Monday, November 23, 2015

VILLAINS, VAMPS AND PLTs: Villainy & Vice, Hindi Cinema Wise

My talk on "VILLAINS, VAMPS AND PLTs: Villainy & Vice, Hindi Cinema Wise" delivered at the Chitrakatha international student animation festival, held at NID, Ahmedabad in the month of October 2015.

Villains are nothing but a projection of our other selves, the ones we are afraid of, the ones we dislike or are uncomfortable with. Villains are the people we disagree wiith, or have trouble reconciling to. Villains are our pet peeves, our restive rants. Hindi cinema villains - PLTs (People Like Them) - are nothing but inverted images of people like us, who slyly enjoy the fun without experiencing the accompanying guilt, shame or regret.

Monday, October 12, 2015

Morning Walk

The morning walkers engrossed in putting some shape to their unruly bodies. The morning giving body to some formless beauty. Race Course. Coimbatore.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Remember the times ?

Remember the house, the one in the corner of the lane, always shut, smelling of intrigue, or better still, love ? Remember the times ?

Do not disturb

Please do not disturb, said he, annoyed at her insistence. But she was in no mood to relent, having come this far, with little hope and less money. Who will blink first, I wondered, smug that my issues were far less urgent, far more sorted. Meanwhile, the evening fell, giving an edge to the conversation hitherto missing. It was time to go.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015


So be it, said she, as she watched him go. He wasn't particularly happy, but there were other reasons to go, in seasons far away. The mid-afternoon summer sun shone relentlessly as the cat on a nap in the corner woke up with a start, and slowly went back to sleep. All was quiet again, except for the half-hearted bark of a bored stray dog some distance away.

Less of a man

He wasn't really less of a man. At least the thought never crossed his mind. Born middle class, to parents who cared, siblings who didn't mind, and a body that lacked quarter of a limb, Nishant grew up quite uneventfully (or eventfully, if you had known him from inside), in one of those suburbs of a big city which do not appear in guide books for hosting/heralding something more than the commonplace commotions of life ordinaire .

Well, that's a good beginning - thought Prakash. And the name Nishant is a masterstroke - artsy, insider stuff. Plus a clever, clear allusion to his own name. Who is afraid of the bloody writer's block, thought Prakash.

A usual monsoon day

The pitter patter of the steadily falling slow rain occasionally disturbs the closed 7th floor window panes of the dark drawing room, clouded with a thin sheet of mist and memories. Right below, beyond the waterlogged little garden of the slightly run down housing complex, a solitary traffic light winks lonesomely to no one in particular, in the barely busy pot-holed by-street, as dusk approaches slightly early on a usual monsoon day.