On November 12 2010, while talking to IBN-Lokmat, Maharashtra's new chief minister Prithviraj Chavan appealed to all Marathi lovers, including those who send their kids to convent schools and wear their love of Marathi on their sleeves, to contribute towards enriching Marathi Wikipedia.
A number of people who visit this blog ask me to write the blog in Marathi.
Well, I am sorry, I don't plan to do it in near future because my objectives are different.
This blog is not just for Marathi readers. It's for all those who appreciate a picture / a view / a scene/ a visual. It's also an attempt to take a few aspects of Marathi culture to non-Marathi speakers.
However, I have created and edited a number of pages on Marathi personalities in English Wikipedia and to my eternal delight those pages have attracted a lot of readers. As long as Wiki lives, my own immortality is guranteed...(who the xxxx was Anikulkarni?)...!
In the past, I too have appealed to those who write in Marathi to contribute to Marathi Wiki.
Let not Marathi Wiki meet the same fate of Ketkar-pedia. Read a related post here.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
क्या सीन है! Obamas in India
Look at the picture below:
Sitting- A Sikh, a Muslim, a Dalit Woman,
Standing- a Black Christian (who some say is a Muslim!) and,
On the wall- a Hindu Brahmin who was a Bhagavad Gita scholar.
Only in India, only in my India...
Such scenes, however symbolic, warm the cockles of my heart. I am an absolute sucker for them. I can't remain cynical when I witness them.
November 8 2010
Sitting- A Sikh, a Muslim, a Dalit Woman,
Standing- a Black Christian (who some say is a Muslim!) and,
On the wall- a Hindu Brahmin who was a Bhagavad Gita scholar.
Only in India, only in my India...
Such scenes, however symbolic, warm the cockles of my heart. I am an absolute sucker for them. I can't remain cynical when I witness them.
November 8 2010
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Picture-Blindness: An Old Epidemic Among Marathi Literati
Simon Garfield :
"The cliché that you can’t judge a book by its
cover is wrong. You clearly can and all you need is a book of cover jackets to
prove the nonsense of that phrase."
Ludwig Wittgenstein:
“Don’t think, look!”
Satyajit Ray:
"I don't know if it is the Bengali temperament, but many of our writers seem more inclined to use their minds, rather than eyes and ears."
वसंत पाटणकर:
"मराठीत कलाविषयक लेखन, सिद्धान्तन करू पाहणारे बहुधा सहित्यसमीक्षक असतात. त्यांना साहित्याचे जसे आतून ज्ञान असते तसे ते इतर कलांचे सामान्यतः नसते. अन्य कलांचे आतून ज्ञान असणार्या समीक्षकांनी केलेले कलाविषयक लेखन कलेच्या स्वरुपावर काही वेगळा प्रकाश टाकण्याची शक्यता असते. गोडश्यांचे लेखन हे या दुसर्या प्रकारातील असल्यामुळेच
ते अभिनव ठरते. दुसरे असे की साहित्य, चित्र, शिल्प अशा अनेकविध कलांची काही विचारसूत्रांत बांधणी करू पाहणारी मोठ्या आवाक्याची समीक्षा मराठीत जवळजवळ नाहीच असे म्हटले तरी चालेल. त्यामुळे गोडश्यांचा कलामीमांसेचा हा प्रयत्न महत्वपूर्ण आहे."
["D.G. Godse Yanchi Kalamimansa" Editor; Sarojini Vaidya, Vasant Patankar (Marathi), 1997 ("द. ग. गोडसे यांची कलामीमांसा" संपादक: सरोजिनी वैद्य, वसंत पाटणकर)]
Nicholas Fraser:
Seeing is all that we can do reliably, and that, for J G Ballard at least, was more than enough to fill a lifetime.
HOLLY FINN:
"Today's signature move is the head swivel. It is the age of look-then-look-away... We miss almost everything; we text while we walk. What makes a person stand out now is the ability to look and keep looking...
...A "museum intervention" is now mandatory at Yale's School of Medicine for all first-year medical students. Called Enhancing Observational Skills, the program asks students to look at and then describe paintings—not Pollocks and Picassos but Victorian pieces, with whole people in them. The aim? To improve diagnostic knack."
Orhan Pamuk:
"Yes, painting and literature are “sister arts”
and I taught a class about it at Columbia. I liked to ask my students
to close their eyes, entertain a thought and to open their eyes and try
to clarify whether it was a word or an image. Correct answer: Both!
Novels address both our verbal (Dostoyevsky) and visual (Proust,
Nabokov) imaginations. There are so many unforgettable scenes in the
novels of Dostoyevsky, but we rarely remember the background, the
landscape or the objects in the scenes.
There are also other types of novelists who compose memorable scenes by
forming pictures and images in our minds. Before Flaubert’s “perfect
word,” there should be a perfect picture in the writer’s imagination. A
good reader should occasionally close the novel in her hand and look at
the ceiling and clarify in her imagination the writer’s initial picture
that triggered the sentence or the paragraph...
...Like van Gogh or the neo-Expressionist
painters, show your brushstrokes! The reader will enjoy observing the
making of the novel if it is made a minor part of the story...
...
Try to identify the accidental beauty where neither the mind
conceived of nor the hand intended any. The writer in me and the painter
in me are getting to be friendlier every day. That’s why I am now
planning novels with pictures and picture books with texts and stories.."
I have a lot of respect for Milind Bokil (मिलिंद बोकिल). Whatever little I have read written by him, I have liked it.
His essay on Vinoba Bhave (विनोबा भावे) is one of the best essays I have read in any language. It will take some talent to write a better essay than that.
Recently Anil Awchat's (अनिल अवचट) book 'Punyachi Apurvai' (पुण्याची अपूर्वाई) was published. Bokil released it in Pune (पुणे) on August 8 2010.
Lalit September 2010 has published the text of his speech made on the occasion. It runs four and half pages.
It's a personal tribute to Awchat and his contribution to Marathi literature. But if it is supposed to be about the book, I am deeply disappointed by it.
Presuming that Lalit has reproduced his speech in its entirety, Bokil doesn't mention illustrator Vasant Sarwate's (वसंत सरवटे) contribution to the book even once, although he does mention a few fellow writers.
It's hard to believe. I thought it was like going to Ajanta-Ellora and not mentioning paintings while describing your experience there!
Look at the cover of the book below. Even a cursory look by those who are familiar with Sarwate's work would know that it is his although you can't spot his name-stamp (नाममुद्रा) easily.
Following is a small passage from Bokil's speech. It's in Marathi.
Bokil talks about a new world-view given by Awchat to Marathi language for looking at life, society, environment.
(double click on the picture to get a larger view)
I am not sure about this claim. Although I have tremendously liked a lot of what Awchat has written, I don't think it's a new 'world-view' in Marathi. Awchat always had someone like S M Mate (श्री म माटे), if not one or two more, to follow.
What is shocking is Bokil doesn't mention Sarwate's contribution- although part of it is right under his nose next to Awchat's prose- in this regard.
Sarwate has given us a world-view no one in Marathi had given us before. And those who have followed him- most notably Abhimanyu Kulkarni (अभिमन्यु कुलकर्णी)- have never reached the heights, he took Marathi readers to.
He belongs where only the likes of James Thurber, Saul Steinberg or that anonymous artist who created Tom & Jerry in stone at Mamallapuram do.
I am sure Awachat- like P L Deshpande (पु ल देशपांडे), Jaywant Dalvi (जयवंत दळवी ), Vinda Karandikar (विंदा करंदीकर) and many others- considers himself lucky that Sarwate agreed to draw for his book.
But this problem of hyperopia afflicting Marathi culture is pretty old.
For instance, although the late Dinanath Dalal (दीनानाथ दलाल) designed and illustrated majority of notable Marathi books for a number of years, how many times was he mentioned in their reviews?
I recently wrote about a related disorder: "In Marathi Popular Culture, a false division between Laughter and Thought". Also, see my another related post "Can We Trust an Artist to Show us the Reality?".
I am surprised and frustrated by the spread of this malady.
In Indian culture "Darshan" (view) is an important aspect of the culture. Wikipedia informs: "Darshan is...an event in consciousness—an interaction in presence between devotee and guru; or between devotee and image or sculpture, which focuses and calls out the consciousness of the devotee. In either event, a heightening of consciousness or spirituality is the intended effect." Marathi poet-saints who were allowed inside the Vitthal (विठ्ठल) temple describe the image of deity.
Vilas Sarang (विलास सारंग) has written movingly about his meeting with great W H Auden where Sarang says the whole objective was "Darshan" of Auden. (btw- This essay always brings tears to my eyes.)
Poet-saints and Sarang didn't draw what they saw because of various reasons. More importantly they didn't have someone like Sarwate to help.
But when you have Sarwate illustrating a book of your favourite author, the last thing you should do is to ignore him.
If you don't like what he has drawn, then say so. For instance, Sarwate himself has always felt that S G Joshi's (सीताराम गंगाधर जोशी) illustrations suit C V Joshi's (चिं. वि. जोशी) books better than that of his very close talented friend S D Phadnis (शि द फडणीस ).
But please try not to be indifferent to a fellow artist.
Unless of course you too are suffering from picture-blindness.
p.s.
The above was written on November 9 2010. 'Lalit'(ललित) September 2011 has a 4-page review of Awchat's book by Shankar Sarda (शंकर सारडा). It does NOT even mention Sarwate's pictures! (Sept 9, 2011)
Friday, November 05, 2010
How the Indian Chimney-sweepers cry
Charles Dickens on Christmas:
"………….a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of other people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys"
Mark Edmundson, a professor of English at the University of Virginia, has written a wonderful essay on William Blake's "London".
He says: "Looking for a compressed vision of the state of America now, I'm inclined to turn not to any of our esteemed journalist-pundits or renowned public intellectuals but in the direction of the poet William Blake, who did his work 200 years ago."
I wonder if Edmundson has stayed in any Indian metro for a few days. If he did, he would have thought about them ahead of his country.
Poem reads as follows:
London (published in Songs of Experience in 1794)
I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man.
In every Infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.
How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every black'ning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.
But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot's curse
Blasts the new born Infant's tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.
Professor says: "...They (people) are the victims of "mind-forg'd manacles." That is, they are imprisoned by their own mental limits and by the limits imposed upon them by others.
What does it mean, from Blake's perspective, to be mentally imprisoned? It means, among other things, that you see the world from your own private perspective. You look out for your own advantage. You pursue your own success. You hog and hoard. You've entered the state that Blake calls the state of Selfhood, which is individualist, reductive, and isolating.
You think that affirming Selfhood will get you what you want in the world—the Self is a radical pragmatist. But all the state of Selfhood does is to cut you off from the possibility of a better life. The ascendancy of Selfhood isolates you from other humans. Selfhood destroys the drive for community and solidarity. It makes you lonely, frustrated, and angry—on your face come "marks of weakness, marks of woe."..."
On the morning before Diwali 2010, when we gave a paltry sum of Rs. 50 to the cleaning lady, who cleans stair case and reception at our building, on the occassion of Diwali, she said she did not receive even Rs. 0.5 from many of our building flat holders. When she mentioned Diwali suggestively to one of the flatholders, she got a real earful in return!
"..."How the Chimney-sweepers cry / Every black'ning Church appalls." The chimney sweepers of Blake's London were children who had, for all purposes, been sold into slavery. Frequently they came from countryside families too poor to feed them. For a price, their parents presented them to owners of chimney-sweeping companies. To those mothers and fathers, it was better than seeing their children starve. It was necessary that children do this job: You had to be small and lithe to scramble up and down the chimneys and to get them cleaned out. There were accidents—children fell from roofs and down flues and ended up crippled for life. Still, the need for the sweeps was strong..."
Thankfully, India didn't have many chimneys but there are many other equally deadly objects in today's India which continue to be cruel towards children.
"...Blake suggests that if you want to understand the moral state of a country, you had better check first and see how it deals with its children. Does it treat them with loving kindness, or does it exploit them? Does it look down upon them from the perspective of the greedy and frightened Selfhood, or regard them with the generosity of the enlightened Soul? Blake's verdict on his own nation is not hard to discern. Can our own nation claim to be doing better?
Amid blazing wealth, great numbers of American children do not get enough to eat. Perhaps they are not starving, but they are hungry..."
The Times of India, October 12 2010:
"India dropped two ranks to 67th among 84 developing countries in the International Food Policy Research Institute's annual " Global Hunger Index" for 2010...
The policymakers in India, who are are still fighting over the need to have an expansive National Food Security Act, should look at the following data more closely: in 2005-06, about 44% of Indian children — below five years — were underweight, and nearly half — 48% — were stunted..."
Artist: Barney Tobey, The New Yorker, August 16 1947
"………….a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of other people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys"
Mark Edmundson, a professor of English at the University of Virginia, has written a wonderful essay on William Blake's "London".
He says: "Looking for a compressed vision of the state of America now, I'm inclined to turn not to any of our esteemed journalist-pundits or renowned public intellectuals but in the direction of the poet William Blake, who did his work 200 years ago."
I wonder if Edmundson has stayed in any Indian metro for a few days. If he did, he would have thought about them ahead of his country.
Poem reads as follows:
London (published in Songs of Experience in 1794)
I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man.
In every Infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.
How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every black'ning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.
But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot's curse
Blasts the new born Infant's tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.
Professor says: "...They (people) are the victims of "mind-forg'd manacles." That is, they are imprisoned by their own mental limits and by the limits imposed upon them by others.
What does it mean, from Blake's perspective, to be mentally imprisoned? It means, among other things, that you see the world from your own private perspective. You look out for your own advantage. You pursue your own success. You hog and hoard. You've entered the state that Blake calls the state of Selfhood, which is individualist, reductive, and isolating.
You think that affirming Selfhood will get you what you want in the world—the Self is a radical pragmatist. But all the state of Selfhood does is to cut you off from the possibility of a better life. The ascendancy of Selfhood isolates you from other humans. Selfhood destroys the drive for community and solidarity. It makes you lonely, frustrated, and angry—on your face come "marks of weakness, marks of woe."..."
On the morning before Diwali 2010, when we gave a paltry sum of Rs. 50 to the cleaning lady, who cleans stair case and reception at our building, on the occassion of Diwali, she said she did not receive even Rs. 0.5 from many of our building flat holders. When she mentioned Diwali suggestively to one of the flatholders, she got a real earful in return!
"..."How the Chimney-sweepers cry / Every black'ning Church appalls." The chimney sweepers of Blake's London were children who had, for all purposes, been sold into slavery. Frequently they came from countryside families too poor to feed them. For a price, their parents presented them to owners of chimney-sweeping companies. To those mothers and fathers, it was better than seeing their children starve. It was necessary that children do this job: You had to be small and lithe to scramble up and down the chimneys and to get them cleaned out. There were accidents—children fell from roofs and down flues and ended up crippled for life. Still, the need for the sweeps was strong..."
Thankfully, India didn't have many chimneys but there are many other equally deadly objects in today's India which continue to be cruel towards children.
"...Blake suggests that if you want to understand the moral state of a country, you had better check first and see how it deals with its children. Does it treat them with loving kindness, or does it exploit them? Does it look down upon them from the perspective of the greedy and frightened Selfhood, or regard them with the generosity of the enlightened Soul? Blake's verdict on his own nation is not hard to discern. Can our own nation claim to be doing better?
Amid blazing wealth, great numbers of American children do not get enough to eat. Perhaps they are not starving, but they are hungry..."
The Times of India, October 12 2010:
"India dropped two ranks to 67th among 84 developing countries in the International Food Policy Research Institute's annual " Global Hunger Index" for 2010...
The policymakers in India, who are are still fighting over the need to have an expansive National Food Security Act, should look at the following data more closely: in 2005-06, about 44% of Indian children — below five years — were underweight, and nearly half — 48% — were stunted..."
Artist: Barney Tobey, The New Yorker, August 16 1947
Monday, November 01, 2010
Miraj, Where almost everyone seemed to be on my Facebook
Laurie Penny: The tragedy of The Social Network is also the intimate tragedy of an age whose self-alienation has nothing to do with social networking. The paranoid atomisation of modern social relations has, in fact, very little to do with the internet at all. It has everything to do with a global economic machine that trains human beings to understand one another as manipulable objects or faceless consumers. That, unfortunately, is a trend that did not start on Facebook.
Recently, I removed many "friends" from my FB. Not that I had many, either there or in real life, to begin with.
I have removed people meeting following criteria:
1. I already have a meaningful relationship with the person in real life. Facebook doesn't add any value.
2. I had a wholesome relationship with the person in the past but the time and distance have created a barrier, Facebook can't help cross.
3. I have no substantive interaction with the person even in cyber world.
4. I had sent them a friendship request based on some interaction on e-mail. I was hoping to transform those interactions into something more substantial. It didn't happen for many weeks.
5. People who sent me a friendship request because I was in their address book and they thought I was their fan. They have no interest in me whatsoever. All they want is their own promotion.
6. Relatives who are not much interested in me as a person. Or if they are, they got axed because points 1 or 3 above.
Facebook for me now is just a depository of links to what I like on WWW and collating of my interests. People say FB is the future. Maybe. But not for me.
RACHEL MARSDEN: The term friend has been linguistically inflated through social media to the point of having almost no value...Too many people seem to be grasping for ways to connect with others while rarely actually connecting in a way that has true value or significance.
Contrast this with my social life in Miraj where I spent my first 21 years of life. I seemed to know the whole town and the whole town in return seemed to know me.
Miraj was a friend where Facebook would be such a waste. Like a large open sewer that lay about 100m from our house.
Cartoonist/Illustrator: Roger Latham, The Spectator, October 2010
Recently, I removed many "friends" from my FB. Not that I had many, either there or in real life, to begin with.
I have removed people meeting following criteria:
1. I already have a meaningful relationship with the person in real life. Facebook doesn't add any value.
2. I had a wholesome relationship with the person in the past but the time and distance have created a barrier, Facebook can't help cross.
3. I have no substantive interaction with the person even in cyber world.
4. I had sent them a friendship request based on some interaction on e-mail. I was hoping to transform those interactions into something more substantial. It didn't happen for many weeks.
5. People who sent me a friendship request because I was in their address book and they thought I was their fan. They have no interest in me whatsoever. All they want is their own promotion.
6. Relatives who are not much interested in me as a person. Or if they are, they got axed because points 1 or 3 above.
Facebook for me now is just a depository of links to what I like on WWW and collating of my interests. People say FB is the future. Maybe. But not for me.
RACHEL MARSDEN: The term friend has been linguistically inflated through social media to the point of having almost no value...Too many people seem to be grasping for ways to connect with others while rarely actually connecting in a way that has true value or significance.
Contrast this with my social life in Miraj where I spent my first 21 years of life. I seemed to know the whole town and the whole town in return seemed to know me.
Miraj was a friend where Facebook would be such a waste. Like a large open sewer that lay about 100m from our house.
Cartoonist/Illustrator: Roger Latham, The Spectator, October 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Leo Cullum, I think I'd never laugh again. Then I'll see your drawings...
Adam Philips: 'The world without the people who matter to us is not the same world and so not the world at all. Life becomes progressively stranger as we get older - and we become increasingly frantic to keep it familiar, to keep it in order - because people keep changing the world for us by dying out.'
Leo Cullum whose pictures gave me great joy died on Oct 23 2010 at the age of 68. To see many of his cartoons, please visit The Cartoon Bank of New Yorker here.
68 is a dreaded number for me because my mother too died at that age. These days my vanished world is divided between those who die at or before 68 and those who die later.
In 2008-09, I attempted writing a caption for six of his cartoons as a part of The New Yorker's “Cartoon Caption Contest”. You can find those efforts on this blog.
I thought his pictures were like deceptively simple puzzles. Visually very funny, they tickled me...I would start smiling just looking at the 'frog' eyes of his characters...I thought the caption would now just pour out of me.
It didn't.
I didn't know how Mr. Cullum looked. I thought he looked like one of his own characters. For instance, like either of them below.
(courtesy: The New Yorker)
I wish he did. But he didn't. I discovered that on Oct 26 2010.
(courtesy: David Strick and The New York Times)
WILLIAM GRIMES writes:
"...In the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, Mr. Cullum managed the delicate feat of finding humor when the prevailing national mood was black. The issue of The New Yorker that came out immediately after the attacks carried no cartoons, but Mr. Cullum’s was the first cartoon that the magazine’s readers saw the following week..." (The New York Times, Oct 25 2010)
(courtesy: The New Yorker)
Marathi humorist P L Deshpande (पु ल देशपांडे) has written how a radio interviewer laughed when Pu La talked about his aunt's death. When Deshpande asked how he could laugh about her death, the interviewer laughed some more!
Such is the life of a clown.
And perhpas a cartoonist.
"...In 1966 he was sent to Vietnam, where he flew 200 missions, most in support of ground-troop operations, but at one point he flew secret bombing runs over the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Laos. “Who these were secret from I’m still not sure,” Mr. Cullum told Holy Cross magazine in 2006. “The North Vietnamese certainly knew it wasn’t the Swiss bombing them.”..."
Leo Cullum whose pictures gave me great joy died on Oct 23 2010 at the age of 68. To see many of his cartoons, please visit The Cartoon Bank of New Yorker here.
68 is a dreaded number for me because my mother too died at that age. These days my vanished world is divided between those who die at or before 68 and those who die later.
In 2008-09, I attempted writing a caption for six of his cartoons as a part of The New Yorker's “Cartoon Caption Contest”. You can find those efforts on this blog.
I thought his pictures were like deceptively simple puzzles. Visually very funny, they tickled me...I would start smiling just looking at the 'frog' eyes of his characters...I thought the caption would now just pour out of me.
It didn't.
I didn't know how Mr. Cullum looked. I thought he looked like one of his own characters. For instance, like either of them below.
(courtesy: The New Yorker)
I wish he did. But he didn't. I discovered that on Oct 26 2010.
(courtesy: David Strick and The New York Times)
WILLIAM GRIMES writes:
"...In the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, Mr. Cullum managed the delicate feat of finding humor when the prevailing national mood was black. The issue of The New Yorker that came out immediately after the attacks carried no cartoons, but Mr. Cullum’s was the first cartoon that the magazine’s readers saw the following week..." (The New York Times, Oct 25 2010)
(courtesy: The New Yorker)
Marathi humorist P L Deshpande (पु ल देशपांडे) has written how a radio interviewer laughed when Pu La talked about his aunt's death. When Deshpande asked how he could laugh about her death, the interviewer laughed some more!
Such is the life of a clown.
And perhpas a cartoonist.
"...In 1966 he was sent to Vietnam, where he flew 200 missions, most in support of ground-troop operations, but at one point he flew secret bombing runs over the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Laos. “Who these were secret from I’m still not sure,” Mr. Cullum told Holy Cross magazine in 2006. “The North Vietnamese certainly knew it wasn’t the Swiss bombing them.”..."
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Nutan, Tujhe Kya Sunao Main Dilruba
Nutan is one of the greatest actors I have seen. (Frankly, it goes beyond acting. When I was 14 or 15, after watching her in Anari, made before I was even borne, at Madhav माधव talkies in Miraj मिरज, I wanted to marry her! She of my father's age!)
I had never seen Aakhri Dao (1958), an imminently forgettable film, until recently. I mention the film only because of two things- Madan Mohan's music and Nutan's acting. (A lot of Hindi films of 1950's were as lousy as most films of today. The only difference is the quality of music and a Nutan here and a Balraj Sahni there.)
Watch video of 'tujhe kya sunao main dilruba', a song from the film, on You Tube here.
I was stunned by the journey of Nutan's face in those 3 min 34 secs.
She goads her co-actor Shekhar into singing a song. He obliges. Now, although she is well aware of his feelings for her, she is balled over by the display of affection by him in front of all her friends.
Look at very awkward Nutan's fidgeting for first 1 min 45 secs or so. It's an absolute delight.
And then it all changes.
As the third stanza is about to begin, Shammi, quite wisely, troops out with all the girls. But it doesn't matter because Nutan doesn't even notice it. She now has gone into an acting trance where few can go.
Look at her eyes. Tears have welled up there. They don't look glycerine induced to me. I just drown in them.
All the superlative talent of Mohammed Rafi, Madan Mohan and Majrooh Sultanpuri combined is only second to the genius I see on the screen.
If I had a say, I would put a dot bindi, or no bindi at all, on her forehead instead of this elongated one.
I had never seen Aakhri Dao (1958), an imminently forgettable film, until recently. I mention the film only because of two things- Madan Mohan's music and Nutan's acting. (A lot of Hindi films of 1950's were as lousy as most films of today. The only difference is the quality of music and a Nutan here and a Balraj Sahni there.)
Watch video of 'tujhe kya sunao main dilruba', a song from the film, on You Tube here.
I was stunned by the journey of Nutan's face in those 3 min 34 secs.
She goads her co-actor Shekhar into singing a song. He obliges. Now, although she is well aware of his feelings for her, she is balled over by the display of affection by him in front of all her friends.
Look at very awkward Nutan's fidgeting for first 1 min 45 secs or so. It's an absolute delight.
And then it all changes.
As the third stanza is about to begin, Shammi, quite wisely, troops out with all the girls. But it doesn't matter because Nutan doesn't even notice it. She now has gone into an acting trance where few can go.
Look at her eyes. Tears have welled up there. They don't look glycerine induced to me. I just drown in them.
All the superlative talent of Mohammed Rafi, Madan Mohan and Majrooh Sultanpuri combined is only second to the genius I see on the screen.
If I had a say, I would put a dot bindi, or no bindi at all, on her forehead instead of this elongated one.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
In Marathi Popular Culture, a false division between Laughter and Thought
Howard Jacobson has won the Man Booker Prize.
I plan to read the book. Not because of the prize but because of the essay HJ wrote for The Guardian October 9 2010:
"...But there is a fear of comedy in the novel today – when did you last see the word "funny" on the jacket of a serious novel? – that no one who loves the form should contemplate with pleasure. It isn't as though we have lost the capacity to laugh. Stand-up comedy is riding higher than ever. If anything there is an argument to be made that we are laughing too much. But we have created a false division between laughter and thought, between comedy and seriousness, between the exhilaration that the great novels offer when they are at their funniest, and whatever else it is we now think we want from literature.
For some reason we are running scared. Aspiring writers of pornography are warned by publishers who specialise in such work not to let comedy anywhere near. This precaution makes perfect sense. Comedy breaks the erotic trance. Comedy breaks every trance – that's its function. Comedy is nothing if not critical. From the very beginning the comic novel set out to argue with everything and to set us arguing with one another. The need for such a form has not gone away: consensus is still a curse; we are no less pious than we ever were, for all that our pieties have changed their object; we remain sanctimonious; and we have relegated reading to a sort of sleeping, praising books whose pages we cannot stop turning – as though the automatic act of moving forward is a virtue in itself...
...The novelist, at his swelling comic best – a Dickens or a Dostoevsky, a Cervantes or a Kafka, a Joseph Roth or a Henry Miller – goes where Hamlet dares the skull of Yorick to go, straight to my painted lady's chamber, rattling his bones and making her laugh at the terrible fate that awaits her. His comedy spares nothing and spares no one. And in the process asserts the stubbornness of life. Why would we want to read anything less?..."
Marathi needs a large dosage of this. We have created too many holy cows. I want to see that Marathi "comedy spares nothing and spares no one".
In Marathi too, 'stand-up comedy is riding higher than ever. If anything there is an argument to be made that we are laughing too much" but we have created a huge "false division between laughter and thought, between comedy and seriousness, between the exhilaration that the great novels offer when they are at their funniest, and whatever else it is we now think we want from literature".
The only exceptions, from 20th century, I can cite to the above are novelist C V Joshi (चिं वि जोशी), poets Sadanand Rege (सदानंद रेगे), Arun Kolatkar (अरुण कोलटकर) and grand dame of Marathi literature Laxmibai Tilak (लक्ष्मीबाई टिळक).
(I say 20th century because in Marathi's poet-saint literature there is no false division between laughter and thought. Leading practitioners of that are Tukaram तुकाराम and Eknath एकनाथ among others)
Artist: J C Duffy, The New Yorker, May 12 2003
I plan to read the book. Not because of the prize but because of the essay HJ wrote for The Guardian October 9 2010:
"...But there is a fear of comedy in the novel today – when did you last see the word "funny" on the jacket of a serious novel? – that no one who loves the form should contemplate with pleasure. It isn't as though we have lost the capacity to laugh. Stand-up comedy is riding higher than ever. If anything there is an argument to be made that we are laughing too much. But we have created a false division between laughter and thought, between comedy and seriousness, between the exhilaration that the great novels offer when they are at their funniest, and whatever else it is we now think we want from literature.
For some reason we are running scared. Aspiring writers of pornography are warned by publishers who specialise in such work not to let comedy anywhere near. This precaution makes perfect sense. Comedy breaks the erotic trance. Comedy breaks every trance – that's its function. Comedy is nothing if not critical. From the very beginning the comic novel set out to argue with everything and to set us arguing with one another. The need for such a form has not gone away: consensus is still a curse; we are no less pious than we ever were, for all that our pieties have changed their object; we remain sanctimonious; and we have relegated reading to a sort of sleeping, praising books whose pages we cannot stop turning – as though the automatic act of moving forward is a virtue in itself...
...The novelist, at his swelling comic best – a Dickens or a Dostoevsky, a Cervantes or a Kafka, a Joseph Roth or a Henry Miller – goes where Hamlet dares the skull of Yorick to go, straight to my painted lady's chamber, rattling his bones and making her laugh at the terrible fate that awaits her. His comedy spares nothing and spares no one. And in the process asserts the stubbornness of life. Why would we want to read anything less?..."
Marathi needs a large dosage of this. We have created too many holy cows. I want to see that Marathi "comedy spares nothing and spares no one".
In Marathi too, 'stand-up comedy is riding higher than ever. If anything there is an argument to be made that we are laughing too much" but we have created a huge "false division between laughter and thought, between comedy and seriousness, between the exhilaration that the great novels offer when they are at their funniest, and whatever else it is we now think we want from literature".
The only exceptions, from 20th century, I can cite to the above are novelist C V Joshi (चिं वि जोशी), poets Sadanand Rege (सदानंद रेगे), Arun Kolatkar (अरुण कोलटकर) and grand dame of Marathi literature Laxmibai Tilak (लक्ष्मीबाई टिळक).
(I say 20th century because in Marathi's poet-saint literature there is no false division between laughter and thought. Leading practitioners of that are Tukaram तुकाराम and Eknath एकनाथ among others)
Artist: J C Duffy, The New Yorker, May 12 2003
Saturday, October 16, 2010
When Adam Smith sounds more like Arundhati Roy than Milton Friedman
Stefan Stern observes in FT 19 Jul 2010:
"...What does the future have in store for us? Short of some fantastic scientific innovation that uncovers vast new sources of clean and sustainable energy, it seems likely that the world faces many severe and related problems.
As Rich Lyons, the dean of the Haas School of Business at the University of California, Berkeley, points out, the straight line extrapolations on a number of important graphs lead you to a pretty scary place.
Over the next few decades the earth’s population looks set to climb to about 9bn. Temperatures and sea levels are rising. But we may not have enough habitable land, water, energy or food to cope with these changed circumstances. Future healthcare costs in a world of greatly increased longevity are daunting. See it human. The outlook is bad..."
They say today's capitalism stands on the foundation laid by Adam Smith.
Reading some of what I have quoted below, it's hard to believe.
James Buchan while reviewing Nicholas Phillipson's book 'Adam Smith: An Enlightened Life' says:
"...Phillipson argues that, having established sociability in The Theory, Smith had no need to take commercial society back to its root in The Wealth of Nations, but could content himself with a sort of shorthand (the non-benevolent butcher, brewer and baker; truck, barter and exchange one thing for another; invisible hand). Alas, the economists took these rather vulgar aphorisms as the foundation of their science and ignored those parts of Smith's system that concerned humanity's sociable, moral, intellectual and aesthetic nature..." (The Guardian, Saturday 14 August 2010 )
It's Mr. Smith who is supposed to have said:"...disposition to admire, and almost to worship, the rich and the powerful, and to despise, or, at least, to neglect persons of poor and mean condition...is...the great and most universal cause of the corruption of our moral sentiments..."
George Trfgarne writes:
“…….Adam Smith was so incensed that much of his subsequent work was dedicated to attacking not just big government, but big corporations in general and the East India Company in particular. Through its monopoly on Indian trade it had, he said, contrived to raise prices to customers while reducing them for suppliers. It was rife with fraud, cruelty and corruption and was “a nuisance in every respect”.…..
Nick Robins demonstrates that the East India Company was the first recognisable multinational and claims that Plassey is a classic example of a large corporation becoming too un-wieldy and being hijacked by greedy, egomaniacal executives. Clive was a brilliant general, but he enriched himself at the expense of shareholders by pocketing a large chunk of Bengal’s tax revenues and siphoning off deals for himself. East India company also succumbed to hubris, by assuming state-like responsibilities in Bengal and embarking on expensive military campaigns. When the region suffered a horrific famine, the company made things worse by continuing to levy hefty taxes while its employees drove up the price of grain and rice by trading on the side...” (The Spectator, Oct 28, 2006)
Now this sounds more like what The Economist, Reader's Digest of many of India's thought-leaders (neocons?), might call Arundhati Roy's polemic rather than Milton Friedman's sermon!
On which foundation does today's capitalism stand?
An answer:
Artist: Charles Barsotti, The New Yorker
"...What does the future have in store for us? Short of some fantastic scientific innovation that uncovers vast new sources of clean and sustainable energy, it seems likely that the world faces many severe and related problems.
As Rich Lyons, the dean of the Haas School of Business at the University of California, Berkeley, points out, the straight line extrapolations on a number of important graphs lead you to a pretty scary place.
Over the next few decades the earth’s population looks set to climb to about 9bn. Temperatures and sea levels are rising. But we may not have enough habitable land, water, energy or food to cope with these changed circumstances. Future healthcare costs in a world of greatly increased longevity are daunting. See it human. The outlook is bad..."
They say today's capitalism stands on the foundation laid by Adam Smith.
Reading some of what I have quoted below, it's hard to believe.
James Buchan while reviewing Nicholas Phillipson's book 'Adam Smith: An Enlightened Life' says:
"...Phillipson argues that, having established sociability in The Theory, Smith had no need to take commercial society back to its root in The Wealth of Nations, but could content himself with a sort of shorthand (the non-benevolent butcher, brewer and baker; truck, barter and exchange one thing for another; invisible hand). Alas, the economists took these rather vulgar aphorisms as the foundation of their science and ignored those parts of Smith's system that concerned humanity's sociable, moral, intellectual and aesthetic nature..." (The Guardian, Saturday 14 August 2010 )
It's Mr. Smith who is supposed to have said:"...disposition to admire, and almost to worship, the rich and the powerful, and to despise, or, at least, to neglect persons of poor and mean condition...is...the great and most universal cause of the corruption of our moral sentiments..."
George Trfgarne writes:
“…….Adam Smith was so incensed that much of his subsequent work was dedicated to attacking not just big government, but big corporations in general and the East India Company in particular. Through its monopoly on Indian trade it had, he said, contrived to raise prices to customers while reducing them for suppliers. It was rife with fraud, cruelty and corruption and was “a nuisance in every respect”.…..
Nick Robins demonstrates that the East India Company was the first recognisable multinational and claims that Plassey is a classic example of a large corporation becoming too un-wieldy and being hijacked by greedy, egomaniacal executives. Clive was a brilliant general, but he enriched himself at the expense of shareholders by pocketing a large chunk of Bengal’s tax revenues and siphoning off deals for himself. East India company also succumbed to hubris, by assuming state-like responsibilities in Bengal and embarking on expensive military campaigns. When the region suffered a horrific famine, the company made things worse by continuing to levy hefty taxes while its employees drove up the price of grain and rice by trading on the side...” (The Spectator, Oct 28, 2006)
Now this sounds more like what The Economist, Reader's Digest of many of India's thought-leaders (neocons?), might call Arundhati Roy's polemic rather than Milton Friedman's sermon!
On which foundation does today's capitalism stand?
An answer:
Artist: Charles Barsotti, The New Yorker
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Kavita Raut, You inspire me
Kenenisa Bekele:
Ethiopians are born on high altitude and brought up under conditions which are low in oxygen. They prefer running for most of their daily activities, a habit they have nurtured for centuries. This has done them a world of good. In fact, many athletes had been running many miles to school everyday, before their talent was recognized.
Kavita Raut's hamlet near Nashik is low on many things including water but oxygen is not one of them. As a child, apparently, she ran a couple of kilometres every day just to fetch water.
I did not know anything about Ms. Raut before the start of the 10,000 m race at Delhi 2010 CWG on October 8 2010.
My wife and I watched the race live. We were happy to see two diminutive Indian girls leading it.
I thought it was too good to be true. Even English commentators kept mentioning them as "Indian girls".
Kavita Raut fell behind at some point. We forgot about her and kept cheering Preeja Sreedharan who led the race for a while.
When Ms. Raut started catching up, I still thought she would finish fourth or fifth. My wife however felt she would finish third. She was proved damn right.
As Ms. Raut ran last paces of the race she looked pale and white. I was worried for her. (I am not sure but I thought she puked after the race.) It all looked surreal.
After the race, as Kavita joined two Kenyans in running the lap of honour, I don't think they paid much attention to her.
Maybe in near future, they will do so, when Kavita overtakes them in a live race.
Since Friday evening reams have been written about her and her background. A xenophobic member of Marathi TV media tried to gloat about her being "Marathi". Contrast this with the big heart shown by Delhi spectators when they cheered second loudest for Pakistani contingent at the CWG opening ceremony.
Sunil Gavaskar reportedly told a TV channel after V V S Laxman's recent match winning effort at Mohali that it was perhaps the greatest performance of an Indian in any sport. I hope Mr. Gavaskar watched Ms. Raut.
Earlier on this blog I hoped "some one like Moses Kipsiro was my direct ancestor". Male ancestor.
Here I know that my mother in many aspects was like Kavita and so are millions of other Indian women. Most sadly don't finish on any podium. For me, however, they are all winners.
Prajusha Malaikkal, Jumping for Joy and Silver
Ethiopians are born on high altitude and brought up under conditions which are low in oxygen. They prefer running for most of their daily activities, a habit they have nurtured for centuries. This has done them a world of good. In fact, many athletes had been running many miles to school everyday, before their talent was recognized.
Kavita Raut's hamlet near Nashik is low on many things including water but oxygen is not one of them. As a child, apparently, she ran a couple of kilometres every day just to fetch water.
I did not know anything about Ms. Raut before the start of the 10,000 m race at Delhi 2010 CWG on October 8 2010.
My wife and I watched the race live. We were happy to see two diminutive Indian girls leading it.
I thought it was too good to be true. Even English commentators kept mentioning them as "Indian girls".
Kavita Raut fell behind at some point. We forgot about her and kept cheering Preeja Sreedharan who led the race for a while.
When Ms. Raut started catching up, I still thought she would finish fourth or fifth. My wife however felt she would finish third. She was proved damn right.
As Ms. Raut ran last paces of the race she looked pale and white. I was worried for her. (I am not sure but I thought she puked after the race.) It all looked surreal.
After the race, as Kavita joined two Kenyans in running the lap of honour, I don't think they paid much attention to her.
Maybe in near future, they will do so, when Kavita overtakes them in a live race.
Since Friday evening reams have been written about her and her background. A xenophobic member of Marathi TV media tried to gloat about her being "Marathi". Contrast this with the big heart shown by Delhi spectators when they cheered second loudest for Pakistani contingent at the CWG opening ceremony.
Sunil Gavaskar reportedly told a TV channel after V V S Laxman's recent match winning effort at Mohali that it was perhaps the greatest performance of an Indian in any sport. I hope Mr. Gavaskar watched Ms. Raut.
Earlier on this blog I hoped "some one like Moses Kipsiro was my direct ancestor". Male ancestor.
Here I know that my mother in many aspects was like Kavita and so are millions of other Indian women. Most sadly don't finish on any podium. For me, however, they are all winners.
Prajusha Malaikkal, Jumping for Joy and Silver
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)