Launching Cinemorphemes (attempting to understand cinema’s language)

It has been some time now that I have been toying with the idea of a blog about cinema. ‘Toying’ seems to be the exact word cos I never really got down to seriously putting down anything. I started a separate blog; named it ‘Cinemorphemes’ and even posted a single entry (on 3^rd May this year). So Cinemorphemes as a dedicated vehicle has pretty much got stuck in that rut. Perhaps, he has needed a helping hand all along. Which is why it will be now CPq’s great honour to host its films-snooty and knowledgeable twin blog in its own domain!!

The merger now being complete, I hereby present CPq’s first address to the discerning public about the development.

“Dear Readers, I understand it is to be my great burden to host my brother Cinemorphemes in my house. To say I am completely thrilled at the prospect would be incorrect. In fact, I resent that he so arrogantly purports to run his operations from my demesne – a space which I have so carefully cultivated for my own expression. But as they say ‘Blood runs thicker than water’, and boorish, self-righteous and insufferable though he might be, Cinemorphemes does know his way around the craft of cinema. My brother has always been the smart sort growing up, and I have to concede – he’s always on the level when he talks about films and the people who work in them. I will be quite interested in what he has to say and the themes he wants to explore; so, let us all welcome him and his quirky, strange ideas.

Yeah and one more thing, I call my little bro ‘CineM’ – hope you will too!”

Well, I hope CineM lives upto his older brother’s proud declaration. Lights, Camera, Action……..

The story of another ‘Jake’

My friend and I had gone to a road-side restaurant by the city. In fact, it was the second visit to that place for my friend and my first. One word about my friend – he has a wonderful love for animals and films. Once there, he started asking after a mongrel dog which stays by the dhaba’s lot. My friend told me, “You have got to see him and understand the sheer willpower he has.” I asked him why and he responded, “This dog drags himself along the ground cos his hind legs don’t work. His hind legs are paralysed.” So you see, the dog is a cripple. The dhaba’s staff informed us that the dog was away and might be coming back later.

We saved some chicken pieces from our lunch. When we went out to the lot’s entry gate, we saw a dusty brown-coloured dog walking and alternately, hopping towards us. It was the crippled dog but now, instead of dragging himself all along the path, he was walking and hopping. My friend said,” Last time when I saw him, his hind legs were completely useless; he was just lying on the ground. But now look at him - he is learning to use his hind legs by hopping on them!” We gave him the chicken pieces and the dhaba’s staff graciously put out some more food and water in two bowls. We discovered that even the dhaba’s staff was taken in by the dog’s spirit; they made arrangements to feed him whenever he returned to the lot from his daily wanderings.

In the car while we were coming back, my friend turned to me and said,” That is one brave dog. Let’s call him Jake.” I glanced at him quizzically for a moment, then understood and smiled.

[It is in James Cameron’s ‘Avatar’ where we see the first ‘Jake’ (Jake Sully) who though paraplegic finds the strength to fight for a people and prevail.” You may be out, but you never lose the attitude.”]

They call him ‘Tension’

He is a pooch; they call him ‘Tension’. Yup, that is his moniker! When someone asked why he has been named so, the mistress simply replied, “Cos that’s what his activities amount to.” Tension lives with a retired couple in an apartment and contrary to all the remonstrations and mock-irritations which his masters conjure up in front of friends and family, the truth is that Tension is actually a beloved member of the household. Tension is a milky-white coated male German Spitz who was introduced into the house as a companion to the couple after their only son went abroad for a job. Brought up with such love and indulgence, Tension has evolved his own personality which is almost akin to a coddled offspring.

 

Just sample this – Tension has to be (yes, absolutely has to be) taken out for a refreshing ride in the car around evening even if it is a short circuitous trip around the neighbourhood, if he is expected to eat a hassles-free dinner. If his masters are to be believed, Tension seems to be have the entire plethora of human tantrums under his canine command. Tension sulks, curls his lips up when he is displeased, and even turns his perfect muzzle up in an exaggerated gesture (it is alleged!!) of completely affronted dignity.

What do you ask, actually turns Tension blue? Any one among a complex myriad of quirky, lovable idiosyncrasies. For instance, evening time is reserved telly time for Tension. His master commented with perfect seriousness, “Our Tension only likes to watch ‘Colours’ channel. When someone switches to another channel, he gets incensed.” The joke I am sure, must be on his hapless human masters cos dogs are as I know, hopelessly colour-blind and here, we have a pooch dedicating his profound intellect to a channel called ‘Colours’!

Another peculiarity involves dressing up when Tension is taken out for walk; evidently the pooch wants his human entourage turned out in prim and proper fashion and that means ‘NO SHORTS, NO PJs’. Additionally, the poor master who is saddled with taking Tension out for these daily ceremonial excursions into the outside world has to step out in style - in running shoes - if he is to escort the royal train. Anything frivolous (that means light sandals/ baggy pants/ track pants/ etc etc) and Tension refuses to go out.

The list of Tension’s idiosyncrasies runs on – he likes his bed fluffy and room cooled prior to turning in, he partakes daily of a single rasgolla (East Indian sweetmeat of dough, milk, sugar syrup) for digestive purposes, rides in the elevator up or down alone with his master and no one else is admitted inside. He likes adults but detests kids (I suspect that he doesn’t like the prospect of the spotlight turning away from him to some cute, drooly babe). Any time someone commits a transgression of Tension’s inviolable laws of life, he becomes a royal pain in the you-know-where – howling away, refusing to be stroked or approached in any way, ultimately subjecting himself to the sweet luxury of being mollified only when an appropriate length of time as determined by him, has elapsed.

Tension has it good. I wouldn’t mind trading places with him sometimes. What do you think?

Western Specials

To many wide-eyed young boys (myself included), the Western was what we initially associated with Hollywood. The numerous archetypes of the Western – the Lone Ranger, man versus nature in a hostile environment, Natives pitted against the Settlers, the power to possess anything if you were fast with a gun, the showdowns between good and bad – drew and captivated moviegoers. The classic elements of the Western found resonance halfway across the globe in the Japanese samurai films of Akira Kurosawa, where the weary but extremely skilled samurai fought against both the evils in the society and the demons inside him. 

It would be unwise to straitjacket Westerns as the place to go for music (raucous piano playing), women (in brothels), gambling, drinking, brawling and shooting. Numerous film-makers found expressive ways to paint the Old West with uncharacteristic colours. Leone’s ‘Dollars trilogy’ introduced the opportunistic, reward-driven hero bound by his own private code (many a time ambiguous and ever-changing) – an extension of the same moody stranger with quicksilver gun-fighting skills, but now, you could not rely upon him to always take the side of the ‘sodbusters’, the wronged, innocent townspeople or the exploited prostitute. The genre of the Western beyond the gun and the gunner, has manifested itself in surprising anti-Westerns like ‘McCabe & Mrs. Miller’, ‘Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia’, ‘Kelly’s Heroes’, ‘Blood Diamond’, the ‘Star Wars’ series – far removed from the typical Western in space and time, but all have incorporated the essential elements which make the Western what it has become today. In many ways, the history of the Western has mirrored the transition of society and cinema.

Sweet Love

Love as a universal emotion, has found a wonderful home in cinema. Films exploring passion and the affectionate involvement of the main characters have always attracted audiences. Romance in films has given birth to that great sub-genre – the ‘Romantic Comedy’ – and the list of wonderful films that incorporate romance into a humourous setting (or humour into a romantic one!) is long and illustrious. Sometimes there are less obvious romantic films too; ‘Shane’,’ Tender Mercies’ or even ‘Once’ I feel, are implicit love stories. Emoting love is perhaps, what the greats do best – who can forget John Wayne in ‘Rio Grande’ (the big man usually so sure of himself around guns and horses, gives a most emotionally-unsure & blustery performance of a man beginning to fall in love) or how tenderly Eastwood directs the romance in ‘The Bridges of Madison County’?

Of course, wild, passionate love given to dramatic, impulsive actions does the trick too. Whether you prefer your love sweetened or repressed or laced with humour or just plain indecisive, romantic films have managed to pull off great canvases and great performances.

"Luk ahead dat is where ur future lies"

It is a peculiar ability of the ‘happy souls’ that they can let life sit very lightly upon their shoulders, and accept stuff as they materialise, with a certain easy grace which while seemingly a second nature for them is a hard act to follow for the rest of us. Happy souls may be generally thought of as only living in the present  – living in the moment today and/or not burdening themselves with the possibilities of the coming tomorrow. Vivre au present is good but it does not entail throwing away your responsibilities and cares to achieve this. The thinker Ralph Emerson says, “We live in succession, in division, in parts, in particles” and that is perhaps, a very ineffective way of living.

When I was in school I came across this English idiom ‘the wood for the trees’. This is used to refer to someone who cannot see the wood for the trees cos they get so caught up in small details that they fail to understand the bigger picture. While the rest of us are so engrossed in the act of thinking and focused on the object of our thoughts, happy souls characteristically are able to happily assimilate the larger scope of life and live it out accordingly. While we wallow in and contend with stuff past and present, the happy soul not only lightly wafts through the same stuff but also acts upon and looks ahead to where our future lies.

I wish I too can develop this same lightness of spirit, and the capability to unfocus from the petty problems of yesterday and today to joyously welcome tomorrow.

EPILOGUE

Yesterday I was mock-wrestling with Bhumon the charm-kid (read more about him in Infinite Mischief) and he was expectedly getting the worse of it. Panting and tired he finally bade me to stop.  He collected his breath and told me with mirthful seriousness in his eyes, “Roon da, when I become bigger tomorrow, you will not be able to lift me off with the same ease.” Saying this, he laughed and ran off. A very good reason that, for looking forward to the future. That started me off thinking about some possible reasons for my own. 

[ "Simran 'Luk ahead dat is where ur future lies'" is the profile name for Simi in Orkut]

Magic in dough

As we turn into one of the busier lanes of Lajpat Nagar, we catch sight of this sign in neon lights proudly proclaiming ‘Shiv Dhaba – We Serve 36 Types of Paranthas’. It was my early days in Delhi then and so, I marveled at this seemingly unbelievable declaration. Back home in Assam, paranthas are a frugal affair with a thin round apologetic-looking specimen surrounded by a (mostly) watery concoction of lentils and aloo. In Delhi which for me, is the parantha capital of the country, the parantha is not just dough, it is a boisterous, aroma-filled way of life. Trust the Delhites to turn around anything and make it a celebration!!

My initial snobbish reaction towards paranthas has turned into a great liking for this magical piece of dough. Stuffed paranthas or just the plain parantha, the happy parantha swimming around in its own pool of melted butter, the busy-looking parantha which comes accompanied with a full attendance of sabzi, dal, pickle, onion rings, dahi et al – I have met them all in Delhi. Delhi was also the place where I got introduced to the more elaborate and regal-sounding eastern cousin – the Mughlai Parantha which is stuffed with beaten egg and keema (minced meat).

This liking started innocuously enough and like all good things in life, took its own time in blossoming fully. I liked only the plain parantha at first, and then I started preferring the stuffed ones. I looked down upon those dunking their paranthas in quarter-makkhan (1/4^th of a 100 gm stick of Amul butter) thinking to myself ‘look at these poor calorie freaks’ until I myself started doing the same with every single order. Later during my post-graduate days where there was a long line of small eateries behind our college dishing out paranthas of every description, I used to derive great pleasure from simply reading out their parantha-filled menu cards. Just look at these, I told myself, they have Aloo paranthas – Aloo-piyaz paranthas – Gobi (cauliflower) paranthas – Gajar (carrot) paranthas - Mooli (radish) paranthas – Paneer (cottage cheese) paranthas – Andaa (egg)  paranthas – Chicken paranthas – Keema paranthas. In Delhi you might be forgiven for believing that every conceivable veggie after getting chopped, boiled or masticated finds itself stuffed inside a parantha.

If one thinks that fascination for the delights of this heavens-fried flat bread is confined to the northern part of the country, then the southern cousin ‘parotta’ provides ample gastronomic evidence to the contrary. Some of the tiny Mangalorean eateries in Mumbai offer the crisply-fried and layered parotta endemic to south India. I found these perfect and spent many an evening tearing off succulent pieces of the parotta and dunking them in the coconut- and tamarind-flavoured rassa (curry) provided gratis and even with omelettes.

Sometime later in Kerala I had the opportunity to savour their local parotta which is fluffier cos the dough is prepared with egg, thus making the bread rise more. This parotta I found, was quite scrumptious when paired off with a side-dish of the local fiery mutton or chicken curry.

I feel that the parantha is demonstrably the most gracious of hosts. Whether you are pouring out a piping Mangalorean rassa next to it or lining its insides with fenugreek or even cashew, the parantha welcomes with alacrity everything that we Indians, see fit to embellish it with.