Marcus Zahner VII: Change is the only constant

The eternal vaccuum nature of life continues to surprise me with all vagaries. Every moment throws up something new, which leaves me with a open mouthed gawk. Then again its the few initial minutes of adaptation, and getting used to it. And a new settled one starts again.

Unsatisfied with all my attempts to find this inert moment in life, I traveled to the hermit. My only point of understanding reality. Or so did I think. For reality was only my perception of truth. I reached his hut. And there was he was deep down in meditation. But just as I stood beside him, he opened his eyes and smiled at me.

Hermit: So, you are here for some answers? Isn't it?

I was surprised. But quickly, realized that there are things going on in this world, which are beyond my understanding. So, I simply nodded.

Me: I always used to ask myself - 'If I would ever be at peace with myself - in a situation where things are still?'. And I am still looking for an answer!

Hermit: Probably not! For change is the only constant. And being settled is just a notion that lingers in your mind - signifying your renewed potential to adapt quickly to the ever changing patterns of life.

Me: Why is this clutter inside my mind?

Hermit: Only you can answer that.

And then he went into deep trance. I had got my answer and it was no answer. Deep down, even before I had gone to him - I had understood that the questions which I posed would possibly be answered only by me.

Life was just like the theory of evolution that Darwin proposed - Species have to adapt themselves continously, to continue their lineage in the endless duration of the mightly universe. And so did I ponder as to what I was supposed to achieve in life. Is it something specific ? Is it platform that I need to reach? That once I reach there - I could finally exult and say to myself - Finally you did it. Probably not, there is never going to be moment in my life when I can say - thats goal achieved.Every step I reach in life, was just a basement camp or a plateau I reach in my climb towards the ever towering Mount Everest.

I queered to myself - Is there any point in looking at points in life? Strangely no! And so, this clutter went on.

Indian cinema in perspective

Despite all the advancements in technology, cinema still remains a Director's (& Writer's) medium, where its story telling that ultimately triumphs. No matter where the story is set, how lavish the sets are or how expansive the basic plot of a movie is, it is the mastery of story telling that carries through the director's vision forward.

Being an avid follower of Indian cinema and world cinema (Hollywood in particular) to some extent. I have always been intrigued by the way the different cultures tend to have different ethos for story telling. While Indian cinema believes in fantasy-in-real-world, the west believes either in a total realism or to some extent reality-in-a-fantastic world. Is there the usual eastern vs. western philosophy at loggerheads, I thought. But deeper I thought, the more clearer it was that to a very large extent, the affluence in a culture was directly proportional to the amount of realism in the movies churned out in the culture - especially quoting the oft-repeated argument - Life imitates art and art imitates life.

With this basic paradigm, I believe that I can see why we (Indians) make movies, the way we do. Till now, during our independent existence, we have mostly been an under-developed nation (developing nation, by critics would argue) - with marching strides towards a developed country since the turn of the millennium.

Think about a normal guy in India from a lower middle class and his expectations, when he goes for a movie. All throughout his life, he has been thrown around, thanks to the government, the affluent class among many others. So, when he goes for a movie, all that he asks for - is a three hour escape from his daily world. A world where good always triumphs evil. And if the hero can bash up 50 goons, he is all the more happy. He does not want a world where he sees poverty and corruption ( something that the west loves to see in Indian movies). He has seen too much of that in his life. Thus, anything that can help him forget his worries is good. So, when a hero breaks into a song in Switzerland/Kashmir, nobody questions - because they have already submitted themselves to the fact that cinema is fantasy - and to large extent demanded it. It is this submission to the world of fantasy that makes Indian movies escapist - which is something that intrigues the west.

However, over the decades, rather than a country of have-nots, we have become a country of some people being the haves and the majority being the have-nots. This interesting mix has given rise to the so-called multiplex-real cinema. Though it does retain some amount of escapism - like breaking into songs - there has been a shift in the way stories have been told. More and more directors are adopting the more realistic approach - and there is an affluent audience to encourage it.

Even though I know, that this argument may not be foolproof, I believe that over a larger canvas, it does hold true. Let us try Bollywood for instance. Right throughout the fifties and sixties, having been through the fight for independence, fights and quarrels were the last things, people wanted. So, Bollywood rightly served them with mushy romance and melodrama - over the top quite often. But nonetheless, they served their purpose. Along with melodrama, this was also the era of patriotism and allegiance to government. Makes sense, I think.

But having seen the ugly side of Indian politics for about a decade or two, it was time to switch sides. The protagonist now was an anti-establishment guy. Someone who was critical of everything in the society - government, rich class, etc. The hero was most often - portrayed as a member of the working class, a do-gooder and ultimate hope of society. And it was here that - hero bashing up goons became mainstay. And no one questioned - because given a chance, every person would have have loved to do that. Simply put, it just portrayed out aspirations for a leader who could pull us out the crap that we had got ourselves into. The British had been worse, but we did not do well either!! - was the subtext I believe.

But stories in movies, remain in movies. And the ultimate do-gooder never came along. The politicians were in complete control of the policies by now, and the public just at the receiving end of the baton. So, was it with cinema. it was the time of misdirected eighties and nineties - and the time for the worst crap from Bollywood stable. Cheesy songs, corny dialogues were the norm - and the hapless audience just took whatever they got.

But the turn of the millennium did something special. There was a under-current within the audience thanks to the exposure to foreign movies (especially Hollywood), where content was seen as the king - and actors mere props to pull off the stunt. Though such a realization takes time, it is on the go nevertheless. And more directors came up stories which were realistic and were saleable at the same time. There is no point in making idealistic movies (like the parallel cinema wave in 70’s and 80’s ) which only an intellectual audience is going to watch. This fact I believe has been the ultimate triumph of this new generation of film makers - they not only made good cinema but also ensured that there was an audience to see such movies. And a bit of new found affluence in the middle class does not hurt anybody.

But amidst all this, there has been this small village guy who has been left behind. Bollywood does not make movies for him any more. He does not seem to fit in the new wave of realistic cinema nor does in he fit in NRI-audience targeted film world. So, he sticks to the 80’s Bollywood kind-of cinema repeated through Bhojpuri and some of the other regional films. He is not be blamed, nor are those film-makers. Change takes time - especially so in India.

I may seem a little short sighted in extrapolating the history of Bollywood over the whole of Indian cinema. While the details might not match exactly, the overall movement still is the same. But there is something that escapes my analysis of Indian cinema - constant realism in Malayalam and Bengali cinema. Does communism have anything to do with it, I think sometimes.

But as far as rest of the mainstream cinema is concerned, we all wait for the time when content and business can work together. But all along, film-makers must understand that it is best to stick to our roots but still make meaningful cinema. 3 Idiots just proves the point !!!!

Prisoner's Diary II: Troubled Dreams, Troubled Times

It was quite remarkable. His increase to the top echelons of Arthur was nothing short of a spectacle in a Salim-Javed movie. He had made quite a mark for himself in his short tenure at Arthur. He was called ‘Juggler’ by his inmates - for all his accounts of forgery and jugaad. He was - as his ‘Arthur seniors’ said- at the pink of his prison age - An age when you are young but yet enjoy the clout and privileges that a senior would have. He was in the right company. Knowing the right people was just so important - whether in prison or out of it. He had learnt it long back during his time on the streets. He had been elevated to comforts that others would probably not have.

Like the game of dice at deCosta’s place. Most inmates – especially young ones - would consider themselves fortunate enough to stand along with the Arthur greats. There was an unwritten rule that prohibited anyone less than ten years from even visiting The Adda. But for Juggler, things were different. He had acquired that enigmatic persona at Arthur. Rules were bent – just to accommodate him at the Adda. He was good at it. People would bet on him to win. And certainly they did. He had almost acquired that Midas touch – something Sam ‘Ace’ Rostein would boast of.

But today things seemed different. He was not a part of the routine sessions at Arthur. He kept to himself throughout the day. Something was eating him up all over again. The last six years seemed to have razed out everything but for his shock at the loss of people’s trust. He was not the ‘Juggler’ – that people at Arthur knew. It was as if the clocks had gone back by six years. And he was the new inmate at Arthur. It was evening.

“Over all men and material, people fawn the crown
Behind the glass ceiling -in a world of their own
All that I felt, all that I thought;
Was a world I was 'shown', driven by hindsight?
I was just a sheep in the crowd.
For a few men ruled, and thousand enslaved
Whom do I fear?
Was it my thought? Was it my past?
Was it the crown? Was it – the unknown?
But a fear lurked. Took away my freedom
And I am – what I always was.
An outsider - always an outsider

Life has often perplexed me with such enduring thoughts,
About how am I being perceived by the society?
How my old friends taking to this ‘changed self’.

As we go ahead in life, we change for the good or for the bad.
But we change for sure.
As they say – change is the only constant.
And sadly in my case, I changed for the bad.

The point of introspection is to investigate the things –
That I was ready to accept as a part of this change,
Or who is ultimately affected by this change in me.
Thereby, understanding ‘me’ would be my biggest challenge right now.
For all that I do, least that I can do, is to try and understand
What I truly think and represent!!”

And such went the day. He had been confused before. But never did he take up things with such radical intensity. But today was different. He thought about his people -people whom he had trusted all his life. He seemed shattered. He was deserted. He wanted to cry - cry out loud. But he had been a part of ‘men’; and crying was nothing but a cowardly act. His life on the street had just concreted that strong exterior. He was not able to spout out that feeling inside him. He had barely spoken with anyone about this.

Dham! Dham! He got up with a jerk. It was the warden. He was back to reality. He looked at the place around. It was his prison. “Kya Mishra sahib…? “, he grumbled. But the warden did not speak anything. Not one filthy word floated around. The warden just gazed at him. He looked back. A smirk ran across his face. He had ‘graduated’ recently. The warden would never mess around with him now. But the sheer shrillness in the eyes of the warden once again reminded him of his days as a ‘novice’. That infectious smirk infuriated the warden. He banged his truncheon on the prison door. There was nothing else the warden could do. The past six years had reduced the warden to such frivolous manifestations of anger. The warden made his way through the dark corridor. And he dozed off. It was a troubled night for him. And his companion – the cockroach was back after his daily chores.

Search for objectivity in this subjective world

I believe that the search for objectivity begins with your view of the world and ends up with yourself, because that’s the only part of ‘your’ tangible world left in front of you. I have always been enchanted on the powers of some people to disengage themselves from the problem and yet look for a solution. In other words, being objective about the problem. This simply grants them an extra degree of freedom vis-à-vis the case of being inside the problem and being subjective about it. With this understanding, I embarked on a journey to understand if objectivity is an answer to all the myriad questions that life posed.

But even before I understand the powers of objectivity, I decided to test if I can be objective in the first place, let alone knowing whether objectivity works or not. Then I decided to use the principle of induction and see if objectivity actually works at every stage.

For someone who stayed in Mumbai – indeed the microcosm of India - I always felt that objectivity came much more easily. I was able to look into the various sides with poise. I was a part of one world, while my lineage was a part of the other. This distinction allowed me a balanced view of both worlds. But when I extrapolate this to the higher worlds, I found myself quite inept at being objective. I was reduced to a person – being passionate and subjective about the worlds in which he existed - And was never able to rise above the problem to see the problem. And hence, was never granted a balanced view.

But the more I tried, the more I found it was Godly. I was too simply human to do that. It is not without reason that people often make an argument that God simply cannot be defined because he exists outside the parameters of this 3D world. Now, only when He exists outside this 3D, can He actually see everyone inside this 3D world. And hence, qualifies to become someone who can watch over us. But is that humanely possible to leave this 3D world, which we see in front of our eyes? For me that would be ultimate level of objectivism, where you are no longer are a part of the very system, in which you currently are. Hence, as said before, this gives you an extra dimension and hence, an extra degree of freedom - to make decision. Indeed, Mathematics and God worked so close to each other!!!

It is similar to the case, when you compare yourself with others. At one instant of time, you would say that – “For sure, I am better than him”. And then think over it, that probably you were too arrogant to say that. Probably, he was better than you. But the very next instant, you conjure that you are too critical of yourself. And so does the pendulum swing from one end to the other in search of an equilibrium – which is never to be found. It is because here the object and subject are the same – You. Hence, I believe that being my normal self – it is difficult for me, to achieve that kind of objectivism. But nevertheless, it was not impossible.

All that I think of the world is nothing new. It had been done before and would be done over and over again. For philosophy is just like a stock market crash. And it’s interesting to know what they say of a stock market crash – ‘Whenever the stock market crashes, the new investors learn the same old rules –Again - Once again.” Thus, now I comprehend the beauty of the problem. Ironically, it is not the novelty, but its subjective nature that makes it unique.

Everything is in a state of flux

The clock pendulum strikes 12. I look at it with despair. What on this world can I possibly change? In an hour, it will be 1. But the world moves careless of my desolation. So, I was this – powerless and impossible person living this life, driven and tossed by myriad events in the world which could decide my future. But these days, the pain doesn’t seem to penetrate. I could not care for things, any more. Good or bad – didn’t seem to matter.

I had always loved my seemingly impossible cockiness about a power to do anything. But today, I find myself at the mercy of things out of my control. So, strange yet true. Now and then, as I stare into empty spaces, a scene from Lagaan crosses my mind. The villagers break into a song, anticipating rains. They forget their pains, their daily chores mindless of the fact that the inevitable could still happen. I can still remember those vivid expressions that Gowariker had painted on their faces and hearts. When someone really expects something, it shows. And so was that scene. But like I said, the inevitable can still happen. And those silver-lined black clouds pass away - giving smiles to may be people from a near village. Smile - fleeting or a long - was again left to their destiny.

I see something similar in my life at present. I sense a vast source of happiness constantly moving towards me. And just like the farmers, I was counting too much on it. But I don't want the inevitable to happen. But little did I realize, just like the movie, I was just plain helpless.

Then I realized something - most villagers in this world would still be looking for that silver-lined cloud to come down their road. And most would trade anything for that magic hour of happiness, where one could just hope and could be happy in the hope of happiness.

And thus, did I fathom. The thought of hope and what-if-it-were-true had taken over me and I had temporarily abandoned my struggle. At least, I felt so. The fire was gone and so was that greed. It was just hope. Serene and beautiful. It was as if, I could wind those time clocks ahead and see myself in that big cloud of happiness. I wanted to snatch that psyche's magic bowl to give me a glimpse into that future of tomorrow. Wish that was true!!!

But then that left brain knocks my door and says, " Logic alone triumphs". Not too far from truth, I said to myself. All that I had learned from my past is that, the enchanting cloud teases every man. It is just like those little stories, your parents tell you. Santa Claus, the Angel and Chocolate man - all unreal. But just like you see that cloud, you hoped that these men were real.

But life rests more on action than hope. It is just hope to wait for the cloud to reach you, but far more realistic for you to run towards the cloud. So, I decide. I put on my shoes and ran for that cloud.

Marcus Zahner VI - The walk on a ragged path

My walk on the ragged path
was more difficult than ever
Like a stone tied to my legs,
making the pain even more severe

I looked at the skies,
but they looked pale and white.
Like the look on face of hermit,
Frightened by human sight

So, I looked around -
but the land was barren
Like some thief had stolen mother earth,
from a farmer forsaken.

But I stood still and looked ahead,
looking for some promise,
but little did I know,
I was staring straight into an abyss.

And now it feels like I have been walking in a desert;
Looking frantically for water and food.
But alas barring the oasis in summer,
life had not been kind enough.

And every time, I faced a detour -
Something which could offer me a new path to life –
Better than this living hell –
I choose to procrastinate and wallow in pain.
I was not proactive.
Forget being proactive –
I was not even reactive.
I had made possibly all the mistakes that one could ever have.
I had taken a wrong decision at every step.

I hoped to reach the world of utopia.
But it turned out to be an illusion and time defied everything –
I was not good enough.
And the whole plan was falling.

- Marcus Zahner

A Prisoner's Diary I : Novice at Arthur

The pain had made him all the more vulnerable and hollow. His heart stood cold and motionless. The deathly silence only seemed to make the ambience more penetrative. There was nothing that he had spoken during the past week. He walked across the room like a zombie – without a sense of purpose. He was confused. He had never before encountered such a state of mind. He felt abandoned.

Every now and then, a policeman would ram his baton on to his prison gates. He was getting used to that clanging of doors. He looked into cop’s eyes. They were hollow. He felt a sense of shrillness running across the room. He looked at people differently now. The trust that he could see in a person’s eyes was just replaced with a heightened sense of paranoia as to when the person was about to desert him. He couldn’t believe that he was the same guy who would trust people – not just with money but with his life. It was all more important for him because such was the profession he chose. In a career, where your success is determined by the number of people you trust rather than the money you have. He locked his sight on the constable. A distinct sadness ran through his face. “Abe good hai kya? Chal! Chal! Andar ja”, burbled the policeman and went ahead with his mundane check-ups.

It had been just one week since he made his way to Arthur. With umpteen ups and downs, his life had been nothing short of a roller coaster ride. He had followed just one philosophy throughout his career – ‘Never cross people the wrong way. You can get away with time, money and destiny but never with people.’ And in the line of business he had chosen, his philosophy made sense. With his uncanny people-skills and shrewd mind, he had made his way right to the top from the streets. He did not think anything wrong about what he had done in his short ‘career’. He believed in one thing - One man’s wrong is other man’s right. But they say – ‘Time is a great leveler’. His ‘career’ came to a grinding halt. He made the fatal mistake that he vowed to avoid – Crossing people the wrong way. And he landed up in Arthur. He always thought of himself as guy who would never sulk about his past. But that was not to be. An ‘air’ that surrounded him seemed to have vanished during the past month. He was all alone - cornered into a 6x8 rotten mouse-hole that the people called prison.

Suddenly, he turned around. He heard something on his back. He zeroed into the corner of his room. It was dark. He looked closer. It was just a cockroach making its way through the window. He grinned at himself. Indeed, it’s strange. When you are all alone in a vacuous state of mind – you would invariably hear and see things, which you normally would not have. “Welcome friend, hope you are my roomie for rest of the night”, he sulked.

The clock struck 10. “Everyone back to their beds”, commanded the warden in his burly voice. Warden Mishra had kept his steely reserve over everyone at Arthur. Everyone supposedly was under his nose. Not a person protested. It was as if these men had surrendered themselves to his might. “Go to your bed - No 118 “, the warden ordered. He retreated - controlling his protest.

That macho inside in him was gone. He was looking for some inspiration in the darkness that surrounded him. He was broken inside. He was aghast at the mere sight of wrecked relationships around him. All of them had deserted him when he needed them the most. He felt home-sick. He had not felt that for a long time. The warmth he felt at home was replaced by the coldness that surrounded this place. He dozed off with a cockroach as his companion.

Marcus Zahner V: That strange eerie feeling !!!!

It feels so strange. The inherent compulsion to avoid crowds had been growing by every day. Why was this ? Was is it the fear if being judged ? Proabably that.

Never had I felt, so awkward, whilst attending gatherings or any public occasion. The question of 'why' popped up far too often. Why should I go there ? I remembered something - 'Don't do something which will not help either you or others'. In this case, I had over applied this particular statement.

I felt a feeling of not being cared a damn by others. It was strange eerie feeling. It was one of the those times, when you dont think of anything. Nothing feels good, nothing bad. But just a feeling of why-to-do.

I felt like a zombie. But one purpose in life stood out more than anything else. It had superceded every other feeling, every other emotion. It had felt the same last time. But the last time, I was deep down in sorrow, with a compulsive restraint - not to go out for social gatherings. But strangely this time, there was no feeling of restraint. But just a simple thought - 'What would I do there ? and Why should I go there ? '

Perhaps, I was content being the way I was. No Strings attached. Just an assumed calm surrounded me, as I single-mindedly held my attention to my sole purpose in life. For I had a lot at stake. I understand the enormity of the situation.

And so does life go on for me.
Amidst constant ramblings of why's rather than how's-
I struggle to keep myself above water.
I am not tensed.
So, I am tensed as to why am I not tensed.
This insatiable vortex pulls me down.
May be it doesn't.
May be I am just fine.
May be I was just myself.

- Marcus Zahner