The stained remnants of my
Sins remain unwashed.
Red, still fresh, bleeding
Through the wounds of my soul.

Flesh-
My immortal self, seethes
In its sweltering stench;
Provoking the orgy of emotions:
Draining all of me.

Osru jole bohiya jai,

Bedonai bhora klanto mon;

Shithil hoye shikol bedhe,

Nijeke keno rekheche gopon?

NH 44

The drive from Guwahati to Shillong, judging from my memories, has been quite pleasant. The ascent from the hot, humid plains to the hills through winding roads, the scent of cold misty air gushing in through the pulled down glass of the speeding vehicle, is an experience to behold. The leaves of trees keep growing smaller and smaller till spiky pine trees decorate the facade of the hills like green rippling curtains. One does come across human habitations, mainly small Khasi villages by the roadside, making a living out of business the commuting vehicles generate. The short statured, shawl clad, red-lipped betel leaf chewing inhabitants going about their daily business is a pleasant sight.Communicating has never been a problem. They speak their own unique dialect of Hindi, bearing the tone of their mother tongue; quite intelligible though.
About ten kilometers before entering Shillong, one drives along the most scenic stretch of the entire journey, along the Barapani reservoir. The placid waters, with the rays of the sun enmeshed, as if dancing with the ripples. Small islans jut out of the water here and there. One of the most picturesque spots one could encounter.
Sadly, things have changed now, as an aftermath of progress perhaps-the thrust towards development.Unknowingly, we are destroying the natural heritages that have lived on for ages. The four laning of the highway has led to excavations of the slopes running along the road. The amount of deforestation is simply heart rendering for anyone who has grown up plying these roads, admiring the beauty of the trees lining the driveway. The tiny hamlets that existed earlier have now been transformed into caverns of concrete. The carpet road which though a narrow one, was a pleasure to drive on, is replete with potholes.It has become nothing less than a nightmare. Adding to the woes are the traffic blockades being caused by the construction work. All in all, another jungle of concrete and malba is being created. Indeed, this is modernisation as some would call it, but i still prefer the same old drive that lingers on as a faint,fading memory.

Stained

Stained pieces of glass:
Red;
Remnants of the shattered past,
Lay scattered in my tainted memory.

Blood trickles out of torn veins,
As the pain hazes out
In doses of morphine
Soon, they wouldn't suffice.

The stench of old scum
Undulating heaps,
Never disintegrated in time.
They now choke the lungs.

Vision blurs in clouds of smoke;
My soul burning,
With all that remains:
As my human self succumbs.

The 2MP canvas...

The Slumdog Revolution!

A lot is being said and discussed about the latest Danny Boyle movie. In India we have discovered every rational reason to call it an Indian movie. Now the question that I bring up out here is whether this movie can really be called Indian?
If I say Yes my justification would be :
a.It is based on a novel by an Indian
b.It is based on Indian reality
c.All the actors and technicians are Indians
Well... reason enought to call it Indian.

But, I personally would say No, and I have good reason for that too. A movie is as good as its director. Actually, a movie is a canvas on which the director paints his ideas. This is a Danny Boyle movie and Danny Boyle definitely has portrayed the movie from a Bristish/Irish perspective. If a Madhur Bhandarkar or (better still) a Karan Johar were to make this movie, would it have been the same or would it have had the same impact? I seriously doubt. For example, in the movie, Danny builds the character of Jamaal as the movie progresses, which helps in making some of the little nuances more pronounce. In typical Bollywood movies, the movie begins with the characters/heroes, who end up stealing the limelight. The movies end up being all about the characters and nothing else. One would hardly find any subtle layer. Indian Bollywood movies stimulate emotions but not the grey cells, and that, I would say is what makes Slumdog Millionaire a Non-Indian film.
Slumdog is already there, and deep down inside I am sure the big guns of Bollywood would be saying, "Shit! We never looked at it this way." Now what? Now, I would expect a cinematic revolution of some sorts in Bollywood. The generation of movie watchers has changed. It is a new generation which can identify and appreciate sensible cinema, be it from anywhere. So, for a change, I would expect to see more movies being made, with the movie being the priority and not the moolah it rakes in. We can already see a beginning with so many art house(read small budget) movies coming out. Many of these small-budget movie actors are quite celebrated today-Rahul Bose, Konkona Sen Sharma, and many others. The revolution has already started; now it will gain pace. As for movie buffs like me, we'll get to watch good cinema :)