A Dusi Day - Last month I was in Dusi, a small village situated at a distance of ‘4 rupee bus fare’ from Kanchipuram to video archive the well known Tamil folk art form Therukoothu…a dance-drama-song-story telling art form. The event went on for 10 days…in fact 10 colorful nights. It gave me an exposure to quite a lot unexpected events that are, since then ‘archived’ as unforgettable-nostalgic experiences. Thinking about this, I can’t be but speak about the cold ghostly touch of a cyclone that left us stay the whole night without any light, soaked in rain at the ground of Drupadi Amman temple.

Like all the other days, my partner Sundar and I arrived at the temple around 7 pm with the camera, tripod and other equipments. Usually I have this weird way of carrying camera ‘just’ wrapped in a bathroom towel. My definition for this gentle act is that I have no time to unzip the camera bag, take it out and then put the battery- tape followed by an easy shoot. Carrying it in towel- fully loaded like a soldier’s gun- gives me all kind of flexibility with her - feeling her tight on my arms ready for action. Having said this I assure that I am not a camera person for planned actions but for a ‘hiding animal’ movement. May be I can fit for the role of a wildlife-news-sports cinematographer than a filmer. But on that specific day, for some strange reason I felt like carrying the cam in the bag itself. As Vinod sir once said, just follow self-intutions…it works for your good, in a way everyone’s.
It was the 6th night of Therukoothu. Koothu normally starts at 10-11pm and will continue to the next day morning 7-8 am. The ground is always crowded with village women and children; mostly grand moms with the tiny ones of family. Like every other Indian village art form, Theru koothu also happens during the summer time. It used to be the only source of entertainment for the village lot out of the dirty summer heat. During koothu we can find the entire village crowds present there as early as possible marking their own territory on the ground with mats or plastic sheets, finally ending up sleeping there enjoying the gentle breeze of the open space. For that weather it’s better to keep ourselves close to the sand in the ground coz that’s really ‘Kewl’.

Being in the village for 12 days made me realize a few things. My life in Kerala, and then in metro’s like Hyd, Chennai, Pune or Mumbai failed to teach me anything about India. Now I really do understand why Gandhi said that the heart of India beats in the villages. India is not a city – it is a big village. Every single person of Dusi have this Qn for you whether u r a known or unknown, “Sapitingala ?” ( Had food?). I heard the same Qn from each of them- one person repeating it as many number of times as possible and at almost any hour of the day when they see you. The people there live on bare minimums. I had 2 rupee tea and 1 rupee idly for first time. Capitalism is eating these places too. It was very obvious. U find all handsets and connections there but no toilets.

A cyclone and rain during the summer, was so unexpected. Suddenly it became so windy around 9 pm and Dusi (Dusi means Dust) started flying. Along with the Koothu artists, Sunder and I, got into a school building where the villagers provide us with a good dinner. For our bad luck the dust fell all over our body and the plates. The doors and windows started behaving so rude with the wind. If I have had taken an ariel shot of the whole place, I am sure, the school would’ve been like a huge insect waving it’s wings. The power went off and it became pitch dark. For a while we felt like there is an earth quake and the whole building is shaking. The ‘Koothu’ of the weather went on for half an hour. Finally Vayu (God of wind) gave way to Indra (God of rain and the King of all). The winds stopped and it started raining heavily.

The Therukoothu of the night got cancelled. We went back to the temple side and lied down on the floor. Late night, when the rain stopped for a while, villagers started with a few interesting rituals. Leaving Sundar back to take care of equipments, I got into one of the bullock carts with the camera. Naughty Indra, after his Kit-kat break, continued to shower ‘blessings’ soaking my camera. The only solution was to continue shooting, covering her with my T-shirt. So did I, in no time removed my t-shirt and covered the cam keeping it's mouth alone exposed for shoot. Well, i guess being a male has one such advantage. :)

I saw the first animal sacrifice in my life and people getting processed and all. Came back half naked, fully drenched with camera half covered with the t-shirt. T-shirt tricks always worked well with me. Just thought of a similar experience happened while studying in Madras Christian College. While editing a college project at MRC editing suit, the cooler started leaking. (There was no AC then, I guess a cooler was hired). It was late at night 2 or 3am and I was all alone. The water spread all over and I was doubtful whether it will spoil the equipments. Guess what, the editor was found on the floor wiping the whole editing suit with t-shirt.

Well, leaving all that...a lot is there to speak about the village Dusi, probably I must retire from everything on day and scribble these memories.

Folk On

Guess, its been quite some time since I could pen a blog. In fact in past few months I guess I have had more than what I expected to write on and to share with you. Lots of travel and lots of new experiences... New vision on life and new enthusiasm. Like the book I am reading now - a Malayalam translated version of Pablo Nerudas Autobiography – the life is playing a true zig-zag game. But for some crazy reason the time and space is so blocked somewhere -somehow on the run to conquer certain other destiny. I hope, soon I can manage to get some time to shed the cocoon of my reality and scribble a few words of fantasy and facts.
For time being, I am sharing you a few interesting videos I could shoot-edit and present. It is a collection of 11 songs - the event coverage of a music concert we (NFSC- www.indianfolklore.org) conducted recently. Far from the illusions of Page 3 music and gimmicks and gymnastics on stage, this was something really special -true to real life. NFSC and Musician Oliver Rajamani joined together to conduct this event at a Narikkuruva (A Gypsy Community) Settlement at Villupuram in Tamil Nadu. The charm of the whole event was the hospitality and participation of Narikkuruva Men-Women-Children. Oliver played so many Gypsy instruments like Ud (Arabic), Setar (Irani), Rabab (Afghanai), Guitar (European) as well as our very own Sarod. Accompanied by his band members on various other instruments from different parts of the world. The songs were mainly folk songs in different languages with the touch of fusion. A good example is a Tamil folksong sung in Texas Style on the Irani instrument Setar.
It was so touching to see people offering chains made of beads to the Band members as a token of love. Even I have something special to remember for this life time - When we were about to leave a young Narikkuruva mother called me and put a chain around my neck. The link to access these videos are given below.

http://www.youtube.com/user/nfscindia

Chords of Life

Sometimes there is no music in music, except for a passion. I must say that this film is developed from a fear I have, of losing control over my hands...my body. Here my protagonist is inspired by his father's music, rather his passion in spite of parkinson's disease that keeps him away from his passion. There is silence in music...that makes the music. In fact, I strongly believe that music is a collection of notes placed over silence. The same way for me, film is nothing but a collection of visuals placed over a dark, blank space.

I use to close my eyes and sit silent imagining myself standing in the shoes of a blind man. May be that is the worst fear I can ever have. There is always a thought lurking in mind- what if one day the whole world become an alien land for me where things and places seems yet to be discovered. What if my favorite colors say adieu to my vision. !!! What if one day the darkness of a movie hall moves on to the screen too...IThis fear gave me some good short film characters who remained blind. I am blamed of brewing such characters in most of the short films. I guess my addiction to nature naturally leaves me scared of such a situation.

“Chords of life” is a short film developed on a similar fear but not about losing vision...but on an inability to control body. It's about Parkinson's disease. I use to think what if one day I end up being in such a state that I’m unable to hold a camera or focus my eyes on something. Well, I’m sure that would never be the full stop of my story. But definitely there can a pain on the inability to retain an admired art. “Chords of life” is a film about the passion of a guitarist for his instrument. It’s about two generations. It’s about inspiration. It’s about all of these.
Though I wouldn’t mind watching a hopeless end in film, I can’t think of doing such a genre. I would rather leave a spark for survival. Here the spark is passed from one generation to the next. Here we see the son getting inspired.

Thanks to Satchin, Sachin, Agnetha, Nithya and Alan who helped me in realizing this film. It was wonderful working with u guys. I strongly believe that Satchin's music made a big difference coz unlike any of my previous short films music plays the lead here. It's always fun to work with amateur talents. I'm sure that this is the first time Sachin as well as my cousin Raghul who did the videography, actually touched a camera. Agnetha is new to acting and for Satchin, this is his very first music composition. I guess with this film once again I'm glad to prove that amateur mindset work wonders.

Thanks again.
Warm regards,
Cockroach

Fountain Pen











Years back:

He is a little boy. He is studying in 7th standard and is of the size and figure of a small Rat. Occasion is the routine school assembly. The ground is filled with children from 5th to 10th standard, creatively and neatly shaped in numerous rows and columns of good proportion by George sir, known most popular as PT (Physical Training) sir and understood as High school Hitler. All eyes are on the podium where headmaster Rev. Fr. Jose Karivelikkal is announcing the prizes for handwriting competition.

It was Little Rat who got this most coveted prize a year back which he proudly keeps pinned on his pocket since then, like the badge of a soldier. Naturally he is looking pretty excited about the day. He came from home, all set to walk on to the stage. Even dreamt of it the previous night and that is quite obvious from his eyes.

Rat gave a quick glance to the back row of girls to make sure that his latest lady love is there. Ironically this MAN is standing 3rd from the first of boy’s row while his WOMAN is 3rd from the last of girl’s row. Well, “NO ONE” is bothered about height these days. Only the Rat KNEW it…as long as she is always keen on giving her classic smile before getting into the school bus every evening.

There is pin drop silence at the ground. The noise in air is of the road…of the crazy cars, private buses and auto ricks. That is quite a noise. There are definitely a lot of bystanders at the road, curiously peeping though the grills of the wall surrounding the ground from the notorious world outside, just to have a glance of their own childhood. In fact, rat knows a few of those jobless faces very well coz he was always been a keen practitioner of the great principle - learn from the world around and not from the book. Though Hitler never let his eyes wander much, he failed miserably in caging his ears. So normally, Rat knew ways to roam on the road during the assembly using his ear. BUT, Definitely NOT TODAY.

He is the most disciplined boy on the ground today. Except for a mild distraction of his lady love, he has full control on his eye and ear…Eyes on a gift pack and ears on, only on, the load speaker.

Finally…………… …………………………………………. a big DISAPPONTMENT

“The world is sinking…The sun is really HOT…the assembly is taking too LONG. Headmaster is talking too much… Hitler is behaving too strict…Road seems too NOISY…What a HEADACHE…She is smiling at the guy who is taking the gift….UFF” In a single second so many new discoveries…….HATS off to RAT.

The assembly is over. Like all other rats, RAT is pretty curious to see the gift pack open. He is obviously struggling to resist his inner call and irritation. The row is now walking back to the class and suddenly the winner opened the gift pack for his friends………..A BALL PEN…Ha ha ha.Oh my God it’s a BALL PEN.

Guess what………The world is normal now. The Sunlight is really soothing. Assembly was fine. Headmaster is nice. Hitler is not following us. Road is calm. Headache is gone. The girl’s row is walking beside and she is smiling and bright.
RAT is happy smiling …………He took the last year’s “badge” pinned on his pocket.
A FOUNTAIN PEN.

Today:

Rat is a grown up Man…others might not accept it…but he definitely will. Today morning, on his way to office Rat saw a shop and a few fountain pens. He couldn’t resist the tempation. He quickly got in...purchased a grey one and a blue ink bottle. Now he is writing his blog with his hands full of ink. His mind is full of those Fountain Pens he left for Ball Pens…Those beautiful things he left in life in the names of conveniences…those slow melodious rhythm of life lost for so called fast and instants…

Feb 14, 2009 - My 26th Valentines Day thus “passed away”, without much noise leaving me yet, young and yellow. I was handsomely idle at home hooked on one of the old Malayalam books... rather a research material identified recently for a film script that I may or may not realize in this wild-weird-warm lifetime. True to my senses, I have clearly no idea whether I would ever be mature enough to live anyway close to the norms and notions of this day of young excitement. But on this occasion I can’t be just mute on a woman who moved me the most till this date. She is “Yesterday”, a simple African village woman who breathes only for the good of her family. I was never been lucky enough to travel to that country side and see this lady who speaks only her mother tongue Zulu. She suffer from AIDs and lives a simple life with her daughter. I was touched more by her simplicity, her understanding of herself, her way of living the day – today - with the dreams of tomorrow and her disinterest for words of praise. When her mine worker husband came back to the village as a skinny soul during the last stages of AIDs, the village threw him away. Yesterday, as a brave woman built a shed away from the village all by herself and took her husband there where he died happily breathing her warmth. I calls her brave and that teacher from the village too.........but not “Yesterday”. The teacher said “Yesterday, you are a strong lady.” And she replied “No I’m not, I had no other choice. Life has to go on.” She taught me the lesson to live life in a simple and natural way without any expectations. She taught me to behave to the situation. Months after the doctor first diagnosed her ailment, AIDS, she continued to live as a strong woman. The White Lady Doctor had to say this “Yesterday, your body is so strong.” She just smiled and pointed her finger to the head and said, “No it’s all here. I’m not prepared to die until my child go to school.” That moment taught me peace of mind. For a moment I felt as if I’m meditating on a mountain inhaling courage and love. Yesterday is strong, stubborn, silent, soulful and straight forward. For the first time I bowed to a woman... God, she was a "REAL WOMAN". Anyways, I have no other way but to get out of this unrealistic world of cinema and live a normal life. I have no other choice but to identify her as just a movie character. Even if I collect so much money for my travel to African sub-continent, I wouldn't be able to fulfill the dream of seeing this woman. Because she lives in my most favorite film, "Yesterday". A few days back my Amma (mom) asked, “Who do you think you are in love with?” Confused was she as I have this weird habit of making contradictory statements to irritate her. It’s fun to fight with Amma for no reason. ;) I didn’t answer, but left her see the film “Yesterday.”

Later I told her, “Amma, I don’t expect any girl to be 100% Yesterday, but I need her to be at least 1% her. I swear I will be 100% Guido (The funny Italian waiter in the film "Life is Beautiful") for her.......till the end of my life.”

Green unplugged

Glad to inform you that an experimental short film titled “In Search of Peace” (Duration 27.53), is selected by an online filmfest by Culture Unplugged.

View this movie at cultureunplugged.com

It is dream come true film, where we tried simplicity as the form of story telling. The story is told in a light manner with the least of everything. There is only one character and the nature and its symbols as silent characters. There are very little dialogues and less than a minute of music at the end with absolutely no special effects. The pace of the film is kept slow and the sound of nature recorded from the location was kept the maximum.

I have not done any kind of adjustments or compromises from the time the story was conceived in mind. In fact the location itself was dreamt much before I went in search of it. I visualized the film in the pace which it is actually done. When I send this film for a Fest in Chennai, they asked me to cut it short to 15 mins and increase the pace of it, which I think would have killed the beauty of it. There I opted to take it out from the fest.

Today I’m thankful for the www.cultureunplugged.com team for providing me with an online platform to share this concept with all of you.

Please try to see it concentrating on the sound of nature. And if the climax of the film is not bringing a piece of peace….please feel free to hit the Director :). Thanks to Indrajith, Rayson and the entire crew for helping me in realizing it.

The background info on the film is placed in the blog on the same, written on Dec 2007

http://centurs.blogspot.com/2007/12/in-search-of-peace-i-hardly-dream-in.html

Warm regards,

Arun

Day for Night

A good friend from Hexaware once said, “Never let an Army man open his mouth about War or Army life and Arun about Cinema or MCC life. I’m saving you from a big trouble”. Well, dear friend, I can understand your feelings… but, it’s tuff for both me and my beloved companion (comparison) not to talk about our passion and identity. Well, Cinema was always been my love of life and MCC (Madras Christian College)…my life of love.

Having said this, you can imagine what could be the situation when MCC invite such a person for a Film Review and Talk on Cinema. Well, you are free to enquire with the victims of such a destiny…the young and energetic Film Club from MCC, REELITY BITES and the audience of the session. It happened last week…and from heart guys…you made my day. I was asked to review the French film “Day for Night” directed by celebrated filmmaker Francois Truffaut who triggered the French New Wave Movement in cinema. It was a moment of nostalgia and pride, for a very normal Heber Hall guy who used to envy ex-mccians, coming as guests for various events, during his college days. Thanks for Reelity Bites especially Alan and both the Sachins, faculties and students of Department of Communication, Department of Journalism and each and everyone who attended the session...it was undoubtedly one the most beautiful moments I cherish for this life time.

I reached much early to the event time and kept roaming inside the campus reading the changes, tree by tree…plant by plant. Finally at the Selaiyur hall guest room I met, Alan and Sachin standing in a sad mood. With a tone of apology Sachin said “So sorry, we tried our best to campaign this.” As I walked into the room, I could see more empty seats and few dull faces. I said “Guys, I know you did your best. Neither wasn’t I expected a great crowd. Film is a very responsible affair and I am happy if I find at least one or two who genuinely feel it true. So let’s start…” But as the session went on, seats started filling in and after the event, Alan said “It was awesome, guess what, this time we had lot many people and a few ppl had to go back coz of lack of space.” Three Cheers to Truffaut.

He was called the “Gravedigger of French Film” for his brutal and unforgiving criticism of cinema and was banned from Cannes Film Fest in the year 1958. Ironically the same “Gravedigger” was recognized as the Best Director by the same Fest for his film “The 400 Blows” in 1959, accepting his grammar of cinema a new identity for the fantasy and reality captured on Silver Nitrate. Francois Truffaut’s article “A Certain Trends in French Cinema” published in the year 1954, Cahiers du Cinema magazine, still stand as the backbone of Auther Theory. (I never had a chance to read it)

Auther Theory says that a Director’s Film reflect that director’s personal vision, as if he or she were the primary “Auther” (Author). Another key element of Auther theory comes from Alexandre Astruc’s (French Film Critic and Filmmaker) notion of the camera-stylo or “camera pen” and the idea that directors should wield their camera like writers use their pens and they need not hindered by traditional storytelling. (courtsy Wikipedia).

“Day for Night”(1974, La Nuit Americaine in French ) is considered to be one of Truffaut’s greatest films. This film along with his “The 400 Blows”(1959) were listed among the top 100 best films of this century by Time magazine. Day for Night also won the 1974 BAFTA Award for best film and the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film. ‘Nuit Americane’or American Night is a technical process whereby sequences shot during the daytime are made to appear as if they are taking place at night.

As the director himself said - Many a times it’s not the story of film but the whole process of its making becomes the best experience of film. In “Day for Night”, Truffaut introduce us a film crew in the process of shooting a film called “Meet Pamila” (with lot of high expectations) and there goes lot of funny-crazy-wild moments in the process of fulfilling it. “Day for Night” starts with the first day of shoot and ends with the last day of it. We meet a lot of interesting characters from the Director of the film to the producer to the actors to the line controller’s wife, all speaking their own ethics. The film keep on ‘asking as well as thinking’ the question, whether or not movies are more important than life of those who make it.

Assistant girl says “I can DITCH a guy for film but not the film for a guy.”
Director says “Finally what is important is THE FILM.”
Producer says, “COMPROMISE with the pregnant secretary.”
Art Director says, “That task is not in my CALL SHEET.”
Insurance guy says, “Just FINISH it by this time”.
Etc etc….and…
Truffaut says “This is THE END of films like ‘Meet Pamila’. Lets shoot films on roads, streets…etc..etc"

As the film got over, I discovered an intelligent set of viewers open for discussion. Guys I really mean it, I was surprised to see you all staying back after the film to share your thoughts. Believe me, it is a difficult task even in a Film Fest to make the crowd glued to the seats after one and a half hour of film show for a fruitful discussion on the same. I was lucky to have a THINKING CROWD.I triggered the discussion with the comment “Now that was ‘Day for Night’, Guys...I guess in filmmaking we have solutions for everything but not in personal life. So what would you think is important...film or life? ” The response was great, with some people supporting 'cinema' and some the 'life'...But in you all what I felt was....a set of responsible social beings.

Proud to see sensible-strong-intelligent MCCians who trusts the Art of cinema above loving the Art of cinema. Proud to see u admiring the PASSION of cinema than mere PROFESSION of cinema. And Three Cheers to Reelity Bites. Keep going. All the best.

Btwn thanks for that cute gift. I liked the logo of MCC on that.
Regards,
Cockroach

An Interesting Meal

Day before yesterday I had a meal quite delicious and truly special cooked by an Aravani (a transgender) at her small hut, hardly of the size of a maruthi van, at a small town called Kallippetti in Maduri. I call it special because such a thing had never happened in my life before. I can boldly say that the very little rice and Karuvad (Fish curry) she offered is one among the best I have ever had in my life.

This is the second time I traveled with my friends Rayson and Susan, shooting this Aravani family for Susan’s Ph D research on their lifestyle, art and culture. I was too doubtful about this idea initially as I have seen them only as a rude and ridiculous lot disturbing common people around. Yet, true to the inner call for adventure n thus realizing the fact that a second thought is of no scope, I joined them on this documentary mission almost a year back.

Like last time, we got a warm welcome from the inhabitants constituting of 6 to 7 Aravanis and their mother “Pandi Ammal”. I am not getting into any details of the visit coz that would be like intruding into Susan’s research material. At the same time I can’t be but express my feeling about them for being in their hospitality for 2 days. In spite of their sexual orientation towards men, I have not felt anything different in their attitude towards life from others. In fact, I found them extremely talented, philosophical and creative. Their only difference is that most of them are male by birth and female by heart. They talk-walk-dress-dream like a woman longing for the identity of a woman.

Susan explains it in this way “If you consider man and woman are two ends of a string these people comes somewhere in between. Nobody can be a complete man or a complete woman.” In fact after the first day shoot I had to tell her, if she is 80 % woman, I could see them as 100% woman by heart.

Yet before blaming the society, I would like to blame myself for acting indifferent. It so happened that on the return journey, I was feeling so restless when the guy who came with us as our guide openly admitted that he is a bisexual living a duel life.

Regards,

Cockroach

The Butcher

A few weeks back, on a routine visit to my friend Sweta’s desk at Hexaware, she asked me this question

“Arun, don’t you think you must be doing a short film based on the bomb blasts? See how many are getting killed every other day.”

Though the concept of “The Butcher” was there in my mind for quite sometime, it was then I actually decided to frame it. I’m glad that she asked this question coz it made me realize that there are people who genuinely think that a short film can create some impact on the society we live in. How big or small it would be…don’t ask me…I have no clue..!!! If the film can reach and touch the mind of at least one among a billion, I strongly believe that, it worked.



Now about…‘The Butcher’…In a single sentence……it is the story of a man becoming the cause as well as the victim of a destiny written by him. Let me not give any further explanations on that...but leave it for your to watch...

When I showed this film to my colleagues in office, the immediate response was, “How did you make a butcher act so well in your film?”
And I repied, “Guys interesting question, but the Butcher here is a documentary filmmaker, a music director, a PhD scholar and finally my friend, Rayson. He is the same person who acted as a chicken-trader in my previous film ‘Two Ways Together’. Actually our friend Susan already made this comment that, with ‘The Butcher’ I had given him a promotion from Chicken to Beef”.

Jokes apart, I always enjoyed working with him as we share these notorious qualities in common- lack of shame, lots of unwanted guts and adaptability to anything and everything. We are in the process of another short film where his role is not again of a butcher but of a music composer.

‘The Butcher’ gave me a new friend and an assistant, Sachin from MCC. He has a better role back in MCC. He is the founder, planner and coordinator of a Film Club, Reelity Bites, targeted at reaching the campus crowd with good quality films. Let me talk about it in another blog. He learns commerce in college and breathes Arts. A brilliant person to share thoughts on film, culture and society. I hope to see his name more often in the credits of my future ventures.

The voice of wife and daughter on phone in the film is of ‘Agnetha’, yet another friend whom I got from MCC with this film. Agnetha, I am sure you must have identified a brilliant dubbing artist in you by this time. Good job, get going.

My hearty thanks to Susan for all the support and care. I like the way you take ownership of my works. Your presence is energizing the mode of filming. I can’t forget Mr. Udhay Kumar, the beef stall owner and other friends from the shop for providing the space and helping us on the shoot. In fact, by mistake, I broke a watch given by them while shooting.

Thanking you all,
Cockroach

Eastern Culture/ Identity in Globalized World

There is an interesting quote on culture by Mahatma Gandhi whom I don’t think anyone would require an introduction.

“I do not want my house to be walled in on all sides and my windows to be stuffed. I want the cultures of all the lands to be blown about my house as freely as possible. But I refuse to be blown off my feet by any.”

It is very clear from the statement that this mighty man of truth and ahimsa from Indian sub-continent had foreseen the idea of globalization much before and at the same time understood the value of preserving and preaching own culture.

All most all the third world countries from the east are facing the issue of their culture being eaten up by the Western Post-modern nations, who claims themselves to be developed, on the backdrop of the idea of globalization. Of course, it is an acceptable fact that today’s technology and trade had sucked the entire world together shadowed under single umbrella. Globalization not only made visibility on anything and everything from one corner to another but also resulted in the cultural give and take too. But the sad fact is that most of the poor lot of eastern world has some kind of dependency towards a developed nation from the west who remains the warehouse of wealth. Naturally there aroused a mental slavery towards the west and hence an idea that the east need to change themselves to match the culture of the west. Kolapuri slippers thus lost a battle to Nike and Reebock and dhothis to the Jeans. Origin of a human society and its culture has a lot to do with its geography and heritage that may not have any relevance to another social set-up.

If we consider the area of filmmaking as an example, the worst scenario we are facing is the trend of imitation. In India we had already seen the formation of quite a lot distant cousins to Hollywood…Bollywood, Kollywood, Tollywood, Mollywood….god knows how many more to come… These names itself suggest how much we are blindly bind to the film culture of a nation on the other side of globe. Coming days Indian audience might end up watching Indian Jurassic Parks and Meet the Fockers more often than Lagaan or Rudali.

All the art forms, whether it is painting, poetry, music or filmmaking, should definitely have an aesthetic identity of the region from which they are getting molded. The greatness of art is not in the imitation of an alien style but the imagination in own style. Nobody has the right to say that a classic Victorian painting is of high standard than the traditional temple mural from Kerala. There is no point in judging both based on the same parameters, as long as the medium and mode of creation as well as the target viewers are totally different. The same way, in music Rock and Pop can never be of greater importance to Hindustani or Carnatic. Each cannot substitute of the other. Even the traditional African tribal Blues that lacks a defined form or lyric pattern is of equal importance to any other branch of music.

Many of the young generation filmmakers of India have this attitude that until they create a new version of Matrix they would not be able to reach the level of world class cinema and that their creation could never be showcased and marketed to the world audience. This thought is like an Indian sculptor creating an imitation of Michael Angelo’s “Thinker” and trying to sell it to the European world who has no new fancy towards it. At the same time they prefer buying a simple “Nataraja” statue from our very own countryside. Recently while checking a clay model as a wedding gift for my friend, I was shocked to see not even a single piece that has the look and feel of an Indian man or woman. Almost all of them are crafted with “gentleman caps” and European physique.

Art is the cultural ambassador of a nation and until it reflects the true fragrance and flavour of its originality, it is of no class or standard. East and West are two different horizons. It is time to understand that West is no more interested in watching themselves in an imitation worked out from the East. So what is the need of East trying to become west??? Rather it must show its beauty and diversity to the west. Losing own cultural identity is like living without a surname. Globalization is not a process of changing us to another US or Europe. It is the process of sharing of knowledge, ideas and culture along with the business aspect of it. As Gandhi said let us enjoy the breeze coming in, standing strong on our own feet.