at social evils. They find media-generated heroes easy to accept, for after all have not millions read about the exaggerated valor of these ‘discovered’ saviors!

What is wrong if people do wake up? Is it not time for the common man to voice his displeasure over disreputable governance? Do the public not need a focal person to rally around to raise slogans? And why not, if not, if why not… go on shrill TV anchors and aptly made-up opinionators on their ‘elite’ panels. The nation is fighting for its second independence shout headlines. Independence? From what? Who are the corrupt? Who gives the corrupt politicians the moral arrogance other than the uncaring public? Who does  care in voting the right person? How many care to pause after reading the screaming headlines? who cares how much for honesty anyway?

The middle class is an inevitable and a considerably large part of the society. For any true revolution they need to unite and rise. If their angst is exhausted on publicity oriented, media orchestrated causes; they will not even bother to blink when there is a larger urgent need to revolt.
Anna Hazare may even be a good man, but right now he is bad for the country -simply because he is wasting the middle class angst and youth’s natural flair to fight for the right, because he is posing sufficiently for the media to hail him as a hero, because he hobnobs with malignant spiritual-merchants, because he is short sighted, because he is adamant and because he is not the projected image.
God save my country.

the story and the god…

Posted August 3, 2011 by rudhran
Categories: just writing

Tags:

In the beginning, there was perhaps a word, the word that was a sound which inspired meanings. And then, the words ought to have coalesced to form more meanings, more descriptions and more questions. Later on would have come the fables, and fictionalized dictates that donned the garb of parables. However they may have come into existence in a flash or in a formal evolution, these little stories have one meta-story that questions all meta-questions which are so much in fashion in philosophical quests. Thus begins my question, who narrated to the first narrator?

 

Gods, demons, spirits and superhumans were obviously figments of an apprehension or an appreciation of one’s apperception of incapacity, awe or fervent desire. But to designate the designs of destiny to an intelligent arbitration did perhaps needed a form that was more fathomable to the uninitiated. Thus maybe the first fable would have been created and disseminated, but then before going into the use of the fable as a parable, I am intrigued by the mysterious original mythigator(!). Why would he have wanted to spin a yarn in the beginning?

Going by the historicity of parables in preaching, one can understand that the carpenter in Jesus needed these little quickies to encapsulate his ideas for easy digestion. So would have been the case with the illiterate Ramakrishna Paramahamsa. But, not so with the Buddha, who perhaps was the first (subject to correction in future) to use parables; he was a prince with probably hired bed-time sleep-promoters who would have inevitably resorted to retelling all the stories that they would have heard in their childhood. Again, at this point, what was the first story/

It may not be possible to identify the first story teller or the first story-maker, but would it not be interesting to try to identify the first story? Since all stories give a clue to the author and the author’s milieu, would it not be interesting to find out what indeed was the first story, however short it may have been?

I wonder. I wonder if the first story was God.

The first story could not have been about god, its blessings and curses, valor and incarnations; it must have been the very utterance of the noun ‘GOD’. Is god a eureka or a tragicomedy? Why on earth did that person ever think of the thing that came to be called GOD?

Was it ever a story about god in the beginning or god as the beginning of the story? Was the narrator the meta-creator who went willingly or unknowingly into the mystic never ending cycle that made the creation of the creator a cacophony containing a symphony?

 

 

 

 

understated apperception

Posted July 25, 2011 by rudhran
Categories: Uncategorized

Tags: , , , ,

An empty page on the screen is akin to an empty canvass without a sketch, albeit in mind.
An empty canvass contains many paintings while my hand gropes in pain to seek that one elusive composition, which is unformed in my mind.
My paintings are signed off before they are finished. My music always ends on a false note. My dreams are never long enough to be captured by my memory. My projections are reversed, my thoughtscape is deserted. I wait.
I keep waiting for that elusive word that would enlighten itself into a meaningful sentence. While waiting I just browse through the years that I have lived and wasted. None of them are real as experiences. All of them are faded memories. Like an outdated radio searching for a signal, I keep wandering inside myself to catch that one phrase which would transform my discomfiting silence into a soundless emptiness or a soulful music.
And weeks later as I read all that has been written on this page, just to write that next line, a silent grief engulfs me. Why do I write at all?
Perhaps an understated aggression pervades my alleged allegiance to all art forms, perhaps it is the unending love of deliberate self-harm.
And in the same note, does a stroke of pencil or brush destroy the inviting emptiness of a canvass? Is it a total destruction or a tsunami that leaves patches of life intact?
Where do I go from emptiness when I cannot attain everything? Why the woe of wondering in self-pity’s imposed solitude gratifying, even if temporarily? Why do I have the compulsion to get obsessed about sadness and anger, the black and red instead of the ambiguous blue which contains the spectrum of emotive hues?
Why do weaving words become more important than what they purport to impart? Why is design and form more attractive than concept and packaging, even when the mind is aware of the games it plays with itself?
What is the purpose of expressing? If catharsis is the prime motive then why do these expressions come over to public domain? Have I finished gazing at my mind’s mirror?

2010 in review

Posted January 5, 2011 by rudhran
Categories: Uncategorized

The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

Healthy blog!

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.

Crunchy numbers

Featured image

The average container ship can carry about 4,500 containers. This blog was viewed about 21,000 times in 2010. If each view were a shipping container, your blog would have filled about 5 fully loaded ships.

 

In 2010, there were 6 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 65 posts.

The busiest day of the year was May 23rd with 247 views. The most popular post that day was psychology of blogging.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were rudhrantamil.blogspot.com, facebook.com, vinavu.com, blogger.com, and supperlinks.blogspot.com.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for dr rudran, vikravandi ravichandran, rudran blog, dr.rudran, and rudhran.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.

1

psychology of blogging September 2008
8 comments

2

On Osho ? March 2009
50 comments

3

தமிழில் March 2009
6 comments

4

பழைய காகிதக்கற்றைகளிலிருந்து March 2009
17 comments

5

About Rudhran September 2006
56 comments

Iti…. a cinematic experience.

Posted December 26, 2010 by rudhran
Categories: Uncategorized

Tags: , , , , , ,

Cinema is always an experience. From the greek days any performance has been a projection, an identification and a catharsis. I had the wonderful opportunity that ought to be described as fortunate, to watch a film that made me yearn to see it again, go to my library and pull out dust laden old books, and keep talking about it not only on facebook and buzz, but in real time too..

I am writing about the film ‘iti mrinalini’ by Aparna Sen. Years ago, I was stunned at 36 Chowringee lane, her first film which I happened to see, when my exposure to world cinema had not even been with VHS tapes. Now, in the luxury of my home theatre I watch cinematic masterpieces at will and pleasure. I can afford to compare. I can ponder to dissect and discuss. I knew very little cinema when I saw her first film, but now having seen many great and many more good films, I have to be grateful to the lady for making this film, though in a snobbish beer laden slouch on a sofa I can pick at all the weak spots in that film. A film is what you see and experience at that time. It is an emotion, only later do words come and make it rational and relational. I fell in love with the film- what am I projecting or identifying to enforce a cathartic ‘aha’ experience? At this moment and point of writing I do not know. I may, by the time I finish, or may not too- not every experience can be defined and described.

OK! ‘iti mrinalini’ appears to be a very simplistic story. A very successful actress climbing on screen and falling in life, writes a suicide note, and reminisces. Her life is narrated in flashbacks as she extracts nuggets from her memory laden old box. This by itself is a story line that Shakespeare could have pursued. It needed Shakespeare because the narration needs poetry: The writer/director, therefore uses Tagore. As the flimsy cellophane wrapping of the story line is unwrapped layers and layers of laden narratives breeze through the film. The pride, passion and poise of a truly great artist is a portrait painted on screen. I did not cry after the film, maybe I should have.

And, why does the protagonist wishes death and starts writing the suicide note? She has lost a great role in what could have become a great film! It sounds too simplistically silly, unless you ponder on why all contemplations of suicide are on flimsy grounds. Flimsy? Yes, indeed flimsy, to the one peeping through a window. No emotion is flimsy inside. We laugh at somebody slipping, we cry at somebody dying… it is a moment of appropriate emoting, not experiencing the high and low of reality.

The film is loaded with Tagore. I don’t just love him but adore him. This could have favorably prejudiced me. His lines are so meaningfully and majestically woven into the script and narration.

She decides to die after many tragic and painful moments of her life. She had been living in a dream which was fulfilled part-time by her married mentor who lives in with her; she had given birth to a lovely girl and given her away for adoption to her brother, she is rejected by her lover, her daughter dies in an accident…but she chooses to quit acting only later. She decides to quit acting after seeing the death of Sayajit Ray on TV, saying she had always been waiting for a call from him, and now that he is no more she need not act for or with others.

Clichéd? Of course! As clichéd or more than Clint shooting a lot of guys, but then that is cinema. In life you don’t see clichés. A good cinema does not make you feel that you are watching clichéd script. ‘iti mrinalini’ was a good film for me when I saw it squirming in an uncomfortable seat in a congested theatre. I say it was, hoping it will be so when I see it again.
When the film ended in a screening at the Chennai International Film Fstival 2010, Aparna Sen was there in the lobby, ready to interact with viewers. I wanted to just go there, hold her hands and express a very silent ‘thank you’. I did not. Therefore this verbose but very real “thank you Aparna Sen”
 

A cinema’s success is what happens while viewing not when reviewing.