An extraordinary passage from an even more extraordinary essay
The end of imagination by Arundhati Roy.
When questioned about the only dream worth having.
To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength,never power. Above all,to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never,never,to forget.
............to dream that you will live while you're alive and die only when you are dead.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Recently I attended a classical/folk music event. Here's how some of the lyrics in the middle of one of the numbers went-
Chhaati se lagake tumko rakh lenge near
ab to aaja dear
Soulful and soothing are not words one would use to describe a bhojpuri song on a usual basis. However, it was a song from an era before bad taste and the film industry happened. What drew my attention most was the lyrics. It started to end with hindi words such as 'peehar' and then came the english ones 'near' and 'dear' for the rhyme. They were perfectly at home.
A fair example of the plasticine nature of language and culture. While human beings grow into more rigid,more stringent,more intolerant avatars,ironically (irony,as you will later see,is a staple), language and culture seem to follow the Darwinian principle of Evolve-or-perish enchantingly,and yet,tenderly.
We trivialize and infantilize both of them beyond belief. Whilst no one can deny the necessity of preserving certain fast disappearing languages and cultures,the basic nature of all of them is subtle,accumulating transition,for what it does mirror is a land,its people and the hands of time. The evolving complex compound does not show properties of any of the original elements yet somehow preserves its grace and history-the all important soul. It is as impossible to dig out the 'unwanted' matter-there aren't any sediments. May be the Dravidians were the first people. May be the Aryans came later. May be the Moguls came,saw,conquered and settled. May be the British colonized this country for more than a 100 years. May be as we speak now we are being covered by an opalescent veil of 'the west'.The truth could be that it does not matter. None is an addition to an already satisfactory mix-rather they're what make the mix and keep on changing and enriching it. Ironic, considering the fact that it is finally 'we' who create language and culture but are somehow slaves to homeostasis in a way they can never be.
It is for this purpose that we come across the numerous succulent ironies which dot our daily lives like capitals on a map. It is in a Ramdev Baba declaring that gays are physically ill in a country where the son who 'took birth' out of the union of Lord Shiva and Lord Vishnu-Lord Ayyappa-has his own temples where hundreds of people flock daily. It is in that Barber bridge in Chennai which was originally named 'Hamilton bridge' by the british,roughened by mundane tamil to 'Ambattan bridge'-ambattan being the tamil word for barber-and in a full circle coming back to barber. It is in all those tourists and Indians who see India symbolically in the Taj Mahal without being aware of the secondary citizenship that most Indian muslims endure. It is in all the Los Angeleses and San franciscos of the world which will not change no matter how America feels about its mexican immigrants.
Status:-Overwhelmed with all the effortless grace of the universe.
Chhaati se lagake tumko rakh lenge near
ab to aaja dear
Soulful and soothing are not words one would use to describe a bhojpuri song on a usual basis. However, it was a song from an era before bad taste and the film industry happened. What drew my attention most was the lyrics. It started to end with hindi words such as 'peehar' and then came the english ones 'near' and 'dear' for the rhyme. They were perfectly at home.
A fair example of the plasticine nature of language and culture. While human beings grow into more rigid,more stringent,more intolerant avatars,ironically (irony,as you will later see,is a staple), language and culture seem to follow the Darwinian principle of Evolve-or-perish enchantingly,and yet,tenderly.
We trivialize and infantilize both of them beyond belief. Whilst no one can deny the necessity of preserving certain fast disappearing languages and cultures,the basic nature of all of them is subtle,accumulating transition,for what it does mirror is a land,its people and the hands of time. The evolving complex compound does not show properties of any of the original elements yet somehow preserves its grace and history-the all important soul. It is as impossible to dig out the 'unwanted' matter-there aren't any sediments. May be the Dravidians were the first people. May be the Aryans came later. May be the Moguls came,saw,conquered and settled. May be the British colonized this country for more than a 100 years. May be as we speak now we are being covered by an opalescent veil of 'the west'.The truth could be that it does not matter. None is an addition to an already satisfactory mix-rather they're what make the mix and keep on changing and enriching it. Ironic, considering the fact that it is finally 'we' who create language and culture but are somehow slaves to homeostasis in a way they can never be.
It is for this purpose that we come across the numerous succulent ironies which dot our daily lives like capitals on a map. It is in a Ramdev Baba declaring that gays are physically ill in a country where the son who 'took birth' out of the union of Lord Shiva and Lord Vishnu-Lord Ayyappa-has his own temples where hundreds of people flock daily. It is in that Barber bridge in Chennai which was originally named 'Hamilton bridge' by the british,roughened by mundane tamil to 'Ambattan bridge'-ambattan being the tamil word for barber-and in a full circle coming back to barber. It is in all those tourists and Indians who see India symbolically in the Taj Mahal without being aware of the secondary citizenship that most Indian muslims endure. It is in all the Los Angeleses and San franciscos of the world which will not change no matter how America feels about its mexican immigrants.
Status:-Overwhelmed with all the effortless grace of the universe.
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