Thursday, August 15, 2013

Waiting...



its been long since I heard my name on your lips,
the sound of my name on your lips so sweet
so much love, so much fondness in your voice
just to hear my name again on your lips
that call in your voice
that love in your tone
to hear it again
the way you say it
the way it rolls off your tongue
the way your lips purse when you call
to see it
to hear it
to respond again…  
call me loud
call me clear
let me hear it again…
am still here,
where you left…

Friday, December 17, 2010

Nalacharitham in Kathakali

I was reminded of the time I had posted the story of Nala Damayanthi as presented in Kathakali long ago on Sulekha blogs. It took me some time to hunt those pages, and then I thought why not repost them here. And so here it is:


Kathakali is a unique total theatre involving the integration of the major fine arts: Dance, Music, Histrionics, Literature, Painting, and Sculpture.

Kathakali as is performed today, is a consequence of systematic improvisations along the prescribed canons of the Natyashastra .

Kathakali is not only “NRITTA” (rhythmic footwork and postures); apart from seasoning with facial expressions to make it “NRITHYA”, it goes a step further through “Interpretation” into the realms of “NATYA”. This is why Kathakali is considered as the perfect offshoot of “NATYASHASTRA”- The Science Of Acting. This art form is a harmonious compilation of music, dance and rhythm.
During a performance, apart from direct interpretation of the lyrics, an actor gets adequate opportunity at “MANODHARMAM”- using Mudras and Abhinaya to convey images beyond the lyrics.
I am attempting to recount the story of Nala and Damayanthi as interpreted in the classical art form of Kathakali. The story is enacted in 4 parts through 4 nights- It is a beautiful experience- this story covers almost all aspects of this art form- more than the actual story line, it is the nuances, the art technique employed- the depth and finesse of the art by itself that is actually enchanting- I am not sure how effectively I may be able to bring out these aspects of Kathakali through this venture, but I wish to try.
The enactment is done by way of mudras, facial expressions- the story- lyrics is provided by singers in the background- onstage- the scenery, emotions, every aspect is expressed non verbally- it is an amazing spectacle- the larger than life costumes adds to the ethereal effect- ( amma sent me the details of the story as enacted in Kathakali- and I am posting it here, hoping you all will enjoy it.)

NALACHARITHAM- Day 1.
Background:
During the time of the Pandava’s exile after the infamous game of dice, Yudhishtira laments to Brihadaswa muni, that “None else would be as wretched and unfortunate as me..”. To this statement, the sage relates the story of Nala- the king of Nishadha.
Presentation:
Nala was a handsome, noble, well loved king. He gets to know about the beauty of Damayanti- the princess of Kundinapuram- in Vidarbha, and wishes to make her his consort. One day, sage Narada makes a visit- and the latter enumerates the various qualities of Damayanti. He does not forget to mention that she would make the ideal queen for our already besotted king . Narada muni has always been known to catalyse preordained destinies- it is upto him to prod the pace of fate.

The opening scene:
The love lorn King having lost interest in the royal affairs, entrusts responsibilities to his ministers and seeks refuge in the palace gardens, hoping for solace. He tries to engage himself in various activities like playing various musical instruments, trying to enjoy the scenic beauty of the royal garden- here, the actor playing Nala gets the opportunity to display his histrionics.
Well, Nala does not find solace in any activity, he is in the throes of love- and then suddenly he sees a beautiful, golden swan dozing by the lake in the garden. Nala creeps upto the sleeping bird to catch the swan to keep it as a pet. The swan wakes up and is alarmed to see the king- the King lets the swan escape after a charming chase- here the actor playing the swan ( the facial make –up is intricate and beautiful) comes to the fore- the king befriends the swan- and the swan grateful for not being taken into captivity wants to return the favor in some way. Nala, confides his predicament of being besotted by Damayanti and the swan agrees to play cupid-
The cupid swan proceeds to Kundinam, and is amused to find that Damayanti’s condition was equally pathetic. Obviously she too had heard of Nala’s fame and had fallen in love with the King. He makes sure that she notices him- lures her away from her companions- and eventually pretends to have come into her clasp- he teases her about her childishness, this scene is very charming and beautiful- the swan consoles Damayanti, narrates Nala’s goodness and eligibility and promises to help them.
Nala and Hamsam
Hamsam
Thus ends the first day of Nala charitham.

NALACHARITHAM- Day 2.


Nala and Damayanti are now married- The swayamvara way, there is a bit of confusion during the ceremony which is solved- but this is not delved into in the Kathakali performance. The couple then live in Nishadha happily. This segment is renowned for the depiction of “Sringara rasa”- that of love/ amour, passion.
The King and Queen are relaxing in the royal gardens, reliving memories of the swayamvara, Nala recounts how with the blessings of Lord Indra, Agni, Varuna, and Yama, and of course with the intervention of the Hamsam, they were able to get together. 

Now, Nala says, one sole rival remains to be overpowered- and that is Damayanti’s innate bashfulness- he appeals to her to shed her coyness. Nala further extols Damayanti’s beauty, compares it to various aspects of Nature, and finds nature wanting. 

Damayanti notices a bereaved Chakoram ( a bird-
Greater Coucal/ Crow Pheasant), and prays that she may never have to suffer pangs of separation from Nala.
In the next scene, Kali and Dwapara- personification of 2 yugas (eras), make their entry! They are setting off to attend Damayanti’s swayamvara, unaware that everything has come to an end. On their way, they meet the other Gods returning from the Swayamvara. They are angered to know that the Swayamvara was over, and a mere mortal succeeded in winning the hand of Damayanti. Kali decries the Gods that they let a mere mortal surpass them. Kali decides that Nala’s and Damayanti’s happiness should be thwarted. Kali and Dwapara move to Nishadha.
They reach the outskirts of the kingdom but are unable to enter the precincts, because of auspicious ceremonies being held everywhere- pujas, yagnas, chanting of mantras- etc. Kali decides to wait until something inauspicious happens- he climbs a tree ( Thaanni maram) and waits, waits, waits….twelve years pass by- Meanwhile Nala and Damayanti become parents of two children. 
Here, the actor playing ther role of Kali has ample opportunity to display his histrionic skills in Nrittha, Nrittya, he has to depict the change of seasons, the passage of time by way of mudras- hand gestures and facial expressions.
And then one fateful evening Nala forgets to wash the heel of his feet ( Achille’s heel??), before his evening prayers.- this was the opportunity that Kali was waiting for! A dramatic metaphor!
Kali enters the kingdom, seeks Pushkara, Nala’s jealous cousin who was always envious of Nala’s happiness, and instigates him to invite Nala for a game of dice. Pushkara was first surprised at having a visitor because it was only Nala who had visitors. Pushkara challenges Nala to a game of dice and expectedly Nala loses. As per the conditions, Nala and Damayanti goes on exile to the forests after sending the children to Damayanti’s parents in Kundinapuram.
Next scene- we get to see the various hardships that Nala and Damayanti have to face in the forest. Nala is pained to see Damayanti suffer and entreats her to go to her father. Damayanti refuses to leave Nala’s side.
One night, when Damayanti is fast asleep, Nala takes leave and goes on his way. He reasons that now Damayanti would be compelled to seek refuge in her father’s kingdom, and thus be spared from further suffering. He believes that Damayanti’s devotion to the Gods, and her Pativratha dharma-(moral excellence!!!???) would keep her safe. This scene is very charged and poignant. The lyrics are beautiful.
Damayanti wakes up to find Nala gone. She is heartbroken, and goes in search of Nala. Suddenly a snake bites her, and she cries in pain. A hunter hears her call of distress and rushes to her aid. He kills the snake. The hunter is bewitched by Damayanti’s beautyand asks her to become his consort. An enraged damayanti curses the hunter and turns him to ashes.
The hunter- Kaattalan- his naivette is very charming, the footwork is enchanting , from the POV of Kathakali . It is an aesthetic delight!
The songs and lyrics are beautiful.
Kattalan
Kali

NALACHARITHAM- Day 3.


In this segment, there are two Nalas-

1.Veluttha Nalan/ White Nala- Nala before meeting Kaarkodaka
2. Karuttha Nalan/Baahukan/ Black Nala- Nala after being cursed by Kaarkodakan.
Two actors are required to play the different Nalas.
Nala is wandering aimlessly, lost and forlorn after abandoning Damayanti /Bhaimi in the forests. He entrusts her safety to the Gods. He sits down and bemoans his plight- a soliloquoy. He compares life in the Kingdom with the life in the forest. He concludes that though there are wild animals in the forest, they are better than the vile men in the city. He laments that in spite of his having been a staunch devotee of Lord Shiva, he has not been spared by Destiny. He feels that people would lose their faith in God in such circumstances.
Suddenly, Nala hears his name being called –it was a desperate cry for help. Nala follows the cry and reaches the site of a forest fire. He sees a figure in flames. Nala makes enquiries and the figure informs him that he was Kaarkodaka- a serpent who was in this plight due to a sage’s curse. The sage however had granted that he would be released from the curse by King of Nishadha- Nala. Nala saves the serpent from the agony of the curse. Nala is able to do so because he has the boon from Agnideva that fire would not harm him. But upon redemption, the serpent promptly bites Nala, and is transformed into an ugly person.   At this point, Veluttha/ white Nala leaves and Karuttha/ Black Nala enters ).

Nala is aghast at the serpent’s apparent ingratitude, but the serpent hastens to console him saying that this transformation had been brought about in Nala’s interest. 
Karkodaka further advises Nala- now Baahuka to seek asylum in the kingdom of Ayodhya incognito. Baahuka is asked to offer his services to King Rituparna as the royal cook, charioteer and horsekeeper. Karkotaka further counsels Baahuka to gain the confidence of King Rituparna, impart the “Aswahridaya” mantra- the art of taming horses in exchange for the secrets of “Akshahrudaya mantra”-expertise in Mathematical calculations.

Before taking leave of Baahuka, Kaarkotaka gives a piece of garment and assures him that upon wearing this garment Baahuka would gain his handsome form and become Nala again. Kaarkotaka leaves.

Karkotaka
The music is superb, the actor playing Nala enacts the vagaries of fate, in a very touching manner. The non verbal description of the forest is wonderful.
The actor playing the role of the serpent needs to have an artistic flair because the facial make up is so intricate and has to look like a serpent!
The artiste enacting the role of Baahuka, has ample opportunity to display his histrionic talents. He has to enact various scenes in the forest- the vivid imagery is brought alive before our eyes by sheer hand gestures, facial expressions, eye movements, and footwork! It is indeed an enchanting experience to behold! Baahuka enacts a scene where he watches a pregnant doe trapped in between a forest fire on one side, a raging river in spate on another and a ferocious hunter on the third. The panic stricken eyes of the doe can be enacted so effectively here, the artiste then proceeds to enact that suddenly there is a thundershower and the doe manages to escape!

Baahuka proceeds to Ayodhya, joins service of King Rituparna as advised by Kaarkotaka.
In his quarters in Ayodhya, Baahuka is unable to go to sleep as he is assailed by thoughts of Damayanti, the pangs of separation haunts Baahuka and in a soliloquoy, Baahuka relives sweet memories and sheds secret tears. Another courtier/ charioteer Jeevala who shares the quarters wakes up and on seeing Baahuka in sorrow asks him as to which woman was that causing so much of agony and Baahuka evades a reply! This too is a poignant scene in this segment. 

Meanwhile, Damayanti has reached her father’s kingdom and is now making enquiries about Nala’s whereabouts. She sends trustworthy Brahmins in and around the country in all directions. Each messenger is supposed to present a riddle ( coined by Damayanti) in the various courts and elicit an answer. It is Damayanti’s conviction that only Nala would be able to give the right answer. Naturally, the Brahmin who reaches the court of Ayodhya receives the right answer to the cryptic riddle. The Brahmin rushes back to Damayanti to inform her of his success. Damayanti is sure that Nala lives in hiding in Ayodhya. Now, she sends another Brahmin- Sudeva to return to Ayodhya with the announcement that Damayanti, the princess of Kundinapuri was getting ready for a second Swayamvara after having been cruelly abandoned by King Nala. Sudeva- a clever Brahmin assures her that he would see to it that the message is delivered in the court of King Rituparna at the earliest.
Sudeva reaches Ayodhya, announces that Queen Damayanti , unable to bear a lonely life had decided to go in for a second swayamvara which was to be held in Kundinapuri in 2 days, and if King Rituparna hoped to try his luck, he had to set forth immediately due to lack of time. Now, again, Damayanti knew that only Nala had the prowess to travel such a long distance within the prescribed time limit- he had the power to travel wind speed due to the blessings of Lord Vaayudeva! Baahuka is upset at the news as well as intrigued- Sudeva observes Baahuka’s expressions covertly and is confused- Baahuka naturally offers to ride King Rituparna to Kundinapuri and assures him that they would reach in time for the Swayamvara!

The actor donning the role of Sudeva should have a sense of humour to impart in his enactment- the sly covert expressions as he watches Baahuka- his way of describing Damayanti’s plight- all are highly enchanting.
There is also scope for description of the Kingdom of Ayodhya, the selection of suitable horses to go to Kundinapuri – the songs in this segment are beautiful and heart warming.
Baahukan

NALACHARITHAM- Conclusion


The final segment is perhaps the most poignant in sentimental content- touches the pinnacle of emotional depiction!
The scene opens with Damayanti sitting in the terrace of her palace with her sakhi/ companion-Keshini. She is distraught but not angry with Nala for having abandoned her in the forest. She is convinced from Sudeva’s description and from the fact that her riddle was answered correctly, that Nala was hiding in Ayodhya, but she is confused about the description of Baahuka.
Now, Damayanti was waiting for the chariot from Ayodhya to arrive.She knew that only Nala would be able to cover this long a distance in so short a time. She sees smoke and dust in the distance .As the chariot nears, she is able to identify two of the occupants- King Rituparna, and charioteer Varshneya, but not the third occupant, an ugly, dark complexioned stranger. She is disappointed because she had expected to see Nala. All this is depicted by the actor playing Damayanti by way of mudras, facial, eye expressions only- truly an amazing performance!
A saddened Damayanti tells Keshini that perhaps all her efforts in tracing Nala had been in vain. She bemoans that her Ishtadevatha – had no compassion for her. Damayanti considers various options in seeking out the facts. She deliberates on whether it would be appropriate for her to go directly to this ugly stranger and make enquiries, or perhaps send the children to him and observe his reaction. Eventually, she decides that such steps were perhaps not appropriate, did not become a Queen of her stature, so she resolves to send Keshini instead to make enquiries and also observe the stranger’s actions stealthily.
Damayanti and Keshini
Keshini proceeds to accost the stranger, asks him details like from where he came and what was his situation. She explains that her lady- Queen Damayanti had sent her to make these enquiries.
Now, Baahuka is upset that Damayanti seemed to have no compunction in entering into a 2nd Swayamvara- the clever Sudeva had gone to great lengths to describe Damayanti’s beauty, loneliness, anger, sorrow- while at Ayodhya, all as per directions of Damayanti.
Baahuka, upon reaching Kundinapuri is puzzled that the kingdom seemed to be devoid of any festivity and celebration for the Swayamvara.
Upon being interrogated by Keshini, Baahuka replies only vaguely. He is unable to conceal his annoyance and envy about he fact that Damayanti seemed to be eager to marry again. This segment is amusing while being poignant- Baahuka’s anger, Keshini’s reaction, her covert observations of the former’s expressions, trying to read between lines to see if it is indeed Nala in disguise.
Finally, Keshini asks Baahuka to repeat the answer to the riddle, Baahuka obliges, and then sarcastically points out that it being night time, it was not appropriate for a woman to be dallying with a stranger and she better be going. An embarrassed, yet relieved Keshini withdraws.
Now, it was Baahuka’s responsibility to cook for King Rituparna. He is supplied with all the ingredients but is not given access to water and fire by specific directions of Damayanti! Keshini has been instructed to watch Baahuka’ actions discreetly. Now Nala has been blessed by the Gods that he would be able to cook without fire or water. Baahuka proceeds to invoke Agni and Varuna, and begins cooking. This scene is very entertaining- how he invokes fire, gets it going, how he cooks, the various dishes, all in mime.
After serving the King, Baahuka retires to the chariot. He absent mindedly notices that the garlands adorning the chariot have all wilted, Baahuka caresses them, and Lo! They become fresh, fragrant blossoms. Keshini has been watching everything.
She rushes to Damayanti and reports everything- this scene- relating of various incidents by Keshini, Damayanti’s increasing excitement upon being convinced that it was indeed Nala- is beautiful. But Damayanti is perplexed as to how Nala’s handsome countenance got transformed into this hideous form.
Damayanti goes to her mother, relates everything to her and seeks her permission to talk to Baahuka. She then summons Baahuka .
The scene where the two meet is charged and poignant. Baahuka has worn the garment that Kaarkotaka had given him and has recovered his own handsome form! The hide and seek is over! Both of them exchange their respective grievances- Damayanti at being abandoned in the forest to the mercy of wild animals, Nala cannot curtail his anger when he thinks about the 2nd swayamvara, He seethes in anger upon remembering Sudeva’s detailed description about Damayanti’s loneliness, he seems to forget that he had abandoned her callously in the forest.
Damayanti tries to placate him, she assures him that the drama of a second Swayamvara was only a ruse to get Nala to Kundinapuri. Nala is not convinced and and it takes a voice from the skies to believe that Damayanti was indeed guileless and chaste! ( so much for womanhood-I personally do not enjoy this part much- )
Anyway, all is well that ends well, the couple is reunited and they proceed to seek blessings from Damayanti’s parents and see the children.
In this last segment, the emphasis is on sentimental drama, Music is beautiful, Baahuka’s jealousy, ire, Damayanti’s yearning to have a glimpse of Nala, their reaction on seeing each other after the estrangement, are highly endearing, touching.
NalaDamayanti
The actors playing the roles of Nala and Damayanti usually get so carried away by emotions that real time tears flow- the effect is added to by rich, moving mellifluous music and meaningful lyrics!
As one friend had pointed out in the comments on sulekha, apart from the  social conditioning woven into this tale -like Damayanti's chastity, color based concepts of beautiful and ugly etc., the performance as an Art form is enchanting. 


All the images, that I've used here are taken from the web. If there are copyright issues, I shall delete them upon notification. 

(Kathakali- A Total Theatre)



 

Friday, July 23, 2010

On the other side...

It was the unspoken words, the raillery, the laughter that one noticed most in their lives. Yes there were squabbles, but short lived. Laughter resounded most- his deep throated guffaws and her suppressed cuckoo like giggles. Until now that is…
  
Now at this juncture where it almost seemed like she might just disappear beyond the horizon, he felt utterly lost, devastated. Of course, it was natural, but to actually watch his raw, naked fear of being left alone was heart wrenching- it was like watching souls getting ripped apart. The pain in his eyes, the twitch of his lips, that pause as he swallowed a choke in the throat…the sheer loneliness he felt was so tangible that one could slice through it with tears. The helplessness of  not being able to be near her, touch her, give her solace , to simply tell her that he was beside her always…the craving to get her back, back from that scary precipice- the edge of beyond. He seemed to be ready to give away anything- ANYTHING in exchange to have her back, outside that freezing ICU, back into his life. The mundaneness of Daily Life now seemed so enticing and so far away…

As she lay drugged within the cold walls of the ICU, on this side of the wall, the hours and the minutes slithered by heavily in anxiety and fear, striving to keep the scariest thoughts at bay.  To wonder how much was she aware of , if she felt pain, if she was afraid? Did she feel alone, did she feel abandoned? When the sedation wore off, did she open her eyes wondering where she was, what was happening? Where was everyone? Perhaps she is just vaguely aware, hopefully, just so that she is not scared, she is not in pain, she does not feel lost… 

She left…


Wednesday, July 16, 2008

The point of no return

“She has gone.” He sobbed.
“Did you ever raise your hands on her?” she asked softly. There was no answer. “Did you hurt her anytime?” she repeated. He lay his head on the table, his face ensconced within his arms. “Yes”, his voice a barely audible whisper.

Somehow that single admission changed the whole perspective. The issue had become “Abuse” now. Appearances could be so deceptive; she thought. This man sitting in front seemed so vulnerable and broken.

Why did this change everything? She was aware that mere words could sometimes inflict deeper wounds than physical abuse. Yet resorting to violence especially against your spouse sounded so bestial.

What is it that provokes a person to raise their hands to inflict injury on another? Among the lower strata of society, the act needed minimum provocation. It was a way of life and neither the perpetrator nor victim let it disrupt routine life. Perhaps that included routine.

However, in the so called cultured, sophisticated society, the terminology and connotations were different. What goes wrong in a relationship, especially one that had been forged through love and passion? When and how does hatred, contempt creep in? How does the layers of feeling get eroded and frayed over the years? When does the equation get reduced to such a level that one stoops to using physical strength with scant respect to one’s spouse? Mere instinct? Just uncontrollable rage? A level of complacence?

She could not judge. She did not know the whole story. She had known them individually, and both were such good persons. But together, they turned out wrong for each other. Who would’ve imagined? And violence? She couldn’t even believe it. Just goes to show that one could never fathom humans or relationships. She felt helpless and desolate thinking of her two friends trapped in matrimony.

Monday, July 07, 2008

Horizon Hues

She stood next to him, leaning on the parapet wall overlooking the deep blue waters. Both of them kept their blank gazes focussed on the slithering silhouettes of the fish. She was conscious of his nearness, they were just short of touching. The fabric of his shirt and her duppatta were immersed in a playful revelry of their own. She was looking at him from the corner of her eye, when he suddenly turned to look at her full in the face. Startled, she looked away hastily but not before noticing a naughty glint in his eye. She felt like a thief caught red handed. Her mind raced trying to think of some small talk. He was about to say something, but stopped short of uttering the words. Unspoken thoughts lay saturated in the pink twilight mist.

Something had changed suddenly. Perhaps it had not been sudden, it had been creeping upon them slowly, stealthily. Only they had not noticed it. Or may be they had sensed it approaching but chose to ignore it? Thoughts and ideas had simply flowed between them unhindered. She knew his past and he knew her present. They had just woven their notions, opinions through the frontiers of time unfettered by emotions. There had been no confusion…until now? The skyline was turning grey.

Today was different. Why? A web was being woven and they seemed to be getting enmeshed. Feelings had entered silently, words that emerged from the mind took a detour through the heart and got lost at the lips. Silence loomed large. The horizon was tinged red.

He abruptly straightened himself. Folding his arms resolutely across his chest, he gazed beyond the horizon. Without looking at her, his voice barely above a whisper, “Its getting late. You better get back. I too have to leave. I’ll get you a cab “. He turned and started walking. For a moment, she stood looking at his receding figure, then wrapping her duppatta closely around her, she stepped forward, “Please don’t bother. I’ll take a rick. There’re a few waiting over there.”

She hurried ahead without a backward glance. The chill dusk was closing in. He turned back again to look at the blurred black skyline.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Remorse

Sharada was deeply immersed in the book she was reading when her assistant (household help) Leela spoke to her hesitantly:

“Akka, I was actually considering quitting at the end of this month and so when you told me yesterday that you had dreamt the situation, I was shocked, taken aback that I could not reply then.”

Leela’s faltering words succeeded in seizing Sharada’s attention totally from the book she was reading. Sharada kept the book aside and turned to Leela. She had no inkling that Leela was considering quitting. In fact, when she had seen the scene in her dream that of Leela making the announcement that she was about to quit, Sharada was more amused and had recounted to Leela her dream. She had been confident that the situation would not transpire. Sharada was jolted when Leela announced that she was indeed considering the option.

Leela had seemed most content and Sharada too was very happy with the former’s honesty and efforts. Sharada believed that she had been treating Leela with respect and dignity. Sharada asked her to clarify.
Leela hesitantly murmured:

“Akka, everywhere else where I work, they have increased my pay bit by bit. Its only here that the pay has remained the same since the past 5 years… In fact some of the others where I work have even begun grumbling that I’m working for you for much lesser than what they give. And the prices have increased so much that it has become very difficult to pull on. Last month was very difficult what with my father- in –law being hospitalized.”

Leela’s voice was breaking by now.

Stung with remorse, Sharada was at a loss for words. Actually, she had wondered each time she gave Leela her monthly wages, if she shouldn’t be raising the amount, but then since she had begun with a fairly good value, and Leela seemed quite satisfied, she had taken it for granted that Leela would mention if it wasn’t enough. Sharada admonished herself for not having thought of it on her own.

“Leela, I had not realized your predicament. I just assumed that since you did not mention anything everything was fine. I realize now that I should’ve done the needful earlier and not brought the situation to this point. I wish you had told me. You mean that if I had not actually told you about this dream of mine, you would’ve just quit at the month end and I would have never known the reason?”

Leela smiled sheepishly through unshed tears. She struggled to find her voice.
“Akka, it is very difficult for me to put in words my dire situation and helplessness. I was hoping you would observe and come to the decision on your own without me having to make a request.”


Sharada was filled with guilt. She understood that Leela’s tears were not because of her poverty or difficulties. It was more about having had to speak about her helplessness to her. Sharada felt ashamed that she had allowed the circumstances to reach this juncture. She decided to make amends at the earliest, however she would’ve to discuss with her husband too. Sharada assured Leela that she would let her know of her decision the next day.

Sharada waited for Leela to come the next day.
“Leela, both my husband and I feel that we have not done the right thing by you. We should have raised your pay without your having to bring our attention to it. We are terribly sorry for the lapse and we would like to make amends by paying the surplus for last year. Please accept it.”

Leela smiled, “No akka, please don’t feel bad. And please don’t misunderstand me, but I cannot accept the payment for the past months. Just give me the raise from next month onwards. That will be enough.”

Sharada tried her best to persuade Leela to accept the pending payment but Leela politely refused. Sharada was left holding the money in her hand and her heart was filled with admiration for this woman of dignity and self respect.

Sharada was grateful for the dream that precipitated the turn of events or she would’ve lost a good, honest assistant and missed knowing a person of such dignity.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Something lost, Something missing

Far away in my village
A tree fell
Staked out from its roots…
Verdant Guardian since centuries
Simply down to dust
In a singular moment!
Steady, sturdy presence
Essence of the village persona
Now no more?

It came down with a deafening noise
Breaking thru the silence
Shook the villagers
The sight that met their eye
Of the Glory now prostrate
Chilled their hearts….

And yet the next morning
The sun rose
From the east
Like nothing was amiss!

They wanted to build a
Platform around it…
It was a bad omen
Some said

Today, when I close my eyes
I can still see the quivering leaves
I can still hear
Their ceaseless whispers…
But when I open my eyes
There is just the barren dust…
And some crisp, crumbly roots…

Something less, something missing
From my soul…
A piece of me was uprooted too
That day when the canopied splendour
Came crashing down
To meet the earth…


context:http://ardramaamsandhyakal.blogspot.com/2005/01/rustic-splendour.html

Monday, February 06, 2006

Shabd- The movie

Producer/s: Pritish Nandy and Rangita Nandy
Director: Leena Yadav
Cast: Sanjay Dutt, Aishwarya Rai and Zayed Khan
Music: Vishal-Shekhar
Lyrics: Irshad Kamil and Vishal Dadlani (guest lyricist)


This can’t be called a review – its just my response to the film as I watched it- my way of perceiving it…
I had been wanting to see this movie based on the little info that I had gathered from here and there- the reviews that I had come across were quite discouraging and unflattering- and yet I knew I wanted to see it- my curiosity had been nudged- and when they relayed it on Star Gold this weekend, I watched it eagerly- and frankly I enjoyed it.

The theme is yet again love triangle- except that the third angle has the older woman – younger man scenario.
The husband- Shaukat Vasisht- Sunjay Dutt, Anatara Vasisht- his wife- Aishwarya Rai, and Yash- Zayed Khan.

While the circumstances leading to the younger man- older woman relationship is not very plausible, I could understand the plethora of emotions and conflicts that the situation led to…The questions raised, the doubts faced- the justifications, the validations, the imbibed conditioned thinking , the concept of rights and wrongs- - all seemed very genuine and realistic. To me, it seemed like a very honest peek into the psyche of the characters…

Shaukat Vasisht- a writer who was facing a lot of criticism with his last creative venture- is determined to overcome his writer’s block and regain his audience. He was specifically accused of writing unreal/ fantasy stuff- and so he wants to give ‘real’ to his readers- he looks around for his hidden muse- finds his beautiful wife- Antara (whom he calls Tamanna in his thoughts)- and decides to ‘employ’ her as his muse- he attempts to prise open her comfortable shell of self complacent contentment- probes her to delve within and search for repressed discontent- seek her hidden true self…tho Antara is baffled in the beginning- she claims complete contentment…she slowly begins to wonder on these lines- and this path to self discovery is catalysed by the appearance of a new younger co- worker- Yash.

Shaukat is excited by this new character, and encourages Antara to explore new possibilities in relationships. He is obsessed with the experimentation of his new topic- Woman, the Forbidden boundaries- the concepts of Rights and Wrongs wrt relationships.
Though Antara refuses to comply initially, he convinces her to withhold her marital status from Yash. Antara is uncomfortable with this especially because Yash makes his affection for her pretty obvious. However, Antara begins to enjoy his exuberance (which first, she had found annoying), his mischief- and of course his attention and admiration. She discovers little joys in his company- like spontaneity, uninhibited laughter- and enjoying little, trivial things in life- all those which she had forgotten existed- she realises that she had simply fallen into the expected groove with marriage- comfortably and conveniently performing her duties as a loving wife – and though she loved her husband- and had no regrets- she rediscovered the joy of living in Yash’s company! And now she is afraid of falling in love with Yash…

Shaukat notices the changes in Antara- he understands what is happening- and believes that everything was happening as he conceived for his story plot- the writer in him is excited and thrilled- but the husband in him is beginning to worry and get insecure, scared and sad- the conflict begins in his head- between Shaukat the writer, and Shaukat the husband…

Yash, blissfully ignorant that he was playing a part, is happily in love- he tells Antara the qualities that he finds in her endearing- her hesitations, her coyness, her laughter, her holding back…and Antara feels helpless- she is caught in between his affection and her loyalty to her husband.

It dawns on Shaukat that perhaps Antara ws developing a soft corner for Yash- and that it was time for the husband to intervene and reclaim his wife- he decides that the ‘character’ Yash had to die- and he inserts Yash’s “suicide” into his plot.

Antara meanwhile is unable to cope with new emotions for Yash, sense of deceit and guilt , and her convictions about “rights” and “wrongs”. She confesses to Yash about her marital status- admitting that while Yash had brought into her life a gift of joyful moments- and that she would cherish the memories of the wonderful moments that they had shared…she was very happy and in love with her husband. Yash is devastated but wishes her well and moves away gracefully.

Shaukat at first is disappointed that real life had moved away from his ‘script’- Antara is aghast that he had been seeking/ weaving a story out of her life, that he had been egging her on to “let go” of conditioned thinking, her ideas of rights and wrongs for the sake of his creativity- she confronts him accusing him of insensitivity and ignorance of the ways how reality worked- she tries to make him realise that Fiction was different from the real world…when real individuals and real time emotions were involved.

But Shaukat is unable to take it- he was by now enmeshed in a web of his own making- that of creative obsession! He had been proud that he was able to chart and predict uncannily how the characters in his story would speak and behave. He was convinced that his words were powerful and self fulfilling! He was sure that Yash would commit suicide because he had penned it so- and now the prospect terrified him- he tottered between real world and fiction and was unable to make a difference- he keeps on searching frantically for the last page of his story to change the climax-

Antara realizes what was happening to him- she tries to assure him in vain that his words would not prove prophetic- but Shaukat was too far gone from reality by now- he has to be admitted into a re-hab centre, and she is confident that some day he would return to her …

I liked the metaphors, the imagery- the direction- the play of the raindrops on Sunjay Dutt’s face- I lack the knowledge to describe such things technically except to say that I liked it-

I liked Sanjay’s acting- but wished that they had other actors play the role of Antara and Yash. Aishwarya of course looked beautiful but Aishwarya’s mannerisims masked Antara- and so also with Zayed…however as the story progressed, I forgot to notice the indiscrepancies- the characters of Antara and Yash loomed larger, tho I’m not sure it was because of their acting prowess or my own involvement with the story.
Sadia Siddiqui in the role of the domestic help tho miniscule- was impressive.

Though the idea of a writer husband encouraging his wife to have an affair for the sake of his creativity sounds too far fetched- the questions raised were very genuine –

And it often happens with me that while I do enjoy the nuances, the dialogues- the direction while watching a movie- most of the time on retrospect I tend to remember a movie less favourably with passage of time, so I wrote this out before the ‘feeling’ evaporated.

I remember, many years ago there was a similar story attempted in Malayalam- I think the name of the movie was “Rachana”meaning “composition” in which the writer husband ( Bharath Gopi) persuades his wife ( Srividya) to encourage the affections of a very naïve, simpleton co-worker ( Nedumudi Venu) - and then finally invites him over to their home for dinner- and there the husband makes his appearance- the co worker is shocked, embarassed and mortified- so much that he commits suicide - the wife is unable to handle the guilt and becomes insane, and the wretched husband is left to repent and regret forever…

Thursday, February 02, 2006

The Eternal Wait

The sound of the approaching train barged into her senses and she was startled out of her stupor. Subconsciously she moved into the “waiting” mode. It took some moments for her to remember that she had nothing to wait for. Her wait had ended two years and four months ago…She knew that and yet but her heart still continued to wait – it seemed to refuse to believe and accept that her wait had come to an end…she had been programmed to wait and could not be deprogrammed!

Before the wait had ended two years ago, the sound of the approaching train meant that he was about to arrive- it meant anticipation, increased heart beats, excitement as she waited for the approaching footsteps. The moments ticked by heavily, each leaving a footprint in her heart. Her ears would be alert to every rustle outside her door- her world would be reduced to just a single all pervasive action- that of waiting…

As the familiar footsteps approached, she’d get into a tizzy of excitement, sheer happiness. She’d rush to open the door- and there he’d be standing outside towering over her at the doorstep- that first moment would freeze- him looking at her and she at him- only after a few moments , would both of them come back to the mortal world- and she would step aside, to let him in- the moment she closed the door with her heart in her mouth, he would swoop her into his arms – and she’d cradle his neck with hers….

Now it was two years since he had left- forever- her wait had come to an end- but even now, when she heard the sound of the approaching train, her senses perked up in reflex- she could not unlearn it- For her, the wait had become Eternal- the wait for the footsteps that would never reach her door…

Monday, January 30, 2006

The Wall Of Silence

Silence, Silence, Silence…why did he never reply? She had called out so many times, but it was like he never heard her cries….but she knew he would’ve heard- he just chose not to respond- Why had she been chosen for silence? Did he think his silence was louder than his words? Did he think she could hear his thoughts through silence? Did he expect her to understand his unspoken words?

Or was it that he did not want to respond? But if so then why? What had she done to deserve this silent treatment?

She was sure she had given him no reason to rebuff her thus..or had she? Nothing that she could recall…or perhaps he had misunderstood her at some point in the past? Perhaps he had misinterpreted her words- sensed some unimplied meaning to her actions?? May be he was not used to her kind of expressions? May be he perceived her words, actions in a way different from what she had intended?

But how would she know the reason unless he broke his vow of silence? Unless he told her what he thought/felt? She could not read his mind…how could she clarify otherwise- reassure him that she had implied nothing offensive in thought, word or deed???

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

To a friend who left...

Hi …
Just thought of telling you that
sometimes I miss you..lots…
But let me tell you that
sometimes I don’t…
Sometimes I want to talk to you
Sometimes I just want to listen…
And sometimes I don’t know
what I actually wish-
Sometimes I think I should
wipe out every memory,
every thought of you…
And sometimes I want
to cling to even the tiniest moment
And don’t want to let go ever…
Sometimes I ask why, how..
Sometimes I just don’t care…
Sometimes I think
I’m getting used to your absence
And sometimes I feel its unbearable
Sometimes I think I’ll get over you…
And everything will be fine
I’ll keep moving
And sometimes I’m stuck…
I feel lost

Knowing that the past
will never come back…
Knowing that the future
will bring more painful realities…
Sometimes I can accept
And sometimes it hurts
There are some moments
which flash in my mind’s eye-
Which I hold close to my heart…
which are precious...

I always knew you’d leave
But when you did
I realized I was hoping
You’d stay…

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Hear me Please...

I don’t care about your name
Or what they call you by
I don’t care how you look
Two heads or four arms
Or a crown of thorns
With nails pinning your arms and feet
Or whether you sport a turban and a beard…
I just don’t care how you look
I just need you to be out there
Up there or anywhere
I need to know you’re keeping a watch
That you’re looking out
That you’ll take care of things
Not just me, but all of us..


Its not enough to know
That you’re within me
Or within everybody
I’m yet to learn to trust in me
And in the rest of us mortal creatures


I need you, YOU, YOU…
To have faith, to have trust
I need to know desperately
That I need not worry
That things will be fine
Even when they seem bleak


When I see things happen around me
Calamities and disasters
Floods, hurricanes, earthquakes
I’m struck with dread
I cannot understand why some suffer
I cannot fathom
Why I’m spared
I see no reason, no logic
in the stream of happenings
I’m sure you do
Just that its beyond my finite senses
So you see why I need you…


Sometimes its not enough
That I’ve been blessed
Becos when I see the lesser fortunate
It doesn’t help
Even as I’m grateful
Somewhere it niggles
Becos I see no difference
in me from them
And I know to You,
all are the same
in them I sense myself
and the ones I love
I can claim no redeeming trait
That isolates me from them…


After all they laugh the same laughter
They shed the same tears
They bear the same pain
But they suffered and they died!
And a piece of me died with them!


Such random selection
Breeds fear within
Today they, tomorrow who?I? Us?
How does the elimination happen?
This uncertainity haunts me…


As I beheld the wake of Nature’s fury
In all its raging splendor
The sights that met my eye
Staggered meI felt lost,
I knew not where to look
When I saw them look
out of their windows
In their marooned homes
The despair, the helplessness
Mirrored in their eyes
Reflected in their visage
Wrenched my soul
Suddenly, nothing mattered
It just is!
Good, bad, rich, poor
Right, wrong, no one cares
Its just you or me or them-
its just the same
the “why’s” just echoed
seeking an answer seemed pointless…


a sense of defeat, a sense of foreboding
a helplessness, a hopelessness
a bleak despair
a nameless fear
pervades my being


I want to shake off this murky stupor
I long to look around
Once again in amazed wonder
I need to reawaken Hope and faith yet again
That which has been
Shocked to numbness
I need to defrost
The spark, the zest for Life
For without faith and Hope
I’m just a breathing corpse!


So please tell me ...
You hear meHear me, please…
Can you hear my silent screams
For myself and the rest of us?
Tell me you do…


the above lines I scribbled in a wave of impulse just after having returned home from the Kaveri bridge- here, where we live- there had been floods in Nov- a husband left his wife and kids at a friend's home- at a safer area- but he remembered something important to be retrieved- and went back to get it...he never came back- his body was recovered after the waters receded...if only....many more such stories...our apartment was spared tho- becos a rly bridge served as a barricade...

the climate is already beginning to get warmer, and now it seems like the uncertainity of those days was just illusion...

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Wayside Views...

The bus circled round the bus station and came to a halt. Those who had arrived at their destination , scurried to the exit and the rest who had still a long way to go settled into their seats. Some moved onto better seats, a few were dozing, and the others seemed to be preoccupied.

Bhadra looked at her watch. An hour or more to go to reach her destination. She absentmindedly observed the faces of the alighting passengers. Some seemed relieved at having reached their stop, a few looked excited with feverish anticipation- or so she imagined, while others were looking tired and travel weary - the rest looked plain indifferent- their faces were frozen masks with no emotion on their countenance.

The driver jumped down from his perch to the outside. The conductor stayed back at the door, wiping the sweat of his brow with a shabby towel. He wore a harried expression as he rattled away the names of the places the bus would be stopping at. New passengers scrambled into the bus in a hurry- eager to get hold of the better seats- even though half the bus was empty and there was still time for the bus to leave. The instinct to race ahead of others was inborn, Bhadra mused.

A young girl – probably a college student trudged heaving two seemingly heavy bags to the door of the bus. She clarified a doubt with the conductor and wearily climbed in. The conductor looked visibly annoyed and was muttering under his breath. Bhadra guessed that the girl must have enquired about her student’s concession.
“you’ll have to vacate your seat when more people get in"- he reminded the girl curtly. She nodded assent.
Bhadra deduced that the girl must be on her way home from some college hostel.

A familiar stench wafted into Bhadra’s nostrils and she wrinkled her nose in reflex. Her eyes wandered outside and she saw the source of the smell. She hurriedly looked away, and her gaze fell on some movie posters on the adjacent wall. It occurred to her that it had been ages that she had watched a movie in a theatre.

Bhadra noticed a boy who loked about 10-11 years old getting into the bus. He was balancing a huge open box containing an assortment of pens, hanging precariously from his shoulders. In his left hand he held a handful of pens and she watched with curiosity as he beseeched the passengers to buy his pens, all the while enumerating the superior qualities of his wares. She sensed a despair in his voice . Nobody paid any attention to him. Bhadra gestured to the boy to come closer. The boy came to her eagerly. She bought four pens without attempting to bargain. The sparkle in the boy’s eyes warmed her spirits. She wondered for a moment if the pens would write and then decided that it did not matter if they didn’t.

Suddenly Bhadra was distracted by a commotion outside. A group of unruly boys were harassing a woman. Her clothes were dirty and in disarray, her hair was unkempt. It was obvious that the woman was mentally unstable. She was crying piteously as she clutched a tattered pouch to her bosom. Fear reflected in her eyes as she tried to escape the assault of the boys who were shouting abuses and chasing her. Bhadra was dismayed at the cruelty of the children. Unexpectedly the woman fell down and the pouch was snatched by one of the urchins. A piercing wail rose from the woman and Bhadra shuddered. The people waiting for buses watched the spectacle stoically…

At that moment Bhadra realised that the bus had begun to move. She glanced back for the last time- the children were pulling out the contents of the pouch on to the ground, the woman was still crying out…the people were still watching….Bhadra sat back into her seat shutting her eyes tight - the women’s wail resonated in her ears…and she was aware of a teardrop coursing down her cheek…

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

waiting to get inspired...

its very rare that i get down to write something purely out of inspiration from within.. the words usually flow only as a spill out after reading somebody else's composition- I've no idea as to metre- verse- its just more of a haphazard flow of emotions that have been evoked from reading someone else's thoughts...and hence its possible that my words deviate onto a track of their own different from what the original writer/poet intended- some words, images create a response within me depending on my attitude/perception/ mood of the moment...and then I feel like jotting the resultant thoughts...hope its not illegal! let me know if it is... :-)

I have mentioned the source of inspiration for each of the following:

this one was inspired after reading at Fizo's

http://knittingalspoetry.blogspot.com/2005/10/moment.html


That moment from the past
Has come back to haunt me
That moment which gives me no rest
That endless moment
which refuses to burn to ashes

I had deluded myself
That I had forgotten that moment
Today, now, I realize
I was mistaken
That moment
Has yet again seized me
In its grasp
A sigh escapes
From the depths of my soul
I surrender meekly yet again
To the whims of memory…

Fool that I was
To have believed
That I had moved on
All that it took
Was just a whiff from the past
And the steps that I had trudged in toil
I retraced in a trice
And I was back where I started…

this one flowed after reading this:
http://myopendiary.blogdrive.com/archive/64.html

aayi thi mein phir in galiyon mein
kuchh umeed se, kuchh aasha lekar
lagta tha ki shaayad
mera kuchh yahan phir se mil jaayega
par yahaan to sab kuchh anjaana sa
sab kuchh naya sa
jo tha woh ab na raha...

jis gaon ki khoj mein main yahaan aayi thi
woh dikhayi nahin deti
waqt ki parivartan
meri gaaon ko bhi chhookar jaayegi
yeh shaayad sochi na thi mein..
ab sirf man ke kone mein

kuchh bhooli bisri yaadein
jis ko sametkar
raat ki andhere mein phir se tarashoon
aur dil mein chhipaake rakhoon...
jo tha woh na raha
aur jo hai, woh mera nahi
uski aarzoo bhi nahin...

again from akhil's pages:

http://myopendiary.blogdrive.com/archive/62.html

sheeshe mein jab khud ko nihaarthi hoon
to apne pratibimb ko dekhkar
aksar yeh bhram mein pad jaati hoon ki
shaayad akeli nahi hoon mein...
phir jab mud ke dekhti hoon to
koi nahin - sirf shunyata
koi mujhe bataa de
ekant mein itna soonapan kyon hai??
tanhaai se dosti karoon
phir bhi seene mein
ek tadap si kyon hai?

yet again from :
http://myopendiary.blogdrive.com/archive/55.html


aastha bhi nahin
manzil bhi nahin
zindagi ke chaurahe par
khadi hoon duvidha mein
is disha me jaaoon
ya us raah ko chunoon...
Bus khade rahe hum
aur achanak ek

Hawa ka jhonka aaya
aur hum fisalte chale gaye ...


kahan se kahan le gaye hume
ab jahan pahunchu
vahin hai hamari manzil
Mud ke dekhoon to
jaane kis raste par nikale hum
par tab tak to bahut der ho chuki hogi
na manzil chun paya hum
na raste ko
jo aaya so paaya
haath me kuchh na samaaya...

the attempt in english:

Just Arrived

Standing at the crossroads
I kept gazing into the distant horizon
Dilemma, conflicts, Indecision
Tormented my mind and soul
Do I go this way or that other one?
I kept waiting ...

In the twilight hour
Suddenly a gust of wind
Pushed me ahead
And I found myself floating
Like a lost leaf
I tottered, I floundered
I stumbled, I fell..
I picked myself up
I brushed the dust off me
A wound there, a tear here
A weary but redeemed soul

I stood rooted to the spot
Where I now found myself
I cupped my hands
Over my eyes
and looked ahead
And What did I see?


In the orange of dusk
Wilderness stretching to nowhere…
I turned and looked behind me
I saw no tracks nor footprints
There was no path of return
For me to follow....

I had not chosen
the path that I traversed
Nor my destination
And so the place I reached
I declared was my destination
I looked again
The embers were glowing in the Horizon
And I had Arrived!



one more:

http://myopendiary.blogdrive.com/archive/61.html


jis tarah bujhthi diya ki jwala manmohak hai
shaayad zindagi ki anischita hi
hame lubhaati hai..
aaj hai kal ho na ho
yehi chintha hamein sataati hai...


the latest inspired from here:

http://viveksharmaiitd.blogspot.com/2005/12/saga-of-crumpled-piece-of-paper.html

I had been leading this crumpled existence
expecting nothing, hoping for nothing
mute acceptance...

you came by...
unfurled me, infused colour
and breathed new life into me
I began to hope...
I began to feel the pride
that comes with the
sense of belonging

Alas! I was but a fool
to believe that I belonged
You stamped a value
and changed hands
I was nothing-
just a medium-
for your expression
the lines, the colors
were not me
and yet I ceased to be yours too...

and now I’m trapped in this ornate frame
The life, the color not mine
And yet I transform the walls that I adorn
Once again mute acceptance
Frozen existence…
But I remember
the touch of your fingers
The ring in your laughter
yet no regrets...
to have been touched by you..
is enough sustenance...