Where is your home?
Woody Allen is 86 and still makes on average one film per year. Martin Scorsese is touching 80 and is miles and miles away from retirement. Apart from their prolific and relentless career, what’s common to both these filmmakers is they watch a lot of movies. In fact, their favourite thing to do is absorb cinema as much as possible. This is not uncommon amongst auteurs. The same was true for Ingmar Bergman as well. He watched about three films a day. Didn’t matter which language they were in or what genre they belonged to. It makes sense though: their love for cinema hasn’t changed although they have changed cinema to a large extent. When they were young, they loved watching movies. That magic of the big screen. After growing older, the younger men in them didn’t die. To create something, you need to sacrifice something else. To write, you ought to read a lot too. Maybe the same principle applies to the art of filmmaking.
I recently became aware of Vogue’s 73 questions series and was quite amused by the repartee on display here. Of course, both the interviewer and the interviewee have clearly rehearsed the flow but what you get is a wholesome entertaining package of camerawork and dialogues. You are thoroughly amazed by these celebrities and the mega lives that they lead. To be sincere with you, my intrigue for this style of interview is rooted in my journalism days when I used to compile questions for the celebs I went to talk to. Since I belonged to print media, there was no moving camera involved. Only candid snaps. Zero rehearsals. Anyway, for me, the highlight of these 73 questions was how a lot of these phoren celebs mentioned ‘India’ as the country that they wish they could visit someday. Poor people, I hope they get their visas soon.
While watching a documentary on exodus, a rather striking data was presented. In 2015, 30,000 Jewish people from Europe permanently moved to Israel, with most of them (8,000) hailing from France. Thanks to rising antisemitism, this one-way migration trend has been picking up pace and is stark when compared to the post-WW2 figures. In this film, a bald old man from Jerusalem even predicts that the 21st century might be the last era of Jews living in Europe. Fascinating when you consider the fact that Jews have been living in Europe for the past 2000 years. It makes you wonder whether the antonym of diaspora is homecoming. How far can a person go to belong somewhere? When does a piece of land turn into a home? At the end of this film, a Ukrainian Jewish lady added a new dimension to this context by asking a simple question: where are we supposed to feel secure? Well, to me, a place becomes home only when you can step out of the door without worrying about returning.
Speaking of home, how does one relate to the space that occupies you? I mean, if you spend a lot of time in your study or bedroom or drawing hall, does that mean you are in sync with that particular piece of space more than anywhere else? Does that part become your home, more so? Or is home a collective idea that is ingrained into your little head during your childhood because you felt tiny and helpless and sought safety? Well, I feel—such answers are better felt than thought—that home is the exact opposite of loneliness. If you’ve found someone to share this experience with, good for you. If not, great for you.
Now that we’ve touched upon the very sensitive subject of loneliness, let me take you to a room. Yes, follow me. Now, this is where you are with me. I am me and you are you and we are us. We are both alone, not lonely, together. However, when I leave the room, what is remaining? You and this room, right? I am asking these questions because it’s natural to feel lonely in an empty room. But you feel a bit extra lonely when you are in a room where you didn’t feel lonely before.
My ajji (maternal grandma) used to say that it’s not the animals that are speechless. According to her, all the other animals and birds and insects could speak with each other. It’s humans who are speechless because we can’t communicate with them. We are the handicapped party in this story. She didn’t go to school so I can presume that she learned this from our ancestors. When the culture of a village is steeped in kindness, even towards the so-called animals and birds, you can be assured that the villagers would do just fine. The trouble is with us, the smug urbaners—the condescending turds filled with feeble modernity and faux intellectualism—who assume that we somehow know better. And to make things worse, we genuinely believe that we also know what’s better for the villagers. This despite the many records showing that we don’t even know what’s good for us.
If you are going to have pets, please don’t abandon them. Take good care of them for a very simple reason: they chose you, not the other way around. It might appear to you that you were the one in command and you decided to bring them home. Trust me on this: that’s not what happened. A pet, be it a dog or a cat or a turtle or a rabbit, chooses its human based on the many cosmic equations that our 1.3 kg brain can’t fully comprehend. Who knows, even past lives might be involved in these relationships? So, yes, never abandon. Thanks for attending my sed talk.
During my younger and leaner days, I used to be a good swimmer (and diver too, holding breath underwater upwards of a minute). Back then, I was more into practice than theory and didn’t read much about the mechanics behind swimming. It was much later, when I was barely swimming anymore, that I realized that swimming is a lot about floating. Lungs are basically bags filled with air, and when a person drowns, water fills up these bags, leaving little space for air. Similarly, when a man is struggling for a breath inside water, his body needs to exhale carbon dioxide more than it needs to inhale oxygen. A way of internal poisoning. Anyway, when I used to swim daily, all I cared about was my stance: hands in circular motion, torso flat, legs paddling just below the surface, steady movement, and laps after laps. That’s all. I didn’t care about the theory and maybe that’s why I could learn to swim well. Compare it to my approach to car driving where I spent an awful amount of time trying to understand how the clutch worked and accelerator didn’t. Technical stuff. There was no need but then, too much reading can be harmful too. There is a reason why the only way to die of swimming is to not swim.
Pronouns matter. Learned this recently after a social media post on, wait for this, moon. Yes, that white little thing that hangs onto the sky and quietly dictates the motion of tides and other astrological elements. I just wrote a sentimental verse: Who’s going to tell the moon that changing phases isn’t going to help with her loneliness? Addressing our only satellite as a female didn’t go well with some of my readers. They were quick to question how come I designated the moon as a woman. This has happened in the past as well whenever I described God in feminine light. As a principle, I don’t defend what I write: I write and let it go. But it’s worth highlighting that we attach meaning to things that have no meaning at all, as long as it fits our point of view. The moon has been existing long before we even discovered pronouns. She simply doesn’t care what we designate him with.
The name Madhu is beautiful as well as soothing. When you break it down, etymologically speaking, it means sweet-ish. Like honey. In fact, Madras has the same derivative: mad being honey and ras being juice. When you deconstruct names, you learn a lot more than you initially bargained for. Take for instance, Ravana. Like most traditional names for boys, it is supposed to inspire respect and fear. It literally means fearsome, like a strong wind in a vana (forest). Yet, ancient names can’t possibly be simplified. Particularly when you take into account Dharmic/Vedic philosophy. I recently learned that Madhu was also the name of the demon Krishna slayed, thus earning the title Madhusudhana (the one who killed Madhu). It's interesting how, in our culture, even the slayed is mentioned in the same light as the slayer. This also explains why Ravana used to be a regular name amongst Tamils, in India as well as Sri Lanka. After all, without Ravana, there is no Rama. Without Madhu, there is no Madhusudhana. Without Federer, there is no Nadal. Joker and Batman. Messi and Ronaldo. And so on.
When in doubt, seek balance. Choose the middle path, wherever you can. Nothing is more important than your peace of mind and your ability to sleep well. If you are restless and uneasy, you are already losing control. Let me digress for a bit: driving a car is the closest some of us get to being in control. Anyhow, balance is the highest form of compromise. The world we inhabit is constantly at war with itself because it’s seeking the middle path all the time. And failing miserably at it. Forget everything else, even your dark circles aren’t balanced. One circle is always darker than the other. Balance is difficult to achieve and more often than not, it’s not going to happen but it’s certainly worth trying.
Great post.
And moon is her.:)
Loved this so much!