tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-128118802024-03-07T08:01:02.393-08:00Dog Day Afternoons (Old Blog)“Nobody’s perfect ... yet.”Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.comBlogger118125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-88622732599373674382007-10-01T12:34:00.000-07:002008-01-04T23:14:20.130-08:00My New BlogOn this day of October the 1st, 2007, I have, intentionally and in full possession of my senses, started a new blog at the following URI:<br /><br /><s><a href="http://adityab.blogsome.com/">http://adityab.blogsome.com/</a></s> <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://aditya.wordpress.com/">http://aditya.wordpress.com/</a><br /><br />Do visit and comment.Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1159296084903900342006-09-26T11:39:00.000-07:002006-09-26T11:41:24.973-07:00I am retreating from my internet activities for the next few months. This blog is closed until further notice.<br /><br />See ya later.Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1157831622328984222006-09-09T11:28:00.000-07:002006-09-10T03:04:47.823-07:00Yesterday I received an email from someone called Natalia from Russia who appears to have “young” and “two antenna”. I decided not to reply, nor to open the email.*<br /><br />And then at night, I dreamt that I brought home three puppies, and they pissed all over my bed while I was asleep. I have no idea what this dream means, although it might explain why I made so many trips to the bathroom today. And tonight, I received an email that asked me if “Your wife prefers your dog’s penis to yours?”* It was quite depressing.<br /><br />[ <span style="font-style: italic;">* In case this gives the impression that I habitually write about emails I receive, let me note that both of these were spam mails.</span> ]<br /><br />In other – more pleasant – news, the Goethe Institute (at least here in Pune) is holding a film festival that’s (a) free, (b) interesting, (c) sub-titled, and (d) free. If you’re interested, then your local branch of the Goethe Institute would be your best bet for information.<br /><br />What with the films, and other things such as education, I have been keeping busy, and the little bugger’s leading me on a mightily pretty dance. And therefore, no post for so long. But you didn’t ask, did you?<br /><br />But we are here now, and we have a meme come unto us from <a href="http://bluelullaby.blogspot.com/">one of our favourite deities</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. One book that changed your life?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Naked Ape</span> by Desmond Morris. It alerted me to the fact that there are people in the world better than me. It was an unthinkable idea before I read this.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. One book you have read more than once?</span><br /><br />Quite a few, actually. One that I keep dipping into all the time is Kingsley Amis’s <span style="font-style: italic;">The King’s English</span>.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. One book you would want on a desert island?</span><br /><br />Michael Moorcock’s <span style="font-style: italic;">The Dancers at the End of Time</span> (although probably only the first two books of the trilogy) – if I am going to be all alone and without resources, I think the End of Time is the world I’d most like to take there with me. Or perhaps <span style="font-style: italic;">The Faerie Queene</span> – something to help me sleep.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4. One book that made you cry?</span><br /><br />None that I can remember.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5. One book that made you laugh?</span><br /><br />Not one. Gerald Durrell, Douglas Adams (particularly the third Hitchhiker book and the third Dirk Gently book, which had Adams dying in the middle of it), Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books, Jasper Fforde’s Thursday Next books. Most recently, <span style="font-style: italic;">Good Omens</span> (which I finally finished on Aishwarya’s advice).<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6. One book you wish had been written?</span><br /><br />One of the several books and graphic stories currently residing in my brain. Any one would do. Alternatively, someone should finally get down to it and write <span style="font-style: italic;">Quantum Mechanics for the Mentally Challenged</span>. That would be interesting, would it not?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">7. One book you wish had never been written?</span><br /><br />I don’t think I’d ever want anything like that (I hope not). But if I had to choose one on pain of <span style="font-style: italic;">Three’s Company</span> reruns, I’d second whoever on the net it was that chose the <span style="font-style: italic;">Malleus Maleficarum</span>.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">8. One book you are currently reading?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Gospel of Judas</span> by Simon Mawer. Very interestingly written. I picked this up because of the recommendations, and because I’d seen a Discovery channel documentary on the real-life Gospel of Judas.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">9. One book you have been meaning to read?</span><br /><br />This ranges from none at more forgetful moments to hundreds when I start thinking about it. As of now, it would probably be the second and third books in the Gormenghast trilogy, Michael Moorcock’s Jerry Cornelius stuff, and Hugh Laurie’s novel <span style="font-style: italic;">The Gun Seller</span>. If asked to choose on pain of large daggers being thrust into my groin/eyeballs, I’d choose the Laurie book, because I guess I could do with a laugh in such a situation. I am also planning to read Samit Basu’s third Obiyalis book as soon as it is released.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">10. Tag five people.</span><br /><br />Shan’t.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Current music</span>: Bob Dylan – <span style="font-style: italic;">Modern Times</span> (This album rules expletively. Get it now.)Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1156019543241096272006-08-19T12:19:00.000-07:002006-08-19T13:32:23.436-07:00Rupi's DanceThere was a time when Jethro Tull was a highly respected band. They had a distinctive folksy-bluesy sound, they were generally well-loved, and their frontman Ian Anderson had created a delightful image for himself – that of a one-legged minstrel expertly playing the flute.<br /><br />But by and by, Anderson turned more progressive, and, after their first two prog-rock albums –<span style="font-style: italic;"> Aqualung</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Thick as a Brick</span> – ever more self-indulgent, and the band (with only two core members left – Anderson and guitarist Martin Barre) descended into bad synth-laden heavy metal. They also, along the way, lost their popularity and acclaim, and, like many prog-rock bands, collected around themselves a dedicated and rabid bunch of fanatics, thus preventing them from realising how bad they had become.<br /><br />But in the last few years, Ian Anderson seems to have come to his senses, and (like some other dinosaurs I could mention) realised the importance of creating songs rather than ruminations set to soundtracks.<br /><br />His last few albums – be they Tull or solo albums – have had melodies rather empty flute-blowing, and music rather than mindless heavy-metal guitar. And the best of this lot is his latest solo album – the 2003 release <span style="font-style: italic;">Rupi’s Dance</span>.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Rupi’s Dance</span> is an album by Ian Anderson containing simple songs about simple things, but it manages not to be simplistic. The songs are on subjects ranging from watching animals – in zoos or elsewhere – to simply watching life going by. The topics of the songs can be guessed from their titles – ‘A Raft of Penguins’, ‘Old Black Cat’, ‘Lost in Crowds’, and so on. Ian never goes off the point, and the point is never laboured. <span style="font-style: italic;">Rupi’s Dance</span> is, like the best Tull albums, charming, slightly sad, with Ian’s love for humankind tinged with his trademark derision for all of us.<br /><br />But <span style="font-style: italic;">Rupi’s Dance</span> is an old man’s album, and Ian seems to have tired of hating other people. The lyrics (<a href="http://www.j-tull.com/news/rupisdance.cfm">available here</a>, with commentary) seem appreciative and surprisingly gentle, and rather than ridiculing people, he is mocking people’s traits and characteristics, and never too harshly. The music is similar in style, if not in quality, to old classics like ‘Living in the Past’ and ‘Life Is a Long Song’, and is notable for the absence of the heavy and irritating tone of Barre Guitar (I think Barre’s a truly underrated guitarist, but I hate the guitar tone he picked up in the 80s). Even the lesser songs are a pleasant listen.<br /><br />In fact, <span style="font-style: italic;">Rupi’s Dance</span> is Ian at his most seductive and welcoming since 1978’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Heavy Horses</span>, and at his most tender and personal since perhaps 1969’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Stand Up</span>. And it actually manages to fare well (albeit not exceedingly so) in comparison with these two classics.<br /><br />Anyone who likes early Tull, or simply folksy music in general, should get this album. It’s not a work of genius, it’s not even consistently good, but it is a pleasant surprise nonetheless.Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1155150437472187042006-08-09T12:03:00.000-07:002006-08-09T12:07:19.303-07:00Today was <a href="http://festivals.tajonline.com/raksha-bandhan.php">Raksha Bandhan</a> day, and it struck me that this ritual, supposed to be performed in the morning, is, more and more (at least by people around my age), being performed in the evening, the reason being that people have jobs. It’s rather depressing how many people have jobs these days.<br /><br />I have no more than a passing interest in this festival, and, in our house, the ritual generally concludes with me passing on to my sister whatever my mother has bought for her as a gift. I have made a promise to my sister that when I start earning, I will buy her something personal and substantial, but she knows that day will be as far in the future as I can manage.<br /><br />There is this concept around here of a rakhi-sister/brother (meaning, basically, spiritual sibling), which is that you tie a rakhi to someone not related to you, and this allows you two to conduct a platonic friendship. I figure this tradition came about as a matter of convenience back when ‘a man and a woman can’t be just friends’ was accepted wisdom.<br /><br />We had a tradition of rakhis in our school, too, and one of my oldest friends became my rakhi-sister at the age of seven. And I remember that our primary school had this wonderfully gender-neutral tradition where you tied a rakhi to your bench-partner regardless of which sex either of you belonged to. It strikes me as pretty sensible (and generally fun), and it’s a bit sad that patriarchal ideas of gender prevent it from continuing.<br /><br />Some of my female readers might remember tying rakhis to guys who made unwelcome advances towards them. This acted as a prevention measure, because “Dude, you don’t fall for your ‘sister’”. I would have thought this particular tradition would fall out of eminence once we got out of school, but, from what I hear, it is still prevalent in colleges. This week, I got about twelve forwards (all of them from guys) saying that, on this day, one should keep an eye out for any woman approaching you with any kind of thread in her hand, and prepare to run in the other direction. Male engineering students of my acquaintance seem to think this is funny, but I suppose that tells us more about them than about the joke.Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1154883334560791082006-08-06T09:43:00.000-07:002006-08-06T10:08:12.476-07:00“A Pirate I Was Meant to Be ...”[<span style="font-weight: bold;">Note:</span> This is not exactly a review – I saw <span style="font-style: italic;">Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest</span> and it made me think more about what it was lacking than about what it had. So I have written about what I felt <span style="font-style: italic;">should</span> have been there, but wasn’t. So this is more of a manifesto than a review. That makes it better, doesn’t it?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Caveat:</span><br />1) This is off the top of my head – not particularly well-thought-out.<br />2) This does <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> apply to <span style="font-style: italic;">every</span> pirate movie in the future.<br />3) This is all my opinion. If you disagree, that’s quite alright.]<br /><br />I liked the first <span style="font-style: italic;">Pirates</span> movie. If I remember right, Johnny Depp was pretty much the only thing worth watching, but there was a lot of Depp there, and it was fun. The ending left a bad taste in the mouth, due to the romanticising of pirates. I did change my opinion about it later, because it seems fairly harmless, all in all.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Pirates 2</span> was a whole another deal. For one, it reversed the ending of the first movie, and gave us grimmer and more realistic consequences to Will and Elizabeth’s actions. All in all, this movie was a lot more like a true pirate movie should be – grimy, gruesome, bloodthirsty (with reservations), and filled with bastards from end to end. I still think the movies are too clean-cut – all pirates apart from the villains are basically ‘good’ pirates, and while I can understand <span style="font-style: italic;">some</span> being shown as such (good outlaws <span style="font-style: italic;">à la</span> Robin Hood), real pirates were nowhere as <span style="font-style: italic;">nice</span>. And there was not a single true piracy incident in either movie. But I have to say that Disney’s pirates were actually less Disneyfied than most other pirates we see today, which was good (and surprising).<br /><br />You can get the plot of the movie anywhere on the net, so I won’t recount it. It is exceedingly hokey, and I like it for that very reason. The scriptwriters couldn’t really get a story on, so they (a) relied on the special effects, and (b) filled the script with lots of F&#k Yeah moments. And I’m fine with that. I actually prefer that to a plot, because it makes it easier to put my brain on hold. The first movie had a bit of a plot, and the result was that we got 5 minutes of excitement after every 15 minutes of downtime, which was not good.<br /><br />There is this implied love triangle between Jack Sparrow (Depp), Elizabeth (Knightley) and Will (Bloom), which might or might not exist. It’s not particularly interesting, and my recommended resolution for this is that Will and Jack should get together (they would make a nice couple, wouldn’t they?) and Elizabeth should make it as a pirate. This would definitely be a lot more fun than any other combination, and my idea is supported not only by the first two movies, but also by pirate and sailor culture (at least as seen through the pop culture lens using which these movies have been made).<br /><br />When I first heard about this movie, I was somewhat irritated by the seemingly illiterate references to pirate culture (‘Dead Man’s Chest’ and ‘Davy Jones’, mainly), but I was pleasantly surprised by the tongue-in-cheek twist given to these terms, and that was when I began to think about the pirate movie/story I would <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> love to see.<br /><br />Firstly, it should be lots of words beginning with ‘gr’ – grimy, gruesome, grim, gritty, grubby, greasy. Current pirate-related pop culture (consisting mainly of <span style="font-style: italic;">Monkey Island</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Pirates</span>) isn’t all of these. <span style="font-style: italic;">Monkey Island</span> is, in fact, too clean, cutesy and <span style="font-style: italic;">nice</span>, which is pretty much the only thing I don’t like about it. There should be something of a return of pirate culture to its roots: amorality, ugliness, and death – lots of it. The only way it would still manage to work would be to conduct it through a filter of post-modern black comedy that discomforts as much as it entertains. If you’re going to show someone murder and make them enjoy it, then you might as well make them feel guilty about it.<br /><br />It does not particularly need to be accurate. Pirate culture is not important enough today to have to get it right. It has been present in pop culture in snippets rather than in chunks, as the Wild West has. When someone twists the Wild West around to have fun, the audience knows it. This is not so with pirate culture. So when you get it wrong, you inflame geeks, and make the rest of the audience think you’re right. So the writer/film-maker has the opportunity to create an entire new version of pirate culture that would still conform to the spirit of the original. One can take a post-modern look at it and still be able to create something that is resonant and interesting – you need to stick to spiritual truth, not to facts.<br /><br />The lack of morality surrounding the pirate culture is particularly interesting. When I read people like Garth Ennis and Warren Ellis (the former <span style="font-style: italic;">much</span> more than the latter) portraying murderers and killers as more-or-less entirely sympathetic characters, I feel uncomfortable, mainly because I feel there must be quite a few readers who genuinely identify with them. This is very clear in Ennis’s ‘masterpieces’ – <span style="font-style: italic;">Preacher</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Hitman</span>. Tommy ‘Hitman’ Monaghan kills people for money, but he’s supposed to be a good guy because he only kills bad people. And the heroes of <span style="font-style: italic;">Preacher</span> are mass-murderers, but they are unequivocally ‘good people’. What I am getting at here is that the pirate story could make this equation a lot more interesting, because you could play on the characters as being entirely morally ambiguous (and therefore unpredictable and interesting) rather than ‘basically good’, as done in the <span style="font-style: italic;">Pirates</span> movies.<br /><br />This is all I have for now, and I’m posting this to keep things in line. I might append to it as I think things out.Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1153592986418987712006-07-22T11:15:00.000-07:002006-07-22T11:29:46.616-07:00(Possibly) Very Important NoticeUm. This is rather embarrassing, actually. Someone appears to have mailed me something about (or related to) my blog. The first line referred to the previous name of my blog. The mail, by some matter of chance, arrived in my Spam folder. And I noticed the subject line <span style="font-style: italic;">just</span> as I deleted all the spam.<br /><br />So please, if the person who sent it reads this (and they seem to be a reader of my blog), please, <span style="font-style: italic;">please</span> forgive me and mail it to me again. I generally check my spam thoroughly before deleting it. Tonight was an exception. I promise it won’t happen again.Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1153422389848738412006-07-20T11:50:00.000-07:002006-07-20T12:08:00.136-07:00There is a reason I haven’t been posting for a long time. (Well, I always don’t post for a long time, but this time there’s a reason, so yay.)<br /><br />I have bought a blackboard, and have been writing “The net doesn’t help you write.” 500 times every day. It’s been that kind of a month. I have written many half-essays and part-stories. I started all of five posts on Nick Cave but had to abandon them because I couldn’t do them justice. I still am going to write a post comparing <span style="font-style: italic;">The Boatman’s Call</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">No More Shall We Part</span>, simply because I want to. Besides, I have a readership of ten, and five of them like Nick Cave, so it won’t be as obscure as a comic-book post might be.<br /><br />Speaking of which, for a supposed comic-book fan, I have missed an astonishing* number of comic-book movies. I didn’t watch <span style="font-style: italic;">X-Men 2</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">X-Men 3</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">Batman Begins</span>, and I do not in the slightest remember what <span style="font-style: italic;">Spider-Man 2</span> was about. I will, however, watch <span style="font-style: italic;">Dead Man’s Chest</span>**, because I love Johnny Depp. He’s got style, and I’d much rather watch a stylish performance than a good performance in a pulp movie. (For example, I’d rather watch Ian McKellen hamming it up in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Lord of the Rings</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">X-Men</span>, even though I know he is an awesome actor.)<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">[ * Typical comic-book exaggeration. ]</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">[ ** </span>Pirates of the Caribbean <span style="font-style: italic;">was not a comic-book movie, of course, but it is probably what a comic-book movie might have been like had comics through the ages not been mired by superheroes. Sort of the light side of the pirate comic(s) in </span>Watchmen<span style="font-style: italic;">. ]</span><br /><br />Speaking of British theatre actors, I recently read a book that McKellen called the most honest book written about theatre actors. This was <span style="font-style: italic;">Being an Actor</span> by Simon Callow. It is a good, and very well-written, book, if rather overlong, and there are a lot of wonderful insights on the craft of acting. I generally prefer film acting to theatre acting, but I have an immense respect for the one-man show. I find the concept of one actor holding an entire audience for over an hour simply through her/his performance quite astounding. I think the narrative structure of this kind of show has a lot of potential, especially for experimentation, and I think any person talented and confident enough to take on the task of not only enacting a number of characters – shifting the audience’s centre of belief once every few minutes – but also guiding the audience through it all has to be worthy of monumental respect. As I said, I also find the structure very interesting to work in and I would love to write a one-man show someday (after reading and watching enough of them, of course).<br /><br />One particular play I’ve seen that is not <span style="font-style: italic;">exactly</span> a one-man show, because it does have other actors in it, but which I think is still interesting for anyone who likes them, is Keith Waterhouse’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Jeffrey Bernard Is Unwell</span>. I saw the Peter O’Toole version (on DVD) and it’s quite wonderful – funny, mocking, increasingly surreal over its duration, and full of Waterhouse’s beloved Soho characters. You like the character of Bernard (who was a real person) a lot, but you also feel for the women whose lives he’s ruined by marrying them. O’Toole is just exquisite in every way, and he has both the world-weariness and the zest for life – apparently paradoxical – down to perfection.<br /><br />While writing this post, I was with a friend (who I think is a very nice guy, in case he reads this) on IM, and I was walking him through installing a freeware software. When it came to choosing a mirror site to download from, I told him any one would do, it didn’t matter which one he chose. And he broke down because he was confronted with too much choice.<br /><br />I was looking for information about books written by Steve Gerber, when I found out that there is a comic-book character called ‘Giant-Size Man-Thing’. No comment.<br /><br />And now, at the very end, so that you leave the post happy, here’s the most wonderfully weird description of a sexual encounter I’ve read in ... well, ever, really (unless maybe you count an ‘Aristocrats’ joke).<br /><blockquote>You took me back to your place<br />And dressed me up in a deep sea diver’s suit<br />You played the patriot, you raised the flag<br />And I stood at full salute<br />Later on we smoked a pipe that struck me dumb<br />And made it impossible to speak<br />As you closed in, in slow motion,<br />Quoting Sappho, in the original Greek<br /><div style="text-align: right;">– Nick Cave, ‘Nature Boy’</div></blockquote>Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1150828842299257352006-06-20T11:36:00.000-07:002006-06-20T11:40:42.330-07:00Ooh, a meme. What joy. I was tagged by <a href="http://bluelullaby.blogspot.com/2006/06/meme-meme.html">Aishwarya</a>. Here goes ...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I am thinking about ...</span><br />... watching a movie tomorrow.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I said ...</span><br />... “Series 1 is better than Series 2!” (To a friend, regarding <span style="font-style: italic;">The Young Ones</span>.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I want to ...</span><br />... write more, and better.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I wish ...</span><br />... I could do a fake German accent as good as Eddie Izzard’s.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I miss ...</span><br />... nothing in particular.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I hear ...</span><br />... the sound of the fan, and of water dripping, god knows where.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I wonder ...</span><br />... what percentage of people are gay and don’t admit it.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I regret ...</span><br />... being 14, 15, 16 and 17. And 18 too, a little.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I am ...</span><br />... silly. Extremely.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I dance ...</span><br />... only with male friends, for a laugh.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I sing ...</span><br />... in the bathroom. And outside it.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I cry ...</span><br />... not very often.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I am not always ...</span><br />... tactful.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I make with my hands ...</span><br />... food, sometimes.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I write ...</span><br />... stuff that’s more depressing than it should be.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I confuse ...</span><br />... most people I know.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I need ...</span><br />... adulation. (Apologies to Aishwarya for stealing this one.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I should try ...</span><br />... doing more stuff in the time I have.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I finish ...</span><br />Yes I do. Really. I finished this, didn’t I?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Current music</span>: Brian Eno – <span style="font-style: italic;">Another Green World</span> (It’s very good indeed)Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1150491398023072372006-06-16T13:53:00.000-07:002006-06-16T13:56:38.060-07:00This was supposed to be posted on Tuesday, but my net connection was down, incapabilising me till today. But timeliness/punctuality (take your pick) has never exactly been my strong point, so I don’t think it matters.<br /><br />I went to Mumbai last Saturday, mainly to loosen up a bit. Due to a variety of factors, I had, for the whole of last month, been cooped up at home or cooped up in class, with more-or-less nothing in between.<br /><br />When I decided to go to Mumbai, I expected there would be rain there. Lots of it. I wanted to write the whole thing up, and I wanted to be extremely pretentious about it. I wanted to be able to say that I had spread my arms and opened my mouth to receive the rain, that I had wandered through the nooks and crannies of this beloved yet despised city, that, treading carefully through the wet streets and damp alleys, my backpack and I had received hidden knowledge about Mumbai, things people living here for years had not managed to realise. Travel-writer-y stuff, generally.<br /><br />It did not rain. But I’ll try to write it up anyway.<br /><br />The first thing I did on the trip was to write a poem in the bus, my first in four years, and, following <a href="http://bluelullaby.blogspot.com/">Aishwarya</a>’s sage advice, I <span style="font-style: italic;">won’t</span> reproduce it here (I would’ve burnt it or something, but it’s written on the back of a receipt).<br /><br />I originally had plans for Saturday, but they got cancelled, so I spent the afternoon wandering. My little black suitcase was not as effective in giving the right impression as a shoulder bag might have been, but I made do. The moment I got off from the bus, I made my way around King Circle, looking for books, and I got quite a few nice ones. I am trying to get away from my regular (popular) reading background, so I concentrated on ‘good’ books. I finally got a copy of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Outsider</span>, and it’s got a lovely cover (<span style="font-style: italic;">R. Duchamp</span> by Jacques Villon). I also got a Nadine Gordimer collection, again with a wonderful cover that looks like a Goya sketch (which it very well might be). I got a few other books that seem interesting, including Margaret Atwood’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Blind Assassin</span> and a book by I. Allan Sealy.<br /><br />I had lunch at an Irani restaurant, which was dependably good. The best thing about the restaurant was the fact that it served something called an ‘Iranian Wrestler Omelette’, which, unfortunately, sounded too intimidating to actually order.<br /><br />After a (not entirely but almost) satisfactory shopping experience, I took a train to the place where I was staying. It was afternoon, and there weren’t many people in the compartment. There was a very cute little baby sitting in front of me, bouncing itself on its mother’s lap. It would stop once in a while to cough in that special baby manner, which makes even a cough seem ethereal, and then it would begin to bounce again. After a while it got tired of that, and contented itself to pulling at its mother’s dress and pointing towards everyone in the compartment, in case mum hadn’t noticed them.<br /><br />About half-way through the journey, a blind beggar stepped onto the train. There are lots of blind beggars on Mumbai trains, and they generally make you want to close your ears till they’ve left – they seem to want to irritate you till you give them something to leave. This one was different. He came from behind me, slowly making his way through the compartment, and I could hear him keeping time on some kind of little drum, and playing cymbals to embellish the music. As he came into view, I saw that he was actually keeping time by hitting his stick on the floor, and the cymbal sounds were coins jangling in his palm, all perfectly done. And what struck me was that he was a singer. He had a very nice voice, and he was singing in tune, and he was following the song, rather than forcing it to do what he wanted. In fact, he felt a lot more like a street singer (meant in the most respectable way possible) than like a beggar. There was silence in the compartment when he started singing, and it lasted till he left. Lots of people, including me, gave him money, and I, for one, felt he had earned it. The incident reminded me strongly of <a href="http://www.withinandwithout.com/?p=596">this post</a> (funny how the good stuff stays in your mind – the post is seven months old).<br /><br />The rest of Saturday was uneventful. I also attended a boring family function, but those always read better when they’re not actually written about (although I should note that there was, for some reason, a disco ball attached to the ceiling of the hall – I pointed it out to many people, most of whom did not share my amusement). I also had a nice family dinner with an unidentifiable number of cousins and an uncle and an aunt. We had lots of different stuff that I observed carefully so I would be able to write it out in my German Restaurant critique essay, which I eventually had to abandon because half of it was basically Indian words.<br /><br />Sunday was lots of fun. I didn’t actually do anything the whole morning, except laze around and sleep intermittently. I met Aishwarya (who was in from Delhi for a family function) in the afternoon, and we had a very nice chat, and we roamed around looking for books (for her – I’d exhausted my budget on Saturday). I’d write about it, but she’s a goddess on earth, and it would be impertinent for a mere human to even think of writing about an encounter with her. (I hope this is flattering enough. [<span style="font-style: italic;">Insert appropriately charming smiley</span>])<br /><br />And then I came back to Pune with my mother, who I had thoughtlessly left trapped between layers upon layers of relatives. When I got back home, the first thing I did was sleep. Lots.<br /><br />My whole trip was conducted under a glaze of sweat, hot, sticky, with an undercurrent of pallidness. But as always happens with Mumbai, after the whole thing is done, that part of the memory sort of recedes, leaving a warm, glowing and non-sticky feeling. And it’s this feeling that, in spite of your better sense, makes you want to blog about it.Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1149619784153066992006-06-06T11:38:00.000-07:002006-06-06T11:49:44.183-07:00I saw Terry Gilliam’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Time Bandits</span> a couple of days ago, and, watching it, I realised I had already seen parts of it around 10-11 years ago. The giant with the ship on his head, and the invisible barrier to the Fortress of Darkness (or whatever it’s called) – it all seemed familiar because I’d already seen it, and the images had been distinctive enough to stay in my mind.<br /><br />The other such experience I had (that I can remember) was fairly different in the details. Again, around 8-9 years ago, I heard half of this song (I don’t remember if I heard it on the radio or on a player) only once, and the refrain stayed in my mind literally for years, exactly as it was, and I would ocassionally play it in my head to see if it reminded me of any artist I knew. Then, around three years ago, as I was reading Bob Dylan reviews to decide if he was my kind of artist, I saw this song called ‘Shelter from the Storm’. And I went, wait a second ... And guess what, it was that exact song, and the refrain (‘Come in, she said, I’ll give you/Shelter from the storm ...’) is as memorable today as it was then.<br /><br />It is rather wonderful to find such snippets, unconsciously filed away, only to re-emerge when one least expects it. And of course, it is gratifying to realise that, even all those years ago, one had better taste than one gives oneself credit for.<br /><br />----------------<br /><br />Speaking of snippets of memory, something else. I have a very bad memory, and so I was trying to rack my brains for my happiest memory yet. To my surprise, I found it.<br /><br />When I was little, we had these two huge army trunks on our terrace. One of them was filled with crap that should’ve been disposed off years ago (and which <span style="font-style: italic;">was</span> disposed off when we sold the trunks), and the other was half-way filled with utensils, and half-way with my books – everything from old and new comic-books to pulp horror and sci-fi stuff. And every summer, I would remove all the utensils from this trunk, line up (or garishly pile up, depending on the day of the week) all the books at the sides, plunk myself in the middle of the trunk with a bottle of water and some fruit, and read. It was fun.<br /><br />----------------<br /><br />It has started raining now, a week or so ago, and after a bout of the dull and depressing kind of rain, which makes one want to stand at windows and sigh deeply, it is turning into the proper rainy season (which is a phrase I like much better than ‘monsoon’).<br /><br />Whenever there is a thunder crash, I feel an urgent need to giggle, because each time there is one – that loud, deep growl – I expect a particular four-note electric bass riff followed by an Elvis-parody voice saying, ‘Look yonder!!’ (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, forget it.)<br /><br />I also like those storm clouds gathering on the horizon, because every time I get out of the house they make me feel like an extra in the <span style="font-style: italic;">Lord of the Rings</span> movies.<br /><br />But I am also a tad miffed at the rainy season, because soon I will have to stop wearing <span style="font-style: italic;">kurtas</span>, because my windcheater doesn’t cover one. But one must not forget that there will be lots of rainy evenings, so lots of opportunities for hot <span style="font-style: italic;">chai</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">bhaji</span> (which is basically <span style="font-style: italic;">pakora</span>, but not quite).<br /><br />But all things considered, I can’t wait till it’s winter. I started an essay last winter, but the winter ended quite unexpectedly, and I’d really like to complete that essay.Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1149008036053034942006-05-30T09:51:00.000-07:002006-05-30T09:53:56.086-07:00A bit of fiction. This was an exercise – I was trying to get a certain tone. I don’t think I succeeded, but it seems interesting enough to post. Do comment.<br /><blockquote>I swear I was thinking of you the whole time. I was having lunch in a restaurant. You’d said you would be home by late afternoon, so I was trying to pass the time.<br /><br />I was making an attempt to appreciate this odd-looking quiche, which refused to be penetrated, psychologically or physically.<br /><br />But that doesn’t really matter, as you know by now. The whole place started falling apart when I finally managed to pry a piece out. Coincidence, of course. There was an explosion somewhere nearby, and I popped under the table, almost by reflex. Half the ceiling turned to bits and rained down on us. I was glad I had removed my coat before entering the dining room. The floor started rocking alarmingly, and I clutched my chair to steady myself.<br /><br />The man at the next table seemed to be wondering whether to remove the pieces of plaster from his dish and continue or to ask for a replacement. He changed his mind and hid under the table, where his wife was waiting for him.<br /><br />The noise of the explosions kept on, but the hotel seemed to have chosen a certain level of collapse and stopped at that. We were all looking at each other, trying to figure out if it would be any use to say something.<br /><br />So I closed my eyes – and there were dragons there, flying over the city and making it jump into flames. I didn’t know what was happening in real life, but it seemed irrelevant.<br /><br />I could hear the low whispering of the man at the next table, saying something to his wife.<br /><br />“Excuse me, lady,” she said to me. “Do you think my husband will get to finish his lunch?”<br /><br />I opened my eyes and smiled at her.<br /><br />After a while, everything went quiet. I realized you would be waiting for me, so I headed out of the restaurant.<br /><br />There was an old man in the lobby, lying with his limbs at awkward angles. I thought it would only be polite to say goodbye to him, so I said it as tenderly as I could manage. Then I took my coat and walked out.<br /><br />The city, already ragged and tired, as you like to put it, had been smashed, skewered and cut up. But it was still my city, I loved it. In fact, if we don’t consider you for a moment, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.</blockquote>Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1148206364907507642006-05-21T03:09:00.000-07:002006-05-21T03:12:44.976-07:00The <a href="http://holly.mclo.net/archives/2006/05/carnival_of_fem.html">15th Carnival of Feminists</a> is up at Self-Portrait as, and it is, as always, excellent.<br /><br />The previous Carnivals are <a href="http://feministcarnival.blogspot.com/">available here</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Current music</span>: Pink Floyd - <span style="font-style: italic;">Careful with That Axe, Eugene</span> (due to a particular conversation yesterday)Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1147810931792839692006-05-16T13:18:00.000-07:002006-05-17T09:42:40.030-07:00Bullshit Nights, and an AnniversaryI had to do a presentation thingy at my German course today. We were supposed to find a German-language article that we thought interesting, and summarise it and explain the themes.<br /><br />I chose a couple of book reviews of the same book – Nick Flynn’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Bullshit Nights</span>. That’s actually the German title – and the original English edition is called <span style="font-style: italic;">Another Bullshit Night in Suck City</span>, which is a favourite expression of Nick Flynn’s father. The reason I read the reviews was that the name of the book had a feel somewhat related to the title of this blog, and, in the accompanying photo, the author had a nice little beat/punk thing going on that I found interesting.<br /><br />This book is about Nick Flynn and his relationship with his father. Since his parents’ separation when Nick was six months old, he had only seen his father twice. Then, when he was twenty-seven and working at a homeless shelter, he met his father, now homeless. Apparently the book is almost as much about places as characters as it is about these relationships. Nick’s relationship with his father can be summarised in Nick’s statement in an interview that he doesn’t want to live with his father, because he is afraid to turn into him.<br /><br />I read the German reviews (of the German translation), and then, because I found the whole thing interesting, I also read reviews of the English edition. I still haven’t read the book, but now I realize it has become one of those things which you love without actually having experienced it (a bit like Nick Cave’s book <span style="font-style: italic;">And the Ass Saw the Angel</span>, which I have an immense theoretical love for, even though I am fairly sure I’ll probably find it fairly boring). Perhaps if I actually do read <span style="font-style: italic;">Another Bullshit Night ...</span>, I will be underwhelmed. So maybe I won’t.<br /><br />You can find three of Nick Flynn’s poems on <a href="http://www.graywolfpress.org/Related_Content/Book_Excerpts/Excerpt_from_Some_Ether/">this page</a>. His poetry is very, very good. Not quite brilliant, but gorgeous is, I believe, enough. The third poem on the page – ‘Cartoon Physics, Part 1’ – is rather lovely. I read it in class to give ... er ... ‘my audience’ an experience of this writer I was reviewing without having read. I’ve got the first poem tacked on to the wall behind my computer as ‘Poem of the Week’ (I’ll probably forget to change it till next year, when it will be crackly dry and brittle, but that’s okay). The last few lines are the best part of it:<br /><blockquote>... I have<br /><br />a friend who everyone warns me<br />is dangerous, he hides<br />bloody images of Jesus around my house<br /><br />for me to find when I come home — Jesus<br />behind the cupboard door, Jesus tucked<br /><br />into the mirror. He wants to save me<br />but we disagree from what. My version of hell<br />is someone ripping open his<br />shirt & saying,<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">look what I did for you.</span></blockquote><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>----------------<br /><br />The preceding stuff was because I wanted to write the following, and I thought maybe I should have some content to accompany it.<br /><br />This blog turned one year old last Thursday (the 11th of May), and guess what – I forgot. I had it in mind till about the 7th, but then, whoosh. It’s not quite been a year, though, because I took two or three pretty long breaks in between. But dates do mean stuff (‘mean’ as verb, not adjective).<br /><br />I had a nice long post planned, with a nice story to follow. I was going to make a very obscure joke and point out that it was no coincidence that John Constantine has his birthday on the 10th of May. It was all going to be very nice. But I was too busy for all that, and now I feel very guilty. I will try and post something next week, to make up.<br /><br />So now, I am going to place a candle and ask the blog to blow it out. To help it along, I will surreptitiously put on the fan. Of course, I like my blog – it has introduced me to many intelligent and wonderfully nice people – so I will also have to give it some sort of gift. So I hope to either post a bit more frequently, or tinker with the design a bit. Let’s keep our fingers crossed, shall we?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Current music</span>: Neko Case – <span style="font-style: italic;">Fox Confessor Brings the Flood</span> (I am sort of in love with her music right now. Do take a listen.)Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1146948200006826262006-05-06T13:32:00.000-07:002006-05-06T13:48:49.550-07:00The <a href="http://the-goddess.org/wam/2006/05/carnival-of-feminists-is-here-hazzah.html">14th Carnival of Feminists</a> is up at <span style="font-style: italic;">Women’s Autonomy and Sexual Sovereignty Movements</span>. I haven’t read it yet, but I know it’ll be great. Go take a look.<br /><br />The previous Carnivals are <a href="http://feministcarnival.blogspot.com/">available here</a>.<br /><br />On a separate note, my exams are over, and they went well, except for one paper where I have to stress it was <span style="font-style: italic;">not my fault</span>!<br /><br />Anyway, I’ll be back sometime next week.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Current music</span>: Neko Case – <span style="font-style: italic;">Set Out Running</span>Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1145469644063621122006-04-19T10:52:00.000-07:002006-04-19T11:00:44.113-07:00Coming out of hibernation for a few moments to note that the <a href="http://dailytroll.com/?p=765">13th Carnival of Feminists</a> is online, and it is utterly fabulous.<br /><br />The previous Carnivals are <a href="http://feministcarnival.blogspot.com/">available here</a>.Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1145213636446197702006-04-16T11:46:00.000-07:002006-04-16T12:10:35.183-07:00This is to announce that there will be no new posts on this blog till the 9th of May.<br /><br />My exams, which begin on Wednesday, will last till the 6th of May. The three days after that will be spent in one (or more) of the following three ways:<br /><br />1) Two days of reading every blog-related thing I will have missed, followed by one day of nursing a headache.<br /><br />2) Two days of reading any and every sort of book I can get my hands on, accompanied by very loud music, and once again followed by one day of nursing a headache.<br /><br />3) Two days spent in some sort of externally actuated consciousness-altering haze, followed by two days of nursing a headache, in which case, I will see you on the 10th.<br /><br />Excelsior!Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1144351889153746292006-04-06T12:20:00.000-07:002006-04-06T12:32:20.046-07:00Always Remember ... #2Always Remember ...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/335/1043/1600/clowns.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/335/1043/400/clowns.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Click on the image for a larger version.<br /><br />Okay, now that I have your attention (and completely unrelated to the image), do visit the <a href="http://ragnell.blogspot.com/2006/04/carnival-of-feminists-xii.html">12th Carnival of Feminists</a>, hosted by <s>Ragnell</s> Star Sapphire. It’s got loads of great links (including one of mine), and I found it especially interesting because it has many comics-related links.<br /><br />The previous Carnivals are <a href="http://feministcarnival.blogspot.com/">available here</a>.<br /><br />PS: <a href="http://sillysod.blogspot.com/2006/03/always-remember.html">Always Remember #1</a>.Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1144177585980976322006-04-04T11:52:00.000-07:002006-04-04T12:53:54.233-07:0020 SongsThis is an interesting meme – quote your favourite line from the first 20 songs in your playlist. The ones I really love are in italics.<br /><br />See if you can identify the songs from the lines. (Enter your answers in the comments.) <s>I don’t expect more than five right answers (the first person I quized got none).</s> Take that as a challenge.<br /><ol><li>I still believe she was my twin, but I lost the ring/She was born in spring, but I was born too late</li><li>I don’t want the world to change/I like the way it is/Just give me one more wish/I can’t get enough of this</li><li>I’ll come running to tie your shoe/I’ll come running to tie your shoe</li><li>So you write him a letter and say, “Her eyes are blue.”/He sends you a poem and she’s lost to you</li><li>Yes we feel bad in winter/We act a little bit strange/The dark sky threatens me daily/Makes me alter and change</li><li><span style="font-style: italic;">You are a force of nature, dear/And your breath curls from your lips/And the trees bend down their branches/Touch you with their fingertips</span></li><li>You got to fight everyday/And keep mediocrity at bay (Sound familiar? Check out my tagline.)</li><li>I know I’m bad/To jump on you like this/Some things don’t change/My middle name’s still ‘Risk’</li><li>My face beneath the streetlamp/It reveals what it is lonely people seek</li><li><span style="font-style: italic;">I’m not trying to cause a fuss/I just wanna make my own fuck-ups</span></li><li>I’ll tip my hat to the new constitution/Take a bow for the new revolution/Smile and grin at the change all around/Pick up my guitar and play ...<br /></li><li>If you still feel like today/And tomorrow’s the same way/Then I know it will be right tomorrow night</li><li><span style="font-style: italic;">I whisper all your names/I know not where you are/But somewhere, somewhere, somewhere here/Upon this wild abandoned star ...</span> (I was sorely tempted to include the whole song here)<br /></li><li>I really don’t know what “I love you” means/I think it means “Don’t leave me here alone”</li><li>Just when I think I’m winning/When I’ve broken every door/The ghosts of my life blow wilder than before</li><li><span style="font-style: italic;">She picked me up and sat me on her knee/Said, “Dear boy, won’t you come home with me?”</span></li><li><span style="font-style: italic;">’Cause you know and I know/In the morning I’ll be dead/You can sit around and you can watch/All the clean white sheets stained red</span></li><li>Close the door, put out the light/No, they won’t be home tonight</li><li>Call it intuition, call it a creeping suspicion,/But their words of derision meant they hardly knew me</li><li><span style="font-style: italic;">The ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face</span> (c’mon, I couldn’t not have this)</li></ol>Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1144094114301534522006-04-03T12:49:00.000-07:002006-04-04T12:29:49.456-07:00<a href="http://ginmar.livejournal.com/697722.html?thread=21208186#t21208186">A commentor</a> at <a href="http://ginmar.livejournal.com/">Ginmar’s blog</a> links to <a href="http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,10655-2112998,00.html">an opinion article in the Times</a>. The basic point of the article is that the way to stop sexism and related problems in India is to allow female foeticide.<br /><br />The writer begins by pointing out the fact that, while abortion is legal in India, sex determination isn’t. Now it is true that in an ideal world, you should be able to abort a foetus for whatever reason you like, but the fact is that that would be a problem in India. Aishwarya talks about it <a href="http://bluelullaby.blogspot.com/2006/02/female-foeticide-abortion-and-rights.html">here</a>.<br /><br />The first part of the article presents a fairly sensible opinion in favour of abortion rights. And then it starts to go somewhat off.<br /><blockquote>I think the best way to raise the status of women in India would be to legalise sex-selection abortion, and allow as many of them as are requested. Without wanting to be all Margaret Thatcher about it ... market forces can be the resolution of many cultural problems.</blockquote>So the solution to sexism and commodification of women is to ... er ... commodify them.<br /><br />Then she presents a scenario of there being fewer women than men.<br /><blockquote>Consider, now, if there were a two-year waiting list for Indian women. Those 1000 men would soon be duking it out for those 793 ladies.</blockquote>Now consider the words ‘duking it out’. The writer hasn’t thought it through. Consider there are fewer women than men, they are living in a situation where women aren’t considered important enough to be born, and consider the manner in which men would ‘duke it out’ for women.<br /><br />Put simply, there would be an extraordinarily high increase in the abuse of the women who live. Market strategies are obviously not equipped enough to consider this. And of course, sexism would definitely <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> decrease. There would, if anything, be an <span style="font-style: italic;">increase</span> in the treatment of women as property, which the writer vaguely acknowledges:<br /><blockquote>On finally getting his $80,000 woman, the man would then be doing the marital equivalent of polishing his wife every night with protective dubbin, and putting her on a special peg in the hallway.</blockquote>The only difference between the situation now and then is that it would be the <span style="font-style: italic;">woman’s</span> family who earns money from selling her, rather than the man’s family, as happens today.<br /><br />Theoretically, the men would be much more respectful towards women, but there is no real basis for this.<br /><br />The fact that this article even exists is an example of not thinking things through. As a friend of mine is fond of saying, even if you know how to write, it’s no use if you don’t know how to think.<br /><br />PS: Also perhaps relevant is <span style="font-style: italic;">Matrubhoomi</span>, a dystopic movie on the subject. I haven’t watched it, but I will link to Jai Arjun Singh’s review <a href="http://jaiarjun.blogspot.com/2005/07/matrubhoomi-review.html">here</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://sthreeling.blogspot.com/2006/04/commentor-at-ginmars-blog-links-to.html">Cross-posted on sthreeling.</a> Comments are enabled there.</span>Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1143571372645854272006-03-28T10:31:00.001-08:002006-03-28T11:49:50.866-08:00Spider-Man* India* <span style="font-style: italic;">I would like to note here that it is Spider-Man, not Spiderman, not Spider Man. He is a Man who is a Spider. It’s different for Batman or Superman, who are not, respectively, a Man who is a Bat or a Man who is a** Super.</span><br /><br />** <span style="font-style: italic;">Not a typo.</span><br /><br />When I read in the papers some months ago that there was going to be published a new version of Spider-Man called <span style="font-style: italic;">Spider-Man India</span>, I had this intense wish to read it – just like one can’t resist looking at a messy road accident.<br /><br />I have no beef with new versions of old heroes – I dearly like DC’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Elseworlds</span><a href="#s1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> print, which hasn’t exactly given the world magnificent stories, but which has been generally amusing and diverting. My problem was with an <span style="font-style: italic;">Indian</span> version of a western superhero. And, just to see if I was right, I picked up the first two issues of this ... er ... exercise. As expected, I was entirely right.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/335/1043/1600/Spidey%20Ind.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/335/1043/400/Spidey%20Ind.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>The story goes thus. Pavitr Prabhakar, who is from a village and always wears a dhoti, is ridiculed by everybody at his college. His uncle Bhim and auntie Maya are doing their best to keep him there. His only friend at college (well, he considers her his friend, but she has actually only spoken a couple of civil words to him) is Meera Jain. And while this is going on, the evil industrialist Nalin Oberoi is plotting to raise a demon. The demon is the Green Goblin. And suddenly Pavitr Prabhakar wakes to his destiny of wearing a Spider-Kurta and swinging on his web around the – ahem – skyscrapers of Mumbai.<br /><br />Issues 3 and 4, as far as I know, continue the story with the addition of Doc Ock, and something inspired by Venom (which is, obviously, a figure that is a lot more black-and-white here than in the original).<br /><br />Now simply from this synopsis, you can tell what’s wrong. They have ignored the basic point of the original Spider-Man – that he is a normal person who got his powers by <span style="font-style: italic;">accident</span> – there was no destiny involved<a href="#s2"><sup>[2]</sup></a>, and that was what made Spidey special. Apart from that, I don’t think a single young boy/man in Maharashtra, be he from the city or from a village, actually wears a dhoti. And it’s not even as if dhotis come out that much cheaper than trousers (unless, of course, he’s wearing his uncle Bhim’s discarded dhotis). It’s plain unrealistic, as is a large part of the book.<br /><br />This story, and the take, has a lot more in common with a Hindi movie from the 80s than with the source material. The robbery that leads to the death of uncle Bhim has now been morphed into an attempted rape of a woman in an alley (although it’s not referenced as such, because this is a kids’ comic, isn’t it?), and the fact that Spidey India ignores this incident for some web-slinging fun (combined with the fact that he’s supposed to be an honest-to-god hero and not just a kid with powers) shows him as a callous human being rather than as a normal teenager who has petty emotions like everybody, which was the way it was shown in the original comic (and the movie). The only time I actually enjoyed this comic was when I thought to myself that when introduced Venom here, they might make him a Vish-Purush<a href="#s3"><sup>[3]</sup></a>. There is something vaguely amusing about Spider-Man chasing villains trying to escape in a rickshaw, but it isn’t even camp enough to enjoy it <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> way.<br /><br />But most of this is simply bad writing, and there is something a lot more fundamentally wrong here. The book is written in English, and has a generally high quality of production. This, when combined with the subject matter, is not something that might cater to either the primary demographic – urban boys in their preteens – or the secondary one – everybody else. Instead of being either an entertaining yarn or a moral story, it simply comes across as a confused attempt to play to all audiences – young boys who have ‘lost touch with their culture’, older people who think this would be a good way to get the young boys back in touch with their culture, and non-Indians who might be interested in reading a new and interesting take on a concept that now seems as old as the hills.<br /><br />My friend Nikhil, who likes animated cartoons, tells me that an animated version of this comic book is being developed as an ongoing television series. Considering that a lot more kids watch tv than read comic books, all I can say is God help the poor critters.<br /><br />Also, it seems that a film version of this, with Shah Rukh Khan in it, is currently being discussed. I am just going to leave that sentence like that without comment.<br /><br /><a name="s1"></a>[1] <span style="font-style: italic;">The </span>Elseworlds<span style="font-style: italic;"> hook: In </span>Elseworlds<span style="font-style: italic;">, heroes are taken from their usual settings and put into strange times and places – some that have existed, and others that can’t, couldn’t or shouldn’t exist. The result is stories that make characters who are as familiar as yesterday seem as fresh as tomorrow.</span><br /><br /><a name="s2"></a>[2] <span style="font-style: italic;">I choose to ignore the recent revamp of Spidey as a totemic figure, forged by destiny, because it was essentially a display of an utter lack of ideas. Also, Peter now lives with MJ and Aunt May in the plush Avenger Towers, but I have nothing against that because you can’t keep him a loser forever.</span><br /><br /><a name="s3"></a>[3] <span style="font-style: italic;">A Vish-Purush is a man (as opposed to kanya = girl) who has venom in his veins instead of blood. And to the credit of Indian writers, this concept was around a long time before Bane came along.</span>Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1143224139169264082006-03-24T09:59:00.000-08:002006-03-24T10:15:39.210-08:00While reading <a href="http://bitingbeaver.blogspot.com/2006/03/got-god.html">this wonderful post</a>, I was reminded of something I read a couple of weeks ago. You might know about how comics treat rape and sexual abuse in a highly frivolous manner. Anything bad that happens to a woman is generally important only in how it affects the male (lead) character, and seldom in how it affects the woman herself. This, and many related things, are amply illustrated in the <a href="http://www.unheardtaunts.com/wir/">Women in Refrigerators</a> syndrome.<br /><br />And Garth Ennis is this Irish chap who writes comics that trounce religion (mostly Christianity) mercilessly. His comics usually assume that the key figures in Christianity exist, but they are always presented in a highly perverted (and sometimes original and interesting) manner. Ennis has written his fair share of women into refrigerators, and his treatment of gender issues is extremely heavy-handed and rather clueless. But I was struck by something he wrote in his run of <span style="font-style: italic;">Hellblazer</span>* (which is a title I started reading because of <a href="http://abhimanyudas.blogspot.com/">this guy</a>).<br /><br />[ * Hellblazer<span style="font-style: italic;"> is a comic book about John Constantine, a chain-smoking semi-alcoholic British guy who does magic stuff, and who was, for some reason, morphed into the all-American expressionless Keanu Reeves when they made a movie of it. The character was created by Alan Moore.</span> ]<br /><br />Garth Ennis, in <span style="font-style: italic;">Hellblazer</span>, postulated that Jesus Christ was born from the angel Gabriel’s rape of Mary, which Gabriel had committed on God’s orders. And now (in the twentieth century), Gabriel is hating God, and is going to fall, and one of the reasons he resents God is for making him do that.<br /><br />Now consider that this is a god who can do such a thing to one of his own beloved creations. What kind of god might he be?<br /><br />Ennis, in his story, was more concerned with Gabriel, but this is the part that struck me the most. And which is why, in spite of Ennis’s fetish for guns and for thrusting war stories into almost every title he writes, I will continue to read his books.<br /><br />And since we are on the topic, I will take this opportunity to point you to <a href="http://bluelullaby.blogspot.com/2006/03/since-im-too-disoriented-to-blog-and.html">this excellent quote</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Current music: Those Crimson Tears – Ed Harcourt</span>Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1142270171633805372006-03-13T09:08:00.000-08:002006-03-13T09:19:56.756-08:00Always Remember ...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/335/1043/1600/Spidey.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/335/1043/400/Spidey.jpg" alt="Spider Jerusalem ... knows you're full of shit." border="0" /></a><br />Click on the image for larger version.<br /><br />Alternative settings: Loose, watery, prolapse, rectal volcano.<br /><br />You know, one of these days, I am going to get those glasses.<br /><br />For those who don’t know about this, go <a href="http://www.postmodernbarney.com/2006/01/what-hath-i-wrought.html">here</a>. Check a few out, and you’ll understand. I got it from <a href="http://benurich.blogspot.com/2006/03/cool-link-2.html">the Pulse</a>.Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1141493193154881852006-03-04T09:23:00.000-08:002006-03-04T09:31:23.636-08:00PongHours – okay, minutes – of mindless fun, and a recipe of eye damage: <a href="http://www.guimp.com/pong_flash.html">the world’s smallest Pong game</a>. (via <a href="http://crookedtimber.org/">Crooked Timber</a>)<br /><br />And to compensate: <a href="http://www.kingpong.net/kingpong.htm">King Pong</a>.<br /><br />PS: The filter blogging is temporary, and will continue till Tuesday, when I will either take a week-long break, or post a regular post (and then take a week-long break).Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12811880.post-1141486316700610342006-03-04T07:22:00.000-08:002006-03-04T07:31:56.730-08:00Via <a href="http://www.bookslut.com/blog/">Bookslut</a> – a new film is announced:<blockquote>"(...) <span class="body">There is some serious shit in this film, including political commentary and even a couple of non-violent, cloak-and-dagger–style murders."</span></blockquote>So what <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> this film? <a href="http://www.thebookstandard.com/bookstandard/news/hollywood/article_display.jsp?vnu_content_id=1002114877">Go take a look.</a> I utterly loved the last sentence in the article.<br /><br />And also from Bookslut, <a href="http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,6-2067038,00.html">rewriting the endings</a> of books:<br /><i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0141439513/artandlies-20" target="_blank" class="blines3" title="Link outside of this blog"></a></i><blockquote><span style="font-style: italic;">Pride and Prejudice</span> could be rendered less saccharine by introducing the scene where Darcy explains to Elizabeth that it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune still in want of a wife is obviously gay, so he is moving to Tangiers to live with Wickham.</blockquote>I know someone who would be <span style="font-style: italic;">very</span> pleased with that.Aditya Bidikarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17799184995636004373noreply@blogger.com0