geetika-perpetually confused

Get my banner code or make your own flash banner

An open letter to Niyeti

Dear Niyeti,

Since a long time your drawings are saved in my computer. Whenever I open ‘My pictures’ the folder containing them stares at my face and forces me to open it. I click on it and there it reveals an array of drawings talking about your exciting artistic journey which I have been following closely.

I have been wanting to write about them but ironically the things I want to do the most are the ones that give me maximum starting trouble I kept waiting for the right time…does the right time really come? Who knows? Probably it does …that’s why I am writing…getting too cynical I guess…chal let me come to the point..

First time I saw these drawings I recalled your early BFA works…your silent yet firm effort to gradually do away with the conventional form and still express your deepest feelings….your effort to reduce everything to lines and planes….everything rolled in front of my eyes like a motion picture. I was reminded of our loooong discussions, our aspirations and not to forget the crazy 10 O clock syndrome…because its every tiny moment which we live to the fullest that makes us what we are..

I often marveled at your ability to be different…to go for absolutely abstract works in a place like Baroda which is known for its figurative narrative trend. The painstaking method, the absolute faith and trust and last but not the least the love and passion you have for your works make them very special for me.

I think these latest drawings are a genuine example of learning unlearning and in the process learning something totally unconventional….Was I glad to see forms in your works…not that forms are essential but because I had anticipated that one fine day you will come up with a language of your own…and here I can see the elementary alphabets..

Now you are ready to speak…speak your heart out. What is the most exciting part is that you have arrived here after a long journey through difficult paths…an outstanding one…and had to face severe criticism from various quarters…But unmoved by all this you steered ahead and definitely have made a mark for yourself. You still have a long long way to go…

Wishing you all the luck and success

Love
Geetika

Destined Fate

Few days back while sifting through my books i spotted a yellowish looking paper with very small print on it. On a closer look I realized it was a short story i had written back in year 2003. Rather it had been a product of a very boring and uneventful day at office. I had really liked it then and shared it only with some close friends.But as it is usual of me I lost the only print-out i had taken of the story and soon forgot all about it.I somehow never tried my hand at story writing again. In these days of retrospection its great to have found that story...





Here is finally the 'Destined Fate'



And after the long wait finally the time came for executing her duty once again. It was usually a simple task but the old woman clung to those few breaths with all her might, making it terribly difficult for D this time. D had always been proud of her capacities and seeing them thus challenged by a frail dying old woman made her furious. Sometime back the old woman had pushed her out and she had no choice but to succumb to the act. In hearts of their hearts both knew D was invincible but that knowledge did not deter the latter’s resistance.

D decided to let the old woman have her way for sometime. Maybe that would make her realize the inevitable destiny. Thinking thus, out she flew through the window and began witnessing the scenes of daily life. Aimlessly floating and contemplating D came to an open window which revealed a very cozy and lively room. Peeping inside the window D caught sight of a beautiful young girl lying on a sofa…probably deep asleep…The girl M was absolutely still, like death itself…how peacefully she slept. D looked at her for some time but there was no movement in M’s body. Suddenly D got a wicked idea. She quietly glided in the room and spread her frozen limbs in M’s youthful body, thus turning her into cold marble.D knew very well it was an offence for which she would surely be punished but the temptation of doing the unexpected was too much o resist. M was as motionless as before…but there was a drastic difference now….Now she was dead. Lying still as a statue she had invited death to reside in her.

After some time another young girl K barged in the room. Sitting on the edge of the sofa next to M she began chatting. Getting no response she touched M on her forehead and instantly a chill ran down her spine. Taking courage she tried in vain to locate latter’s pulse and heart beat. The sudden shock of her friend’s untimely death brought a terrible shriek from her and she began to cry hysterically.

All this hue and cry woke D up who had gone off to sleep in M’s body. As soon as D saw K she realized her mistake and was scared to see a friend weeping and wailing over what had not been ordained…what was just a whim…what was not true…M has a long life ahead. D had to leave before it was too late. Noiselessly she escaped M’s body and flew out of the open window.

Suddenly there was a movement in M’s body ..as if she was getting up from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes and saw a white faced and terribly shaken K. She put her hands on K's shoulder and tried taking her hand but the latter had already run out of the room…out of the house...out on the road. Running frantically with fear written all over her face K could hardly see a pick-up van which ran over her ending all her fears and worries forever;

On the other side D had won the battle. The old woman had finally given up. The ultimate look of defeat and surrender on her victim’s face elated D. She calmly resided in latter’s body. After her much awaited victory D had to immediately reach the road T for her next assignment. As D reached the place she saw K running madly on the middle of the road. It was not with a triumphant smile but a very heavy heart that D spread her limbs in K as the pick-up van crushed the latter’s body.

Art at last!

Ironically during six years of college I never thought of practicing art seriously.Theory and philosophy had completely occupied me and I found myself constantly battling the flying time…to read more…to grasp more …. to actually internalize more…In this mad rush to “understand” where was the time for indulging in art itself?

While I was busy reading about radical art moments, revolutionary art theories and beauty of Indian temple architecture the practical aspect took completely a back seat. I visualized myself as someone behind the scenes…someone interpreting and deciphering a certain code….someone trying to penetrate in the artists mind. This seemingly passive role that I saw myself in, unknowingly never allowed me to artistically express myself.

Last few months of teaching expierence in College of Art and especially the glass painting workshop that I participated in made me realize what I was missing in life. Moreover discussing with students about their works and ideas which propel them ahead I started craving for producing art myself.After a long gap of sixteen years I touched my oil paints and brush not quite without hesitation. I bought the smallest canvas and started to paint a landscape…..and there started the journey which I hope never ends….

Links to the other two parts of the write up by Arun Shourie

http://www.indianexpress.com/story/255484.html

http://www.indianexpress.com/story/255906-3.html

Wonderfully articualted!

Hindutva and radical Islam: Where the twain do meet by Arun ShouriePosted online: Friday, December 28, 2007 at 0000 hrs

Though it mind sound like a complete exaggeration but the write up by Arun Shourie in today's Indian Express completely made my day which had indeed started on a depressed note..The fact that I m writing this post rather than sleeping on my cosy bed is the proof enough...

Not being a regular newspaper buff it is rather difficult for me to follow an article completely without losing interest and yawning infinite number of times....but reading this was different...Each line revealed thorough insight understanding and passion.

I read the whole piece while holding a soaked tissue with which i was constantly wiping my painfully watering eyes...but honestly each line was worth the pain

Don't believe me? Read it for yourself
http://www.indianexpress.com/story/254969._.html

Was I thankful that my newspaperwala inspite of my repeated instructions hasn't stopped delivering Indian Express yet!!

Artists at work-Khirsu

Temple of Kandoliya Mahadeva at Pauri

Relevance of Ancient Indian thought on present Critical Practice in India

Often in Indian academic circles where a lot of importance and attention is given to critical theories and multidisciplinary studies the non relevance of Sanskrit texts and ancient thought is subtly stressed upon.

At the most these ancient thoughts are considered as some valuable museum pieces which have no bearing on the present art or critical writing scenario.The propounders of such ideas happily take refuge in Western theories and critical practices and quote extensively and many a time quite meaninglessly from these schools of thought.

As a student of Art History I have many a times wanted to and in my own way tried to question this hegemony of Western thought on the mind of our so called intellengensia.With all due regards to Ferdinand de Saussure, Jacques Lacan and much misquoted Derrida, I really don’t see how their theories are extremely relevant for present Indian art and literature scenario when works by giants like Abhinavagupta, Anandvardhana Batta Nayaka..etc are outdated and unscientific. Now if we argue that the relevance of great theories surpasses time and place then shouldn’t we give if not more than at least equal credit to theories of Indian Aesthetics and philosophy?

Ferdinand de Saussure hailed as father of Structuralism and in a way father of modern linguistic theories was a student of Sanskrit language and his doctoral study was on the use of Absolute Genitive in Sanskrit too.He was profoundly influenced by Sphota doctrine introduced as a philosophy of meaning by Bhartrihari in 500AD. In fact many of the foundational ideas proposed by de Saussure are directly or indirectly influenced by the Indian grammatical tradition particularly by Panini and Bhartrihari. Ironically we Indians today get taught the interrelation between Sign, Signifier and Signified as explained by Saussure but no one tells us about the beauty of Sphota theory….no one tells us about Saussure’s sources. And unfortunately we want to be spoon-fed while Western scholars do the groundwork for us.

To quote another example lets look at Jacques Lacan who for the first time related Freudian psychoanalysis to art. His theories are referred to, quoted from and provoked by most of the present art critics and feminists. In his widely known essay, "Function and Field of Speech and Language," Lacan makes an explicit reference to the Dhvani theory in order to point out that the unconscious does not express itself in language; it reveals itself through suggestion. More narrowly, Lacan traces the sources of the "full word" in what he calls "the power of the symbol," a power that the analyst can evoke "in a carefully calculated fashion in the semantic resonances of his remarks" (Ecrits 1966, 82). He adds, "this is surely the way for a return to the use of symbolic effects in a renewed technique of interpretation in analysis"

Lacan’s precccupation with Dhvanyaloka and his understanding of the text is made clear by his refering to the follwing passage from Dhvanyaloka of Anandvardana:
“A girl, it begins, is waiting for her lover on the bank of a stream when she sees a Brahmin coming along towards her. She runs to him and exclaims in the warmest and most amiable tones: 'What lucky day this is for you] The dog that used to frighten you by its barking will not be along this river bank again, for it has just been devoured by a lion that is often seen around here'....
The absence of the lion may thus have as much affect as his spring would have were he present, for the lion only springs once, says the proverb appreciated by Freud (Ecrits 82).
The example of the girl, the Brahmin, the devouring lion and the dog is one of nearly five hundred examples discussed at length in Dhvanyaloka. Anandvardhana and his commentators and others use these examples from Prakrit and Sanskrit literatures to isolate various properties of speech that facilitate poetic communication by concealing, negating, erasing of primary sense the mukhyartha. Besides being preoccupied with the suggestive functions of utterance in general, in the passages that follow the elaborate reference to dhvani, Lacan affirms the interdependence of analytic and aesthetic uses of language. This connection is particularly relevant to his concept of the "full word," its reliance on the internalization of the poetic resources of language.
Now to conclude my rather frustated outpourings I ask myself do I feel handicapped when it comes to understanding Indian thought and ancient tradition? The answer definitely is yes…My six years of arthistorical training and participation in various seminars and dicussions have not given me any clear insight in our ancient wisdom and thought….If tommorow I want to apply in any university abroad I have to devote two full years to learning Sanskrit properly.Regretfully I confess while I can quote Foucault, Lacan and Derrida like back of my hand I get cold feet when encoutered with Sanskrit texts.My meagre knowledge of Sanskrit is pitiable and whom do I have to blame?

Iqbal: Of meaning and interpretation

Dil se jo baat nikaltee hai asar rakhti hai par nahi taqt e parwaz magar rakhti hai

These two lines from Jawab e Shikwa by Iqbal, a great revolutionary Urdu poet started an interesting and thought provoking debate with a friend some time back More than the discussion it was the questions raised about deciphering the meaning of any art or literally work which caught my attention and which makes me write this piece.

Before I start I need to admit that my knowledge about the said poet’s writings is negligible and hence I have no idea of his complete oeuvre or style. Therefore when my friend interpreted and translated these lines as follows I couldn’t see any point to disagree upon.

‘The voice emerging right from one’s heart has a sure impact
But it alone is not enough as it does not have power to fly’


Here he was referring to the revolutionary aspect prominent in Iqbal’s writings. He kept stressing on the fact that what the poet here wants to convey is that all weeping and wailing by itself is not enough but there is a need to wake up and put in real effort to make things actually work.

To tell the truth till last fortnight I hadn’t bothered about the couplet and also his explanation which we had discussed once before sounded quite plausible. But the turning point came when another friend, a poet in her own right, gave a totally different and to me a more apt sounding interpretation of the same couplet which goes on as:

The voice emerging right from one’s heart has a sure impact
Even though it does not have wings still it has the power to fly

As one can see here she has interpreted ‘par’ as wings rather than ‘but’ and by doing so the meaning of the couplet not only changes drastically but also it gives a whole positive and optimistic meaning to the entire piece. Though on one hand in a flash of moment I saw such a wonderful possibility in these lines my another friend remained adamant on the socio-revolutionist meaning and started quoting other couplets by Iqbal to stress his point.

While both of them were discussing and debating their manner of interpretation I was deeply hit by the Vyanjana aspect in the lines…ie. The meaning beyond the literal and the metaphorical one. The capacity of a real work of art or literature to create various and sometimes totally opposite meanings. I intercepted their rather loud argument by this sublime thought even on cost of sounding entirely ridiculous and uselessly complicating the issue. My dear friend laughed at me and declared that because I don’t know Iqbal I am taking refuge in intricate theoretical fabrications…an allegation which I often have to face from various quarters as people nowadays cannot see or don’t bother to see the relevance of our ancient thought on the present day scenario.And isn’t it why we turn to western scholars who have for most part simplified our own ancient wisdom for us?

Anyways that is a huge debate in itself..coming back to the discussion, since we were reaching no where we decided to ask few experts for their opinion. After grammatically analyzing the lines and drawing comparisons and contrasts between Ghalib and Iqbal we were informed that the second interpretation is the valid one ie.the one where ‘par’ is translated as ‘wings’

Finally our argument seem to have reached somewhere. While my friend was reluctantly somewhat convinced the question of interpretation kept troubling me and raised various questions in my mind…Would like to share some part of this introspection here…..

Why should one fix a work of art with one final meaning?…Doesn’t it limit the scope of the piece? To me a real engaging work of art or a poetry would be that which has the power of generating various meanings. To substantiate my point I would like to draw your attention to ‘Rasa Sutra’ of Bharata which has been commented upon by not less than six scholars including the great Abhinavagupta. Imagine if Rasa Sutra would have been fixed with one meaning would such a stimulating body of literature exist?

Let a work of art grow on you…explore its various facets …and if you feel like going back to it again and again then it surely will have the capacity to generate various meanings for you….isn’t that how an art writer culls out meanings not even dreamt of by the artist and hence in the process becomes an artist her/himself.

Ponderings

Mute spectator
isn't that mute
It's brain constantly at war
Registering, rejecting and reinterpreting
The ongoing drama flashed on the screen!


Voilence of silence
Slow poison
is deadlier
than all the nukes!


What if I was asked
What do I want
want the most
most of all things

Would I be able to answer?

Life

Joyride or a dull routine
Life has its way of which
we know not
We toil, we plan we see to it
That it remains in our control

Fickle life laughs at us
At out futile attempt to hold
And in a single moment itself
Changes our entire approach