Early morning drizzle in Mumbai

It is 5:36 am in Mumbai. The darkness disappeared: the layers of dense, deep nightly silence whisked away into the ether, and a blue luminescent dawn emerged: serene and sacred, the breeze cool and moist with the intermittent drizzle, the trees fresh and green like first brush of love between a newly-wed couple. The drenched crows cawed incessantly from the telephone wires. A bunch of wings-flapping birds over the trees chirped away to glory. Away in the north, sunray streamed through the banana plantation. To the south, at the YMCA ground, morning walkers took their daily rounds to awaken their jaded minds and bodies. Beyond all this, to the east, many acres of lands were visible, dotted with slums, streaked with lush green plants and pitted with small puddles of rains. Soon the area would be abuzz with day-time activities as the morning merges into the raving sun. 

Meghna Maiti

An ode to Gabriel Garcia Marquez

You are gone, but your magic still

mesmerises us; it continues to cast its spell

into the depths of our beings;

Your loving glance,

impish smile — this demonic world now

Will starve to get enchanted

in your mystic circle;

Because you inhabited a world that was

far higher and intense

The innocence of the heart and the

romance of life were yours alone;

All the beauty of the cosmos lies in

your profound creations;

In your ‘Macondo’, in a ‘century’ of solitude,

in your maverick soul

Alternate worlds lived together — beyond

the boundaries of time-space

Continuum; one that was sinful and

ravaged and the other that was

Coloured with soap bubbles.

Once you are gone, the world realises

No one else is there now to fire imagination

with fantastical matchsticks;

This utter complacency, this mediocrity,

this shallow ideology,

This filthy display of wealth, you have left,

audacity has disappeared;

People are back to their narrow,

shelved, closed lives.

You too have retreated into yet

another miraculous space.

But we want you back with your 'timid drowned people', your 'demented dragons'

And 'the scent of bitter almonds that

reminds of unrequited love'

We can't wait to hear fabulous 'wonder'

tales of the east; we will wait and

Wait eternally for a glimpse of you in this bad, broken world.

Meghna Maiti

Translation: Harivansh Rai Bacchan

A poem by Harivansh Rai Bacchan- translated by Meghna Maiti

Beware friends! Everything is for sale here!!!

Sellers may even sell off air; infusing it in balloons!!!

Truth is sold; lies are sold; every story is being sold!!!

Spread across every damn sphere, yet water gets sold in bottles!!!

Never live like a flower;

The day you blossom….you would tear and wither.

If you want to live, live like a stone;

The day you are fed up……you will turn into a “god”.

ENDS

The real poem:

यहाँ सब कुछ बिकता है , दोस्तों रहना जरा संभाल के !!!
बेचने वाले हवा भी बेच देते है , गुब्बारों में डाल के !!!
सच बिकता है , झूट बिकता है, बिकती है हर कहानी !!!
तीन लोक में फेला है , फिर भी बिकता है बोतल में पानी!!!
कभी फूलों की तरह मत जीना,
जिस दिन खिलोगे... टूट कर बिखर्र जाओगे ।
जीना है तो पत्थर की तरह जियो;
जिस दिन तराशे गए... "खुदा" बन जाओगे ।।

--हरिवंशराय बच्चन

Calcutta- the city of Kali

It all began in the summer of 1940s when seeds of revolution got planted in even the most common mind of a sleeping city. The city of Calcutta was at its glorious best, the biggest and most happening place east of the Suez. It got its name from kalikkhetro or the field of the goddess ‘Kali’. And in two-and-a-half centuries, Calcutta (now Kolkata), the city of the furious goddess maa Kali had grown up with a “civilisational history” of its own.
All illusions were cut and all notions were broken to herald a new beginning, a new awakening. To this day, the presence of maa Kali could be felt everywhere in Kolkata — the total anarchy, the sense of self, the destruction of all that is demonic, the desire for transformation, and the sense of liberation. The city is always open to waves of social change and individual eccentricities. Time and again, we have seen in history how the city has questioned prevailing hypocrisies, tradition and casteism. It is a city that uses the soil from brothels’ doorsteps to create its idols of Durga. Kolkata is the only city where respectable people across all age groups come to theatre to watch movies that would probably get banned in any other part of India.
In this city, there is a greater level of acceptance for romantic, idealistic pursuits and poor people. In fact, too much of materialism is looked down upon. Kolkata is also the city of senses where people do not consider pleasure of the senses to be sin. Hence, there are so many sweet shops in the city and high quality restaurants. The city — even when it’s killing you with its insanity — leaves behind a sense of adventure and fulfilment.
We could sum up the essence of Kolkata in Pritish Nandy’s words as, “Calcutta if you must exile me wound my lips before I go, only words remain and the gentle touch of your finger on my lips Calcutta burn my eyes before I go into the night the headless corpse in a Dhakuria bylane the battered youth his brains…”

Meghna Maiti

Back to the roots

Getting back to the city is always so difficult. You know you are soon in for several traps that include human desires, loss, petty politics, broken relationships and even broken sense of self. You sense these ominous cycles more so right after you are back from a trippy visit to a small tribal village in the hinterlands of Bengal.
Jhilimili village, in Bankura district, around 12 hours drive from Calcutta, was a perfect getaway for my jaded, depressed mind. The village was captured by Maoist insurgents some years ago.
The entire region seemed to be perennially intoxicated with its dense cluster of mehul trees, from which a local alcoholic drink — mahua — is brewed. I sensed that intoxication everywhere — in the way the local tribal women in their cheap colourful sarees flirted with tourists in local haat; a herd of goats jumped around the cliffs; and also in the way a group of urbanites from Calcutta smoked up mariuana by the side of the river and gradually lost themselves in its universe-winning beauty. There were vast tracts of green farm lands on all sides; forest of shaal, shegun and mehul trees; lakes with tranquil, pellucid water; and beyond all this, green hills.
At some areas, the roads laid with red soil had beautifully painted mud-houses on either side. And at some other areas, the winding roads bordered with huge colourful trees looked like the illusory road to renunciation.
The air had a faint nip and was fresh. We lived in a beautiful bungalow at the corner of the village. Everyday we woke up to chirping of unknown birds and rustling of leaves. The cook delighted us with homemade rural breakfast of luchi (deep fried flatbread) and vegetables. The villagers seemed to have everything in their favour — the vast intensity of nature, calm and peace and love.
“Then what is lacking in your life?” I asked a 65-year-old farmer on a rain-soaked morning. “Paper notes. We do not have cash,” he said quietly.

Meghna Maiti

Unsafe Zone

Have you ever felt a sense of loss — a sense of losing everything, including your integrity, reputation, wealth, friendship, relations and pretty much everything that defines you as an individual? Have you ever had the fear of falling or the fear of burning? If so, then perhaps it is the right time to shut your eyes, trust your instincts and throw yourself with a greater force into an even dangerous space.

It is also the time to tread on the edge of surface with ‘pure awareness’. Just as you are writhing and wriggling with an intense sense of pain and suffocation, you need to come out of your shell into the bigger, brighter world. When you don’t try to break the shell, no new possibility will ever come. Also, unless you expose your vulnerable self to the attacks of the outside world, you do not grow as an individual. This is also a process of breaking our karmic cycle or habitual pattern of existence. Whenever you feel hemmed in or disgusted, you must pause and try to think about your way of leading your life so far. And in case you are seeking revolutionary changes or great transformation in life, you must change your way of doing things in a radical manner.
Maa Kaali, an avataar of Parvati, is considered to be a great anarchic and taboo-breaking force in the universe. She is supposed to be the slayer of all illusion and the harbinger of transformation. In mundane terms, when you discard your, say old, ragged phone, the possibility of getting a better one increases.

Or, when you have an extra-marital affair with say, a socially-disapproved person, you might be liberating yourself from all the conclusions and notions you had set for yourself. And living in an unsafe zone with all sense of awareness is perhaps far more fulfilling and intense than any other kind of emotions. You start living with a higher sense of purpose. And such level of consciousness leads to creation of your own destiny.

Meghna Maiti

Kalaghoda festival 2014

MEGHNA MAITI

Mumbai

An eighty-year old Parsi gentleman slings his arm carelessly around
his famous artist friend and flashes a toothless grin for a
photograph. At a short distance, a group of flimsy chiffon-clad south
Mumbai homemakers crowd around a Man-booker nominated author to extend
an invitation for their next arty party. And even further away, at
David Sasoon Library garden, Mumbai poets join on 'Hope Street ' to
celebrate their annual reunion. Several such instances float through the cold,
slightly supercilious air of Kalaghoda art festival in South Mumbai
and touch people in a cosmetic spirit of cultural networking with a
dash of nostalgia.

For the nine days of Kalaghoda festival , a better part of Mumbai
flock to Kalaghoda art fair to mingle in the open space, linger in
galleries where world cinema and short documentaries flicker across
the screens. The fair has always been as much about glamour, glitz as
cutting edge alternative art- more like a multi-media,
multi-locational experience, meandering through the island city. The
venue is tucked in an enclave bounded by Mumbai's dockyard, Fountain
and Oval Maidan, near the cacophonous Colaba Causeway in an affluent
South Mumbai business district.

"We have seen around ten lakh visitors so far. The response is indeed
enthralling," said a person who is a part of the organizing committee
of Kalaghoda art fair on condition of anonymity.

However, this time around, the fair has not quite lived up to its
standard. Kalaghoda fair does not have much to offer in terms of
quality of products, movies, literary sessions or theatre. The ethnic
wear and artifacts available in the numerous stalls dotting the street
are ridiculously overpriced. "We have to pay almost treble the price
for most of the products," said Sutapa Maitra, a school-teacher based
in Mumbai. Similarly, the films being screened at Max Mueller Bhavan
are far away from the high-culture space. "Who would like to watch
Goliyon ki Raasleela Ramleela at Kalaghoda art fair," sniggered Alima
Tigga, a budding documentary film-maker and ex-student of Pune Film
Institute. Some of the other films being screened at Kalaghoda
festival are- Go Goa Gone, Aanhkh ki Sharam, Ghatothkach.

The art installations at Kalaghoda festival dealing with the idea of
changing perceptions and momentum are also not of remarkable quality.
However, the first installation titled Mithya (Hindi for illusion),
has drawn enough attention. It is a sort of a path where at each step
a walker realizes the illusory nature of his reality. Another
installation captures the multiple images of the festival. The third
one is a walk that recreates the experience of walking on a quiet road
surrounded by trees on both sides.

As far as the literary sessions are concerned, we mostly see the same
old faces every year- to name a few- Adil Jussawalla, Gieve Patel,
Sampurna Chatterjee, Sridala Swami, Arundhati Subramaniam. In fact, in
one of the interesting literary sessions exploring the idea of
'Renewal of the Journal' with Hemant Divate, Chandrahas Chowdhury, Ram
Manohar Reddy and Ranjit Hoskote, a peeved man from the audience
pointed out how we see the same old Mumbai writers every year, despite
the reach and resources of the organizer.

Also, the fair, having shifted its music and dance venue to distant
locations (Cross Maidan and Asiatic Steps) due to legal issues,
remained a little listless in its essence.

Around 22 dance genres were
displayed in the festival through 38 performances of the nine days of
the festival, representing various Indian states such as Punjab,
Gujarat, Maharashtra, Kerala.

On the last day of the Kalaghoda festival, the area is throbbing with
the elites and the ordinary, the air is alive with soap bubbles, the
pleasing tune of the flute and the drum, hushed conversations about
business deals, new job opportunity or even invitation to a party.
People are awaiting eagerly for the interesting literary session with
'William Darymple- the great historian. It will soon be the hour of
sunset and the end of a few sunny days of sublime pleasure.

meghnamaiti@mydigitalfc.com



ENDS

Success, glory

How long does it take to fulfill one’s ambition? I mean, how many
years of struggle? In case of Nawazuddin Siddiqui, the Bollywood
actor, the time spent to reach a level of stunning greatness from the
depths of social abyss was almost a decade. Perhaps, that’s the time
the universe needs to give shape to one’s dreams. Its the time
required to bring out the greatness from the core of an individual to
the public eye- because greatness is not something one acquires over
the years through toil and perseverance. If you are destined to be
great, its something usually there in you, deeply embedded- ever since
you are an adolescent flirting with life, a teenager wallowing in
self-pity, a child in awe with the world or even before that- when you
are an unforeseen, pathetic creature swimming in your mother’s womb.
Over the years, the time taken to reach that state of magnificence
definitely depends on your action (karma) and ‘purity of purpose’. You
might well be living in utter misery for years and constantly at the
receiving end of everything and then something clicks for you and you
are showered with praise, success, fame, fortune and all that. All the
great cities of the world- Mumbai, Delhi, Hong Kong, New York drive
you towards your personal dreams. In the process, you sometimes become
too single-minded as a person. In a world where success and fame seems
to be the only yardsticks of a happy life, you sometimes get trapped
in the illusory worlds created by these cities. And in the process,
you forget that there are other worlds, other kinds of dreams, where
human worth is not measured by their achievements alone. Hence, I
personally feel one should never stick to one city; it often makes you
narrow in your perspective. We must all try to switch cities, houses,
areas of interests and broaden our outlook. If success and fortune
comes knocking our door, it will, but we must not get blinded by its
artificial arc lights.


Meghna Maiti