Two Movies and Some Fiction

What follows is another random bit of writing. Everything here is pure fiction, more or less anyway, that I was almost compelled to write after a couple of movies that I recently saw - "One Day You'll Understand" (Plus Tard) by Amos Gitai, and "The Class" (Entre les Murs) by Laurent Cantet. I highly recommend them both.

Its just another evening, no different from any other. A night out with friends, at the local pub. We've had a couple of rounds of beer each. "Nowhere close to my limit yet", I think. I excuse myself and head off to the restroom. My feet momentarily falter. Im almost surprised that im that drunk already. So much for my ability to hold my alcohol. By the time I've converted two pints into litres, and then calculated 5.7% of that, Im already back at the bar. One last draught and the glass is empty. "Just one last pint for the day, and then Im done", I decide. Drinks are ordered. Everyone seems happy. I look accross at a friend. He has a silly smile on his face. He's busy telling us how much he loves us. I smile. I turn back to my other friends. They are busy having a heated discussion about something. I can't really make out everything they are saying... but occasionally, I hear platitudes, I hear the same arguments repeated over and over... old wine in a new bottle ... except no one seems to realize that its the same old bottle. Im not sure if its the alcohol or just me, but I don't care. Im comfortable. Im happy. Its great to be out with friends.

I've seen enough

"I've seen enough, of nothing news,

The blackest stain on history, or last laugh blues.

Not gonna fight not gonna cry,

Not gonna shop around for one flag to fly."

-I've seen enough by The Cold War Kids.

There is a limit to stupidity ... right? Wrong. If you're a right-wing group in India you just keep creating new issues, each more ridiculous then the previous one. (For example, see this or this) But each new issue they raise is just so ridiculous that you have to stop and 'applaud' their creativity. After all, at some point the rational, thinking part of the brain chimes in. It points out errors in your thought processes, it identifies flaws in arguments, it throws reason at you, it hits you with a dose of logic. To reach a point when you can suppress the 'intelligent' parts of your brain and be ruled by insanity takes effort. Lot of it.

What then of the thinking, silent majority (at least I like to think that this is the majority of the population)? How long before they tire under the constant insanity heaped on them by our 'defenders of culture', our 'moral police'? How long before they stop trying to reason with these insane fools? How long before they stop trying to talk sense into the minds of the insane? After all, of what use are arguments and explanations to these mindless and witless few?

Thankfully there are some who haven't given up and who hopefully never will, as this innovative (?) campaign demonstrates. Thank God for them!

On love or the lack of it

"I love you", he says. It sounds natural, unrehearsed, almost like he means it. She won't know the difference... Or will she? Does she see it in his eyes, in his smile, the way his lips move as he say this? 

He thinks he sees it in her eyes. That brief momentary flash of doubt... but this time it seems to linger a little longer, almost uncomfortably so. Her smile betrays her words. "I love you too", she says.

He remembers something his friend once said ... "there's just the moment, the now and nothing else matters". You can analyze your life over and over, rethinking, pondering, what would you do different if you could, what would you change if you could... and would that change 'the now'? Aren't you better off just living 'in the now'? Maybe your life isn't perfect, but that shouldn't stop you from enjoying it, should it? But that's harder said than done.

He thinks back to when they first met. Was it love at first sight? He doesn't think so. He has always had his doubts. A woman flashes in his mind... red lips, red dress. Remembrance slowly washes over him ...  ... Aah ... the bar ... last night ...  He quickly shakes the thought out of his mind. But he loved her before ... didn't he? Was it all a lie? And what now... should he continue smiling, saying words he no longer truly means, acting out this part that he has so expertly been playing for the last few years. Or should he throw it all away, in search of true love. He smiles ... he thought he had already found true love ... "what makes me think next time will be any different?", he wonders. He waves goodbye from the car.

Until tomorrow.

Unaccustomed Earth, Language, Identities

I recently began reading Jhumpa Lahiri's 'Unaccustomed Earth'. One of the stories describes the life of Rupa, the daughter of Bengali immigrant parents, born and brought up in the USA. At one point in the story, Rupa reflects on the fact that although she grew up speaking Bengali when she was young, her conversing skills in Bengali are not what they used to be and that she has begun to find it harder and harder to carry on a conversation in Bengali - her native language. As a child growing up in a multilingual household, in many ways, I understand her predicament. You would think that growing up immersed in multiple languages, I would be highly conversant in all of them. Unfortunately as it turned out, I essentially spoke only English at home and I would describe my abilities in the other languages, that I grew up with, as being average at best. As I think back now, I feel a sense of loss. It almost feels like I am losing a link to a part of my culture. That being said, the fact of the matter is that we live in an increasingly globalized world. Being comfortable and conversant in English, the language of my adopted home (and across much of the world) has proved to be extremely helpful. So I guess that in a sense, this loss has a silver lining after all- I have moved from being a citizen of my native country to being a citizen of the world.

On friendship

"Mia: Don't you hate that? 

Vincent: What? 

Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?

Vincent: I don't know. That's a good question. 

Mia: That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence." - Pulp Fiction. (1994)

I have recently come to the realization that my friends fall into one of two distinct groups. There are those who I have to make a conscious effort to carry on a conversation with and then there is the other group where the conversation always seems to flow spontaneously, and no effort seems to be required on my part. Perhaps I know the people in the second group better, and so I instinctively 'know' what makes an interesting conversation with them. But I don't think this accurately explains the difference between the two groups. I think what it comes down too is that it really doesn't matter whether I carry on a conversation with them at all... just being in their presence makes me happy ... even sitting with them in silence.

Les Carabiniers - The war movie that is not

If you are a fan of Jean-Luc Godard, like me you probably have your favorite Godard movie. Since I have only been able to watch three of his films to date ('Contempt', 'Breathless' and 'Les Carabiniers'), it may seem a little pointless to say that I am a fan of his work. Perhaps I can only truly say that I like what I have seen so far, but I suspect that what I like about his movies is his point of view. I think 'Les Carabiniers' is a perfect example. To me 'Les Carabiniers' is special because it is a war movie, that turns the whole genre on its head. Gone are the heroic battle scenes where the lead actor gives rousing speeches about saving the world. There is no attempt to glorify war. The 'heroes' of the movie are two bumbling fools, 'Ulysses' and 'Michelangelo', who respond to the kings invitation to set out to war with promises of untold riches. You might think that the movie is a bit slow in parts, you might think that its a load of nonsense at times, but I think that you will see something that you've rarely seen before. I think you'll see a man who manages to clearly get his point across. I don't want to give too much of the story away, but I will say that this is one of the best satires on war (second only to Dr. Strangelove) that I have ever seen.

The Riddle of the Sphinx

“Which creature in the morning goes on four legs, 

at mid-day on two, and in the evening upon three, 

and the more legs it has, the weaker it be?”

When I was young I grew up in a country so beautiful, there was no place like it on the earth. It was a land as ancient as the earth... steeped in rich traditions, a culture as old as time itself. A land where all the people lived together in peace. Regardless of their ethnicity, their religion, their language or their customs, they lived as one. There was peace and tranquility and happiness throughout the land.

Then I grew older, and things had changed. But I couldn't understand how. Where was the peace of old? Why was everyone fighting? But we were one... right? Were we not all living together in peace? Where was the land of my youth? How did things change so fast?

Now I am old. I understand it all... I chose not to understand when I was young, I chose not to see. But it was there all along. It has been there all along. When I was young, I chose not to see the suffering around me ... the poverty, the violence, the injustice ... I looked away, closed my eyes and they were gone. Then as I grew older that's all I saw. I wanted to make a difference. Now I am cynical. Now I am a realist. I don't have time for fairy tales. I see things for what they are. The land of my youth existed only in my head. Created by escapism, perpetuated by false hope, the dream remains and will forever. After all, you don't have to acknowledge the problems of today, if you can live off the high of yesterday, do you? But when the smoke settles, and sanity returns you'll see things for what they are. And unfortunately, you wont have the excuse of naivete that was readily available when you were young. 

But deep down, I have this lingering feeling that things will get better, that someday, we will have peace and tranquility all around ... I can't explain this rationally. If you ask me for facts ... I have none. If you want reasons ... I have none. All I have to offer is a feeling ... whatever that may mean. Hope springs eternal...