Perpetually confused

A trip to Kayavarohana

2008-06-20T08:50:00.000-07:00

Last night before going off to sleep I hoped and prayed with all my heart for heavens not to pour the next day.After canceling and postponing for what seems like an eternity I had finally decided to go to Kayavarohan (Karvan) for my first documention trip and noway did I want the plan to get cancelled again. My prayers had been generously answered, there was no rain and on top of that it was a bright and beautiful day. Had an early breakfast and left for the station armed with my camera and notebooks. After a half an hour wait I managed to get into a bus which would directly take me to Kayavarohan once inside I got talking to the elderly couple who were waiting with me. Interestingly the husband knew quite some about the temple and was extremely glad that someone was working on the particular site. They had to get off the bus before me and we parted with a cheerful ‘aavjo’ and his words ‘you are doing a good job...

Since I was visiting the site for the first time I was anxious not to miss the stop. The old woman sitting next to me who must have been in her eighties finally asked me where I was going. Interestingly she would pull my arm whenever I was about to get up to ask the conductor…still remember her kind and assuring face…’haji vaar che…hu tamne kahish’ I had no choice but to sit with an disarming smile. She kept her word …just few seconds before reaching the temple she told me to stand in front otherwise it would be difficult to get out of the crowded bus.

Contrary to what I had expected I came across a well maintained temple gate flanked with all kinds of shops. Inside to my utter surprise there was standing a late temple structure with amazingly well maintained lawns and fountain. Didn’t look like a site at all. The temple has been construced in 1971 but the idol inside is ancient and the iconography of the temple is what I was interested in. I took a general round and to my chagrin saw a ‘no photography’ board. After the usual darshan I realized that there were all kinds of yogic postures displayed on the walls along with various mantras and mahatmayas. The walls of both garbhagriha and mandapa were completely covered with writings…shivmahimnastotram, rudrashtakam etc. haven’t come across any temple like this before…dpwnstairs I was amazed to find whole pasupata sutra written on the walls…clear in red ink…it was a shame that I couldn’t click photographs. I decided to try my luck and went to the main office. Fortunately enough I was able to meet the trustee who was pretty helpful and guess what not only did he let me click the photographs, but he also asked one of the volunteers to go with me. He also supplied me generously with some extremely useful literature about the history of the temple.Generosity didn’t end there he asked me to have lunch at the campus itself once my work was over. I told him I wanted to see the other temples in the village too and he gave me a long list. After clicking all the desired photographs I thanked him profusely and made some notes.

Once outside I started inquiring about the archeological museum displaying all the rare finds from the site. After walking for some 15 minutes I reached to an isolated rather dull loking building which a panwala confirmed was the museum.Though there was a man standing there I could see the heavy lock on the gote…I inquired bhai museum aaje bandh che?

Na behn, koi aavtu nathi aetle lock marya che…tame jovo to kholoon

He did open the gate with reluctance and right in the outset told me not to click any photographs. The collection was beautiful though most of it was broken. I particularly liked a little less than lifesize sculpture of kala bairava. The ematiated form and the violent posture lend an eerie feeling to the image.

I was pretty tired and could do with some icecream and also thought of asking the locals for some information about the temples. The shopkeeper lady told me that bhagwan rajarajesvar temple was deep inside the village and there was the other sivalinga I was looking for.Actually the broken temple I was looking for had been renovated hence no one could tell me where the broken temple is. So I took her leave and set afoot again. Meanwhile I kept asking people for the direction and knowing my wonderful sense of direction was mentally making a note of landmarks. I passed through various lanes bylanes darwazas to reach my destination. The temple has been renovated so there is nothong interesting about the structure but I did find the sivalinga I was looking for.After clicking photographs I talked to the caretaker madhuben and her grandson. On my way back I clicked some photographs of the village and reached the village bus stop.I was told I had just missed a bus to baroda and the next would take some time to come. I took a minibus more like a chakda to por, the nearest town from where I was told I will easily get a bus to baroda. Once in the bus I started reading the literature that I had got in the temple. Got so engrossed in reading that realize when we reached baroda.

As soon as I got down the bus I rushed to the hostel and after having a ‘solid naashta’ crashed onmy bed.

geetika-perpetually confused

2008-05-02T04:45:00.001-07:00

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An open letter to Niyeti

2008-05-01T22:19:00.000-07:00

Dear Niyeti,

Since a long time your drawings are saved in my computer. Whenever I open ‘My pictures’ the folder containing them stares at my face and forces me to open it. I click on it and there it reveals an array of drawings talking about your exciting artistic journey which I have been following closely.

I have been wanting to write about them but ironically the things I want to do the most are the ones that give me maximum starting trouble I kept waiting for the right time…does the right time really come? Who knows? Probably it does …that’s why I am writing…getting too cynical I guess…chal let me come to the point..

First time I saw these drawings I recalled your early BFA works…your silent yet firm effort to gradually do away with the conventional form and still express your deepest feelings….your effort to reduce everything to lines and planes….everything rolled in front of my eyes like a motion picture. I was reminded of our loooong discussions, our aspirations and not to forget the crazy 10 O clock syndrome…because its every tiny moment which we live to the fullest that makes us what we are..

I often marveled at your ability to be different…to go for absolutely abstract works in a place like Baroda which is known for its figurative narrative trend. The painstaking method, the absolute faith and trust and last but not the least the love and passion you have for your works make them very special for me.

I think these latest drawings are a genuine example of learning unlearning and in the process learning something totally unconventional….Was I glad to see forms in your works…not that forms are essential but because I had anticipated that one fine day you will come up with a language of your own…and here I can see the elementary alphabets..

Now you are ready to speak…speak your heart out. What is the most exciting part is that you have arrived here after a long journey through difficult paths…an outstanding one…and had to face severe criticism from various quarters…But unmoved by all this you steered ahead and definitely have made a mark for yourself. You still have a long long way to go…

Wishing you all the luck and success

Love
Geetika

Destined Fate

2008-04-09T21:54:00.000-07:00

Few days back while sifting through my books i spotted a yellowish looking paper with very small print on it. On a closer look I realized it was a short story i had written back in year 2003. Rather it had been a product of a very boring and uneventful day at office. I had really liked it then and shared it only with some close friends.But as it is usual of me I lost the only print-out i had taken of the story and soon forgot all about it.I somehow never tried my hand at story writing again. In these days of retrospection its great to have found that story...

Here is finally the 'Destined Fate'

And after the long wait finally the time came for executing her duty once again. It was usually a simple task but the old woman clung to those few breaths with all her might, making it terribly difficult for D this time. D had always been proud of her capacities and seeing them thus challenged by a frail dying old woman made her furious. Sometime back the old woman had pushed her out and she had no choice but to succumb to the act. In hearts of their hearts both knew D was invincible but that knowledge did not deter the latter’s resistance.

D decided to let the old woman have her way for sometime. Maybe that would make her realize the inevitable destiny. Thinking thus, out she flew through the window and began witnessing the scenes of daily life. Aimlessly floating and contemplating D came to an open window which revealed a very cozy and lively room. Peeping inside the window D caught sight of a beautiful young girl lying on a sofa…probably deep asleep…The girl M was absolutely still, like death itself…how peacefully she slept. D looked at her for some time but there was no movement in M’s body. Suddenly D got a wicked idea. She quietly glided in the room and spread her frozen limbs in M’s youthful body, thus turning her into cold marble.D knew very well it was an offence for which she would surely be punished but the temptation of doing the unexpected was too much o resist. M was as motionless as before…but there was a drastic difference now….Now she was dead. Lying still as a statue she had invited death to reside in her.

After some time another young girl K barged in the room. Sitting on the edge of the sofa next to M she began chatting. Getting no response she touched M on her forehead and instantly a chill ran down her spine. Taking courage she tried in vain to locate latter’s pulse and heart beat. The sudden shock of her friend’s untimely death brought a terrible shriek from her and she began to cry hysterically.

All this hue and cry woke D up who had gone off to sleep in M’s body. As soon as D saw K she realized her mistake and was scared to see a friend weeping and wailing over what had not been ordained…what was just a whim…what was not true…M has a long life ahead. D had to leave before it was too late. Noiselessly she escaped M’s body and flew out of the open window.

Suddenly there was a movement in M’s body ..as if she was getting up from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes and saw a white faced and terribly shaken K. She put her hands on K's shoulder and tried taking her hand but the latter had already run out of the room…out of the house...out on the road. Running frantically with fear written all over her face K could hardly see a pick-up van which ran over her ending all her fears and worries forever;

On the other side D had won the battle. The old woman had finally given up. The ultimate look of defeat and surrender on her victim’s face elated D. She calmly resided in latter’s body. After her much awaited victory D had to immediately reach the road T for her next assignment. As D reached the place she saw K running madly on the middle of the road. It was not with a triumphant smile but a very heavy heart that D spread her limbs in K as the pick-up van crushed the latter’s body.

Art at last!

2008-04-08T04:47:00.000-07:00

Ironically during six years of college I never thought of practicing art seriously.Theory and philosophy had completely occupied me and I found myself constantly battling the flying time…to read more…to grasp more …. to actually internalize more…In this mad rush to “understand” where was the time for indulging in art itself?

While I was busy reading about radical art moments, revolutionary art theories and beauty of Indian temple architecture the practical aspect took completely a back seat. I visualized myself as someone behind the scenes…someone interpreting and deciphering a certain code….someone trying to penetrate in the artists mind. This seemingly passive role that I saw myself in, unknowingly never allowed me to artistically express myself.

Last few months of teaching expierence in College of Art and especially the glass painting workshop that I participated in made me realize what I was missing in life. Moreover discussing with students about their works and ideas which propel them ahead I started craving for producing art myself.After a long gap of sixteen years I touched my oil paints and brush not quite without hesitation. I bought the smallest canvas and started to paint a landscape…..and there started the journey which I hope never ends….

Links to the other two parts of the write up by Arun Shourie

2007-12-30T22:27:00.000-08:00

http://www.indianexpress.com/story/255484.html

http://www.indianexpress.com/story/255906-3.html

Wonderfully articualted!

Hindutva and radical Islam: Where the twain do meet by Arun ShouriePosted online: Friday, December 28, 2007 at 0000 hrs

2007-12-28T02:23:00.000-08:00

Though it mind sound like a complete exaggeration but the write up by Arun Shourie in today's Indian Express completely made my day which had indeed started on a depressed note..The fact that I m writing this post rather than sleeping on my cosy bed is the proof enough...

Not being a regular newspaper buff it is rather difficult for me to follow an article completely without losing interest and yawning infinite number of times....but reading this was different...Each line revealed thorough insight understanding and passion.

I read the whole piece while holding a soaked tissue with which i was constantly wiping my painfully watering eyes...but honestly each line was worth the pain

Don't believe me? Read it for yourself
http://www.indianexpress.com/story/254969._.html

Was I thankful that my newspaperwala inspite of my repeated instructions hasn't stopped delivering Indian Express yet!!

Artists at work-Khirsu

2007-11-29T22:46:00.000-08:00

Temple of Kandoliya Mahadeva at Pauri

2007-11-29T22:30:00.000-08:00

Relevance of Ancient Indian thought on present Critical Practice in India

2007-11-07T07:32:00.000-08:00

Often in Indian academic circles where a lot of importance and attention is given to critical theories and multidisciplinary studies the non relevance of Sanskrit texts and ancient thought is subtly stressed upon.

At the most these ancient thoughts are considered as some valuable museum pieces which have no bearing on the present art or critical writing scenario.The propounders of such ideas happily take refuge in Western theories and critical practices and quote extensively and many a time quite meaninglessly from these schools of thought.

As a student of Art History I have many a times wanted to and in my own way tried to question this hegemony of Western thought on the mind of our so called intellengensia.With all due regards to Ferdinand de Saussure, Jacques Lacan and much misquoted Derrida, I really don’t see how their theories are extremely relevant for present Indian art and literature scenario when works by giants like Abhinavagupta, Anandvardhana Batta Nayaka..etc are outdated and unscientific. Now if we argue that the relevance of great theories surpasses time and place then shouldn’t we give if not more than at least equal credit to theories of Indian Aesthetics and philosophy?

Ferdinand de Saussure hailed as father of Structuralism and in a way father of modern linguistic theories was a student of Sanskrit language and his doctoral study was on the use of Absolute Genitive in Sanskrit too.He was profoundly influenced by Sphota doctrine introduced as a philosophy of meaning by Bhartrihari in 500AD. In fact many of the foundational ideas proposed by de Saussure are directly or indirectly influenced by the Indian grammatical tradition particularly by Panini and Bhartrihari. Ironically we Indians today get taught the interrelation between Sign, Signifier and Signified as explained by Saussure but no one tells us about the beauty of Sphota theory….no one tells us about Saussure’s sources. And unfortunately we want to be spoon-fed while Western scholars do the groundwork for us.

To quote another example lets look at Jacques Lacan who for the first time related Freudian psychoanalysis to art. His theories are referred to, quoted from and provoked by most of the present art critics and feminists. In his widely known essay, "Function and Field of Speech and Language," Lacan makes an explicit reference to the Dhvani theory in order to point out that the unconscious does not express itself in language; it reveals itself through suggestion. More narrowly, Lacan traces the sources of the "full word" in what he calls "the power of the symbol," a power that the analyst can evoke "in a carefully calculated fashion in the semantic resonances of his remarks" (Ecrits 1966, 82). He adds, "this is surely the way for a return to the use of symbolic effects in a renewed technique of interpretation in analysis"

Lacan’s precccupation with Dhvanyaloka and his understanding of the text is made clear by his refering to the follwing passage from Dhvanyaloka of Anandvardana:
“A girl, it begins, is waiting for her lover on the bank of a stream when she sees a Brahmin coming along towards her. She runs to him and exclaims in the warmest and most amiable tones: 'What lucky day this is for you] The dog that used to frighten you by its barking will not be along this river bank again, for it has just been devoured by a lion that is often seen around here'....
The absence of the lion may thus have as much affect as his spring would have were he present, for the lion only springs once, says the proverb appreciated by Freud (Ecrits 82).
The example of the girl, the Brahmin, the devouring lion and the dog is one of nearly five hundred examples discussed at length in Dhvanyaloka. Anandvardhana and his commentators and others use these examples from Prakrit and Sanskrit literatures to isolate various properties of speech that facilitate poetic communication by concealing, negating, erasing of primary sense the mukhyartha. Besides being preoccupied with the suggestive functions of utterance in general, in the passages that follow the elaborate reference to dhvani, Lacan affirms the interdependence of analytic and aesthetic uses of language. This connection is particularly relevant to his concept of the "full word," its reliance on the internalization of the poetic resources of language.
Now to conclude my rather frustated outpourings I ask myself do I feel handicapped when it comes to understanding Indian thought and ancient tradition? The answer definitely is yes…My six years of arthistorical training and participation in various seminars and dicussions have not given me any clear insight in our ancient wisdom and thought….If tommorow I want to apply in any university abroad I have to devote two full years to learning Sanskrit properly.Regretfully I confess while I can quote Foucault, Lacan and Derrida like back of my hand I get cold feet when encoutered with Sanskrit texts.My meagre knowledge of Sanskrit is pitiable and whom do I have to blame?

Iqbal: Of meaning and interpretation

2007-09-10T07:54:00.000-07:00

Dil se jo baat nikaltee hai asar rakhti hai par nahi taqt e parwaz magar rakhti hai

These two lines from Jawab e Shikwa by Iqbal, a great revolutionary Urdu poet started an interesting and thought provoking debate with a friend some time back More than the discussion it was the questions raised about deciphering the meaning of any art or literally work which caught my attention and which makes me write this piece.

Before I start I need to admit that my knowledge about the said poet’s writings is negligible and hence I have no idea of his complete oeuvre or style. Therefore when my friend interpreted and translated these lines as follows I couldn’t see any point to disagree upon.

‘The voice emerging right from one’s heart has a sure impact
But it alone is not enough as it does not have power to fly’

Here he was referring to the revolutionary aspect prominent in Iqbal’s writings. He kept stressing on the fact that what the poet here wants to convey is that all weeping and wailing by itself is not enough but there is a need to wake up and put in real effort to make things actually work.

To tell the truth till last fortnight I hadn’t bothered about the couplet and also his explanation which we had discussed once before sounded quite plausible. But the turning point came when another friend, a poet in her own right, gave a totally different and to me a more apt sounding interpretation of the same couplet which goes on as:

The voice emerging right from one’s heart has a sure impact
Even though it does not have wings still it has the power to fly

As one can see here she has interpreted ‘par’ as wings rather than ‘but’ and by doing so the meaning of the couplet not only changes drastically but also it gives a whole positive and optimistic meaning to the entire piece. Though on one hand in a flash of moment I saw such a wonderful possibility in these lines my another friend remained adamant on the socio-revolutionist meaning and started quoting other couplets by Iqbal to stress his point.

While both of them were discussing and debating their manner of interpretation I was deeply hit by the Vyanjana aspect in the lines…ie. The meaning beyond the literal and the metaphorical one. The capacity of a real work of art or literature to create various and sometimes totally opposite meanings. I intercepted their rather loud argument by this sublime thought even on cost of sounding entirely ridiculous and uselessly complicating the issue. My dear friend laughed at me and declared that because I don’t know Iqbal I am taking refuge in intricate theoretical fabrications…an allegation which I often have to face from various quarters as people nowadays cannot see or don’t bother to see the relevance of our ancient thought on the present day scenario.And isn’t it why we turn to western scholars who have for most part simplified our own ancient wisdom for us?

Anyways that is a huge debate in itself..coming back to the discussion, since we were reaching no where we decided to ask few experts for their opinion. After grammatically analyzing the lines and drawing comparisons and contrasts between Ghalib and Iqbal we were informed that the second interpretation is the valid one ie.the one where ‘par’ is translated as ‘wings’

Finally our argument seem to have reached somewhere. While my friend was reluctantly somewhat convinced the question of interpretation kept troubling me and raised various questions in my mind…Would like to share some part of this introspection here…..

Why should one fix a work of art with one final meaning?…Doesn’t it limit the scope of the piece? To me a real engaging work of art or a poetry would be that which has the power of generating various meanings. To substantiate my point I would like to draw your attention to ‘Rasa Sutra’ of Bharata which has been commented upon by not less than six scholars including the great Abhinavagupta. Imagine if Rasa Sutra would have been fixed with one meaning would such a stimulating body of literature exist?

Let a work of art grow on you…explore its various facets …and if you feel like going back to it again and again then it surely will have the capacity to generate various meanings for you….isn’t that how an art writer culls out meanings not even dreamt of by the artist and hence in the process becomes an artist her/himself.

Ponderings

2007-07-13T04:33:00.000-07:00

Mute spectator
isn't that mute
It's brain constantly at war
Registering, rejecting and reinterpreting
The ongoing drama flashed on the screen!

Voilence of silence
Slow poison
is deadlier
than all the nukes!

What if I was asked
What do I want
want the most
most of all things

Would I be able to answer?

Life

2007-07-11T23:57:00.001-07:00

Joyride or a dull routine
Life has its way of which
we know not
We toil, we plan we see to it
That it remains in our control

Fickle life laughs at us
At out futile attempt to hold
And in a single moment itself
Changes our entire approach

Destiny

2007-07-11T23:54:00.000-07:00

I kept standing
and life passed by me
Making me wonder
and ultimately surrender
to that something
which men call destiny

Objectivity

2007-07-11T23:50:00.000-07:00

As imagination creeps into nostalgia
There is no way
one can say
What was and what was not

Torn between two stands
With a history of glorious past
written all over the mind
Objectivity suffers!
And quietly takes a backseat

True Story with no Glory!

2007-07-02T00:30:00.000-07:00

A story on the 20th June event organized by activists of Roots in Kashmir in Delhi on the occasion of The World Refugee Day...

.....to read more http://www.artconcerns.net/2007july/html/review_geethika.htm

.......And the world remained silent.......Wonder why???

2007-06-05T05:40:00.001-07:00

Come lets figure out at:

Satya Sai International Centre, Main Auditorium, Pragati Vihar, Lodhi Road, (adjacent to NBCC building), on 20th June,6.30 PM

And The World Remained Silent is a straight in your face kind of a documentary that highlights how Kashmiri Pandits were forced out of the valley which they belonged to and the valley which belonged to them.

visit our blog: http://kashmiris-in-exile.blogspot.com/

Unbearable Lightness of Being: Book Review

2007-05-09T22:45:00.000-07:00

My interest in Kundera’s works lies not only in his ability to trespass the conventional narrative mode but in his ingenuity to weave the story in an intelligible and extremely thought provoking manner। His move away from Realism, to formulate a more abstract and personal language recalls the visual artists of 20th C. who shunned all kinds of realism. His theoretical framework instantly reminds us of Kafka and other existential writers who have deeply problematized the role of human agency in their works...............

to read more......... ://www.artconcerns.net/2007May/html/bookReview_milanKundera.htm

Intoxication: Khyyam translated

2007-04-24T04:38:00.000-07:00

I feel drunk to the very core
fill my glass, I want some more
Why denounce present for the future to come
O! Come friend…you also have some

Ultimately under the ground will you lie
Without a friend, lover or any ally
Listen to the secret I tell you know
Only in presence of Wine need thou bow

Some stray thoughts

2007-04-24T04:35:00.000-07:00

Moments of revelation are so few
and so difficult to realize
Masked in ordinary they come
yet leave an imprint for life

Pondering on those sad lines
walking uphill in a trance
The moment froze……full of meaning
And unveiled the truth in a flash

Scissors, knives and blades
know only how to cut
Let me be a needle
to sew pieces torn and shred

Solitude vs Lonliness

2007-04-01T23:12:00.002-07:00

I cherish moments of solitude
the peace and quiet it brings to me
Letting me hear my inner voice
making me see what no one can see

But it is lonliness I deplore
this continuous longing for another soul
with whom I can truly share
Inner voice and my despair

‘Siddhartha’ by Hermann Hesse

2007-03-28T04:08:00.000-07:00

There are some books which leave an everlasting imprint on the mind as well as on the soul….some books which people live their lives by…and whose protagonist becomes the role model for them. Siddhartha is one such book which will if nothing make you think about the purpose of life bestowed on you.

Sometime back I met a friend who declared that she had found her Bible in the aforesaid book and for once understands herself better. Since I hadn’t read the book and hadn’t even heard about the author I didn’t know what to say..But the moment I caught the glimpse of the said book in a bookstore, there was no way I could resist picking it up and reading it right away.

Though I am terribly passionate about reading I hardly get influenced by the written word. To me the written word is always a suspect…a biased version….someone else’s way of looking at life which can be at the most appreciated. Nevertheless I was too curious and wanted to see for myself what had moved my dear friend to the extent that she could talk of nothing but the merits of the book.

Reading Siddhartha was easy…perhaps my knowledge of philosophy and religion made it simpler. To put in a nutshell the underlining argument in the book is focused on the need to get rid of ego and any other kind of dualistic ideas. It almost comes across as the antitheses of Ayn Rand’s Fountainhead.

Though completely fictional the Buddhist idea of constant time…time without present, past or future is used deftly by the author. The narration explores the extreme curiosity of a Brahmin boy, Siddhartha who wants to fathom the mysteries of existence and reach Nirvana but at the same time is convinced that it is impossible to reach his goal by following conventions. Disillusioned by conventional religious practices, extreme austerities and worldly pleasures he finally finds true peace only by nurturing love for all things big and small and completely shunning the narrow ‘I’, very similar to ‘I Consciousness’ discussed in Kashmir Saivism.

You might agree with the author or reject him on the pretext of being too melodramatic but you cannot ignore him. He has a definite point of view influenced greatly by all simplistic teachings in various schools of Indian philosophy. Overall it makes a quick, lucid and thoughtful reading and leaves you with a definite positive and optimistic aura.

Shattered Illusion

2007-03-20T00:54:00.000-07:00

It evades me, mocks me and
ultimately flies away
I wail, I weep but alas
am unable to hold it back

Like a bewitching enchanter
it lured me
got me addicted
And then when I was completely dependent
left me in a lurch to fend for myself

From far away………
it silently looks down upon me
I with upraised eyes, pray
pray for every second

It pitifully smiles at me
and grants me my wish
But not before
reducing me to dust.

What happened to sensitivity?

2007-02-01T22:10:00.000-08:00

As a part of one of our assignments during a seven day art writing workshop we were shown a video of the installation exhibition ‘Facilitating the Beast’ by a well known Baroda artist and we were supposed to write an opinionated piece filled with our honest feelings about a short performance which was a part of the work itself. Time allotted was ten minutes and hence there was no scope for editing.

Before sharing my ideas about the so called art work let me describe it a little. The installation work comprised of various elements of video works, a sound piece, mixed media prints and last but not the least…rows of charred bread loaves (alluding to the best bakery case), all this to remind us once again of the much hyped Gujarat riots.
So here is the piece I wrote:
As I sat focusing on the screen and digesting the images, there was a strong sense of ‘déjà vu’.Public memory is short but not so short as to forget the much discussed, debated and used ‘Best Bakery ‘case which was the main theme of the installation work

Rather than delving into what I thought or felt about the piece itself I would like to share my utter dismay and disdain at using horrible human tragedies for any purpose and more so for political ones. As we all know the above mentioned case was a really twisted and much mediated right from the very beginning. Moreover it is so well known that I feel there was no need to shove it again on the public face and that too in such a dramatic manner.

I often wonder at the lack of sensitivity that media and political personals show towards the tragedies faced by a common man, but it is really sad when artists join this bandwagon. I am not saying that an artist should not address political or social issues but what I want to problematize and question here is the use of incident which occurred few years back and since then has been all over in the papers, on practically every news channel and extensively on net.

The only reason I think is the element of familiarity and sensation linked with the issue that would lead someone to go digging for it. Unfortunately there is no dearth of tragedies in India and almost daily we hear of something or the other…..but the “Best Bakery Thing” sells. It has a smell of familiarity; people don’t really have to exert their brains too much to understand the problem..People outside India shed tears and sympathize with the victims….where is this taking us…???.I wonder whether Nithari killings will be the next sensation for the artists?

Since I don’t appreciate the concept itself I don’t see how I can comment on the performance per se which to me seems like the extension of something hollow and pointless…

Futility

2007-02-01T02:51:00.000-08:00

Omar Khayyam on the nature of existence

Futility: My understanding of Khayyam

Smoky past, fiery present and future in flames
Desire to burn, the only motivating force
Body turns to ash, soul’s existence questionable
SO WHAT REMAINS?
Just the footprints on the wet ground
Not even that
They also fade with time
Passing time feeds on our identity
How cruel?
But it will go on and on and on and on..
Like a scavenger feeding on dead bodies

Leaving no trace of existence