deja vu
Ages since I have been here. Not a healthy sign. I happened to do an analysis of my craze for prize winning movies and books. At some point of time those were my only bench marks for works of art. Was I a victim of ignorance or was I seeking a shortcut to the helm of literary circles. These were the questions troubling me when I dared for a retrospect. As well known both situations are embarrassing, the latter the more. The outcome was quite surprising.
Its been quite some time since i started involving with books. The first occasion i which i started interacting with mature books dates back to the time when i was serving period in St Thomas. Fortunate i should say, i had a channel for books to reach me. This i think was the turning point which many people never had. Though i was not right away absorbed in to concepts of fiction, realism, meta fiction, neoclassicism, modernism, post modernism, cubism etc ( About most of them I still don't have a clue. Just added for the sake of space), as the channel intended, i developed a method. And this method was the key. The essence of the audience which i am today, is a polished , refined, battered, shrunk form of this method, which has evolved over time.
Pages which keep me away from reality, take me to another world (i know its an over used phrase) was what i always looked for. I am not sure, my ego is not.......yes it is permitting me to admit the fact that i had a preference for racy pages. And the first of the few which falls in the two categories as mentioned were The English Patient and Disgrace. The Patient was not quite transparent to me but a mystic charm hooked me to it. Though i happened to see the movie at a later point of time, even now if i go through the pages of that book i exactly recreate the notation of story and its characters which i once developed, and held. This fortunately is drastically different from any body's interpretation of the book. Disgrace give me a different perspective of the art. It provoked me to think or imagine myself in other peoples shoes. Was a terrific experience, but loved it. I integrated these two (create, imagine) to my mental faculty before i went ahead. There has been achievements, disappointment's, additions and deletions to this instrument of my mind as i went ahead. But fundamentally it remains the same.
The road ahead was relatively easy. But not without bumps. I lacked conviction and personal choice. Thats when tags of appreciation the work holds attracted me. Believe me though there were disappointments, the method never failed me. Till date tagged contemporary works of fiction ( my domain of interest) beacons quality. The faith developed in to appreciation and then adoration. The tags where reliable is only one part of the story. I enjoyed the reading process is what really mattered. The primary discussion in this post ends here.
Circumstances made me better. I resorted to diverge. Poetry, philosophy, Shakespeare, drama... all were disasters. The sight of a feminine charm in the counter of the library forced me to read something sitting on the table across. Fortunately it was a table meant for reading magazines and i started browsing through magazines, and came across The Economist. ( I remember that something similar have happened to the mankind long back. My history books says while prehistoric men ate meat gathering round a bonfire, somebody missed the aim when he threw the meat for someone else to eat and that piece of meat fell to the fire. Assuming that there was a lack of meat, either the person who threw it or the person for whom it was destined was forced to eat it. And that introduced the mankind to cooked meat. Funny, huh?) I have remained faithful to that magazine since then. The Hindu editorials which i happened to read in ICH and only in ICH was one another successful experiment.
ICH was the corner stone for my progress in outlook. What rather started as miming the Khadi clad, Beedi smoking maybe/intellectuals and photographers evolved to an obsession. The habit also seconded as a avenue to cater my escapism from mainstream activities. The healthy outcome was that i practiced and mastered patience. The hours i spent in the smoking section of the hotel, staring at people , viewing the setting sun, viewing the building next, reading paper ultimately did something good to me. Sitting idle was anyway a better option than being in the lecture hall and listen to some exceptional stupidity.
The desperate need of a place like ICH landed me in Odyssey. Though its no comparison to ICH it was better of the lot. No thinking took place in there. But I had real close encounters with the second kind (from a distance). The fact i learnt, second kind is a gone case once its mouth is open. I kept on eluding them for years on end....and may be for years to come.
Don't know why, i am not complete with this piece. But i feel desperate to get it on the blog. May be sometime back i'll come back and edit it. (including this sentence)
Its been quite some time since i started involving with books. The first occasion i which i started interacting with mature books dates back to the time when i was serving period in St Thomas. Fortunate i should say, i had a channel for books to reach me. This i think was the turning point which many people never had. Though i was not right away absorbed in to concepts of fiction, realism, meta fiction, neoclassicism, modernism, post modernism, cubism etc ( About most of them I still don't have a clue. Just added for the sake of space), as the channel intended, i developed a method. And this method was the key. The essence of the audience which i am today, is a polished , refined, battered, shrunk form of this method, which has evolved over time.
Pages which keep me away from reality, take me to another world (i know its an over used phrase) was what i always looked for. I am not sure, my ego is not.......yes it is permitting me to admit the fact that i had a preference for racy pages. And the first of the few which falls in the two categories as mentioned were The English Patient and Disgrace. The Patient was not quite transparent to me but a mystic charm hooked me to it. Though i happened to see the movie at a later point of time, even now if i go through the pages of that book i exactly recreate the notation of story and its characters which i once developed, and held. This fortunately is drastically different from any body's interpretation of the book. Disgrace give me a different perspective of the art. It provoked me to think or imagine myself in other peoples shoes. Was a terrific experience, but loved it. I integrated these two (create, imagine) to my mental faculty before i went ahead. There has been achievements, disappointment's, additions and deletions to this instrument of my mind as i went ahead. But fundamentally it remains the same.
The road ahead was relatively easy. But not without bumps. I lacked conviction and personal choice. Thats when tags of appreciation the work holds attracted me. Believe me though there were disappointments, the method never failed me. Till date tagged contemporary works of fiction ( my domain of interest) beacons quality. The faith developed in to appreciation and then adoration. The tags where reliable is only one part of the story. I enjoyed the reading process is what really mattered. The primary discussion in this post ends here.
Circumstances made me better. I resorted to diverge. Poetry, philosophy, Shakespeare, drama... all were disasters. The sight of a feminine charm in the counter of the library forced me to read something sitting on the table across. Fortunately it was a table meant for reading magazines and i started browsing through magazines, and came across The Economist. ( I remember that something similar have happened to the mankind long back. My history books says while prehistoric men ate meat gathering round a bonfire, somebody missed the aim when he threw the meat for someone else to eat and that piece of meat fell to the fire. Assuming that there was a lack of meat, either the person who threw it or the person for whom it was destined was forced to eat it. And that introduced the mankind to cooked meat. Funny, huh?) I have remained faithful to that magazine since then. The Hindu editorials which i happened to read in ICH and only in ICH was one another successful experiment.
ICH was the corner stone for my progress in outlook. What rather started as miming the Khadi clad, Beedi smoking maybe/intellectuals and photographers evolved to an obsession. The habit also seconded as a avenue to cater my escapism from mainstream activities. The healthy outcome was that i practiced and mastered patience. The hours i spent in the smoking section of the hotel, staring at people , viewing the setting sun, viewing the building next, reading paper ultimately did something good to me. Sitting idle was anyway a better option than being in the lecture hall and listen to some exceptional stupidity.
The desperate need of a place like ICH landed me in Odyssey. Though its no comparison to ICH it was better of the lot. No thinking took place in there. But I had real close encounters with the second kind (from a distance). The fact i learnt, second kind is a gone case once its mouth is open. I kept on eluding them for years on end....and may be for years to come.
Don't know why, i am not complete with this piece. But i feel desperate to get it on the blog. May be sometime back i'll come back and edit it. (including this sentence)
posted by catherine at 11:27 AM
1 Comments:
Man what hapened stopped blogging or what .
Post a Comment
<< Home