GOD DAMN!!

Insecurity kills!
Insecurity, an often underhyped emotion most common to man gradually breaks him from the deepest corners of his mind. It makes him to do the unimaginable. He submissively gives in to forces around him and goes to the extent of creating virtual concepts he can look up to. He starts believing in powers of “the infinite’ to assure himself of a virtual security and also to reaffirm his own existential inferiority. He forms religion to show others the right path to this ultimate destination. Like as if the destination itself was not enough he keeps feeding his hungry imagination with rituals and superstitions to add to the foreboding of a Fantasy world.

Insecurity leads man to develop religous groups which they can feel a sense of security and understanding with. He is now no longer lonely. He has everything that he thought he wanted. Every small unique group calls God their own. They say “ His hand blesses only those who follow our cult”. But when he realizes He is not able to give him enough time, he goes to a nearby store and barters his next meal for a picture of GOD himself. A great deal I must say!!! But the catch in the deal is that he has to drop all ‘reasons’ and ‘logics’ and unquestioningly follow a routine designed for him by someone else. He often forgets the divine journey that he is on and gets overwhelmed by the magnitude of his cult. He cuts, kills and conquers to prove to himself and the world the dominance of his race.

I truly believe in the power of meditation and also truly disparage all religious customs. I strongly believe in the power of conscience to be greater than any supernatural power. For me, every religion is the true path to the inner-self in its pure form and a path to ultimate destruction in its commercial form. I do not and no one can deny the existence of an infinite power, an unbound energy above us. But, often people fall for the temptations that have been weaved around his stature.

Every religion teaches us discipline, self-realization, self-assessment however these attributes seem quite diminished under the mask of irrelevant rituals. The preachers do not give a damn about how deeply one has studied their religion, they only care about how blindly you follow their customs.

Although man has spun himself around a magnanimous web of complexities I am equally optimistic that our human race will have a better future considering that even half the people who waste their lives on hypothetical beliefs and unnecessary warfare dedicate their lives to realistic problems that we currently face.

TRUST

Trust

Wandering, Aimless, Hollow fingers

Unfurled the emptiness between mine.

Filling every gap of uncertainty that ever clouded my thoughts ,

Leaving behind no sign.

They would firm my hand

Yet could never confirm my trust.

Enamouring as they seemed

They were one day destined to rust.

The Hand

Poetry!!
I had always been intrigued by the very idea of poetry. Be it the deepest thought or the simplest truth, expression in verses makes our beings more reflective than the often direct and monotonous tone of prose. A poetry can mean different things to different people in different situations. Thats the beauty of it!! It takes us to a wonderland where we our the masters of our own imagination while words are a mere form of expression.

The Hand

Alone I stand, Alone I fall,

Unhearing, undebating a coercive call.

Silence in the night, silence in my mind,

Conceived thoughts concealed behind.

Appears a hand, slow yet busy,

Endearing me, eager to bind.

The hand gives me direction, shows me light,

Enchanting, enlightening my muffled nights.

We share thoughts, words, our lives,

Unwebbing dreams under small hives.

Not across the deep seas we see,

Nothing beyond the skies we want,

Yet destiny seemed to be mocking me,

With a deliberate yet blissful taunt.

And one day, the hand speaks,

It wants to grow, wants to fly, wants to leave,

Unconcerned about the love it made me believe.

Enigmatic moments of mourning hearts.

Wanted, unwanted the story parts.

Now, sometimes I wonder,

why we wish,
why we hope,
why we care,

why we wonder,

why don’t we just stay away and surrender.

And as I weave the mask of freedom thread by thread
Lives snatched apart, memories undead.
As i had said, i said

Alone I stand, Alone I fall,

Unhearing, undebating a coercive call.

One of the finest Indian movies

Lets start the blog with nostalgia..something i'd written some years back...its been quite a lull after the initial storm. this is a review i'd written on one of the finest movies i've seen in the indian cinema. Had initiially written it for a lazy freind who had very easily bestowed the responsibilty of a college assignment on me. However, apart from that the cinematic brilliance of the movie provoked me to fucking do something apart from jst liking it.

Maqbool

Shakespeare would be proudly smiling in his grave as Vishal Bhardwaj moves the greatest tragedy Macbeth to Mumbai’s underworld. However, the queens, the witches and the swords are replaces by adulterous mistresses, corrupt cops and flying bullets. Unlike other Bollywood movies Maqbool does not show people dancing around trees or snow clad mountains. It defenitely exceeds the defined lines of formula based commercial cinema with significant reverence. The confident screenplay keeps your attention right from the beginning not releasing you until the last reels have flashed.

Bhardwaj conveys a tantalizing tale about an ageing don, Abbaji (Pankaj Kapur). Maqbool (Irrfan Khan) is the trusted right hand man of Abbaji. The two corrupt cops Pandit and Purohit (Naseeruddin Shah and Om Puri) are shown as always predicting the future. In one such case they hint Maqbool that he will one day take over Abbaji’s position. Thus, the seeds of ambition and jealousy are sown. Nimmi (Tabu), Abbaji’s young mistress has a dangerous secret liaison with Maqbool. Nimmi teases and taunts Maqbool over his position and his non-hierarchical status. This gives way to a blood soaked drama. Nimmi urges Maqbool to murder Abbaji and take his position both in the hierarchy and her bed. For love and power, Maqbool murders Abbaji not knowing that untold devastation lies ahead. While everyone suspects Maqbool of foulplay, no one has the nerve to implicate him. Drowning in guilt, Maqbool as well as Nimmi, start hallucinating, imagine hypothetical drops of blood on their bed, the wall and even see spectres of the victims of their passion. Maqbool tries each and every source to reconcile, but does not work. And murder begets murder.

Humour has been used very occasionally but in an extremely well concealed manner. Touches of humour, in the first half show Abbaji’s power over his kingdom. But, at the same time it also shows his love for his men and his much feared presence.

Abbaji played by Pankaj Kapur is a symbol of power. Kapur making a comeback to the big screen is seen in a tour de performance. Personally, this is one of the best performances by an actor in many years. His posture and well conceived posterior facial structure hold true to the character of Abbaji. At times, he reminds us of Marlon Brando in Godfather.
Irrfan Khan playing Maqbool takes us on an aesthetic ride, at times to the realms of reality. From Maqbool’s over vaulting ambition dominating his conscience to his love n lust for his lady has been shown with some epitomizing ease. Watch Irrfan in the last flashes of Maqbool breaking into moments of nothingness.
Tabu playing Abbaji’s mistress coming from Lucknow is seen in a dark role for the first time. Her sparkling performance manages to strike a balance between passion and hysteria. Both love and angst are a part of Nimmi shown simultaneously and that too quite incredibly. Undoubtedly, Tabu is one of the finest actresses of her generation.

Naseeruddin Shah and Om Puri sparkle with a scintillating performance of two corrupt cops. Both in extremely witty performances are shown as playing games with both the underworld as well as the police force. They are the Bhardwajian counterparts to the three witches of Macbeth. They predict the future and are always eager to maintain ‘Shakti Ka Santulan’. They constantly induce in Maqbool the ambition to rule, to conquer. They incult humour in every scene constantly reminding us of the dark side of the tale.

The screenplay by Bhardwaj and Abbas Tyrewala weaves your mind with some exhilarating scenes. However, towards the end Maqbool’s much expected death is dragged along and at this part the screenplay goes weak. The striking dialogues by Bhardwaj himself gives a soul to the movie, providing it a typical Bhendi bazaar touch. Bhardwaj has craftily managed to maintain the poetic reverence of each and every scene. Some of the shots are lyrical; even the violence is aesthetically treated and is never gratuitous. Abbaji’s house creates a timeless and mysterious feel. However, cinematographer Hemant Chaturvedi’s use of stark colours adds to the foreboding. Bhardwaj himself is the music director. Daler Mehndi for the first time does not sound like a squeaky rhetoric radio in his rendering of the Rubaru number.
Maqbool is defenitely a stroke of genius. There have been man interesting yet unreal trials on the underworld on screen like Satya, Vaastav, Company but this movie goes beyond gangwars, corruption, dons, policemen, politicians. Maqbool takes an overwhelming leap into the psyche of the protagonists, riveting out what guilt and its denial does to them.
Impermeable, heavy and dark ; Maqbool is highly recommended cinema.