The Flickering Tubelight » 2004

It’s the mud, It’s the mud

September 27th, 2004 admin

Just finished watching Comedian with Srini and Shyamala at my place. This was my second time watching the movie and my favourite part of the movie were the credits. The song that accompanies the credits is called Waters of March. One of the most beautiful pieces of poetry I have heard in a while. It was written by Antonio Carlos Jobim and performed in the movie by Susannah McCorkle. Simple. Stark. Beautiful.

A stick, a stone, it’s the end of the road,
It’s the rest of a stump, it’s a little alone,
It’s a sliver of glass, it is life, it’s the sun,
It is night, it is death, it’s a trap, it’s a gun.
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush,
The nod of the wood, the song of a thrush,
The wood of the wing, a cliff, a fall,
A scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all.
It’s the wind blowing free, it’s the end of a slope,
It’s a bean, it’s a void, it’s a hunch, it’s a hope.
And the riverbank talks of the Waters of March,
It’s the end of the strain, it’s the joy in your heart.
The foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone,
The beat of the road, a sling-shot stone,
A truckload of bricks in the soft morning light,
The shot of a gun in the dead of the night.
A mile, a must, a thrust, a bump,
It’s a girl, it’s a rhyme, it’s a cold, it’s the mumps.
The plan of the house, the body in bed,
And the car that got stuck, it’s the mud, it’s the mud.
Afloat, adrift, a flight, a wing,
A cock, a quail, the promise of spring.
And the riverbank talks of the Waters of March,
It’s the promise of life, it’s the joy in your heart.
A point, a grain, a bee, a bite,
A blink, a buzzard, a sudden stroke of night,
A pin, a needle, a sting, a pain,
A snail, a riddle, a wasp, a stain.
A snake, a stick, it is John, it is Joe,
A fish, a flash, a silvery glow.
And the riverbank talks of the Waters of March,
It’s the promise of life in your heart, in your heart.
A stick, a stone, the end of the load,
The rest of a stump, a lonesome road.
A sliver of glass, a life, the sun,
A night, a death, the end of the run.
And the riverbank talks of the Waters of March,
It’s the end of all strain, it’s the joy in your heart.

The movie is basically about the travails of a stand-up comedian. Two comedians in particular were primarily highlighted in the movie. The early struggles of a novice. Orny Adams. And the second life for a stalwart like Jerry Seinfeld, who after his immensely popular TV series, Seinfeld, tries to get back into the groove of doing live stand up. And succeeds.

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Wings

September 27th, 2004 admin

Imagine I told you. You are profane.
You are in chains. You are a bane.

It’s not in you. Don’t bother dance.
Hide your face. There’s still a chance.

Just play it safe. Stick to the plot.
Do what you know. That is all you got.

Take your time. Don’t rush to the stage.
Don’t get excited. You are not the rage.

Strap on your seatbelt. You’re stuck to the ground.
The flight is ephemeral. Watch where you’re bound.

That is a lie. The truth is profound.
You do have wings. You aren’t bound.

It’s up to you. Take a chance.
Jump off the cliff. Come out of the trance.

Don’t play it safe. Give it a shot.
You do what you’ve done. You’ll get what you’ve got.

Don’t wait and pray. Get on the stage.
The story is stuck. Time to turn the page.

Unbuckle your seatbelt. You’ve been found.
Enjoy the flight. To wherever you’re bound.

(Anil Krishna, September 27th 2004)

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There’s always catching up to do

September 25th, 2004 admin

Why do we not make a decision and stick with it? Is it because our intelligence gets ahead of us and imagines other possibilities…glorious from this vantage, but equally flickering as you get closer. I took about three shots at how to start my blog post, before not being able to figure out anything. The first post. The one that sets the tone. The one that is supposed to be profound. Thus burdening myself with unnecessary expectations I succumb to its aftermath. Inaction.

There is of course so much catching up to do. There always is. Its almost like if you are not catching up with life, with your own thoughts, and with yourself, you are not doing enough. Well I intend to catch up some more with myself as I explore my thoughts via this medium. Blogging. A pretty unattractive name for a phenomenal idea. Let’s see how far I get with this. I hope far enough to untie a few knots on my journey towards plain, elegant, knot-less, self-discovery.

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Of Wings and Things

September 12th, 2004 admin

French director, Jacques Perrin’s new movie, Winged Migration, is all about breathtaking shots. Shot after shot after shot. It is a journey through the continets, their landscapes, their vistas, their birds and the primeval urge in the birds to fly thousands of miles. For survival. At times the only sounds you hear, and the only sounds you really need in the movie, are the natural, rhythmic whiffs of the lonesome group of birds flapping their tired wings as they fly unwavering over mile after mile of ocean toward their invisible goal. The movie’s class is in the fact that you are so overwhelmed by the beauty of every frame, that you can easily forget the extraordinary camerawork, planning and execution that went into making this documentary.

I pencilled down a poem today that developed independent of the movie, but ended up being tied to a similar theme. I call the poem Wings! It is about realizing yourself, the limits you place on yourself, the expectations you have from yourself and freedom to redefine your limits and expectations. It is about you being in control of your life yet at the same time not being totally bound by that control. It is a theme particularly close to my heart.