ah! art angst...

Let me begin this midnight passage this way. Death does not exist. I changed our plan to meet and drink, tonight. I didn't have the energy required though there had been nights with booze even when my energies had entered the zero zone. With such a pat on my back let me examine the nonexistence of death. 

An intellectual friend of mine had put this idea into me of death's nonexistence! When really young I have heard my father say things about JK's teachings where JK had advised to use death as a trigger for life. Life devoid of death is a paradise. I can associate hedonism and nothing else but hedonism with life, for an absolute celebration of it without death. Maybe if I don't attempt to set it aside and live, by completely liberating the senses from the fear of it, things would be different. I don't know. Desire is deeply linked to fear and fear is deeply connected with death. As I said earlier even if I attempt a metaphysical satiation of desire through art it lingers all the time on the left side of my shoulder as Don Juan the Mexican sorcerer would place it. Death in opposition to life converts life into a political exercise. That being the case it becomes essential that we play with it. I don't see hedonism as play but consumption. And such consumption in modern times compared to the hedonism of classical times of various civilisations is nothing but blatant consumerism. Life in such circumstances becomes a difficult proposition. You live it and when you wish to live it, without death tucked away somewhere, it becomes political. 

The euphoria associated with it disappeared this morning. But the power of 'Final solutions' and the restlessness sown by it has taken over. Now I feel the only moron in the audience who clapped at the right moment when he told the questioner that he doesn't expect his audiences to be morons. What do you expect in a film, which details a Genocide at first-hand experience levels? People who had lost 10, 20 members of their family were detailing it. What positivism are we talking about? Why should it make you happy or sad? Populist familial hedonism of husbands within the safe structures of marriage and 'wifedom' can be satiated only by soap-ops. It frightens me to believe that societal protective paradigms evolved over millennia safeguard and nurture human holocaust cravings alongside. What else do you expect from a Madrasi who is shocked to sense fundamentalism creeping in at his doorsteps. I believed that Madras is a quiet, conservative, peaceful city till yesterday. How can you ever talk about your own religion in a Genocide situation hoisted by religion, or religion becoming the apparent trigger? Only in such a situation would criminality discard power equations and drag a parliamentarian on to the streets and butcher him. Isn't it sad that he had hoped to protect people in the hope that his social stature would keep the mob away? If fundamentalism is ruling the planet it is the need of the hour for us to collectively do anything that it takes to cure it. Building armies and sowing and nurturing Hindu fundamentalism isn't an answer. Instead of applauding the courage of a person who actually made a film and pulled it out of banishment, it is sad that divisive voices felt angry. Evolution without growing an extra brain or other bodily paraphernalia doesn't seem to be possible I suppose. Where is the need for religion when we have innumerable developments that can allow our faculties to grow and understand friendship? Without sounding lopsided, I suppose that Mr.Sharma doesn't mumble 'Om namashivaya' before touching his camera to start the day's work! 

I question someone's concern as well on the spiritual safety of Mr.Sharma's intellect and balance. Why should a film on genocide remain apolitical and preach non-committal voyeuristic absentia? Yes, even I felt bored when it was going on and on narrating on the Genocide and portraying the perpetrators in 'poor light'. One moment even accidentally ended up upholding Sonia Gandhi as a peaceful alternative against this scenario. But these things happen to souls that are battered by consumerism in an unconscious way. Since, only if it is converted into 'art' even genocide is palatable. Numbers matter in a consumerist situation to tickle one's awe. Political films are boring. But the saving grace of this film is that little fellow's offering. He wants to become a soldier and kill the Hindus. The poetic quotient of the film-maker comes out and draws the little fellow out. On repeated queries the little fellow reveals the stupidity and beauty of the 'child-state'. He can't even imagine that the film-maker is Hindu and calls him Muslim. Revealing the battering that his intelligence has taken is the poetic relevance of death. I am not enamoured by the other little child doctored to perfection into rejection of her friend. But this fellow is already a great friend of mine. The film-maker's success in his portrayal of the beauty of being a child in such dire circumstances takes the film to the zone of 'art' unconsciously redeeming 'art' as well. I know for sure that he will never become a soldier. Most probably he might become a doctor curing others, which actually is an exercise in curing the self, when he grows up. When, even psychological wounds without blood-shed remain entrenched in human memory it would be stupid to expect that he would forget his wounds. But the wound is historical memory. 20th century has too many wounds. Maybe it looks so since we have learnt to document time. Maybe it was always like that with this species. If not peace at least the rituals for peace have to be continued for I don't see a 'Final Solution' in a world wrought-up in disparities and inequalities.