Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Two to Tango

I have been following the news of the flurry of rapes and other atrocities that's happening in West Bengal on a daily basis for the past few months. Being a cynic grumpball my reactions to these headlines ranged from disgust to disappointment to depression and finally rage. This rage is not directed personally to the people committing these crimes. It's more like a geeky Bourgeois rage because I fail to understand what makes these people behave like they are doing now. I can merely speculate.

I have seen a few types of reaction to these stories.
1. She should have known better (than wearing those clothes; than being in that place at that time etc).
2. She is lying (purposely to destroy the guy's life; it was consensual and then she decided to use it against him).
3. It's all staged by some political party. She is lying again.
4. She is promiscuous anyway so it's not a serious violation of her dignity.
5. Why is the government not doing anything, especially when the chief minister of the state is a woman?

You might almost say that I should not expect anything else because after all our society is a patriarchal society. So it is only expected that male members will do what they can to dominate the women folks and keep them in their place- a dehumanized species - almost like livestock - to be used and abused as the "owners" see fit. Had I belonged to the Taliban school of thought, I would probably have learned to live with it. Female foeticide, domestic and public abuse, dowry killings - everything would make sense with that frame of mind.

Except they probably don't take into account that with female foeticide they are skewing the sex ratio against themselves so that there are less and less number of women around as siblings, friends or wives (look how I dare not say partners). Some people have started calling it "gendercide" and the effect is already showing I think. Remember the movie "Matrubhumi""? Sensitive Bengalis who have stuck around and managed to read so far would scream in protest that we are not living in a Taliban-ruled society. It's a democracy and there is a government still in place blah blah. Especially it is "Bengal" -  the seat of intellectuals and visionaries, not some shanty town in the middle of nowhere.

This brings me to the point. A group of social network activists have already been prolific pointing out how every case of rape is a governmental failure. They hint at how these incidents reflect the ineptitude of the new government in Bengal. I hope these people have an understanding of how a government functions. They sound like they do, especially when they have been at it for approximately 35 years. I remember the once Chief Minister Jyoti Basu said "these things happen all the time" regarding rapes. he just didn't add "Meh" but that was the attitude (also probably because yankee slang was not a part of his vocab). Our new greenhorn CM has announced monetary compensations instead. That too in a state where you always hear how the government is broke and up to its eyes in debt. Given the rape statistics in Bengal I have a feeling that this is gonna cost her some serious amount of quid. Not the smartest move.

But looking beyond that, government's job is to legislate, administrate and arbitrate. Please look up these words in a dictionary. You could also check the wiki-definition of a government. Maintaining the law and order is one of the aspects of its duties, sure! Please raise your hand now if you have ever SEEN a government. Just like you haven't seen a demand curve or a Higgs-Boson, a government is unseen because it's a concept or a set of rules that define a state's policy. So if you think about it, law and order is maintained by the CITIZENS with or without the uniforms. It's impossible to police every person who lives within our state boundaries and even the thought of doing that is insane. So this is probably the time the citizens of Bengal take up the responsibility of changing their mindset unless they want to live in this dysfunction.

Rapists and abusers have families too. There may be one in your family right now - you may or may not know about it or you may be living in denial. Deal with it! Along with teaching your girlchild how to be safe, please teach your boychild how to behave in a society. Please don't raise your kids, irrespective of gender, like entitled douchebags. You will be doing them a service, forget about societal contribution. It's as simple as stopping yourself from littering the streets and and practicing good personal hygiene. You haven't ever blamed the government for your own dirty underwear, have you? Why would you now??

Monday, September 10, 2012

Rock Paper Dice Enter


So in case you are wondering where have I been all summer, I was off shooting some production stills on my friend's suspense thriller feature: Rock Paper Dice Enter. rockpaperfilms.com

The film is about three graveyard shift workers who threaten the security of a nation after intercepting a diamond heist. Sounds intriguing?

Here's a teaser video: http://igg.me/p/113236?a=7616

Now all you need is some popcorn to go with it. 

Actually, wait. If you want investment advice from a very promising (wink, wink) and upcoming economist, you'd spend that gold on something better than popcorn. After all, we have perks available to you for minimum number of green pieces of paper and they are considerably long-lived than buttery popcorn. Also, your arteries will love you. 

But seriously, RPDE a total indie film for which we are raising funds through Indiegogo. We need support from YOU! It's simple! To support this film first hit LIKE on https://www.facebook.com/rockpaperfilms then contribute to the RPDE Indiegogo campaign http://igg.me/p/113236?a=7616. $20 gets you a copy of the movie! Pass this opportunity on to friends who might like to get involved in film things. 

Keep an eye on this blog for behind the scenes photos and the story about D-cups and teacups.. It is a good story I promise!

Sunday, April 22, 2012

A new photographic chapter

For the past few months I was constantly getting frustrated with the limitations of my long zoom point and shoot. It is a real long zoom which ends up being a kg. of glass encased in a flimsy, plasticky body that's so slow in focusing that you would probably want to shoot nothing but stationary objects in full daylight. A real prima donna that almost never delivers. I wanted out. Sure, some moments are never gonna come back so even if the pictures are shitty, we still love them. So, while people seemed to like some of the photos I was never happy with the quality of the images.  I am not a person really as obsessed with sharp images so as to being able to count the facial hairs but I do appreciate some clarity. Also, I am not the pro that can coax excellent shots using a Lego camera but I would sure like to learn how!

I wanted a new camera. However being almost broke did not quite help with that plan until my one of my guardian angels stepped up and pretty much asked me to shut up and take her money.

So I got myself an almost digital rangefinder. The much celebrated cult figure Leica Digilux 2 nonetheless. There is only one person in this world who should be blamed for that madness (and it is a madness since I really really need to finish writing and editing my monster research proposal and all I want to do is to get out on the streets and shoot). That person would be Thorsten Von Overgaard. I read his take on the Digilux 2, wrote to him asking if he thinks it's worth spending my last dimes on, and jumped in. 

Today is the Earth day. It's a nice afternoon that I am going to spend with my edits and my baby chili plants that are frolicking in the sun here... well assuming that plants do frolic in their very slow, invisible-to-human-eyes way.



Saturday, April 14, 2012

Barsho Biday

We are ending this year 1418(according to the Bengali calendar) here up north with rain and sleet and general bleakness of nature. Although I am counting my blessings that I could walk around without my snow-boots unlike last year and most years at that. If I had to do a little bookkeeping, the last year has been the best in a long time. True that I spent more time visiting my physiotherapist and acupuncturist than Nymphadora but we had a good time. Signed copies of The Cat's Table, being a part of MENAME in my modest capacity, concert  at the Winspear Centre, my new old Leica camera with which I threaten to do a portraiture of Nymph every so often, and Nymph - the last year has been full of treasures. Looking forward to 1419. 

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Abar Blog-baji




I took the header photo on one of my aimless, solitary walks on Christmas eve. Winter holidays is the time of the year when the foreign students get a reminder that they are in fact on their own. Some smarten up and hang out with the desi contingent. The anally stubborn solitary animals like me merely turn the collars of their winter parkas up and keep walking. Anyway, as I took the photo it struck me what a perfect example of incongruity and anachronism it was. Nothing really made sense. It looks like a scene that's certainly not set in India. Then what's up with the stray cattle and pigs? And that one of them is actually sitting on the tram line causing the driver to come out and apparently coax it to move? The eighteenth-century buggies and a woman in BLUE SHORTS??!!! What on earth is going on? And how very representative of my feeling of being out of place and not belonging on the eve of a family-oriented holiday! Freaky!





Saturday, September 10, 2011

Truant in canary-shoes

1. Ladybugs have taken over my balcony. They eat aphids. Nymphadora suggested that it is a cause for celebration that I am not an aphid. I know that. She knows that. The question is: do the ladybugs know?

2. So last night I finally saw the northern lights. From my very own window that looks out onto the river and the north sky. If I had a bucket list for life, this would be one item in it. The thing is, I have decided not to create the bucket list myself and delegated the task to life. So life is now taking me to Lac Ste. Anne tomorrow afternoon. Life also suggested to me in its very subtle way that I pray for people while I am there. May be pick up a few blessings hardened into stones and give them away to those who need it. 

3. Note to self: My mind functions in the weirdest way and decided to divulge to you the story about the lady bugs first and northern lights later. 

4. I don't have a bucket list but I do have a secret wish. It's been buzzing in there since March. Now I am waiting to see if my very own Deus Ex Machina can guess what it is and do something about it. Sorry to be so cryptic. This is almost another note to self. I dare to do these things in a so-called public space like a blog because I am almost certain that no one reads it. Also because sometimes I like to irritate people mildly. 

5. That's all for now. There is no fifth point. I just like primes. 

Friday, June 24, 2011

Teta Metit

التيتا ماتت وما في انترنت بالضيعة‬

In other words, 'grandmother died and no internet in the village'. In some other words, sorry I have been out of touch.

I am proud. Of my achievements. By achievements I mean the ability to successfully pick up and reproduce Arabic slangs and proverbs at the right moment. My Lebanese roommate Rantoush is equally proud too. She can now show me off as a perfect student. This would explain why we shout kusummak and uskimaki at each other. You guessed right as they are used between us as the highest form of affection. Also, they mean the same.

This is a strange household. It reminds me of our old place in North Calcutta where people used to leave their front doors open for pretty much anybody to come in while they would be taking their siestas. Here, DV comes and goes as she pleases. Lucie and company come to work in their little kitchen garden and never fail to knock on my window and peek in and say hi. Rantoush takes the last bus from school at one in the morning, enters the house in tiptoes and starts dancing with enthusiasm as soon as she steps in my room, trying to share coherently and incoherently the details of her exciting days. I almost had gotten used to the weird rhythm of this house. Especially I had thought that none of Rantoush's quirks could surprise me anymore. However, I was supposed to stand corrected when the other night she came in, posed as the tickle monster and jumped in the general direction of my body shouting the war cry Katukutu. Yes, Bongs... Katukutu.. and yes she is a full-on Arab who loves the aatar made of belphul or زهرة فل.

I am moving again in a week from now and starting another leg of this journey in another apartment. However I doubt that I will go back to the no-pants-dandy-legs life of a bach as now I seem to have acquired a family here. Edmonton proves to be full of little surprises. Stay tuned for more adventures!

PS: Speaking of adventures, my little Lomo Diana is now starting to deliver. Thought it was time to change the header image :)

Sunday, June 5, 2011

The Demise of a Fighter, in other news Jatugriha

So on June 4th, 2011 I receive a call from the foster parents of Gadhesh saying that he has passed away after suffering for a couple days. We discussed the last rites and as I am writing this, he has been put to rest under a maple tree hoping that in the next life he becomes a bird which is one step ahead in the evolution race. Although, given that Gadhesh was my pet and on one occasion had decided to jump out of his bowl to attack a friend of mine, quirkiness can not be discounted and he might end up evolving into a flying fish. That would be pretty neat in my opinion. Looking back, he seemed to have great insights into human characters and I should have taken his hint. I am not saying that I should have bitten the said friend but I am also not not saying that I should have bitten the said friend.

Speaking of friends, this morning Rantoush tried to cheer me up saying that Gadhesh must already have gone to the fish-heaven and either he has found his mate there and is having fun without trying to tear her apart or he has turned into a fish-angel and going around saying sorry to all the orphan little fish whose parents he murdered in his moments of rage.

Given that yesterday we learned that we were living in a house that was an inch away from a huge dryer fire, I really understand being enraged to the max and not being able to do something about it because we have to be nice. I was and am frying inside because people are not only assholes but they believe in it as if it's the standard and I can't go beyond a certain point to indicate that they are being superdicks. Gahh the helplessness of being civil and human!!! Being a fish is sometimes so much easier.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Lonely and Shy Boisakh

Yeah bitches.... I am back. And you know why? You wanna know why? Because it's the Bengali New Year that announces the advent of summer and all things warm, it tells you that your prickly heats are back and are gonna stay the season and back in old Kolkata, power starts to "come" at certain times of the day and not "go" as they shed the loads. And somewhere in Kolkata people are eating Ilish and wearing finest and crispestly starched Dhakai sarees and cotton kurtas and visiting friends and foes. And that brings me here today.

As of now, 8.09 pm in Edmonton, we have the Christmas lights (yes CHRISTMAS FUCKING LIGHTS!!) on since it went dark(which was rather early, let me tell you that) and Rantoush and I had a very sombre dinner listening to Frosty the Snowman un-showered and in our pjs because... it's snowing like hell since last night without a break. Just before eating our sad meal(which was by itself the yummiest ever) I was putting the lights on to pretend that the sign of festivities has not died in this household and then I stood at our picture-frame window of the living room looking at the snow-pile outside.

I was probably shaking my head to myself while I heard Rantoush muttering under her breath sitting at the kitchen table:
-Yeah , yeah, I know you are trying to deal with it... Just as I am trying to find a suitable Christmas song on the fucking internet..when it decides to show it's face ..But you know, this is ...surprise.. APRIL! We're all dealing with our issues you know..!
-Yeah man.. What.. This.. I HATE this..
-Yeah, Melancholy is my family name..

...and then she kept muttering about whether the shower was gonna happen, or whether she should go out in her pjs and the hilariously childish striped t-shirt and sandals for a smoke at which point I decided to retire to my perch and write to all you fine people that we are still alive.. So, YOU may begin your debaucheries and assholeries for another year, I permit you in the finest grace and charm that I can summon at this moment. I. Don't. Give. A. Shit.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

The Cinnamon Peeler : Michael Ondaatje

I am trying very hard not to fall in love but ..it's hard.. "Nuf about me..Why don't you just read this?

If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.

Your breasts and shoulders would reek
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.

Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbor to your hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.

I could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
-- your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers...

When we swam once
I touched you in water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
You climbed the bank and said

this is how you touch other womenthe grasscutter's wife, the lime burner's daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume.
and knewwhat good is itto be the lime burner's daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in an act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of scar.

You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
peeler's wife. Smell me.