stories retold

go lightly down your darker way, go lightly underground... i'll be down there in another day, i won't rest until you're found...

let me love you, let me rescue you... let me bring you where two roads meet... come back above... where there is only love

- the ground beneath her feet, salman rushdie/u2

some of the greatest stories in the history of humanity are the ones that defy all contexts of space and time.

instances: shakespeare and the greek myths.

one of my favourites of which i've seen/read in several versions is that of the song of orpheus.

reverse the gender and we have the tale of savitri from mahabharata.

while details and outcomes may vary, the basic tenet of both stories remains the same; death takes away the significant other and our protaganist follows him/her into the depths of hell. manages to negotiate taking back significant other on one condition- no looking back until higher ground has been reached.

the hopelessly romantic adage of love conquers all is the underlying theme of both these tales. nonetheless, it's a story we see all around us even in this day and age where love has been pronounced dead.

people are constantly trying to rescue their significant other from various personal hells.

it's the matter of looking back that makes all the difference...

anna akhmatova's "the last toast"

reinventing the wheel is not my cup of tea but celebrating it is. anna akhmatova's poem, "the last toast" is one of my favourite poems- perfect for these hard times...

I drink to our demolished house,
To the wickedness in my life,
To our loneliness together,
I raise my glass to you--
To those lying lips which have betrayed me,
And to the dead-cold eyes
The coarse, brutal world and the fact
That God has not saved us.

a review of vicky cristina barcelona

i am deeply suspicious of a movie title that does not include conjunctions or prepositions. it was right then that i should have let good sense prevail and not watch this turd of a chick film.

however, poor decision making has been the hallmark of my existence for a while now and so, i put my brain through several breakdowns in a span of 90 minutes- the runtime of vcb.

the story of two american girls and their perceptions on relationships undergoing an overhaul in the course of a summer in spain could have been more exciting if:
a. i wasn't a girl who has overheard and had far more interesting conversations on the same subject.
b. if javier barden didn't look like his mother delivered him in a vat of cough syrup, thus giving him this permanently dopey look.
c. it wasn't directed by hollywood's very own humbert humbert who actually got his lolita and thus, feels the need to create movies to cater to the intelligence of a 14-year old.

some horse faced chick plays vicky while we have scarlett "hourglass" johannsson playing cristina. barcelona is played by barcelona itself. javier barden plays the cunt magnet while penelope cruz in her oscar-winning crazy role plays maria elena.

good things about the movie? the end because you can get back to doing more fun things like playing solitaire.

A Review of Warren Ellis' Crooked Little Vein

There should be a name for that genre of literature that makes you want to keel over and die from a brain haemorrhage or at least have you weeping uncontrollably in a strait jacket in some safe padded room of a mental asylum. Irvine Welsh has the dubious honour of hitting that peak in ‘Filth’. Chuck Palahniuk is pretty much tuned into that frequency in almost all his works. Warren Ellis’ first shot at the full-form novel, Crooked Little Vein is supposed to be yet another proud addition to the shock-lit Hall of Fame but doesn’t quite transcend that line convincingly.

Ellis isn’t new to the ruthlessly depressing and horrifying form of writing. He does a good job in his graphic novels (particularly Desolation Jones and Fell) as well as his columns where the non-fiction platform lends authenticity to some fairly unpalatable ideas. Then again, Ellis is a writer who builds his stories on strong research and solid ideas, no matter what the form.

The main premise of ‘Crooked Little Vein’ rests on a vital question that plagues both Media and Culture Studies- What is the Mainstream? Before the advent of the Internet and allied technologies, this answer, like most other answers to life, was simple— anything on the Primetime was Mainstream. Now, with highly segmented niches being the order of the day, the Mainstream becomes a problematic concept and with it, its lines with the Fringes get blurred.

Ellis explores this question using the dipstick of pornography set against the festering American cultural landscape. Michael McGill is a thoroughly non-descript shit magnet hired by the heroin addict Chief of Staff to hunt down an Alternative Constitution. It all goes awry when McGill hires ultra-liberal academic, Trix as his filthy assistant and they begin an unpredictable Trans-American adventure.

Ellis’ over the top humour (rats humping sandwiches) and almost magic realism situations (McGill killing a fellow passenger mid-air while Trix is sleeping) are in fine form. With novels, writers generally tend to wander off on tangents. Ellis is fairly restrained on that count and thus, makes Crooked Little Vein a nice and easy read. In fact, I can’t remember the last time that I finished off a book in a single sitting. The additional material in the paperback edition, simply titled ‘P.S.’ includes a soundtrack to the book and recipes— total value for money.

Ellis’ characters generally have a tense and marvellous chemistry which was sorely lacking in the case of McGill and Trix. Although, Ellis did some thorough research to include some of the most perverse and disgusting kinks, it somehow never had the full impact that it should’ve. In fact, a column that he wrote for Suicide Girls was a lot more bile-inducing than the sum total of the book.

On the whole, Crooked Little Vein is an interesting, insightful and fun read but I wouldn’t bung it into the Essential Ellis collection.

the failure of democracy

call it globalisation or hyper-capitalism or even a condition of our times. ever since world war 2, the world has changed in every major field- be it the sciences, economics, geographies, cultures, psychologies and social/power structures.

note that when i say power structures, i don't mean political systems. surprisingly, democracy as a political system hasn't changed with the times. and it is this failure of an archaic democracy (among other problems) that is causing issues all over the world.

much as i'd like to take each issue apart and analyse it- at this point in time, in the face of the 2008 terror attacks in mumbai with elections a few short breaths away, i think we need to seriously pull up our socks and consider our democratic system.

many people consider democracy in india a marvel, considering the inherently pluralistic nature of this country. they are in awe of the multi-party system and (wrongly) assume that people across different factions of society have a say.

the fact remains that indirect democracy does nothing for the people of a country. it gives people what marx calls a 'false consciousness'- the feeling that as individuals, they are making a mark and ushering in change when they vote for one political party or the other. the sad truth is that this system does not view people as anything beyond a mass, a collective, a vote bank. there is no place for individualism and human dignity.

it is a farce.

in terms of what this means for mumbai as a city, i think the time has come for mumbai to kiss india goodbye and stand on its feet. this is the second time in two years that this country is failing the city which has contributed so much to it, not just in economic terms but in intangible cultural terms as well.

consider this- mumbai as a city state, much like singapore. only, unlike singapore, there'll be a different political system- perhaps, direct democracy or even anarchy.

maybe it's just crazy talk from the shock but then, it's the crazy talk that changed the world and the inconceivable that becomes reality.

redefining 'epic'

generally, the term 'epic' refers to a grand work, mostly in terms of size. in literature, 'epic' would be milton's "paradise lost"/"paradise regained" or valmiki's "ramayana". in music, 'epic' would mean tracks running into 15+ minutes (think g!ybe). however, i have my reservations on using the term 'epic' for just the duration of the track.

here's a new definition of epic- the flaming lips' "approaching pavonis mons by balloon". yes, these are the guys who did the hopelessly pop "do you realise". it is even from the same album "yoshimi battles the pink robots".

however, pavonis mons is a crazy trip through a completely different landscape- red dust clouds, volcanoes as old as the universe and not a soul except you in your technicolour balloon. this is a track that doesn't waste too much time in build-up and hits its breath-taking crescendo in under two minutes. you are floating in space, playing hide and seek with the martian sun and never landing.

it's all of three minutes and ten seconds long. and as gorgeous as the first hit of hash from a pipe.

now, that's epic.

slut pigeon!