5th March 2005
Mae West once remarked, "It's better to be looked over than be overlooked." I was waiting for a friend to show up at Victoria (now lamentably Bangalore Central), playing cross and knots with leaves when a twig lying on the table stepped into my plate. I'd seen a Stick Insect in treks and camps before, but to have one sitting on my lunch in the city was quite another thing. The camouflage was so perfect that if it hadn't moved, I'd have snapped it in a fit of boredom.
As any animal's ability or instinct to hide itself from predator and prey, camouflage is Darwinism at its best. In nature, every advantage increases an animal's chance of survival, and therefore the chance of carrying on its gene pool. So animals will essentially resort to anything to survive. Take the Geometer Moth Caterpillar; it's so twig-like that it even has a 'bud' growing out of its butt. Or the caterpillars of Swallowtails, Pug Moths and Chinese Character Moths, which don't mind resembling bird droppings, as long as they can avoid being bird fodder.
That got me thinking of how, as humans, we have similarly mimicked our way through our world. With our changing faces, hidden agendas and secret identities, each one of us has used camouflage to survive.
Humans, as do animals, tend to blend in with their environment so that others might overlook them. We feel safest as part of a larger group of people, who think and seem alike; the belongingness serving to reduce friction and propagate similar ideals. This kind of camouflage doesn't hide, merely misrepresents. Just like a herd of Zebras to a hungry Lion. Most fashion folk and models don't dress like everyday professionals because they'd stand out in a crowd of 'alternate' dressers; just as corporate professionals don't sport wild colors and cuts in a zone where everyone's wrapped in a tie. Alcoholics Anonymous, Art of Living, Landmark, Freemasons, the Amitabh Bachchan Fan Club. In animals, individuality opens one to the dangers of losing limb and life; in humans it brings in the fear of criticism and evaluation. And most people are content merging with the decor.
Next are those that don't hide at all, but throw predators off by disguising themselves as something dangerous or uninteresting. Like the Hawk Moth, a non-poisonous caterpillar that tries to cash in on the nasty reputation of the snake and mimics its hood. Much like Rugby players on the field with their heavy shoulder pads and grills, or the police squad called in stop riots, both of who dress to intimidate. Thus succeeding in creating an illusion of fierceness that acts more as a deterrent rather than an act of offense.
Bitterns (birds native to Britain), when they sense danger, stretch their neck and sway with the reeds they builds their nest in, turning almost invisible. Much like politicians or bureaucrats who sway with the changing wind, and lie-low at the mention of trouble or hard work. Then there are insects like the Stick Insect, that most resemble their surroundings, which still during the day to avoid being noticed and are active only at night. But as is the case with us, letting down their guard sometimes gives them away. Like the Starched Face colleague who's funniest after a few drinks or a Buddha-like Actor, who turns on the paparazzi in a fit of anger.
And who can forget the mighty Chameleon. That can change color to fit any background. In the case of the human kind, a Chameleon can go from blue and friendly to white and cowardly to servile and ash in a matter of seconds. Always taking care to see which side of the color bar is more profitable to be in. This is the one pretender that's constantly watched out for, but that's rarely caught in the act.
As species evolve, their rapport with their environment improves. Often, these adaptations are more effective survival tools than an animal's (or human's) more aggressive weapons of defense. Claws, talons, teeth. Or fists and a sharp tongue perhaps.
Guess we're still animals at heart. And, like most animals, being overlooked is preferable to having to put up a fight. If humans had to go through creation all over again, I doubt we'd choose any differently. Or would we?
Friday, April 08, 2005
Thursday, March 24, 2005
# 5 - JUDGMENT DAY
26th February, 2005
Everyday, we the simple, far removed from war and crime, pronounce death sentences on people. We hang the innocent; suspect the sane and beat up an accused - in our thoughts, our reactions and our memory.
There is little logic to prejudice. The sparks are often very different from what our mind is charred with. Came across an interesting poem that illustrates this. It’s on Fire Engines and why they are red;
They have four wheels and eight men
four plus eight is twelve
twelve inches make a ruler
a ruler is Queen Elizabeth
Queen Elizabeth sails the seven seas
the seven seas have fish
the fish have fins
The Finns hate the Russians
the Russians are red
Fire engines are always rushin'
So they're red.
Apply the same logic to war. Unlike what ‘Armageddon’ and ‘Independence Day’ would like us to believe, disaster doesn’t always unite. War often means distrust, where baser instincts goad one to protect their own. Take the recent Tsunami relief camps. Even in such trying times, the Upper Castes segregagated themselves from the lower castes, and saw to it that their camps were kept cleaner than those for lower castes. The tide might have changed, but not necessarily in our favor.
World politics and diplomacy isn’t free of prejudice either. Shiv Sena leaders have, in the name of Indian tradition (which incidentally extols love as the highest form of devotion - Meera, Radha), stormed Mumbai Parks to separate couples on Valentine’s Day. An active voice against gay marriages, George Bush seems to have problems with heterosexuals getting married as well. Papers were bursting at their columns with news of the White House not giving Prince Charles and Camilla the red carpet because they are adulterers (diplomatically, divorcees). This coming from a country with an ex-divorcee President (Reagan) and an oval office that's seen more shag than my rug.
Why should the modern office be left out - Recruiters look for certain qualities in the ‘recruitee’; some based on skills and others based on traits that cause least friction at work. Loud people are considered misfits, as are people who talk too fast, too slow, too much, too little. Do we want all people to be the same nice, the same good, the same brilliant? Have we as a policy, stopped celebrating differences?
Like friends, our Gods are a mirror to us; Jesus had to fight his evils, Ram listened to a common washer man and turned his wife away, Shiva, the most revered, is easy to anger; easier to please, prone to impulsive mistakes and dopes. They’re all worshipped and loved. Maybe it is the hope, that Gods like them, will listen to our prayers more kindly, understand our frailties better. Maybe differences are god’s gift to mankind.
So, in the all-accepting New World, where everyone has a right to their views, where the individual is king, are we really all accepting?
Everyday, we the simple, far removed from war and crime, pronounce death sentences on people. We hang the innocent; suspect the sane and beat up an accused - in our thoughts, our reactions and our memory.
There is little logic to prejudice. The sparks are often very different from what our mind is charred with. Came across an interesting poem that illustrates this. It’s on Fire Engines and why they are red;
They have four wheels and eight men
four plus eight is twelve
twelve inches make a ruler
a ruler is Queen Elizabeth
Queen Elizabeth sails the seven seas
the seven seas have fish
the fish have fins
The Finns hate the Russians
the Russians are red
Fire engines are always rushin'
So they're red.
Apply the same logic to war. Unlike what ‘Armageddon’ and ‘Independence Day’ would like us to believe, disaster doesn’t always unite. War often means distrust, where baser instincts goad one to protect their own. Take the recent Tsunami relief camps. Even in such trying times, the Upper Castes segregagated themselves from the lower castes, and saw to it that their camps were kept cleaner than those for lower castes. The tide might have changed, but not necessarily in our favor.
World politics and diplomacy isn’t free of prejudice either. Shiv Sena leaders have, in the name of Indian tradition (which incidentally extols love as the highest form of devotion - Meera, Radha), stormed Mumbai Parks to separate couples on Valentine’s Day. An active voice against gay marriages, George Bush seems to have problems with heterosexuals getting married as well. Papers were bursting at their columns with news of the White House not giving Prince Charles and Camilla the red carpet because they are adulterers (diplomatically, divorcees). This coming from a country with an ex-divorcee President (Reagan) and an oval office that's seen more shag than my rug.
Why should the modern office be left out - Recruiters look for certain qualities in the ‘recruitee’; some based on skills and others based on traits that cause least friction at work. Loud people are considered misfits, as are people who talk too fast, too slow, too much, too little. Do we want all people to be the same nice, the same good, the same brilliant? Have we as a policy, stopped celebrating differences?
Like friends, our Gods are a mirror to us; Jesus had to fight his evils, Ram listened to a common washer man and turned his wife away, Shiva, the most revered, is easy to anger; easier to please, prone to impulsive mistakes and dopes. They’re all worshipped and loved. Maybe it is the hope, that Gods like them, will listen to our prayers more kindly, understand our frailties better. Maybe differences are god’s gift to mankind.
So, in the all-accepting New World, where everyone has a right to their views, where the individual is king, are we really all accepting?
# 4 - THOT
Life has plans.
But I'm sure they don't include a nine to five job or the 8:34 local
train bursting at the sides with too many people and too little time.
Or insurance papers with details marked with a 'x' you're not sure are
necessary - precautions in an increasingly cautious world.
Life. A simple word. Made complicated by the baggage that the modern
world places on it. Trips to the end of the universe to know more
about alien forms of life, but not one single visit to the neighbors
across the street.
Time. A slightly more complex detail. With days and hours and seconds
introduced to make it simpler. 365 days in a year. No wait, there are
a little more in a leap year. And 24 hours in a day. But not all at
the same time. They have time zones for that. So if we're zipping past
three continents it's possible we've just lived through the same hour
three times. Isn't that time travel? Hasn't that time already occurred
in some portion of the world?
Breath. Present in each one of us. Goes in and out of our bodies,
touching the icky insides without so much as a tickle. Makes us live
but doesn't make its presence felt…like wind and cool breeze on a
Friday evening that we know we can enjoy a little bit more because
there's no work tomorrow.
Money. Created. Little fancy looking notes and coins that rule
destiny. We can burn them, crush them, destroy them. But we don't. We
hoard them till it consumes us whole. Let bits of paper pulp lead a
monstrous existence in our head. We've given them too much space. And
like all pulp, it sticks to grey matter and turns our brain into paper
mache.
Space. A notion of what the world would be without mortar and lime.
Without ego and the superfluity of fashion. It's an innate sense of
nature and the elements and we can sense disorder even before it
happens. How and why are for the ones with scientific spirits to ask.
And to find no answers. For they prefer to peer with their microscopes
than walk barefoot through wet grass for fear of mites. Things they
will not like may surface and maybe they're afraid of believing what
they already believe anyway. Space is all the fluids of our bodies
mingling with the atmosphere through thin membranes. If we look
closely we are all one body, of equal mass and value. Bodies within
bodies within bodies.
Spirit. Soul. Silence. The absence of sound. And body. And disbelief.
But I'm sure they don't include a nine to five job or the 8:34 local
train bursting at the sides with too many people and too little time.
Or insurance papers with details marked with a 'x' you're not sure are
necessary - precautions in an increasingly cautious world.
Life. A simple word. Made complicated by the baggage that the modern
world places on it. Trips to the end of the universe to know more
about alien forms of life, but not one single visit to the neighbors
across the street.
Time. A slightly more complex detail. With days and hours and seconds
introduced to make it simpler. 365 days in a year. No wait, there are
a little more in a leap year. And 24 hours in a day. But not all at
the same time. They have time zones for that. So if we're zipping past
three continents it's possible we've just lived through the same hour
three times. Isn't that time travel? Hasn't that time already occurred
in some portion of the world?
Breath. Present in each one of us. Goes in and out of our bodies,
touching the icky insides without so much as a tickle. Makes us live
but doesn't make its presence felt…like wind and cool breeze on a
Friday evening that we know we can enjoy a little bit more because
there's no work tomorrow.
Money. Created. Little fancy looking notes and coins that rule
destiny. We can burn them, crush them, destroy them. But we don't. We
hoard them till it consumes us whole. Let bits of paper pulp lead a
monstrous existence in our head. We've given them too much space. And
like all pulp, it sticks to grey matter and turns our brain into paper
mache.
Space. A notion of what the world would be without mortar and lime.
Without ego and the superfluity of fashion. It's an innate sense of
nature and the elements and we can sense disorder even before it
happens. How and why are for the ones with scientific spirits to ask.
And to find no answers. For they prefer to peer with their microscopes
than walk barefoot through wet grass for fear of mites. Things they
will not like may surface and maybe they're afraid of believing what
they already believe anyway. Space is all the fluids of our bodies
mingling with the atmosphere through thin membranes. If we look
closely we are all one body, of equal mass and value. Bodies within
bodies within bodies.
Spirit. Soul. Silence. The absence of sound. And body. And disbelief.
# 3 - HOME ALONE
18th January 2005
Big cities, having lived in a couple, are rarely warm and friendly to strangers. Usually just large, merciless and fickle. Massive black holes, which consume hoards of gatecrashers ruthlessly. Which is probably why, despite its cosmopolitan nature and its Silicon Valley chip on the shoulder, Bangalore has consistently missed the 'Metropolitan' tag.
Studying in Mumbai, I often watched movies on my own or picked a book and sat at a café to kill time. Most times because my friends were too busy doing something else, and later because Mumbai's charming way of making one independent was also to turn them selfish. No one looks, bothers or cares to disturb. Their lives too busy to notice me. The need to watch their backs was greater, because the city was ruthless to dawdlers. Still is from what I hear.
My friend Hemal from the 'aamchi' city had come down. Took him to Road Trip, had a relaxed typical-Bangalore-working-evening dinner. He couldn't understand it; Mumbai didn't afford anyone such time. Everyone was always rushing to go somewhere, and the only friends you had were from work, so conversations always revolved around clients, what the next project was, and who landed what deal. There was no time to have a hobby or pursue one. Just work. And TV.
Bangalore on the other hand, is not a loner-friendly city. I've rarely seen someone sitting alone in a café because they have no one to talk to. Maybe it's because there's always time for friends, to make them and meet them. And competition has not reached a scale where working people need to feel threatened by each other. It lacks the vibrancy, the passion of Mumbai, but has the gift of comfort and camaraderie that I've gotten used to. So much so that Mumbai is now a happy memory that I don't miss. Bangalore spoils you for any other city.
From what I once heard, ours is a shared destiny. And civilization, at its own pace, is racing towards the same end. Every few years, we see antipodal cultures swapping ideals and values, and one will be where the other was. Guess everything comes a full circle, even the squares.
Big cities, having lived in a couple, are rarely warm and friendly to strangers. Usually just large, merciless and fickle. Massive black holes, which consume hoards of gatecrashers ruthlessly. Which is probably why, despite its cosmopolitan nature and its Silicon Valley chip on the shoulder, Bangalore has consistently missed the 'Metropolitan' tag.
Studying in Mumbai, I often watched movies on my own or picked a book and sat at a café to kill time. Most times because my friends were too busy doing something else, and later because Mumbai's charming way of making one independent was also to turn them selfish. No one looks, bothers or cares to disturb. Their lives too busy to notice me. The need to watch their backs was greater, because the city was ruthless to dawdlers. Still is from what I hear.
My friend Hemal from the 'aamchi' city had come down. Took him to Road Trip, had a relaxed typical-Bangalore-working-evening dinner. He couldn't understand it; Mumbai didn't afford anyone such time. Everyone was always rushing to go somewhere, and the only friends you had were from work, so conversations always revolved around clients, what the next project was, and who landed what deal. There was no time to have a hobby or pursue one. Just work. And TV.
Bangalore on the other hand, is not a loner-friendly city. I've rarely seen someone sitting alone in a café because they have no one to talk to. Maybe it's because there's always time for friends, to make them and meet them. And competition has not reached a scale where working people need to feel threatened by each other. It lacks the vibrancy, the passion of Mumbai, but has the gift of comfort and camaraderie that I've gotten used to. So much so that Mumbai is now a happy memory that I don't miss. Bangalore spoils you for any other city.
From what I once heard, ours is a shared destiny. And civilization, at its own pace, is racing towards the same end. Every few years, we see antipodal cultures swapping ideals and values, and one will be where the other was. Guess everything comes a full circle, even the squares.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
# 2 - LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACT.
21st February 2005
One of Karan Johar's favourite rapid-fire questions is about overrated actors. His guests give him varied answers, some candid, some not, but none, surprisingly, ever question the validity of the question. From where I see it, there are no overrated actors. Only incompetent directors.
Cinema is the director's medium. Everyone else, on the set, away from it, only sees the film in parts. The entire drama is being edited, processed, and understood, only in the director's head. He is the
connecting element between all the entities (and there are a good many) that eventually make a film. And actors, though the most visible, are quite frankly, perhaps the smallest part of that process.
Good actors can get typecast in good roles. Reflecting the ethos of the same society, the same social pressures, the craft begins to blur when faced with great scripts showing Gangster sagas, earnest cops and the hope-laden tragedies over and over again. The audience that goes to watch them enjoys the predictability, then after a couple of films, finds the familiarity of their acting good, then okay, then so what and then leaves them mildly contemptuous. Nana Patekar, Sunny Deol, Déjà vu.
But a smart director can change the equations ever so smartly, gambling, taking risks with his casting. Abhishek in Yuva was a great casting decision (though Jr. did turn the role into a caricature). The role could have been given to Manoj Bajpai or Ajay Devgan's role given to Irfan Khan but the director decided to create an imbalance in the minds of cine goers with a cast that didn't quite fit in. The focus of the audience then shifts from watching great actors do their stuff to normal actors do…what…they don't quite know. From thereon everything is a surprise.
There are many such subtle and not so subtle shifts in balance that have been attempted in Hindi films over the years. Such as Sadhana in Who Kaun Thi and Mera Saaya, Dharmender in Satyakaam and Sunil Dutt in Mujhe Jeene Do. The most recent ones include Urmila in Rangeela and Sathya, Amitabh as the underdog cop in Khakhi, Kareena in Chameli and Saif in Dil Chahta Hai. Urmila shed her sweet image to turn sexy, then shifted from that to plain Jane, Kareena went from rich spoilt girl to a bad mouthing prostitute and
Saif turned from maybe gay Casanova to the charming bumbling sweet guy next door. A smart director would give Saif a more serious part next time. Anyone who watched the effect his role had on 'Ek Hasina Thi' would agree.
It's not just the actors who need to keep themselves fresh, it is also the directors, who, when faced with a handful of saleable faces, need to make the right switches to get the best out of their script. On rare occasions, actors switch roles and attempt to place themselves in the director's shoes, but most are content to just rehearse their lines, pucker their foreheads and wait for the director to say 'Action'.
One of Karan Johar's favourite rapid-fire questions is about overrated actors. His guests give him varied answers, some candid, some not, but none, surprisingly, ever question the validity of the question. From where I see it, there are no overrated actors. Only incompetent directors.
Cinema is the director's medium. Everyone else, on the set, away from it, only sees the film in parts. The entire drama is being edited, processed, and understood, only in the director's head. He is the
connecting element between all the entities (and there are a good many) that eventually make a film. And actors, though the most visible, are quite frankly, perhaps the smallest part of that process.
Good actors can get typecast in good roles. Reflecting the ethos of the same society, the same social pressures, the craft begins to blur when faced with great scripts showing Gangster sagas, earnest cops and the hope-laden tragedies over and over again. The audience that goes to watch them enjoys the predictability, then after a couple of films, finds the familiarity of their acting good, then okay, then so what and then leaves them mildly contemptuous. Nana Patekar, Sunny Deol, Déjà vu.
But a smart director can change the equations ever so smartly, gambling, taking risks with his casting. Abhishek in Yuva was a great casting decision (though Jr. did turn the role into a caricature). The role could have been given to Manoj Bajpai or Ajay Devgan's role given to Irfan Khan but the director decided to create an imbalance in the minds of cine goers with a cast that didn't quite fit in. The focus of the audience then shifts from watching great actors do their stuff to normal actors do…what…they don't quite know. From thereon everything is a surprise.
There are many such subtle and not so subtle shifts in balance that have been attempted in Hindi films over the years. Such as Sadhana in Who Kaun Thi and Mera Saaya, Dharmender in Satyakaam and Sunil Dutt in Mujhe Jeene Do. The most recent ones include Urmila in Rangeela and Sathya, Amitabh as the underdog cop in Khakhi, Kareena in Chameli and Saif in Dil Chahta Hai. Urmila shed her sweet image to turn sexy, then shifted from that to plain Jane, Kareena went from rich spoilt girl to a bad mouthing prostitute and
Saif turned from maybe gay Casanova to the charming bumbling sweet guy next door. A smart director would give Saif a more serious part next time. Anyone who watched the effect his role had on 'Ek Hasina Thi' would agree.
It's not just the actors who need to keep themselves fresh, it is also the directors, who, when faced with a handful of saleable faces, need to make the right switches to get the best out of their script. On rare occasions, actors switch roles and attempt to place themselves in the director's shoes, but most are content to just rehearse their lines, pucker their foreheads and wait for the director to say 'Action'.
# 1 - BY THE BOOK
9th February 2005
It's damn near impossible for any book lover to walk into a bookstore and walk out without a book. But with writers and publishing houses turning so prolific, it's quite a task knowing what new book or author would be a great pick. As a result, a graveyard of unread, half read, never-to-be-recommended books haunts every bedside.
Maybe the problem is the new age departmental book store that caters to all and sundry, that in a bid to stock the floor, employs sales staff that don't read the books they sell or watch the movies they peddle. As compared to serious reader stores (thank heavens for them) like Strand and Premier, who always have a recommendation or a quick warning shake of the head before the bill has been made. Along with of course the generous 20% off.
I was wondering, if perhaps, the new stores, bereft of such good counsel, could hire avid readers and ask them to reviews books, old and new. Perhaps there could be a common rating for the store and a panel of chosen readers (or anyone who buys books from the store), could rate the books; maybe even write a pithy review on it. Or a call center number be provided so readers could call in ratings, or an online space created where reviews could be submitted.
Ratings and book reviews are commonplace now, but a bookstore encouraging it standardizes a process otherwise dependent on the likes/dislikes/whims of one reviewer, and makes a collective estimate of a book's worth. Case in point, www.IMDB.com. Also known as The Internet Movie Database. It has a comprehensive mechanism by which people all over the globe rate movies online. An average score is given to each film, and a recommendation by them is usually a safe watch.
Bookstores could only stand to benefit from peer reviews and it would, in the long run, create a greater sense of loyalty. Not to mention, provide that much needed comfort to the ardent book lover whose eyebrow is raised ever so often in the hopeful anticipation of an affirmation.
It's damn near impossible for any book lover to walk into a bookstore and walk out without a book. But with writers and publishing houses turning so prolific, it's quite a task knowing what new book or author would be a great pick. As a result, a graveyard of unread, half read, never-to-be-recommended books haunts every bedside.
Maybe the problem is the new age departmental book store that caters to all and sundry, that in a bid to stock the floor, employs sales staff that don't read the books they sell or watch the movies they peddle. As compared to serious reader stores (thank heavens for them) like Strand and Premier, who always have a recommendation or a quick warning shake of the head before the bill has been made. Along with of course the generous 20% off.
I was wondering, if perhaps, the new stores, bereft of such good counsel, could hire avid readers and ask them to reviews books, old and new. Perhaps there could be a common rating for the store and a panel of chosen readers (or anyone who buys books from the store), could rate the books; maybe even write a pithy review on it. Or a call center number be provided so readers could call in ratings, or an online space created where reviews could be submitted.
Ratings and book reviews are commonplace now, but a bookstore encouraging it standardizes a process otherwise dependent on the likes/dislikes/whims of one reviewer, and makes a collective estimate of a book's worth. Case in point, www.IMDB.com. Also known as The Internet Movie Database. It has a comprehensive mechanism by which people all over the globe rate movies online. An average score is given to each film, and a recommendation by them is usually a safe watch.
Bookstores could only stand to benefit from peer reviews and it would, in the long run, create a greater sense of loyalty. Not to mention, provide that much needed comfort to the ardent book lover whose eyebrow is raised ever so often in the hopeful anticipation of an affirmation.
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