Whats In A Title?

Life, Death and Death...

2007-11-09T20:18:00.000-08:00

1st November 2007

You have not seen life if you have not got on the Picnic Garden Minibus from Maidan Metro Station or Park Street at 6pm. The smell of sweat, the pressure of people around you...you don't need to hold on to anything...the crowd itself keeps you standing...the pressure cradles you to your destination...you keep breathing despite the sweat and the suffocation. If you are lucky, you might get a seat and laugh as much as you want at the others suffering. The probability is such that you'll get both sides of the coin. Hence you'll laugh lesser and lesser and instead offer to hold the bags of those others, who are standing...

This is death, compared to the life I was pondering about. You have not seen death unless you have stood up awake all night staring at the ceiling and not being able to sleep, like an owl. I sometimes see an owl perching on a tree brach outside. It doesn't convey anything. Even the crow has taken the form of magpies. They are everywhere and fearless. They draw closer and closer to me if I have food in my hands. Brave and abated. YOu run instead of shooing them...cos' they come in gangs if you underestimate them.

Death is a place where there are more cars than the number of people. They (the cars) stand like beetles and crabs. How I wish they could be washed away by the waves lashing on the shore...

2nd November 2007

I got handed in a letter by the bank asking me to choose an insurance policy ($23.75 per month) so my loved ones don't have to worry about my funeral or liabilities when I die. It's worth $300,000. I just can't help thinking of the movie "Double Indemnity"! Makes me grin...only two days before my 23rd birthday!

My advice to all ye readers: insurance is a death trap. In fact, anything which makes a contract with you for more than 3 months is a death trap. Let the spiders weave it. Just ignore!

Laze around...

2007-09-17T08:11:00.000-07:00

it's been long i haven't written anything mindless...disconnected....disjointed...yet meaningful...i want my sentences to do exactly what Eisenstein's montage does to meaning in films...i am sick of introduction, body and conclusion...sick of going by the rule...making my life a summary of the summaries that summarize the one big Summary...

what if i write an idea...and write another idea which is an implication of the former...but not having any conjunctive phrases to link??? what if??? i mean, are the readers of the brain too idle not to pick up the obvious link??? what if i choose to be a little cryptic?

moreover, what use is a conclusion if it doesn't say anything new not mentioned in the introduction??? i mean, whats the fun in writing if u cant surprise the reader in the end? it would reduce the fun to only reading the introduction....damn...

i need to breathe through words...not get stifled by them...

Some Like It MONROE

2007-08-30T05:37:00.000-07:00

Billy Wilder.

He may like it HOT...but I like it MONROE...

Film Genre and Perception

2007-08-30T05:33:00.000-07:00

If we could think of films as paintings of different styles and forms, be it history painting, landscape or portrait painting, we would be able to solve only some of the problems of defining “film genre”. It is important to identify genre as a problem, and interpreting it, more so, at least from a film critic’s point of view. In Chapter 8 of his book “Image and Mind” (1995), Gregory Currie speaks extensively of the ‘interpretive problem’. He explores the ways in which film narrative and literary narrative differ. Others such as Noël Carroll and Richard Allen have theorized the nature of moving images in great lengths. Grodal presents models for interpreting film genre by transcending to a psychological perspective from a philosophical one. In this essay, we shall only ponder about film and film genres, and how we, as spectators or film critics, may interpret it.

Genre comes from the French word for ‘type’ or ‘kind’, which was initially used to categorize literary works or paintings, and is now widely used to classify films. The problem arises from the fact that no film of a particular genre can incorporate all the elements of that genre. In concomitant, no definition of genre is capable of defining all aspects of a film of a certain genre. (Langford 2005:Preface)

Genres are meant to be defining but not limiting a particular style or convention of all filmic elements. The building blocks of genre films are reflective of one another, thoroughly patronizing, and not original. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genre). However, there is no hard and fast rule to that concept. Genres are able to attract a specific target audience and so they exploit our portion of the brain that loves repetition or wants to feed itself with overtures of the same iconography or narrative. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genre). It is also surprising how the audience enjoy watching the kind and extent of violence that they would normally loathe in real life. (Altman 1996:279 in Langford 2005)

Torben Kragh Grodal has explored some of the important aspects of our thought processes which aid in our interpretation of films. He believes that “emotions are not irrational forces but necessary motivators for cognition and the possible resulting action”.(Grodal 1997) He describes how we interpret film genres from their narrative patterns, thus bringing about emotional effects in viewers. Signals from the screen travel via the visual cortex to the association areas and frontal areas, finally reaching the pre-motor areas of the brain. This process can be inhibited at any point or channeled in opposite directions to bring about a specific response in the viewer. According to his four-step model, it can be theorized that after the initial basic perception of image consisting of shapes, texture and figures, a memory matching occurs. The brain searches for visual cues that are stored in the memory as visual structures with affective values to be matched with the current image. A film which allows it to be represented/recognized in such a manner is termed as ‘lyrical’. The third step of this model involves “construction of diegesis”, which eventually leads to identification with the characters and/or context. This may produce different sorts of reactions, but Grodal stresses on three categories: voluntary telic (goal-oriented responses), paratelic responses (semi-voluntary ones that are repetitive and not goal-oriented), and autonomic responses (involuntary responses such as laughing, crying, shivering, or an increased heart beat rate). (Anderson 1998)

Cinematic images, like paintings, are ‘detached displays’ (i.e. they do not belong to the space and time the viewer resides in), but they differ in a way that in films, something or the other is happening, whereas in paintings there is no question of anything happening. This is because pictures or slides are static whereas films consist of moving pictures. However, this idea can easily be dismissed if we consider films of comic strips such as Oshima’s Band of Ninjas, or films of photos such as Godard & Gorin’s Letter to Jane and Michael Snow’s One Second in Montreal, or films made up of only sentences such as Michael Snow’s So Is This. Yet, the possibility and the expectation of movement in films will always be lurking in our minds, unless we are conditioned into repetitive viewing of static elements in films. Even then, stasis in films is always a stylistic choice rather than a necessity. It is aesthetically prescriptive in nature. On the other hand, describing paintings or slides as static is like stating the obvious. Carroll stresses that a more appropriate synonym for films is moving images rather than moving pictures, as the term image encompasses both pictures and abstractions. Then he goes on to locating the borderline between our perception of theatres in comparison with that of films by citing other theorists such as Roman Ingarden, elaborating on words versus spectacle as dominant factors in theatres and films respectively. He also engages in a fine brainstorming of the focus of performance in the two medium.(Carroll 1996) We may simplify our understanding of the matter as the difference between writing on a paper with pen and typing in a computer using a keyboard. The mental processes that differ in the two instances may be likened to the difference in perception of film narrative and literary narrative.

Richard Allen throws some light on fictional and non-fictional depictions being common in that both can be recognized by looking rather than by reading. To analyze depictions, it is important to recognize patterns without having to process imaginations of seeing the patterns. (Allen 1997). In her article on Cognitive Science and Film Theory, Cynthia Freeland ponders upon the debate of film as an illusion. She refers to two psychologists, Joseph Anderson and Ed S. Tan, who endorse the pro-illusion theory, as opposed to the philosophers Carroll and Currie who are contra. Anderson thinks of film as a set of illusive stimuli that can be run like a program in the viewer’s mind. (Freeland 1997). Contra-illusion theorists believe that the primitive subsystems of the brain cannot distinguish between an object seen and a depiction of the object seen. In such a theory, illusion is something that we can live with.(Currie 1995)

Film genres and sub-genres may be classified as the Western, the Musical, the War film, the Gangster movie, the horror film, the science-fiction film, Film Noir, the Documentary, the Holocaust film, Pornography, Transgenre and Metagenre films. But this is not a fully comprehensive list. When it comes to interpretation of films, Grodal’s typology of film genres is particularly helpful. This includes the canonical narrative, lyrical, obsession, melodrama, horror, schizoid, comical and the metafiction genre. The lyrical genre involves perceptual, nonlinear time, networks of associations, fusion of world and mind, intensities or saturations by proximal focus of attention, no telic enacting, possibly paratelic or autonomic 'motion'. Lyrical elements can be found in many film genres. The canonical narrative expression involves telic voluntary enacting (acting out), linear time, construction of objective world, cognitive and emphatic identification with subject, tension, distal focus of attention; the self is quite absorbed to the situation and the actions arise from intense, external desires or aversions. John Ford’s Stagecoach (1939) and Billy Wilder’s Double Indemnity (1944) are categorized as Western and Film Noir respectively but they can be both thought of having a canonical expression. Obsession involves paratelic/involuntary enacting, often progressive-regressive or non-linear time, some saturations and proximal focus of attention. Melodrama involves perceptual, causal enacting, autonomic reaction, construction of objective world, cognitive and empathic identification with 'object', fatalistic fusion of 'subject' with 'object', saturations and autonomic response combined with proximal focus of attention; one of two response is likely to occur - either positive (falling in love) or negative (tragedy). A lot of different kinds of films can have elements of melodrama in them. Early Neorealist films such as Roberto Rossellini’s Roma città aperta (Rome Open City, 1945) as well as many film noir movies have melodrama in them. Ritwik Ghatak’s Meghe Dhaka Tara(The Cloud-Capped Star, 1960), Komal Gandhar (E-Flat, 1961) and Jukti Takko Aar Gappo (Reason, Debate and a Story, 1974) have high melodramatic elements in them. Horror genre of films (e.g. Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960)) involve causal enacting, autonomic reaction, construction of subjective world, cognitive and emphatic identification with object, aversion between subject and object, tensions, saturations, or autonomic response, proximal focus of attention; the film experience derived from this genre consists of strong feelings of fright, hate, desire, heroic courage are enacted in a subjective world, experienced from the point of view of the victim. Schizoid films involve causal enacting, construction of subjective world, cognitive identification with object, fragmented space, intensities and saturations, proximal as well as distal focus of attention; the response is likely to be alienation, objectivation, the self is cued to take a 'voyeuristic' position. Comics involve causal and autonomic enacting, rejection of emphatic identification with object, rejection of objective world, autonomic response; the response is autonomic (parasympathetic) reception at a high level of arousal, based on a redefinition of the reality-status of the arousing phenomenon, and we laugh at the failures of the protagonists. Billy Wilder’s Some Like it Hot (1959) is clearly a comic. Some comedies of Chaplin are also capable of making us cry and laugh at different point. The metafiction genre involves mediated identification with subjects and objects via cognitive and emphatic 'frames' (personae, all types of schemata), several focuses of attention; the response is mastering, learning, true ideals, self development
strategies for avoiding conflict
idealized self images. (http://www.olavegeland.com/epm37.htm). Many of Satyajit Ray’s films such as Pather Panchali (Song of the Little Road, 1955), Aparajito (The Unvanquished, 1956) and Apur Sansar (The World of Apu, 1959) are metagenre films according to Grodal’s typology, but are otherwise known to be feature films.

All said and done, it is important to appreciate film as a language, with the shots as words, the mise-en-scene as letters of the word, with editing and cuts resembling conjunctions and punctuations. The language of cinema is that of the camera mostly. In such contexts, it would be incomplete not to mention montage: Eisenstein noticed that if different shots, each meaningful on its own, can be joined together, a structured filmic sentence would emerge. If a shot doesn’t have a distinctive meaning of its own, it can be joined to another similar shot or a one completely opposite in meaning to the former one, to make a sentence out of a film. This technique of making meaningful shots directs the feelings and moods of the viewers, and undoubtedly serves to convey what the director actually prescribed.(Ray 1982) Again, we may please to think of the gaps between each paragraph in an essay as a montage. A montage may sometimes act as a brain-breather, especially following scenes which are quite intense. Paragraphs in an essay allow us to tread upon different seemingly unrelated aspects of the same topic or argument. Our mental processes are such that the moment we finish reading one paragraph and move on to the next, our preconceived notions prepare our mind to read a totally opposite, new and/or an elaborated form of the former paragraph. The same aim can be achieved for shots in a film joined together in a montage.

How we perceive film genres may vary between cultures and different regions. But as long as we have film as a language of its own, film makers and film critics will follow a certain grammar to interpret film. According to Ray, Westerns have a more ballad-like quality which is missing in Gangster films, which have harshness and less well-defined qualities. He also likens the twirl of lethal weapon around a finger to a trill or turn in Mozart or Haydn. (Ray 1976). André Bazin speaks of the lyricism in Westerns that the landscape and other iconographic elements have to offer. (Bazin 1956). Interpretation of film by mass viewers may vary substantially between people of the same culture/religion, let alone people of different regional or cultural origin. In 21^st Century, the concept of genre is getting more and more complex and we are offered with films that have elements of different genres put together.

REFERENCES

Genre. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genre

Film experience as a prototype for Self Experience http://www.olavegeland.com/epm37.htm

Allen, R. (1997). Looking at Motion Pictures. Film Theory and Philosophy. R. A. a. M. Smith. Oxford, Oxford University Press: 88-89.

Anderson, B. (1998). "Review: [Untitled]." Film Quarterly 52(Autumun No. 1): 87-88. http://www.jstor.org/cgi-bin/jstor/printpage/00151386/ap040145/04a00520/0.pdf?backcontext=page&dowhat=Acrobat&config=jstor&userID=96cb72ba@anu.edu.au/01cc99331600501c5cccf&0.pdf

Bazin, A. (1956). "Beauty of a Western." Cahiers du cinema 55(January).

Carroll, N. (1996). Theorizing Moving Image. New York, Cambridge University Press.

Currie, G. (1995). Image and Mind. New York, Cambridge University Press.

Freeland, C. (1997). Cognitive Science and Film Theory. Santa Fe, American Society for Aesthetics. 2007. http://www.class.uh.edu/cogsci/CogSciFilmTheory.html

Grodal, T. (1997). Moving Pictures. New York, Oxford University Press.

Langford, B. (2005). Film Genre. Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press Limited.

Ray, S. (1976). Our Films, Their Films. Calcutta, Orient Longman Limited.

Ray, S. (1982). Speaking of Films. New Delhi, Penguin Books India.

A Lullaby for the CM of WB

2007-03-27T02:28:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

7:06:34 PM

Why don’t you try all these in Calcutta??? Yes, why not??? Come on, you are the government...come out and rape as many women and children you like…come on, I can see your balls under your white dhoti…unleash all your desires. Just knock at every door. Citizens will be pleased to offer you Rasna and you can relax, cool down your scrotum to just the right temperature and start raping women and the children…you can start with your own daughter as a symbol of incest…

If you think you can’t handle all the voluptuous women all by yourself, employ your followers…give them a chance…they will be more than happy to bask in perverse pleasure…the city waits for you Mr. CM. It wants to be fucked…

You don’t need Tata cars to secretly spend your desires…there’s no need to do all that behind the black glasses of your car…The city needs no Book Fair, it just wants to be fucked…by you…

The whole city has become a brothel…the journalists, the protesters, the young and the rebellious…they all want to be fucked by you, Buddha…just once…see what happens…this whole state is a big brothel, Mr. CM…enjoy it…exploit it…give it an orgasm…just be careful of what you may find on the other side of the orgasm…

No Direction Home...

2007-03-15T04:34:00.000-07:00

Run Lola Run: A Review

2007-03-03T07:04:00.000-08:00

Lola rennt is just another example of success in film-making, which results from the script-writer, director and the music director being the same person. That’s right, Tom Tykwer. Although this movie has ample elements of fantasy and fairy-tale twists, it basically dwells in the realm of metaphysical questions of our existence and fate, and thus, also to see if we can change our fate or not.

The scenes revolve in this trivial set of events that lead to the final result, as Lola runs to accomplish her mission in 20min. Here, the distance between her boyfriend Manni and the 100,000marks is only an excuse that triggers Lola to traverse through a set of seemingly unimportant events, which evidently take shape as defining factors, as Lola plunges into these same chain-of-events for the first, second and third time.

Like a theoretical physicist, Tykwer explores three possibilities of an uncertain future to any given, existing problem of Life. Here, the problem being as ultimate as Death. In a way, he also brings Death closer to show how Life is interconnected to Death only by a set of events. Through Lola’s running, he seems to shorten the span of time connecting Life and the inevitability of Death. Tykwer seems to stress on that in the first of the 3 possibilities, by giving clippings of what (death) will happen to the woman who simply passes by at Lola's father's office.

Surprisingly, the only factor that doesn’t seem to change is Lola’s mother, who keeps on being a telephonic philanderer with astrological obsessions, all throughout the three possibilities. Perhaps, her mentioning of the zodiac sign Sagittarius has something to do with running after any goal/challenge at hand. Tykwer probably wants to catch the film observer’s attention by implying that you can either go about your desired goal blindly, or knowingly, in which case you are more likely to succeed. In the three episodic possibilities, the protagonist (Lola) seems to get more and more conscious of trivial events as deciding factors. Her consciousness reaches an almost supernatural, semi-god height, each time she traverses the same path. This is noted by her ability to break glasses by screaming; each time, her power to do that increases. Her ability to scream and break glasses seems linearly proportional to her being able to control the situation.

As Lola transits from the first to the second chance, and from the second to the third, the events around her take the shape of a space-time warp, that gets more and more spiral, thus setting her free from the circle that seems to somehow bind her to her fate. Visual references to that are seen in the restaurant sign through the glass of the phone booth Manni called from, and also as the receiver and chord went spiraling as Lola keeps her receiver to start running.

There’s also a bit of off-the-hook soul-searching that goes on after Lola dies and after Manni dies, igniting honest and insightful questions in our mind about human relationships. These scenes, just like the tripartite movie itself, tell of other possibilities that are considered in human relationships. The element of uncertainty seems to be recurring.

Another factor that is defined from the very beginning is Lola’s father. That he is not going to help her is fixed, unchangeable. So is the cursing of the woman with the baby: she curses Lola all the three times even though Lola consciously keeps herself from falling onto her the third time.

All the other characters seem to be oblivious of Lola’s journey in the three possibilities, except for the guard at her father’s bank, who greets her as “princess Lola” and seems to almost know that she can make it, in this life or the next.

During the first episode of Lola running, Tykwer probably takes few conscious shots of camera moving in the opposite direction to her running, giving us visual clues of her not succeeding. Likewise, there are plenty of changes that occur in the last episode, especially that of the bicyclist finding the ragged-old man with Manni’s bag of money, and to satisfy it all, Manni getting back his bag from him, may account for Lola starting to believe in omens, and in signs that tell her of the possible outcome. This can be accounted for in the background oriental music in the film as well.

Strangely, we also see that Manni behaved as if nothing happened after Lola came on time with the sum of money after exhausting so much of her determination and will. To have done all that, and gaining new awareness into what keeps time and space ticking, not get as much as an acknowledgement from Manni, sets her wondering quizzically about rhymes and reasons. And there it all ends, as the camera freezes and cuts of in a close-shot of Manni, as Lola doesnt disclose the contents of her bag.

And He Lives...

2007-02-22T05:35:00.000-08:00

Okay...I was supposed to upload pictures of Australia....but, never mind...But it's so wonderful to find a Che-ist organization called Resistance in my University in Canberra here in Australia...could anyone have guessed???

Some things remain...

2007-02-22T05:31:00.000-08:00

Modhu da's Canteen...Dhaka University....

Hola...

2007-01-27T21:46:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I like to talk to you this way. I mean, of course you would listen to me if I called you directly, or even sent you an email. But sometimes, I dont know, I get sick of the new tabs, new windows and different account for blog, e-mail, networks etc. If I could do all with one explorer, whether mozilla, opera or microsoft, I would choose this. Yes. More Likely.

And it makes things more interesting, you see. Isn't it fun to look at somebody from the corner of your eye for a change rather than staring directly? But of course, if you tried that all the time, you could turn cross-eyed...then, it surely wouldn't be interesting anymore...

I was just wondering about the movie "Guru". I can't decide whether to praise Abhishek's acting or notice his resemblances to Ratan Tata!

My days are spent in a suspended waiting condition. I'm becoming a couch-potato. It's sickening. You should really see Cyrus's spoof on Simi Garewaal, mocked as Semi Girebaal...It's hilarious to the point of being ridiculous...or vice versa...whichever.

I'm not being able to read books at the pace I should, now that I have so much time to spend in solitude...It's always been that way.

I hate BSS! What does he think of himself? He thinks he can get away with such petty crime? He neither has quality nor grace. Neither honesty nor intelligence. And surely has zero personality. He is disillusioned into thinking he has a penis but I'm sure he has an ass stuck up just there, I'm NOT sorry to say that...His age doesn't/shouldn't call for any respect, cos' he has no self-respect either...I'll barge into his Bank one day, and tell everybody what he did for 200 rupees...I would even spend 300 taka just to make him feel bad...Reminds me of "The Mummy":

Eveline: I would pay 100 pounds to save this man's life...
Egyptian Jailor: Madam, I would pay 100 pounds just to see him hanged!

My keyboard isn't working...the key for letter A isn't working...So am having to type these in some other comp...

I don't want this visa anymore now. I really don't...I want to know what you saw in the last CD of the Woodstock video...

That evening

2007-01-04T08:50:00.000-08:00

On a bandh day...over a bridge...

Where's my cheque???

2007-01-04T05:44:00.000-08:00

Damn...I miss those days so much...What is BSS doing??? Why can't he just pay us for our service? Mr. Ghosal, why can't you just threat this guy to give us our earned sum of money??? May be you should contact DSS to coax BSS to give us what we deserve...

Talking John Birch Paranoid Blues

2007-01-01T07:24:00.000-08:00

(there ain't nothing wrong with this song...)

Well, I was feelin' sad and feelin' blue,
I didn't know what in the world I was gonna do,
Them Communists they wus comin' around,
They wus in the air,
They wus on the ground.
They wouldn't gimme no peace. . .

So I run down most hurriedly
And joined up with the John Birch Society,
I got me a secret membership card
And started off a-walkin' down the road.
Yee-hoo, I'm a real John Bircher now!
Look out you Commies!

Now we all agree with Hitlers' views,
Although he killed six million Jews.
It don't matter too much that he was a Fascist,
At least you can't say he was a Communist!
That's to say like if you got a cold you take a shot of malaria.

Well, I wus lookin' everywhere for them gol-darned Reds.
I got up in the mornin' 'n' looked under my bed,
Looked in the sink, behind the door,
Looked in the glove compartment of my car.
Couldn't find 'em . . .

I wus lookin' high an' low for them Reds everywhere,
I wus lookin' in the sink an' underneath the chair.
I looked way up my chimney hole,
I even looked deep inside my toilet bowl.
They got away . . .

Well, I wus sittin' home alone an' started to sweat,
Figured they wus in my T.V. set.
Peeked behind the picture frame,
Got a shock from my feet, hittin' right up in the brain.
Them Reds caused it!
I know they did . . . them hard-core ones.

Well, I quit my job so I could work alone,
Then I changed my name to Sherlock Holmes.
Followed some clues from my detective bag
And discovered they wus red stripes on the American flag!
That ol' Betty Ross . . .

Well, I investigated all the books in the library,
Ninety percent of 'em gotta be burned away.
I investigated all the people that I knowed,
Ninety-eight percent of them gotta go.
The other two percent are fellow Birchers . . . just like me.

Now Eisenhower, he's a Russian spy,
Lincoln, Jefferson and that Roosevelt guy.
To my knowledge there's just one man
That's really a true American: George Lincoln Rockwell.
I know for a fact he hates Commies cus he picketed the movie Exodus.

Well, I fin'ly started thinkin' straight
When I run outa things to investigate.
Couldn't imagine doin' anything else,
So now I'm sittin' home investigatin' myself!
Hope I don't find out anything . . . hmm, great God!

- Bob Dylan

Singur Jolchhe...Jolchhe Rajpathh

2006-12-29T03:43:00.000-08:00

I wanted to start this writing with "It makes me feel dizzy looking at the so-called 'comprehensive' facts and figures of Mr. Absolutist...", and also exhibit my ability to use phrases with double meanings by saying "...I still can't convince myself to be a 'blind ally' of the Left Front govt. from the lucrative, confident numbers provided by this same Mr. Absolutist" with the 'e' constantly trying to pop in and out of l and y of ally...so on and so forth...but I WILL NOT! I will not do that cos I can't sit back in front of the monitor and enjoy this steaming argument, for I now know exactly what's happening in Singur...It's people's lives that are in question here...Not some debate between a certain Mr. Absolutist and the good number of anonymous individuals patronizing my previous post! And moreover, it's pointless to argue with the kind of morons who are born and brought up in Bengal and claim that they can't understand Bengali in Roman script...whereas these morons claim to understand the underlying genius of the works and life of Satyajit Ray...obviously failing to grasp the detective genius of Feluda or Shanku...but never mind...

I have got first-hand information of what's happening in Singur:

1. Farmers are now pauperized and hence they have no fear in cursing the CM with the worst slangs possible.
2. The farmers themselves informed that the CPM govt. have actually grabbed 1400-1500 acres of land, contrary to their claim of the dwindling 997 acres.
3. CPI(M) is terrorizing the farmers in Singur, going as far as to cut off electricity connections of houses of farmers, who are rebelling.

(The above info is taken from Singur itself on 22nd Dec 2006)

My salutes to the youth who risked their lives in making it to Singur to get to know the actual facts the govt. is trying to hide...My heartfelt congratulations to those who returned alive after dodging the police and the RAF, who were hunting them, lest these youngsters get to know the actual truth. With the true spirit of Mahatma Gandhi, they were not armed, contrary to the popular belief Mr. Absolutist holds and tries to propagate...My advice to my comrades: please carry lighters cos they can help you from the irritation of tear gas. Do not use water, since that will irritate your eyes further...light a matchstick and hold it in front of your eyes...

Forget the lucrative facts and figures...what does your common sense tell you? How the hell is it possible for the govt. to ensure permanent employment to these farmers when the state itself suffers from a high unemployment rate at this very instant? Just, how???

If there had been "elaborate consultations with the local population" truly made, why would the police have to torture innocent men and women of Singur? Please...if these are wild stories, then the story of 40 women and innumerable labourers in "extensive community development projects" is a wilder fiction and extremely alarming.

The CPI(M) double standards are all the more emphasized when the CM gave a speech asking people to go to Singur and find out what kind of 'development' is under construction there...now, we all know there's a bloody 144 out there...how will people go and find out???

Why were the journalists beaten up if the govt. is so clean?

Medha Patkar wasnt armed...If she is considered an outsider, then what was Brinda Karat outside Kolkata?And both Kolkata and Singur are in West Bengal; Delhi and Kolkata are places of the same country...then where does the word "outsider" come from??? Should we say that Netaji shouldn't have lead the people of his country outside Bengal? Should Mahatma Gandhi be treated as an outsider in Barisal? Then Che Guevara must have been a forlorn alien in Cuba, Congo and Bolivia...

And of course this is my battle too, if CPI(M) prides itself in rallying against the execution of Saddam...

The true picture is overwhelmingly fascinating...From the very beginning of his term, the CM engaged the state into building housings in the suburbs of Kolkata...and they are mighty cheap and affordable, we all know...The idea was to attract the 'middle class' people to the suburbs thereby creating a market for cars. The USA witnessed a similar game of politics, commercialization and industrialization when the Ford car factory was established.

The CPI(M) govt. knew all along that they had to grab the lands of Singur, by hook or by crook, sooner or later. In this way, a whole new generation of middle class citizens will be gradually wiped out from the state...they will get richer by the day, whilst the poor will only get poorer and poorer...some of the poor, landless, paupers will die...what a way to replenish poverty with death! The CPI(M)'s idea of "development" is such an unfailing "feel-good" factor...How good-humored of CU to award D.Lit. to Jyoti Basu at such a time, for "standing beside ordinary, root-level people"!

In Singur on 18th Dec'2006, a 17 year old local girl, Taposhi Malik, was gang-raped by the police and the people of CPM, and was burnt alive! What do YOU say to that? Get YOUR facts straight...it's unfortunate that one should never get to know these facts since they are blind supporters of CPI(M)...The responsibility of the state govt. police didn't end there: they forced the father of the dead girl to sign a forged note, which said that the girl committed suicide,but the poor man refused to do so...The dead body was then taken for Post Mortem but the Human Rights Commission wasn't allowed to witness it...ora aro boro 'bohiragoto' kina...All hail to the Left Front Communism and its democracy!!!

News channels like Star Ananda and Chobbish Ghanta are busy broadcasting news that Taposhi Malik committed suicide. Why are they doing this is beyond my comprehension...Are they simply trying to back CPI(M) or are themselves terrorized by the fact that the journalists are being beaten up nowadays?

Who's doing violence? The ultra-Leftists or the govt. Leftists? The govt. Leftists are more powerful in that they can exploit armed forces as and when they feel like, but these ultra-leftists can't...If Trinamool Congress hurled bombs in Singur, they could have kept doing the same...why did they choose to fast then? I personally am doubtful of the ideals and actions of TMC...but I believe that they can spare to stay away from this issue to truly save the people of Singur...That way, the CPI(M) can no longer cover this whole issue as TMC's mindless opposition-for-the-sake-of-opposition against them! The veil can then be lifted from people's eyes that this is a struggle for the survival and existence of the people of Singur, not some political humdrum between CPM and TMC.

TMC can probably care to protest against land-grabbing in Maharashtra, or against Congress in Haryana...But that's for TMC to decide. I can only decide what I can do...

................................

To Mr. Moron Rising:
Yes, I did write this...this is polite way of saying "Think before you speak (or kick!)"...you can't obviously prove me wrong I'm sure and we seriously have no room for debate, cos I am dealing with facts, and you, fiction...just a word of advice: DO NOT ADVISE!

I Rebel!

2006-12-09T01:59:00.000-08:00

Saturday, December 09, 2006
12:52:49 AM

You just cannot take away people’s lands like that just to build people’s cars…because these people who lose their lands will never be able to buy tata sumo vehicles, no matter how cheap they are in the car market…

Communism is not about dictatorship…Those who think so and act and deliver speeches accordingly, will soon be pregnant with an empty stomach, when all the land will be sold to whosoever…They will probably be happy even at their deathbed when they will have to import cereals and animal stock from developed countries…or better still, consume all that is coming from the leftover crops, and leave all the rural people to starve not at their own will…There is nothing as shameful and unfortunate as possessing a conscience that never pricks…

Perhaps, their conscience has no right to prick cos they are so cultured, refined, well-versed-in-the-language-of-Gabriel-Garcia-Marquez, and unparalleled in their “intellect”…

Hitler is much better than the Janus-faced Stalin…Perhaps it’s time we start saying CPS and not CPM!!!

Well, well…who am I to state such things…am not even Indian…Ami Karl Marx er baba re… tai bolchhi… Who, then, the hell was Marx to talk about Russia???

"Let me ask you one question
Is ur money that good?
Will it buy you forgiveness?
Do you think that it could?
I think you will find,
when ur death takes its toll,
All the money that you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And I hope it comes soon
I will follow your casket
On the pale afternoon
Then I'll watch while you're lowered
Into your deathbed
And I'll stand ov'r ur grave
Till I'm sure that you're dead!"

Bob Dylan in "Masters of War"

There’s no point having arguments with those who believe in dictatorship…it’s even pointless to try and prove them wrong…that would be the same as proving over and over again Newton’s Thrid Law to someone who hates science…

Oops, we are not even supposed to compare while debating!!! Baper shompotti naki re debate??? Even the rule of debating is set by dictatorship??? The world is weighed on the basis of comparison…Even the blind and stubborn banda who believes in dictatorship, what does he mean by it??? He means he doesn’t believe in democracy…even that, what the hell, is a comparison…everything we feel, think, measure, conclude is based upon some kind of comparison…I feel like I am spoon-feeding, such a drag it is…

Democracy mutilated and misused is simply a demo of how crazy people in power can become…

When someone agrees on dictatorship, it’s entirely WRONG and UNNECESSARY for him to “justify” why it’s right to grab the lands of the people of Singur… And what audacity to claim that he “KNOWS” everything…The more I see, I feel so sorry…and so happy for myself, that I still possess a mind that’s not selfish and is ruled by logic, reason and humanity…I may not have been able to finish reading “Love in the time of Cholera”, and I haven’t read much about communism either…am almost a moron…but I am proud to be a “human” first, if nothing else…

What would he, this all-knowing person, do if a few miscreants beat him up for no reason until he was almost breathless and what if they took away his house from him, without giving him any official assurance that he would be given APPROPRIATE and SUFFICIENT COMPENSATION? Would he not resist? Would he not fight back or at least try to raise some moral questions in their minds? He may sleep happily now arguing that the people of Singur would be rehabilitated…Fucking hell, NOBODY WANTS TO SWEEP OR STAND GUARD INSTEAD OF REAPING THE REWARDS OF HIS OWN LAND!!! One can’t just build paradise on others’ graveyards…

Why? I wouldn’t give away my land even if I got compensation for a lifetime… It’s MY LAND, or MY HOUSE, if I am the owner, and nobody dares trespass!!! If a government exists, that can and will grab my land or my house without my will, such a government is nothing but a pirate…and a parasite…

And we all know how one should get rid of parasites…and we all know what should be done to those who patronize such parasites and become obligate parasites themselves…

When Fuser Came...

2006-12-09T01:58:00.000-08:00

Monday, December 04, 2006
1:20:52 AM

Life can happen at the brink of repairing motorcycles…or at any such excuses…

The alibi had to go and the pitch was theirs…He sat for a while, unsure, scared of unleashing out to the woman-he-met-among-bizarre-mannequins. Could not even look at her or manage a childish hug or something…sheltered inside overt reluctance.

And then Life happened, just like Death.

Truth lay under their very eyes that had to be kept closed, for deep purple scars blossomed out of Life (or Death) have blinded them with wild, ultra-violet rays…It’s so strange to be felt au naturel with anyone, and not a single detail could be allowed to pass disregarded. Suddenly, there’s a feeling of imperfection, until he turned her towards the earth and she felt perfection again…the smell of cotton-wool, flesh, sweat, heat, blood, breath, Death…and Life longed for eternity…as if they had never known Burgmann’s winter even by December…He freed her mind out of leprosy, which had so long waited for its revolutionary saviour…The saviour, who cannot be sought, must come to you…

To savour the saviour is quite a valour…

She made it sure she didn’t have to lose him into thin air, just for the heck of savouring…such was the light, feathery and almost illusive clasp of his…The translucent glass lavished iridescent wavelengths over the historical furniture of the morrow. He revelled at the glimpse of peace, glaciated with the taste of bliss…Peace is a long, dark trail into the microcosm where mysteries rule…a passage, that needs to be hued with purple sky, carpeted with red…And like crafty Persian rug-makers, he left a tiny flaw pompously, for her to pout and wonder and bite nails through till midnight…The Almighty could have almost grinned at his own mischief of creating rug-makers, who fail to offend Him…but even He dared not to prove his existence…

It’s in the ‘guessing’ that he finds his coming, playfully leaving her with a sweet little curse of finding much the same in ‘knowing’. With his tiny flaw, Death was spent and Life was packed in the most sacredly guarded doubt…

The revelation bubbled about in the room and the alibi never returned with his repaired bike…

Ghostly...

2006-12-08T01:13:00.000-08:00

Cake Babies

2006-12-08T01:00:00.000-08:00

When Fuser Sat On The Grass...

2006-12-08T00:54:00.000-08:00

well...ahem...

SLIPPED...EXCUSED...

2006-09-26T06:22:00.000-07:00

Thursday, September 21, 2006
12:25:44 AM

456? Excuse slip?Present sir…will show my slip in the next class!
……
……
…..
…..
463? Excuse slip?
(same as 456)
464? Excuse slip?
(all the more same as 463)
…….
…….
…
….
472?
Yes Sir!
474?
Yes Sir!…
….(maybe, 473 is right at the end…I hope, unwillingly…)
…
….
489?Absent (minded)!

Once again, no 473s in the register…like some elapsed convict, who was either released or have fled from jail…I raise up my arm only half-expecting to be asked for an excuse slip, even before making an entry into the register that had always been reluctant of 473…

HOD writes my name and roll no. in the register and ticks at his own veiled discretion…he is too ashamed to even ask me for an excuse slip…as if such slips can console my pain for always being left out or measure up to my tolerance level for over a year! Not to mention the occasional patience quality control team (BOB) who volunteered almost involuntarily to shuck a grin or express their irritation every time I fought for my number and my attendance, never mind the poor attention I paid in all the classes…

What’s so wrong with the number 473, I wonder…numerology would consider 473 as 4+7+3=14=1+4=5…so 5 is the number…and since I am born on the 4th, 5 is an anti-number for me…so is 3…perhaps, a 4 person is hard to be represented or roll numbered as 5.
Nevertheless, nothing does really stop for 473!

We had our elections and Linux won…any day! With the source code open for all in this laissez-faire world, Linux can win any day, leaving poor Vinay the beaten underdog, for the third and the last time in the history of BSc. Computer Science, Session: 2004-05! I say “poor Vinay” particularly because he had nothing left to even mask his shame, only to be ‘read’ by someone who taught us how to do quality control of software…

But seriously, what’s wrong with 473??? Elections, excuse slips and Vinay’s sob apart, what’s so unreal about 473 in the register??? Does it take a lot of space inside that hideous register?

Didn’t do JGD…couldn’t stand the thought of another missed out 473!

Turn, turn, turn...

2006-09-23T00:56:00.000-07:00

Friday, September 22, 2006
12:23:13 PM

To gripe would be under-doing…he was tired of imagination that was only to be smashed by the prosaic reality…or, was it real at all?

Let’s not think about it at all…let’s lie in the soothing arms of Chimera and alleviate poignancy.

Love rolls over the muddy broken pitch…crawls over evoked mountains and flies off in parachutes…feeds on human flesh, overjoyed by paranoia…cancels itself, and condenses into the singularity of a chocolate…damn!

A forgotten poem…
A half-remembered letter…
A crescent dream…

So much for love…is there another word for it?

Synonyms would scare you: bang, eff, bonk, fuck, passion, screw, hump, jazz, have sex, sleep with…

Sleep WITH…and not sleep OVER WITH…hmm…

Are you sick with love or cloyed with honey in your gullet???

None of the above…none whatsoever…

It’s just his eyes…paired, scorched, questioning, burning, self-evasive, giving, behind locked collapsible gates…and when they meet hers when she least expects it, she doesn’t even know how to avoid his gaze…it’s the only time he sees her true colors, or at least seems to…but then, instead of baring her soul, and instead of avoiding the gaze, she engages herself in the marvelously painful task of masking the fabric that made her, like an expert con artist...and then he talks to her like she was the one who wanted to bare his soul in the first place! In place of paired exotic eyes, she contracts a virulent strain that would make her eyes scorched, questioning, burning, self-evasive...and surprisingly, ruthless!

All of the above…all of them…

It’s strange how much clarity you can get from psychedelic paradox…

High On Grass...

2006-09-23T00:47:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, August 22, 2006
11:13:34 PM

He rolled the filter paper and filled it with grass that he tore and grounded on his palm with much care and ardor, like a young man writhing on his beloved…the wild smell filled the nothingness around and the wind blew past them, the small group, which waited for him to finish making whatever it was that would make them lighter as grasshoppers, so that bats could walk in daylight and crows could pair with the pigeons…

The other groups stared at them, making their own grass, as though a non-verbal competition had challenged them. He made it rather inexpertly, but finished before the rest…he smiled at her and she stretched out to smoke some of it…they took turns, the girl, the boy, him, him, the girl, the boy…all destined to laugh incessantly, until they grew tired of it.

The sky grew darker and darker with cumulus clouds… The goddess of Parthenon drew closer towards them and love scattered in all directions…

“I love apple juice…how good the original sin tastes!” she said.

“What??? Are you alright???” asked the goddess.

“Nevah mind…” she answered.

“What do you survive on with such madness?” the goddess asked again hopelessly.

“Grass…my friend…” was all she said, without finding anything more brilliant to say at the moment and resumed her laughter.

She got up to the basketball court and dribbled along witlessly…he watched her with stoned eyes…

“Purotai khepa!” he remarked and the rain poured down abruptly…

The Cafe Philosopher

2006-08-16T23:13:00.000-07:00

The absurd creatures devoured more of the absurd drink. It was not even evening, and the hysterical trunks came in, devoured and filed out to the invisible world they came from. And in between all the commotion, there was a lot of gaping, blankness and all the discussion of the world. Time froze into coma, and man was condemned to be free, as our surreal philosopher puts it.

He made the decision cos’ it’s all wrong for him. All his life, he took the right decision, and when the time was ripe it proved to be wrong…So this time he is all equipped to make the one wrong decision of a lifetime and evolve it into something very right…

“Am I the right one for you?” he asked.

“No, you are pretty much the left one for me…”, she answered.

His jukebox played on “Love Me Two Times”…and he listed all the non-reasons:

1. It’s the wrong(est) of times.
2. It’s absurd.
3. You don’t have to murder your atheism in the whole process.
4. What the hell…it’s all bloody well too different, dammit! And different for the better, mind you.

He threw the list away…took another sip of the preposterous drink and went on philosophizing the history…like some lousy archeologist digging out a forgotten UFO.

He just couldn’t stand the two women who rambled on about sun signs, moon signs and ascendants…

BACK FROM THE CITY

2006-05-04T23:12:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, April 19, 2006
11:24:15 PM

Ahem…so here I am, transformed…once again…for better. It had been a helluva emotional roller coaster for me this April. I was in Dhaka, my hometown…rather my homecity…and it had been quite enriching from every angle, despite the initial confusion and anxiety due to my father’s illness. Just a couple of hours delay at the airport while flying off to Dhaka, and all was well with the world…It’s just so lovely to fly off in the middle of the night! I could see the stars above and the lights below…what a magnificent view! Only a flight over The Himalayas can challenge such an extraordinary view. It seemed like I was a light year nearer to the constellations…I hated when the lights went on inside the craft after the initial take-off period.

I discovered a new fast food chain-store this time called American Burger in Dhaka…ironically, it had the best chicken sandwiches I ever tasted…toasted bread with the brownish borders chopped off, crisp and highly palatable, unlike any sandwiches here at Kolkata…and the chicken inside…ummm, don’t even want to remind myself about it…it was so damn good, man! I won’t reveal the goodness of the chicken by describing the exact taste like Hemingway…instead I must…and I repeat, I must mention the books I got back from HOME…well, HOME???…huh, well, yeah…HOME:

Chariots of The Gods? – Daniken
Return of The Gods – Daniken
According to The Evidence – Daniken
The Paranormal Files – S.R. Webb & Sons
Alien Base – Timothy Good
Lust For Life (a fictional biography of Van Gogh) – Irving Stone
Classic Folk Tales From Around The World
From Socrates To Sartre: A Philosophical Quest – T.Z. Lavine
The Puma’s Shadow – A.B. Daniel
The Misanthrope & Other Plays – Moliere
Persuasion – Jane Austen
The Complete Works Of Shakespeare
La Nuit Bengali – Mircia Eliad
Inshallah – Oriana Fallaci

I gave away my Robin Cook novels and A Beautiful Mind by Sylvia Nassar to a friend before coming to Calcutta…

And some lovely Science Fiction stories by Md. Zafar Iqbal, Bengali novels by Humayun Ahmed…and the Western thrillers and Masud Rana thrillers from “Sheba Prokashoni”…and much much more…

I did not, and I could not bring War And Peace by Leo Tolstoy (well, duh, who else?)…and Frankenstein by we all know who…I did not make the mistake of bringing “Pride & Prejudice” and “Emma”…And I did bring “Jane Eyre”, but didn’t find “Heidi”…damn!

And I brought “Brer Rabbit Again” by Enid Blyton…lovely stories they are, man!
Let’s not burden ye readers with the CDs I brought…whenever things get smoother for me, I am reminded of the sine curve which depicts the symmetry of everything existing in nature…good times are almost always followed by bad times and vice versa…I installed Pepsi Desktop Theme from an old CD in my new comp…it’s utterly ludicrous…and I love it!

I am so pleased to get back my Sketch Book…I got the Warrior Women sketch I made…did I not whine about it a lot??? Damn! I can’t believe I got everything back…even my guitar! Joan Baez, please shed all your talents at my direction…And I pray to the souls of Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Marley, Don McLean and the rest, living and dead…

Let’s not discuss anymore about what I got…I am through with it now…Just amuse yourself, if you will, when you know about the momentary turbulence I had to suffer inside the aircraft while flying back to Calcutta…The poor F28 craft got itself in the midst of a mild storm, which was skillfully survived by the young, handsome and able pilot (I know he’s handsome cos I met him later at the airport at Dumdum!)…man, I didn’t even spill my cola drink during the incident! And I must mention the smoothness of the landing…what a pilot! I experienced the most comfortable landing in my whole damn life of flying far and wide…I wish I knew the pilot’s name and contact no. Does he have a blog??? Uhmmm…not a possibility…ananya, just get a grip of yourself! I mean, don’t fall for a pilot, at least…they are pretty dumb besides being able to fly that Foker craft…

And just forgot to mention: Meroon, don’t be so excited about my blog…there’s nothing in it except my full-of-incidents yet dull life…so don’t close down your ‘space’ in msn…and I hope we meet like this every-time I am in Dhaka…and don’t worry about girls not falling for you…remember, masturbation is the key to all human loneliness…don’t laugh, it’s true…I mean, I don’t really mean the literal masturbation here…I mean to say that one has to find ways to be happy with himself…and that’s the key to….DAMN!!! When did I start talking like this??? Just don’t listen to me…I don’t talk much sense these days, which is again, a very good thing to develop!

Fooled by Food!

2006-05-04T23:10:00.000-07:00

Saturday, April 01, 2006
9:10:26 PM

Had brilliant food after a long, long time…the chilly roast pork was too good…I am not much of a pork glutton, but it was too good to deny. Thanks to Shubhro. So much better to celebrate shubhro’s birthday instead of April Fool’s day. Interestingly, we were talking of Ham Radio while having pork…

I fooled my mother in the morning…the best way anyone could fool me ever was on 1998. Now, don’t expect me to remember the time…the date is too obvious…Fatty apologized for her little sister who tore my childhood photo that I gave her…I was so upset…it’s just the sort of thing to fool me…when I was nearly sulking to great heights, she produced the photo out of her bag…Schooldays, ahh! They were so lovely. I’m sure everyone would agree on this.

I had a very strange dream yesterday night. Well, ‘strange’ is not new for me…but the dream is…I saw myself in Puri, Orissa. It was nighttime…I saw that I was strolling towards the beach, anticipating the glimpse of the vast ocean…the kind of vastness that can make you speechless…in other words, scared…blissfully scared, to be more precise…but when I went there, a stinky pond appeared, and someone told me that the beach has shifted somewhere else, a bit farther…and when I stroll a little farther, I see a very, very HIGH wave…very high…well, very tall…the kind that can hit you in a Tsunami…I mean, you wouldn’t be alive to keep seeing it…but in the dream, the wave just kept on soaring higher and higher and never seemed to fall on its trough…now, this can only possibly happen if the earth was of an elongated, oval shape…then perhaps gravity would have acted in a different manner…what a metaphysically stimulating dream!