More good news is coming our way with the short film ‘The Search.’ It has been selected by The National Film Board of Canada for Filmmaker Assistance Program. NFB will give their in-house studio/personnel support to do some high end post production stuff. NFB will give it’s name behind the production which brings lot of credibility to our film. And, finally, it also opens up distribution possibilities. We are really glad that a short film made with modest expectations have covered so much ground. It do provide a much yearned affirmation about our own worth as writers and filmmakers.
events
Two short film contests
1) The Bombay Sapphire imagination series and Tribeca Film Festival present a short film script contest where you are to write a short film script based on a template provided by Geoffrey Fletcher (scribe of ‘Precious’). Five winners will be chosen and the writers will get an opportunity to work on the production of these scripts. The link is here.
2) An initiative by LA India film council, the second short film promises contest winners 1000 dollars and opportunity to get work experience in a ‘major film production company.’ Open to film and media students in India and LA. The link is here.
Delhi world book fair 2012
Delhi world book fair is back. Went there yesterday and obsessively browsed the titles in the stalls. Couldn’t even finish 50% of the fair in a solid 4 hours.
Book fests can be an adventurous journey where you even don’t know what you are looking for. If you want to buy an Amitav Ghosh or an Orhan Pamuk or a Deepak Chopra, you don’t need to a book fest. You can just order it sitting at your home. The treasures in book fests hide not in the stalls of the big publishing houses but the small and obscure stalls which may throw in front of you even more obscure titles. Some of those really make you go after them. You know from your heart that you need to get them. Also if you don’t lap them up there itself, you may never find those books again in your life. Those books are the rare homeless butterflies that suddenly fly out into the sun for a brief moment never to be seen again.
A distress call
Stuck in a seminar preparation. Jumbled graphs, data, slides. Screenplays all hanging in half life. Can’t type anything other than bullet points now. Power point has spoiled me. Need to get back in groove after 31st. Planning to buy a tablet. Hopes to utilise bits and pieces of time more effectively. I know, I know. A tablet can be a double edged sword. Yeah, some times you gamble and you lose. Or you may win too. Hopes that Eid is on 31st itself. Then it will be holiday. And I will be saved. Over. And out.
Photo by koalazymonkey
The man vs the govt: the Anna Hazare redux
‘A great antagonist is some one who believes in the inherent goodness of his own intentions and a great drama is where everyone is an antagonist.’—Goldman
Some how I am getting a hang about the times of our freedom struggle (doesn’t mean that I think this is the ‘second freedom struggle’). All the hard facts about our freedom struggle aside, there are certain nuances and things about the atmosphere that becomes revealed to you in unique occasions like this… A politically shrewd person raising the right kind of issue with an immaculate sense of timing… The government which is exasperated by ‘this weird man’ with ‘eccentric ideas’ rigid in his own way… The other Indian parties and stake holders who don’t agree with him in most issues but still put up with him because he is effective… The public dictated more by pure emotions rather than nuances and subtext, ready to sacrifice for this total stranger… History does repeat in its own mysterious ways.
A bubble in the rain
The kid was on the verge of tears. The cold air continued to mumble in his ears. The scooter was going fast.
Tomorrow his school is going to open. His Christmas vacation is ending. He won’t get to play ‘home and school’ with his cousins now. He won’t be running to the corner shop every 5 minutes for the 5 paise confectionaries. He won’t be bragging about the martial prowess of his favourite film stars. But what really hurt him was the fact he will have to collect the valued half year exam papers on the opening day of school. And it can be a very unpleasant experience.
Suddenly it started to rain. B parked the scooter in front of a shop. The kid and his younger brother ran to the cover of a roof with B. It was then only B noticed the expression on the face of the kid. He smiled, ‘I know you are not happy.’ No marks for guessing, kid thought. ‘When there is a holiday, I will come to pick you both,’ B said. Kid knew B was trying to console him. But still he believed B. It felt better to believe. The three stood there. Stuck in a bubble of time. And also stuck in rain.
Around 20 years later, B would die. Leaving every one bewildered. But still that bubble has not burst… And that rain has not ended.
Photo by konaboy
Yet another screenwriting lab
WikiLeaks and Julian Assange- the Beast or the Slayer?
‘I have tried to invent a system that solves the problem of censorship of the press and the censorship of the whistle-blower across the whole world’– Julian Assange
Now, the question is, is that all this is about? Or is he just looking for his 15 minutes of fame? Well, as some one said, it doesn’t matter what you think or what your intentions are, but only what you do. It’s true that WikiLeaks has done more than just be a new virtual ‘plaything’ for mass feeding frenzy. A corruption report by Wikileaks led to the loss of office for Prime Minister in Kenya. Among the recent releases, the revelation that some Arab nations are eager for an US occupation of Iran is definitely going to play out in unpredictable ways because until now they have not taken an openly hostile stand against Iran. But the exact repercussions of this is yet to be determined. Another jolt has been that China considers North Korea ‘a trouble maker’ and has been open about the idea of an unified Korea despite its open support towards North Korea. This is going to figure in the future relationship between them.
But what is the other side of it? Is it ethical to publish what an foreign ambassador reports back about a statesman of the country where he is posted? What kind of good can come out of it? Where does the work of a journalist end and interference with the smooth functioning of the state begin? What does Assange say about free transfer of information? Continue reading
Defiant Gods and indignant followers
Current uproar about Arundhati Roy’s comments on Kashmir and the ensuing reactions to it kept me thinking. Not much about the issues raised as much, but regarding our ways of responding to views which are in dissonance with that of ours. And its relation to the context and architect of the views.
Why is it that most of the reactions to Roy are so hostile? I am not talking only about the Sang Parivar, or the beaurocracy or the politicians. I am talking about the general public and media. Is it just that her diatribes against ‘the Nation state’ is something too abrasive for a patriotic Indian? May be so. One criticism that is consistently leveled against her is that she takes a bite in every fight, every affray against the Indian government while enjoying the freedom and space offered by the Indian state (Reminded me about similar indignation against Noam Chomsky in US).
But I don’t think that it is the only reason or the central problem. Why is it that Medha Patkar is not hated like Arundhati Roy? Why is that even with all the blood bath, the big Maoist leaders are still shadow figures for us? And look at the last straw. Azad Kashmir. Is Roy the first Indian to offer support for the independent Kashmir? What about all the Geelanis and Abdullahs before?
The difference is probably how Arundhati Roy is perceived in the overall scheme of things. She is viewed as a popular icon who is an outsider to all these issues. So the sentiment is that her swinging her weight into any argument gives an abnormal validity to certain groups in the dispute in an international arena. I think the indignation and fury against her is because she came out with ideological inclinations which were not only unacceptable but also blasphemous for the same general public who had taken her up in their shoulders as a ‘celebrity’ when she won Booker prize. Everyone feels being stabbed in the back after decorating her edifice. Continue reading
J. D. Salinger (1919-2010)
…When the weather’s nice, my parents go out quite frequently and stick a bunch of flowers on old Allie’s grave. I went with them a couple of times, but I cut it out. In the first place, I certainly don’t enjoy seeing him in that crazy cemetery. Surrounded by dead guys and tombstones and all. It wasn’t too bad when the sun was out, but twice–twice–we were there when it started to rain. It was awful. It rained on his lousy tombstone, and it rained on the grass on his stomach. It rained all over the place. All the visitors that were visiting the cemetery started running like hell over to their cars. That’s what nearly drove me crazy. All the visitors could get in their cars and turn on their radios and all
and then go someplace nice for dinner–everybody except Allie. I couldn’t stand it. I know it’s only his body and all that’s in the cemetery, and his soul’s in Heaven and all that crap, but I couldn’t stand it anyway. I just wish he wasn’t there. You didn’t know him. If you’d known him, you’d know what I mean. It’s not too bad when the sun’s out, but the sun only comes out when it feels like coming out.
—Catcher in the rye
“It’s everybody, I mean. Everything everybody does is so – I don’t know – not wrong, or even mean, or even stupid necessarily. But just so tiny and meaningless and – sad-making. And the worst part is, if you go bohemian or something crazy like that, you’re conforming just as much only in a different way.”
“I’m just interested in finding out what the hell goes. I mean do you have to be a goddam bohemian type, or dead, for Chrissake, to be a real poet? What do you want – some bastard with wavy hair?”
—Frannie and Zooey
…But I’m crazy. I swear to God I am. About halfway to the bathroom, I sort of started pretending I had a bullet in my guts. Old ‘Maurice had plugged me. Now I was on the way to the bathroom to get a good shot of bourbon or something to steady my nerves and help me really go into action. I pictured myself coming out of the goddam bathroom, dressed and
all, with my automatic in my pocket, and staggering around a little bit. Then I’d walk downstairs, instead of using the elevator. I’d hold onto the banister and all, with this blood trickling out of the side of my mouth a little at a time. What I’d do, I’d walk down a few floors–holding onto my guts, blood leaking all over the place– and then I’d ring the elevator
bell. As soon as old Maurice opened the doors, he’d see me with the automatic in my hand and he’d start screaming at me, in this very high-pitched, yellow-belly voice, to leave him alone. But I’d plug him anyway. Six shots right through his fat hairy belly. Then I’d throw my automatic down the elevator shaft–after I’d wiped off all the finger prints and all. Then I’d crawl back to my room and call up Jane and have her come over and bandage up my guts. I pictured her holding a cigarette for me to smoke while I was bleeding and all.
The goddam movies. They can ruin you. I’m not kidding…
—Catcher in the rye
Who wrote my screenplay? 