Inked Toast, Toasted Ink and Namelessness

WELCOME TO MY blog Inktoast!

"Ink... what? Come again!"

"Inktoast! What sort of a name is that?"

"Hey that's quite a weird name! Why did you select it?"

"Inktoast... hmmm... are you trying to be a pseudo-intellectual?"

"What's the meaning of ink toast? Does it mean toasted ink?"

"Why 'toast'? Are you writing a blog on food and dining?"

And Shakespeare said what's in a name! Phew!

For the past few days this has become a part and parcel of my life. Whenever I tell people the name of my new blog, I invariably get the same reaction from them — raised eyebrows, sarcastic smirk and a sneering 'what-the-hell-does-that-mean' expression on their faces. So far the ratio has been pretty consistent — 8 out of 10 people have given me that utterly confused look, as if I have proposed Newton's fourth law of motion! Before I can describe the content of the blog, all their inquisitiveness (and comments) get stuck to its name — inktoast. And that kicks off the volley of probing questions!

But now it's getting on my nerves. Pissed off with the countless interpretations and paraphrases of 'inktoast', I have finally decided to give a written clarification of the name (does that make any sense? Anyway, who cares!).

Warning: the remaining part of the post might appear to be inane and pointless to you, so read on at your own risk.

When Aniruddha, a friend of mine (he insists that I mention his name as a gesture of recognizing his contribution towards the blog) suggested the name, I initially found it rather incomprehensible. However, on second thoughts, I felt 'inktoast' has a certain kind of funkiness to it, and that's resonating at the same time. In fact, my idea was to create a blog for leisure-reading and not to burden it with serious stuff. So while 'ink' stands for the power of expression (quite a weighty phrase, isn't it?), the word 'toast' adds to the zaniness of the blog (it's more on the lines of 'raising a toast', not 'eating it'!). I hope now you realize that the blog is more of a coffee-table book than a research paper!

Contrary to the popular notion, my blog isn't about grave socio-political issues or profound philosophical concepts. Nor has it got to do anything with food and dining. Instead, it's all about memories frozen in time — some recent, some not so recent and some embedded in the past. There have been so many events, experiences, ideas, images, sounds and occurrences that have moved me, amused me, disturbed me, enraged me or left me speechless — all clustered together during the wonderful journey called life. Finally, here they are, framed into words and visuals. Graffiti on walls might appear to be ramblings for many, but they too have a story to tell.

So guys, let's raise a toast to the power of ink! Happy Blogging!

Image courtesy: Sourish Mitra

Meghdootam

Pehli pehli baarish ki chheetein, pehli baarish bheege ho ho...

HAVE YOU EVER danced to this lilting Saathiya track? I’m sure you have. But then every song has a distinct mood and atmosphere associated with it. Just like you can’t play a Jai Santoshi Ma at the disc or a Beedi jalaile during the Republic Day celebration, this song too needs the right ambience to evoke its passionate charm.

Wondering what that picture-perfect setting would be? Well, let’s visualize a shot of the first monsoon day of the season. It’s raining cats and dogs outside accompanied by strong gusty winds. Venue: the roof terrace of a multi-storeyed. Enter hero and heroine, or more specifically, you and your girlfriend (for girls reading this, please change the gender). There’s no one else to be seen — just the two of you getting drenched in the sudden shower. In the background lies the rain-soaked skyline. Then lights, camera, music... and voila! Aye udi udi udi, aye khwabon ki buri... you’ll be amazed to find that you have already started grooving to the music — your feet following the rhythm and your heart humming the tune (those who are single, try out this song in the bathroom while taking a shower. It works. Trust me.)!

That’s the beauty of monsoon. It can turn the most insipid situation into a memorable one. May be I’m a bit exaggerating, but what else can I possibly do? I’m a die-hard rain-lover after all (I was perhaps a peacock in my previous birth)! Recently I had an hour-long rain bath in the year’s first kalbaisakhi that drenched Kolkata to a T. A few days later when I went to Delhi, lo and behold, the rains chased me there as well. This time it was a hailstorm!

The Kolkata kalbaisakhi has truly been an unforgettable experience. As soon as the storm broke, I went straight to the terrace, my camera in hand. Ignoring the high velocity of winds, I managed to get a few photographs that have turned out to be quite fascinating. Naturally, I had an overwhelming desire to share them! So here they are, categorized under the series Meghdootam (the name was too tempting to resist. Any resemblance to Kalidas's epic is entirely intentional and not coincidental!). Out of the five, the first three have been shot from my terrace during the kalbaisakhi and the other two were taken during my last trip to Ooty. As the monsoon is just round the corner, here’s a precursor to the celebration of the beautiful season ahead. Enjoy!

When darkness falls

Swept away

Blowing in the wind

The sliver lining

Barso re...

Golden Knight and a Severe Case of Myopia

WATCHING HINDI FILMS can be a gruelling exercise at times. Sitting through more than two hours of an out-an-out commercial Bollywood potboiler requires a great deal of patience, endurance, some strong headache pills and most importantly, a willing suspension of your disbelief!

However, having grown up watching loads of Hindi films (the good, bad and ugly); I thought I was naturally immune to the dizzying effect of Bollywood masala flicks.

I didn’t know I was wrong.

It happened just a few weeks back. I had got the DVD of Shahrukh Khan’s much-hyped recent offering: Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi. I knew it wasn’t an outstanding movie as the makers claimed it to be. Still expecting a decent watch, I thought of giving it a try. Little did I know that the consequences of my decision would turn out to be so fatal.

Fifteen minutes into the film and I started having those dizzy spells. I ignored. Another half an hour, and I was desperately looking for migraine pills! Nevertheless, I decided to watch the film till the end. By the time the torture... err... the film was over, I was almost in a state of coma! Losing control of my mind and senses, I vowed never to watch a film again without knowing about it in detail beforehand.

One of the major flaws of Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi was that it lacked logic. Throughout the film I failed to understand how on earth a wife can be so dumb as to not recognize her husband if he shaves off his moustache, throws away his glasses and gets a new wardrobe! But then I suppose that's the disease which plagues almost every commercial Hindi film. We may have sensible films like Rang De Basanti, Taare Zameen Par, A Wednesday, Dev D, Firaaq, but for every Firaaq or Taare Zameen Par Bollywood churns out a dozen Singh is Kinng or Rab Ne Bana Di Jodis. Still we brag about the fact that Bollywood comes next only to Hollywood in terms of the number of films made every year (quantity is all that matters, quality can take a backseat) or even dare to think of sending these trashy masala flicks to the Oscars! So don’t be surprised if you find Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi being selected as India's official entry to the Oscars next year!

Sounds like a bad joke? Actually not. Remember Sooraj Barjatya’s emotional atyachar Hum Saath Saath Hain? Or Aditya Chopra’s three-hour-plus gurukul melodrama Mohabbatein? Both these films were considered by the Indian film selection committee as contenders for the Best Foreign Language film Oscar in 2000 (stop bulging your eyes, silly!). After much deliberation, Kamal Haasan’s Hey Ram got the ‘honour’. The film failed to make it even to the nomination stage. However, it would be wrong to say that the decision was a unanimous one. Some of the committee members preferred HSSH or Mohabbatein, since they felt these films represent Indian tradition and culture in a much better light! Think that’s ridiculous? Well, think again. I recently googled for the films that have, over the years, been sent to the Academy as India's official entries and what I found was mind-boggling. Saagar, Henna, Indian,... hold your breath... Jeans, Devdas, Paheli, Eklavya — all these films were selected as India's official contenders for the Oscar-race! Quite predictably (and thankfully), none of them could reach the Kodak Theatre.

India's tryst with the Oscars began in the 1950s. Since then we have managed to get nominated thrice — for Mother India (1956), Salaam Bombay! (1988) and Lagaan (2001) — without winning even once. Meanwhile nations like Japan, Hungary, and Netherlands have fetched 11, 8 and 7 nominations respectively. France has 34 nominations including 10 wins, while Italy has been nominated 27 times. Even a small nation like Bosnia-Herzegovina has managed to hit the bull's-eye (it clinched the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar for No Man's Land in 2001)! So why the world's most prolific film producing nation is virtually ignored at the world's most prestigious film awards?

The fault lies within us — let’s state that very clearly without scapegoating anyone. Today Hindi films may compete with Hollywood in terms of technical wizardry or financial opulence, but when it comes to content, we still lag miles behind. By and large, Bollywood has failed to produce films of international quality. Apart from a handful, most Hindi films are not at par with the international standard. Infantile concepts, done-to-death storylines, stereotypical characters, shoddy treatment, hackneyed song-and-dance sequences — problems with mainstream commercial Hindi films are countless. So every time we fail to achieve the golden statuette we invariably come up with the same apologetic words: ‘It’s after all an Indian film!’ That’s utter bullshit! Can’t we simply be honest in admitting our flaws, at least for once?

There’s fallacy in the selection procedure as well. With a panel consisting of mostly incompetent (and obscure) judges and their myopic attitude, it isn’t surprising that mediocrity — and not cinematic excellence — would get prominence in choosing films. As a result most of the films selected by the panel over the years have been unflinchingly clichéd and Bollywoodish. Their argument: we should send films that represent our culture to the Western audience, and who else can epitomize it better than Bollywood! It seems the judges have little or absolutely no idea of what might appeal to the international audience. The reality is: India’s song-and-dance narrative is largely seen as an exotic kitsch by the West. It might be three-hour-wholesome entertainment for us, but not a memorable cinematic experience. That’s why a Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi would have been a better choice than Paheli, because that's the kind of film Oscar judges and the viewers worldwide can better identify with.

However, for some strange reasons, mainstream Hindi films have always found patronage from the selection committee. Regional cinema and offbeat films still remain ugly ducklings and given the step-motherly treatment towards them, they will continue to remain so. I don’t intend to be parochial, but there is no reason to believe that Bengali, Marathi, Tamil, Malayalam or Kannada films are inferior to their Hindi counterpart. Regional cinema may not be as flourishing and pompous as Bollywood, still when it comes to craft, storytelling and treatment, they can be deserving competitors for the golden knight.

Unfortunately, that's a utopian dream! Indian cinema has gradually become synonymous with Bollywood, thanks to the judges' not-so-blissful ignorance. The consequence: whenever we think of sending a film to the Oscars, we can not look beyond the run-of-the-mill star-studded Bollywood stuff — this is what diagnose a perfect case of myopia. Those living on the fringes continues to be unrecognized, alien to the mainstream. Satyajit Ray, whom the Academy conferred with the Lifetime Achievement award, never managed to get a film-specific Oscar nomination, except for once (for Shatranj Ke Khiladi). His Pather Panchali won 11 international awards, but no Oscar. Jalsaghar, Gupi Gayne Bagha Bayne, Mahanagar, Seemabaddha, Devi, Charulata, Nayak, Agantuk — none of these films were considered by the committee as worthy enough for the Oscars (and Kurosawa said that not to have seen Ray’s cinema means existing in the world without seeing the sun or the moon!). Ritwik Ghatak, Mrinal Sen, Buddhadev Dasgupta, Adoor Gopalakrishnan, Girish Kasaravalli, G Aravindan, Shaji N Karun — we are well acquainted with their kind of cinema. Their films have won accolades and plaudits in numerous film festivals and award ceremonies all over the world. The critics too have raved about their work. But how many of their films have been selected for the Oscars? None (no prizes for guessing)! Ajantrik, Meghe Dhaka Tara, Bhuvan Shome, Akaler Sandhane, Tahader Katha, Swayamvaram, Mukha Mukham, Ghattashraddha, Tabarna Kathe, Piravi — the selectors have remained amnesiac to these highly-acclaimed films that have re-defined Indian cinema, making way for Saagar, Indian, Devdas or Eklavya to reign.

The dizzying spells are coming back.

Then comes politicking, an inescapable menace on the film selection board. Since the country’s various filmmaking centres are represented, everyone wants their kind of film to get selected. Naturally, lobbying and power politics become inevitable. The result is that the best film doesn’t always make it, rather the one with the most clout does (and you wondered why films like Henna, Jeans or Eklavya got selected in the past!).

It’s time we get a reality check (honourable selectors, wake up please!). Making our Bollywood superstars prance around trees lip-syncing some forgettable songs doesn’t guarantee an Oscar. The Academy recognizes cinematic fineness. It won’t award a film that doesn’t understand its craft. That’s precisely the reason why Indian films have never fitted the Oscar bill. The Oscars may not be the most authentic accolade in the world of cinema, nor are they benchmark for cinematic brilliance. But then one can not completely overlook their importance either. An Oscar-winning film garners a lot of respect and attraction from the audience worldwide. So the crying need of the hour is, effective reforms in the selection procedure for nominating India’s official entry. Unless our filmmakers take the selection process more seriously, India will continue its losing streak. And the golden knight, like Godot, will never come.

Image courtesy: Sourish Mitra