Desicritics Category: Media: Video

Phir Mile Sur or Frivolous Mile Sur?

sufferingsocrates — Wed, 27 Jan 2010 06:13:19 EST

India celebrated its 60th Republic Day yesterday. A moment every Indian, including I, am proud of. India is expressing itself on the global stage, and Indians are becoming confident, self-assured and assertive, all in a positive sense. Perhaps its this freedom of expression that is running deep in all of India. Especially it would seem, among the emboldened and influential television medium.

This Republic Day was more remembered for the spiced and hyped Phir Mile Sur, a rehash of the 1988 original version by Doordarshan. Spiced, because of a skimpily clad Deepika Padukone and banyan clad Salman Khan amongst other Bollywood celebrities (even Karan Johar found a place!), and hyped because it was apparently 'released' by Amitabh Bacchan. Now, what bemuses me no end is what do these esteemed figures stand for? Are they the epitome of Indian patriotism or Indian achievements?

I wish I weren't cynical. But the way the new Phir Mile Sur has been done up, looks very botched, annoyingly long and at times even ridiculous. It looks more like a marketing gimmick to win TRPs for Zoom television. It was good old Doordarshan days which brought about the original Mile Sur Mera Tumhara (see original below). Zoom has been one of the gossip channels promoting everything from Bollywood to Bollywood (pun intended).

In the guise of a fresh new look for an amazingly original and endearing Mile Sur Mera of the 1980s, the new version has been launched with so much of Bollywood emphasis that the Olympics medal winners have been pushed to the very end of the music video. I wonder what is it that Bollywood has done to represent India, unlike Olympic Champions like Abhinav Bindra? Even in the new Mile Sur Mera, Salman has no qualms appearing in his vest. I am thankful he didn't remove it to show his true patriotic colors!

When A.R. Rehman re-created Vande Mataram in 1997, it was truly a magical rendering which was soulful, fresh and pleasing to the eyes. Rehman had re-done the tunes of the original song, and his mastery was clearly on display. Sadly for Phir Mile Sur, neither is it original, nor does the video look pleasing on the eyes. The music tries to retain the original Mile Sur Mera tune, with traditional music and tunes, but keeps losing track and gets completely boring at over 15 minutes. For me, personally the music and the video look more like an advertisement for Bollywood to promote its patriotic self, and what better a platform than Zoom TV?

Come to think of it, the media seems to be playing the devil's advocate. Times of India promoted Aman Ki Asha, as if this was the only hope left for India and Pakistan. It ran ads and then a music concert to promote its idea of a peaceful neighborhood with Pakistan. While the intentions are right, I can't think of one reason why patriotism would be etched in the minds of those who come to music concerts. Yet again, a hypocritical approach to promote patriotism while on its own channel, accusations from and to India and Pakistan are made literally everyday. I wish there was an Aman Ki Asha mission for these debates.

All said and done, the true sense of spreading patriotism can only come from those who have represented the nation. It can certainly not be celebrities who only want to market their own brand and themselves. They can be enablers for the mission, but cannot be the mission itself. It is sportsmen, and most importantly the politicians and ministers themselves who should go around promoting patriotism. It is important for people to feel that they should be as patriotic as their leaders or sportsmen, not be dreaming about acting patriotism for a music video.

You may now ask if I liked the original Mile Sur Mera. Of course I did, because it was pure, original and very well done. The message and the music was short and crisp. There was no attempt to forcefully include all major Bollywood celebrities individually. Sickeningly, the new Mile Sur does just that, and is very much in the face. It is unfortunate that patriotism has gone into the hands of privately owned channels unlike the fading Doordarshan which created the Mile Sur magic. I wonder where is Shiv Sena to protest the skimpily clad Deepika Padukone in Phir Mile Sur now.

The original:

The Most Good-Looking Man in the World & E-mail Forwards

karachi khatmal — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 07:44:56 EDT

You are definitely staring at a monitor right now. But you may or you may not have your speakers on, or have headphones either.

Similarly, when you are watching the TV, there is a way to mute the sound, but you can not mute the picture.

It is perhaps why music aficionados don't like videos - those who access videos inevitably become viewers, rather than listeners, but even the visual sense has its own class markers - much the same as everyone on the blogosphere cares more about the class and ideological differences amongst themselves rather than realizing that they are all part of the smallest pyramid on the income distribution chart.

So, there is text, images and moving images. Clearly, text is the clear loser, because it is slower, useless unless focused on and thought about, and requires the greatest effort. The difference between the image and its moving counterparts may be difficult to split on aesthetic differences, but the moving image category provides you the most bang for your buck, so that's where people end up going the most.

So, it's all about what you see, often over what you read.

I received an e-mail this morning proudly exclaiming that

"FW: Most Good Looking Man In The World Is a Pakistani! (Internal)"

My eyes saw, but they did not believe. but, as the Oracle says "Believe". Why take my word for it? who am I to tell you what to believe and what not to.

Why don't you see for yourself?

TA-DA!

It's OK.

You can scroll back up.

Do i really need to write anymore?

Well, what you saw up there was the straight-on to camera, look-me-in-the-eyes, understand me, know me, luuvvee me style. it's important to note that even if not visible, the hands are not on the hips, in a threatening or aggressive manner, but probably pressing lightly against the thighs. it suggests a laid-back, lackadaisical, almost bohemian approach sprinkled liberally with good-clean-fun. but that is not what is arresting you.

It's the eyes.

As mansoor malangi put it so eloquently, "teray naiiiiin, tere naaiiiin, te-ray naiiiiiin..."

A set of eyes almost perpetually behind some dapper set of shades are presented in all their un-tinted glory. and it's a sensual, almost holy experience. These are not the eyes of a politician, a statesman, a deeply respected icon.

These are the eyes of a young boy,

playing on a karachi street,

in the blazing afternoon heat,

and he's asking you...

... to love him

but it doesn't end there.

Chotay, agli slide lagao.

After all the eroticism, it is perhaps almost a relieved soul that greets this image. the maddening ecstasy induced by the last picture can now subside into a calm ocean of wisdom and gratitude, the waves of reverence gently lapping on your grateful feet.

When the continued encroachment of the Taliban *coff* Pathan*coff* worries you, when the hollow words of the media and Imran Khan compel you to take the streets in the month of May, when the issues of federation, feudalism and fucking-staying in power are not to be found in any political party's manifesto, you need not despair. because somewhere, in England, in a small garden, in the morning, a well dressed philosopher is slowly composing his daily voice-mail, issuing instructions for you, your family and your friends, and it's not just there, in the garden, where the creative grapes are fermenting to produce the intoxicating wine of wisdom. the thoughts are just as powerful when composed in a coquettish glance away from the lens, into the lookspace of the mysterious realms of the metaphysical world.

Now, what do we have here...

As mentioned above, the placement of the hands is a lovely indication of the disarming, unarmed, welcoming tone of the body language. but here again, one sees the vision on display. that glorious path towards fascist emancipation that we all await deliverance upon. and that smirk - that gentle, mirth-filled little scrawl made by the positioning of those full lips that signify hope, elation, contentment and eventual salvation, but it's not all about being a leader, forever frozen in thought amidst middle-class English town surroundings. a leader also immerses himself in the cultural milieu, a leader's heart beats with the passions of the masses, a leader is he who lives the lives of his people.

I'm not sure if he's dressing like Osama bin Laden would at a qawwali. I am even further unsure about how much I like the people around him - I hope they are not his companions, the guy on the right seems to be sleeping, and has a large camera bag, which surely has no place at a performance such as this unless it involves a cameraman, which snoozing beauty over here clearly isn't. and those guys on the left - what is the guy in black wearing, and why are they talking? I mean, what the fuck is so important that you have to talk about it during what was clearly early-era Salman Ahmed doing the solo for Do Pal Ka Jeewan. I mean, what else would move the Bhai of all Bhais and their Behens to such a pure moment of bliss?

The eyes are focused in concentration, the arm extended in simultaneous appreciation of the sound, as well as creating a symbolic connect - like an antenna - with the fabulous energy floating in the auditorium.

Rock on Altaf Bhai, rock on.

At first, this picture seemed to have too many colours that the BJP likes to wear. That can never be good. But then, it becomes obvious that Pir Sahab is visitng another Pir and the ecsatsy of the divine union has climaxed into an orgasm of colours which have flocked to the shareer of the Bhai who is Pir.

In fact, such mortal divinity causes collective cumming across the confounded devotees, and they often like to express their honor and love. Sometimes, they do that through a placard.

"Welcome In Delhi,

Mr. Altaf Hussain

A Man Loves To All Folks

By - Indo-Pak Friendship Forum"

A Man Loves to all Folks.

How true. How poignant.

No other man has the amount of loves that he can dispense upon all folks like my Saathi. So many loves, so many folks. It is truly incredible. Don't be put off by the cringe binge expression he's carrying, he likes it - he likes it a lot, but sometimes, a man who loves to all folks also sends his love to all tribes, and the nomadic peoples of the desolate stretches that is Bumfuckistan, Pakistan, and as i had mentioned, the leader is one with his people, and his people are the Mohajir. Those who migrate. Since all of us are forever migrating, forever in transit, across time, space and the ether, we are all migrants, we are all Mohajirs, and we all have one leader - a man with the ability to effortlessly lose himself in to costumes of any one. His visceral link with the common man means that even in strange costumes, he immediately appears as the perpetual native. it is only when you look at that visage, that self-content mystique of the seer that you realise it is not just a common man, it is the Common Man.

Pir Saab can also be the Nawab, the Khan, the Malik, the Makhdoom, the Chaudhry, the Mian and the Malik, the Syed and the Thakur, the Saeein, the Saaaaaaaaaattttttthhhhhhhhhiiiiiiii... But then there is one pitcure I can't really say much about. Only a question, if you were the handsomest man alive, and you went online, what would you look at?

(P.S. All the above pictures were sent to me, as I have mentioned, in an email. I am not sure where else they are available on the web, although they must be.)

A Postmodern Wedding

Zia Ahmad — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 10:35:12 EDT

"Hope is a dangerous word" - just like any other pearls of wisdom that I am only too eager to pass on to the next available ear, this too has been derived from the ever-wise and reflective dream factory that is Hollywood. Do we ever pause to consider how drastically films have affected our humdrum lives, and how in moments of joy and sorrow some of us look up to movies as templates that our real-life actions and words should subscribe by? No other art form in human history has provided us with as many pertinent points of comparison in our lives as films (or for that matter TV shows) have.

How many people would you expect to quote a line from Shakespeare (with the exception of to be or not to be...)? If you're a testosterone-pumped dude with delusions of machismo, The Godfather and Scarface lend an almost scripture like importance to govern your make-believe life by. You even pick up the mannerisms and gestures of movie people (Robert De Niro and Al Pacino being the oft-employed culprits to any number of Bollywood actors). You name your children after your favorite movie/TV characters (ever wondered why so many Sanas that you know were incidentally born in the early 80s in the wake of Ankahi?). You revere your favorite movie and TV heroes more than real life heroes. No matter how joyous and ecstatic your happiest moment is or how harrowingly gloom-ridden your saddest, it always pales in comparison to the highs and lows of the lives that you see on screen. There is no appropriate music to play in the background when she breaks your heart; the mise'en'scene isn't quite appropriate for the struggle within you which demands more drama.

Therefore, our passions are not strong enough; our anger lacks the correct amount of resentment; our grief is not heartbreaking enough; all our emotional outbursts come out too strong or too weak - never quite spectacular enough to fit the definition of a cinematic emotional outburst. We are not filmy enough. We will never win any Oscars.

When we want to drive a point across, our diction and body fails us. Either the body language is not right, or we're forced to think up the right word in an increasingly claustrophobic moment of heated, unabated passion, or worse - we get stuck on a word and have to put considerable amount of effort to get past that debilitating fix. Unlike, actors on screen who do it flawlessly and with conviction, our faces and bodies are not trained and we are never given a strong script. It is upon us, and only us, to get by through this life that we desperately want to measure up to the films that we feed on.

However, occasionally our cultural climate doles out opportunities to compensate for the cinematic inadequacy of our lives. This prospect is delivered in the form of the greatest festival in one's life - his or her wedding. This is the one day you get to be the star of your film. During the circus show that is our desi wedding, you as the hero/heroine get center stage (literally) and the culmination of your love story (even if the wedding is arranged) is captured on video. Professional cameramen are sought to shoot these "films", and get professional editing and mixing jobs done on them. However, the finished product is by no means a proper three-hour film. Replete with a title sequence where the cast of the wedding is introduced. The bride, the groom, the parents, the in-laws, the siblings, the cute wretched Babbloos, Tinkus, Munnis... the lot.

The plot of the film may be predictable: the ultimate genre film, and most likely will have no dialogue, the ultimate genre film being the ultimate musical, and lacks seriously in the character development department, no mention of the wooden acting all around, but the film according to its budget may boast of decent production value: make up, costumes, sets and etc. It even has fancy dissolves to make it look slick. Elaborate song and dance sequences are choreographed for weeks and executed on the confetti laden pre-show that is mehndi. The emotional culmination comes at rukhsati which marks the teary eyed conclusion of the festive proceedings. And after two, three weeks of nauseating reruns of the film, real world awaits the stars of the film to go on with their tick tock lives.

Movie Review: Oliver Stone's W.: An Unexpected Bush Biopic

Aditi Nadkarni — Tue, 12 May 2009 12:35:20 EDT

When I first saw trailers of W. I expected to see a hysterical and comedic reproduction of Dubya Bush's antics. I mentally prepared myself to see some similarities with Will Ferrel's SNL Bush and wondered in anticipation if it would have the famous Bushisms, all the numerous goof-ups and faux-pas recreated. I was in for quite a surprise. W. has none of these elements. It is a biographical account that is funny only if one finds humor in the fact that a guy who, at least in Stone's depiction, seemed like an every day alcoholic loser was elected a leader of the free world and had access to the nuclear codes. You can either chuckle or grimace at the enormity and futility of the war he led a nation into. W. is a film that makes one wonder if democracy is a tool of history, just a means to chronicle the kind of people we choose to lead us and and in George W. Bush's case an opportunity for history to record that this bitter joke was by the people, for the people and on the people.

It is truly difficult to see George W. Bush as a president of anything, much less a superpower. I mean this with no malice toward the man but it really is. I have watched him stutter through several speeches, make a complete ass of himself, provide free material for Comedy Central, commit social and political blunders and now I just cannot imagine him as a leader of anything. I think that the only reason he got away with leading a country into an unnecessary war is because the rest of his antics appealed to people's sense of humor and we all just learned to dismiss his colossal blunders as "Ah, is Dubya at it again? What did he do this time?". Jon Stewart put it well when he said, W. should not have been president, he should have been a mascot for the United States. Oliver Stone gently reminds us of the anger we were supposed to feel that got lost in our uncomfortable laughter.

It is a daunting task for a director to put together a film that provides some insight into the psyche of a man whom people have already judged and learned to dismiss. Stone manages to actually give us glimpses of the former president's life before the presidential years and events that may have resulted in his actions. These glimpses, mind you, don't justify any of the craziness of the Bush years but provide an almost neutral, by-stander like slideshow of all the episodes that from the director's point of view matter toward the outcome of this presidency. Towards the end, I was laughing but not in amusement. I was laughing in sheer incredulity and not at Bush but at the people who supported him and also at those that had to scaffold his place in history so their own would not collapse.

The choice of the cast was interesting. Josh Brolin as President Bush is less farcical than the real man himself and it is his restrained delivery of the role that turns the film from comedy to biography. In the public eye Vice President Cheney and his actions have been widely discussed, criticized, ridiculed and even defended by some, but the man is so covert in countenance that his thought process seems almost unfathomable. And hence in my opinion, Richard Dreyfuss as Dick Cheney was more than convincing. He was the Cheney of our imaginations.

Dubya's "Born again" religious status, his struggle with alcoholism, his relationship with his father, his sibling rivalry with Jeb Bush and the dynamic among members of the Bush administration were aspects of the former president's life that we never really gave much thought to in evaluating his judgment and intelligence during the presidency. We never, as part of a world with its eyes on a presidency, wondered what drove him into committing such public follies or what factors fueled the cronism of those years. Oddly enough despite his lack of action in response to Hurricane Katrina, he never struck me as an evil human being who wanted his actions to cause the political or economic devastation that they ultimately have in recent years. He mostly came across as funny and lost but never as sinister and scheming as his vice-president. W. always seemed like he was just this jolly guy who was filling in for the real president but was generally clueless about what the job involved; there was a part of us that felt sorry for him as we watched him stutter through press conferences and look like a deer caught in the headlights every time a tough question about the war came his way.

Stone takes us into that man's world, the world on the other side of the press conferences, into his office, his meetings and even into his home. There are some dull patches within the film as with any biography of a political figure. I did wonder if those patches were in the perception of the audience because we come in expecting to see either a wildly comedic entertainer about George W. Bush or an openly incriminatory biographical account of a man the world loves to deride.

Kudos to Stone for incorporating into a biography his own perspective. For it is challenging, I believe, to provide a personal perspective of a life so publicly scrutinized. It may not be a historically accurate account since none of us will ever know what went on behind the closed doors of the Oval Office but it sure is a unique one that in the most fascinating manner has the ability to engage Bush detractors and supporters alike.

Action Sociology: Human Rights with Sanitation

Somik Raha — Sat, 27 Dec 2008 16:34:43 EST

Ever since independence (and from a long time before that), people in India have been appalled with the abuse of the caste system, especially the poor treatment meted out to "untouchables." As usual, well-meaning people think they can change attitudes by passing laws. And so, India has The Protection of Civil Rights Act, 1955, which punishes the preaching and practice of untouchability. Needless to say, the act made little difference on the ground in terms of changing people's attitudes.

There is no dearth of angry activism on this issue in India and outside, and as is the nature of all angry activism, the message is so loud that people close their ears and ignore it. Meanwhile, India's politicians are more interested in maintaining the status quo and milking caste divisions for votes instead of working for the welfare of the "untouchables." In this hopeless scenario, one man is running a silent revolution with a lot of success.

This is the story of Bindeshwar Pathak, whose life transformed as a young man in the 60s, when he was told by the General Secretary of a Gandhian organization that it was Gandhi's unfinished work to remove the profession of manual scavenging from India and liberate the untouchables. The General Secretary told the young Pathak that he had to finish Gandhi's mission and added, "I see light in you." The young man had no clue what this meant, but he read a few books published by the WHO on sanitation, and decided to live in a scavenger's colony for two months to understand them and their problems. People thought he was crazy. He survived, and came back with an understanding that was different from any social activist in this field.

He felt that the discrimination of the untouchables was due to technical reasons. The untouchables, or manual scavengers of toilets, were considered dirty as they dealt with human excreta while cleaning "bucket toilets." Human excreta would be pulled out of such toilets into buckets and then, scavengers would carry buckets on their heads to a location for disposal. If there could be an alternate toilet designed to be self-cleaning, then it would be cheaper for the consumer as they wouldn't need to hire people to clean it. It would also eliminate the need for the scavenging profession.

Pathak started "Sulabh" (which means "easy") to address this. He came up with the two-pit pour-flush toilet which would work in the Indian context. One pit would be in use at a time. Once the pit was full, it would would be closed and the other would be in operation. Over a year, the first pit's contents would turn into manure and could be used as fertilizer in the field. Thus, there would be no need to scavenge and clean these toilets. Sulabh's toilet product turned out to be a great hit, with over a million pieces already sold. Sulabh then channeled their profits toward retraining the untouchables to enter mainstream society - as cooks, beauticians, electricians, etc. Today, Sulabh has a whole array of toilet products to suit your budget.

Pathak also felt strongly about the problem of open defecation. Unlike those who faulted the "Indian civic sense," he recognized that the problem was that we didn't have enough public toilets. This is also a question of human dignity, especially for women, as they would suppress the call of nature the whole day and only go very early in the morning or in the night. Even so, such trips would make them a target of sexual predators, snakebites, diseases due to defecating in unhygienic environs, etc., not to speak of the health problems that come from suppressing the call of nature the entire day. Again, this was a technical problem waiting to be solved. So, he started the first public toilet in (hold your breath) Arrah, Bihar, a state where people would rather travel on top of trains than buy tickets. Pathak believed people would pay for a clean toilet experience, and he was proved right. The people of Bihar paid and sustained the public toilets. Today, Sulabh has built over 5000 public toilets all over India, including the largest toilet in the world at Shirdi for pilgrims.

Not only do these toilets generate local employment, they also collect raw material for Sulabh's energy innovation - bio-gas and electricity production. You have to see it with your own eyes - yes, your excreta can now be used to produce cooking gas and electricity.

Pathakji also understood that he needed to help the children of the scavengers get the same opportunity as others. Sulabh uses its profits to run a school where children of the scavengers get free education, books and uniforms. They also eat together with children of other communities, and learn Sanskrit, a language they were earlier denied access to. The children in this school are taught all religions so they can celebrate all of India's traditions.

And the story does not end here. Sulabh also has a toilet museum which is now on the tourist maps of New Delhi. They have expanded to eco-sanitation projects that help with pisciculture, among other things. Throughout these projects, Pathakji continued his education to go on for a Phd and a D.Litt, and has coined a new term, "Action Sociology," which he advocates as a way to solve social problems.

Behind all of these efforts is a deep-rooted spirituality. Pathakji's day begins with the entire Sulabh community praying (they sing a universal prayer) and filling their hearts with positive vibrations. When I interviewed him, not once did I sense anger against society for discrimination of the untouchables. At the same time, there was no acceptance of the injustice. Like Krishnammal and Sandhya, and in a completely unique manner, Pathakji has transcended anger and hatred to make a difference, a big difference, through social entrepreneurship. He is indeed a bright light in India who has illuminated our conscience and given us great hope for the future.

You can meet him by going to the Palam Vihar (New Delhi) office of Sulabh International Social Service Organization (although he travels often, he is generally accessible). You can also meet the other heroes of Sulabh and see their toilet museum and a demonstration of bio-gas and electricity from human excreta in the same complex. There are several volunteering and internship opportunities with this organization, if you have the time.

And if you can't visit them, here is a film I made on Sulabh in 2006. I recommend watching it in full-screen mode (press the TV icon) and using headphones.

In case the full screen feature does not work below, you can watch it directly on Blip TV.

Errata: the film says Sulabh has built over 500 toilets, when in fact, the number is ab

Follywood Sooperheroes

RukmaniRam — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 08:32:36 EDT

Can you imagine the powers their kid will have?

Now Spiderman is probably furious after watching this! Not only does his rip off not have to wear the mask (its got to be sweaty and icky in there man!) but she also got to fly! He only lost his mask halfway up his face to facilitate kissing and he had to get beaten up! Spiderwoman here didn't even throw a punch even when the dedicated duo chose to fight crime in between their song and dance. (by the way, what were the thugs trying to do anyway???)

If they can dance in the sky, why land in the middle of a filmy park to do the same?

Did Superman and Spiderwoman not have enough fun that they had to join a lakeside dance party that looked like the late 80's imitation version of MTV Grind? It has got to be.. those guys are so hammered, they don't seem to mind SUPERMAN and SPIDERWOMAN descending amidst them, and they even gave those two center stage!

And finally, does this qualify as some sort of superhero incest?

P.S: I've decided to ignore the amateur "special" effects. Especially how they become slightly ethereal when they're airborne. AND the fact that superman is wearing the wrong colored boots. And a slightly off-color tight-suit

YouTube, Idol Worship and Fanaticism

Desh — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 00:32:13 EST

Pakistan's government does not want its people to watch Youtube. Why? Because it has some videos on the Prophet cartoon story. So, they think their youngsters shouldn't be seeing anything on thevideo site including some of the most wonderful videos that can be informative.

The madness in closing your mind seems empowering in immediate term but is debilitating thereafter.

I am not sure why the Muslims over the centuries do not want to see an image of their Prophet or their God, but I assume its genesis would have been in the negatives of idol worship. And that, in turn, would be in the principle that if you start "capturing" a God in an idol you are basically negating the boundless-ness of God-consciousness.

However, who ever came up with this Islamic formulation did not understand another side of the idol worship story: form and name are immaterial - characteristics that you associate with the form or name are more important.

Another way to look at it: Name and Form are NOT different either. If you have a name for something.. you have already created a form in your mind. Description preceeds a name. Description is the verbal FORM of a physical representation. So if someone has a name for God and asserts that he does not want to have a "physical form" is, politely putting, hallucinating!

Then, does form - idol, painting or just a name or description matter? Our thoughts have already restricted the "God" in any case.

In fact, a person who creates an Idol and worships the deity by nevertheless saying that notwithstanding the restrictions of my small mind - You are boundless and Infinite - is probably more honest in his acceptance of an Infinite God than a person who tries his best to restrict that Infinite Entity by ascribing motives to "His" actions and extrapolating to "Him" the weaknesses of a human mind and still seeking to destroy the idols with a vengeance!

At least the Idol Worshipper who - mindfully - interacts with his God by ascribing Infiniteness is pointing to the obvious problem that human existence brings along - we cannot possibly "imagine" Infinity" in the real sense. He is admitting it to start off with but has found a "workaround".

Of course, the issue occurs when this workaround becomes the sine qua non of holiness and God realization.

But this is the problem with religion, priests, prophets and saints. They come up with "Philosophies for Dummies" series by trying to come up with simplified stuff and that simplification, instead of being "cues" becomes THE reality for the followers. So, while the beginnings of "not recommending" Idol Worship were probably more spiritual in intent, banning it and being fanatic about such a ban took on a decidedly superstitious route.

Similarly on the other hand, using an idol for a concentrated session of meditation may be extremely helpful, while you chant - knowingfully - verses describing the infiniteness of the entity's reality; but restricting the same entity to just that idol can be very debilitating and another route to superstition.

Therefore, in my book, both are superstitions - unmindful Idol Worship and Fanatical opposition to it.

A fanatical and a restless mind can never be at peace with itself or be one with the infinite. A mind that has an ideal or a belief to live upto has to constantly measure itself against the pole of an arbitrary prescription as opposed to the boundless-ness of the Infinite. That noise of constant, restrictive and useless evaluation creates fanaticism and restlessness taking the person FAR away from where the Truth really lies.

Blogging and Journalism: Amongst the Best the Line is Blurry

temporal — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 05:56:21 EST

With easy internet access and free blog hosting sites many people are sharing their thoughts on different topics. Some share their special interests and form groups. Others publish their creative writing. But the biggest beneficiary of blogging has been journalism - specifically citizen journalism and its impact on professional journalists.

At this time let us get some descriptions out of the way.

Journalism: reporting, writing, editing, broadcasting, as an occupation.

It flows from above that a journalist is a paid reporter working for a media organisation or as a freelancer for several media organisations. He may directly report on news or may interpret news and write view points and investigative reports. He is usually a specialist who covers a specific field or interest.

The journalists are covered by a code of conduct by the media organisation that employs them or it could be self imposed. They are team players.

A blogger could be any person who has access to a PC and internet, has a host blog and writes entries in it. They are the solo fliers. Generally, there is no compulsory code of conduct, though this distinction is increasingly getting blurred as journalists working for major media organisations are encouraged to have have their own blogs.

What is this code of conduct for journalists? Broadly it covers accuracy, objectivity, truthfulness, fairness, and impartiality. For a more detailed examination you can read the codes for Al Jazeera, CBC and BBC in order of complexity and depth.

The fault line is ever shrinking between Blogging and Journalism. Blogging - specially News and Political blogging has come of age. Gone is the period where it was words and opinions essentially unsubstantiated and based on murky half baked thoughts or hearsay borne out non-conviction and lacked clarity, vision and conviction.

Journalists - serious journalists - even if they are freelancers abide by a code of conduct, keep slant or bias to a minimum, language straight forward and error free.

In the earlier days bloggers were deemed to be free of any constraints. It was their blog, they could write whatever they wanted, they thought.

I once rejected a shoddily written, plagiarized article. The writer submitted another atrociously written article the next day. I patiently pointed out the deficiencies and errors in detail and suggested a serious re-write. He submitted a third article that was also filed under G. He complained.

In his defense the writer claimed all those articles were found acceptable and published at another site and provided a link to it. It was another site that hosted member blogs and his "articles" were "published" on that site under his blog! He was subsequently caught for plagiarizing, sacked and all his articles deleted from that site.

Today, bloggers have matured and an increasing minority is serious about their writing. And their efforts are being recognized. Read this: A Landmark for Bloggers -- and the Future of Journalism.

The journalist also has a distinct advantage over the blogger. He has support of the organisation - editors, fact checkers, proof readers all help in delivering a good copy.

The blogger in most cases is on his/her own. That makes the job not only arduous but also more interesting and gratifying.

As the lines get blurred between good journalists and good bloggers, the bottom lines becomes clearer - the best among both are those where the writing is well grounded in facts, clear, lucid, precise, objective and geared for the target audience.

Movie Review: Jodhaa Akbar

Amrita Rajan — Sat, 16 Feb 2008 11:21:59 EST

Jodhaa Akbar, Ashutosh Gowarikar's sixteenth century epic about the political marriage between a Rajput princess and a Mughal emperor, is a must-see if period romance peppered with a dash of violence is your cup of tea.

There are extravagant spectacles, pretty people in elaborately lovely costumes, stirring battle scenes, evocative music, and a lead pair who turn in their career-best performances. And for all its eye catching splendor, Jodhaa Akbar manages to shine most bright in the more intimate moments - be it between husband and wife or swordsmen squaring off against each other on the battlefield.

We begin with Amitabh Bachchan's voice giving us a little tour through the early Islamic history of Northern India, where the Mughals are the latest in a long line of invaders. With Nasiruddin Humayun's untimely death, a meaningless crown passes to his young son, a somewhat squeamish Jalaluddin Mohammad. His father's general, Bairam Khan (Yuri), takes it upon himself to serve his young liege lord's cause. By the time Jalal reaches glorious manhood in the well-muscled person of Hrithik Roshan, Bairam Khan manages to cobble together an empire for him to rule.

A newly masterful Jalal begins to take over the reins of control by sending the ambitious Bairam Khan off on a pilgrimage to Mecca (a polite way of saying "exile" as such a trip in the sixteenth century would take years) and expanding his empire. But the Rajputs, Hindu warriors of the northwest, refuse to bend knee. Jalal manages to subdue some of them but there are still too many holding out. This isn't a state of affairs that a man who wishes to call himself Emperor of all Hindustan can allow.

Enter Raja Bharmal (Kulbhushan Kharbanda) of the Rajput state of Amer. Circumstances have made it necessary for him to seek Imperial protection and he indicates that he is ready to swear allegiance to the Mughal crown - if the Emperor would take his daughter Jodhaa (Aishwarya Rai) to wife.

Once the stars have aligned to put Jodhaa and Jalal in close proximity to each other - a process that roughly takes an hour - Jodhaa Akbar gladly puts its political pretensions aside and turns into a charming love story.

There are still a number of sword fights and a lot of talk about court/political intrigue, but the movie's heart isn't really in it. The only bit of intrigue Jodhaa Akbar is really invested in, is the one between its principal leads.

Apart from a bravura turn by Ila Arun as the jealously possessive Maham Anga, every character except Jodhaa and Jalal have about as much depth as a wading pool. The villains, including the hilariously portrayed Hemu (a Hindu king who captured Delhi for a brief period of time after Humayun's death) who looks like an escapee from a Ramsay Bros. film complete with greasy hair tossing, aren't just villainous but also rather stupid and given to showing their hand rather easily. And the "good guys" like Akbar's birth mother Hamida Banu (Punam Sinha) sort of glide about and make dutiful noises from time to time. The only bit of interesting dialogue afforded the talented Suhasini Mulay (Rani Padmavati, Jodhaa's mother) is when she offers her newly betrothed daughter some poison on the sly - "Death is surely better than suffering insult," she tells her shocked child.

As for Rai and Roshan, they haven't been this good in quite some time. Roshan, in particular, gives his overworked facial muscles a little time off and taps into that well of talent that stood him in good stead in movies like Lakshya. Rai proves once again that all she needs is a director who isn't awed by her physical perfection to turn in a performance that hits all the right notes.

However, I do think that the makers copped out on making a truly fantastic film by not allowing the more psychotic side of medieval royalty (witness the scene where Jalal has his injured foster brother dragged up the stairs just so he can have him thrown down once more) more screentime, but the tiny moments wherein Jalal and Jodhaa try their best to understand each other and begin to fall in love, make up for it.

So does it take liberties with historical facts? In several places. But as a movie, it works very well.

Movie Review: V-DAY, Until the Violence Stops

Blokesablogin — Mon, 7 Jan 2008 06:12:11 EST

Eve Ensler, the creator of The Vagina Monologues along with Abby Epstein, has chronicled the advent of V-Day into communities around the world, in this film. When I first heard about the Vagina Monologues over 4 years ago, I dismissed it as a sort of "feminist-oxidized-jewellery" type (the kind who wear Orissa handloom saries with backless cholis, and silver jewellery from Janpath co-ordinated with solitaire diamond earrings) little realizing what it was about, until today.

Be it female circumcision in Africa or domestic violence in the United States, women and girls are coming out and breaking the silence. The best part of it was the inherent humor and the lack of finger pointing (penis pointing?). This is about speaking up, sharing and healing- together. This is not erotica.

It was harder for some groups to even find words to express themselves, like the Filipino women who serviced the Japanese army during WWII and the Lakota women from South Dakota.

Stirkingly absent from the chronicles, were Indian women. I went to the V-day website and discovered that they had a spotlight campaign in India in 2004. All the Mahila groups did not let the actual catharsis to happen, the way it has freed women in several parts of Latin America, Africa, Europe and North America. It was a typical "oxidized" event. The groups highlighted dowry torture and deaths over everything else. The local Mahila groups that networked with V-day simple got some free money to do more of their protests. I believe female infanticide is a more grave problem that needs immediate social attention.

Dowry has now become a hoax. (I personally know of two incidents where the girls complained to their parents and therefore the authorities within 6 months of the marriage and squeezed the "in-laws" of all they were worth. This is a new crime that is going undetected thanks to the overzealous mahila groups.) But I digress.

Personally, I can make a case for both scenarios as to why India did not take off in a huge way with V-day as many other countries did: We have a hoary tradition of elevating the woman to goddess and therefore find it superficial to do the Vagina monologues, on the contrary, it is blasphemous. The other one is that the Indian woman is so suppressed she has absolutely no thought let alone voice it. Of course, we have to allow her birth in the first place for her to think and then speak up!!

Coming back to the women in the film, the silent abuse perpetrated on one half of the human population, not necessarily by the other half, has found release. Blind customs, war, religion have all played their part in making the women silent and accepting their "lot". The Vagina Monologues changes that.

Some women from more traditional cultures are finding themselves being ostracsized from their communities and families as they speak up. This could be yet another reason why Indian women have not stepped up to this form of disclosure.

I personally have my limitations in coming up with a monologue. For one, I was so sheltered, that I neither faced incest, nor rape nor abuse. When I was 5 or 6, a servant boy tried something funny and told me to shut up, but something told me that what he wanted was odd and I went and told my parents. Right away, he was dismissed. It is situations such as these that make me truly believe in the theory of Karma. Even though I was not directly violated, there is a part of me that cries everytime I read a report on rape or abuse.

This film is not about feminism or being a woman. It is about respect. Of giving respect and getting it in return. It is about honoring the woman, about celebrating her presence on this Earth whose womb is the beginning of all human life. Let us honor the opening to that womb- the garba griha.