Jul 13, 2007

Yellow!



Somedays I am yellow!
Those are the days I get up from a familiar bed...smell familiar pillows....
There is green tea waiting for me beside the bed.
There is somebody calling my name,the same way she has called me for the last 24 yrs of my life.
I wish I could always be as yellow as that!
Everybody knows my name when I am yellow

Jun 3, 2007

The Legend of the Fall...

Andrei Tarkovsky

I believe if one tells the truth, some kind of inner truth, one will always be understood. — for the creator the fundamental problem will always be honestyFor me

Reality is in general much greater than what I can find in it, much deeper and more sacred than I'm able to perceive.

I wanted to say something else — that what is important is not what one accomplished after all but that one entered the path to accomplish it in the first place. Why doesn't it matter where he arrived? Because the path is infinite. And the journey has no end. Because of that it is of absolutely no consequence whether you are standing near the beginning or near the end already — before you there is a journey that will never end. And if you didn't enter the path — the most important thing is to enter it. Here lies the problem. That's why for me what's important is not so much the path but the moment at which a man enters it, enters any path.

When we talk about freedom, we have in mind... I don't know — if you want to be free you are always free. We know that people even in prison can be free. One should also never link freedom with progress, this absolutely cannot be done. Since the beginning of human consciousness and individuality man could either be free or not free — in the inner sense of the word. That's why when we talk about freedom we shouldn't confuse the topics of rights and freedom, inner, spiritual freedom.
And it so happens sometimes that the nation, people and the society, do not even accept this artist, sometimes they chase him away, sometimes they do not understand, and they comprehend him only many, many years later. But this isn't important, it means only one thing: that they do not know themselves, they do not know their own problems. And because of that an artist can never oppose his own culture, his own people, by no means he can oppose it; even when he expresses concepts containing ideas unacceptable to the contemporary society it doesn't mean these ideas did not originate inside, within that society. The society hadn't yet enough time to become aware of these problems and the artist as a rule is not consciously aware of them either — he just expresses them, he can feel them. Precisely because he expresses them. Because he is not necessarily wiser beyond his times but he can sense more. He frequently does not understand what he is saying. He repeats words after the adults as a child, repeats without understanding and then the adults say: "Oh my, what is he saying? Did you hear that? Go stand in the corner! Get lost!" Or they give him a thrashing. And they beat him up for repeating the words he heard at home. And he merely grew up in this environment. In brief, I'd like to say this: an artist's role is to be a voice of his people — not even "to be," one cannot "be," one cannot tell oneself to "be" a nation's voice — one simply is.
Naturally, there is a problem here: if you are the people's voice then say only what people demand of you. But here lies the problem, people demand of you nothing. People demand nothing of nobody. It is the artist who behaves as if something was demanded of him, expected of him. Naturally, people do expect, but unconsciously. And exactly in the name of this duty to the public, the people, the times he lives in, he ought to always remember that he does not create for himself. But — although he does not create for himself — he should express only what he feels intimate. Here it may turn out that ideas close to your heart, some aspects of your creative work are not needed by anybody. But in this case you have no right... here you are powerless, you can at most just wait hundred years until it becomes clear whether people needed you at all in the first place.

An artist has no right, that is not that he has no right, he has no instrument which would make him any closer to his people's needs than he already is. He can only believe that God will grant him the possibility of eventually being needed by the nation. Whether he succeeds or not — this is something he does not know and cannot know at this moment.

From this vantage point cinema is a very dangerous art because it is expected to be immediately successful.

Just life itself, somehow more elegant but most of the time frightening, difficult.

I am constantly being asked what this or that means in my films. It's unbearable! An artist does not have to be accountable for his intentions. I did not do any deep thinking about my work. I don't know what my symbols mean. I only desire to induce feelings, any feelings, in viewers. People always try to find "hidden" meanings in my films. But wouldn't it be strange to make a film while striving to hide one's thoughts? My images do not signify anything beyond what they are... We do not know ourselves that well: sometimes we express forces which cannot be grasped by any ordinary measure.

"During preparations for making a new film it is quite clear to me that I am not allowed to consider it to be some form of independent art, a free creation, but rather an implementation of what is perhaps pressing forth from within, where it is not a matter of enjoyment but rather of a painful, perhaps burdening, duty...

"I have never been able to understand how an artist can be in a state of happiness during the creation process. Man does not exist for the purpose of being happy. There is a much, much higher purpose to life than merely being in a state of happiness."

May 29, 2007

Fences




Went back to my old school after decades,remembered each and every detail.
The gate,the classrooms,the toilets,the mango trees...each and evrery brick!..
could have walked blind folded in that one place in the world.
Strange considering i have lost the hope of feelin at home ever...nywhere in the world..gypsy that I have becum.

Touching ones first memories again?
Every memory as fresh as if it happened today...Riding my bicycle in the compound of the school,looking stealthily across the queque for that one face...the peaceful faces of nuns who would look at you most impersonaly as if one were some strange species without any previous family history!
The humilation of wetting ones clothes in front of the whole class...
The mocking face of ayah whispering.."Is that what you are taught at home!"
Its amazing how the geography of that one building has been indented in my
Those red and yellow walls just refuse to fade away..........
something about them....that doesnt go away
something solid that they have left inside me...
I am glad...I still have the power to remember!

May 18, 2007

the colour purple


The color purple
indifference... distance...travel..loneliness...pride
purple..the colour of standing tall
the colour...my mother never wore
the colour...i grew in my veins slowly...painfully
the colour of my bald head
the colour of frozen gazes
the colour of no comfort
the colour of stubborn shamelesness
the colur of unapolgetic desires
the colour of angry prayers
the colour of prayers withdrawn
the colour purple of angry questions
the colour purple!

May 13, 2007

fly fly fly away........



When started writing I promised one thing to myself....
That I would never let myself get obsessed wid 'something' or rather somebody!
I wouldnt linger and waste my life on things which were not working out........
In my language I promised myself that I would never 'marry the fly'
even though I would give myself the freedom to admire the fly,
but only afteri had looked atthe other so called more important things like 'career', 'goals' ,'sensible choices','bring wise'and other such things
but now as time flies away..and I have all the other important things that I acquired by ignoring the fly

I think I miss the fly

THE FLY I NEVER MARRIED!
I wait for another flight now
I wish I could fly away..................

Mad woman


Am I mad because I dont fit in the plastic labels?
Am I mad if I cant help being young?
Am I mad if dont care about what tomorrow brings?
Am I mad if I am not scared of growing old?
AM I mad if I dont care a damn about how I look?
Am I mad if I dont belong to any place?
Am I mad if I tell you the truth about my life all the time?
Am I mad if I dont care a dime about editing my language?
Am I mad if I swear and shout?
Am I mad if I laugh out loud?
YES I AM MAD!!!
THANKS BUT NO THANKS!

May 6, 2007

ASSUME NOTHING!


YOU THINK I AM THAT!
like that?
really????
what makes you think like that?
what makes you so sure?
did i ever say that?
well i could have been kidding?
or who knows??? maybe evn i dont know...
just that I dont understand "this" in you ..
which makes you so sure about life...
should i call it arrogance?
or have you lived a long tiring life?
which has jaded you!
alas my friend ...no excuse is good enough!
all i have to say to you....
ASSUME NOTHING :)