All posts filed under: First Person

A Young Director and his only film

I came across a brief write up by one of my acquaintances on Facebook   a few days back. “…Asia is the place where cinema is still breathing a fresh whiff of significant cinema – something which current European cinema is visibly lacking!”, it concluded. He listed a bunch of directors from different parts of Asia who are shining with their works today. But what caught my eyes was this line: “Sadly, I couldn’t add Bo Hu’s name.” I asked him if it’s because of the fact Hu Bo is no more. His answer was ‘yes’. ‘An elephant sitting still” is the first and the last feature film by Chinese director Hu Bo. He killed himself during the final editing procedure of the film, in 2017, at the age of 29. The film came out in 2018 and immediately gained attention from world audience. Hu Bo was a student of Bela Tarr, the Hungarian auteur. The film opens up in a morning with a story about an elephant, narrated in a voice of one of the …

Maborosi and memory

Maborosi, the first feature film by contemporary Japanese maestro Kore-eda Hirokazu. Yumiko, the protagonist, is a girl when we first meet her. She lives with her parents and grandmother in Osaka. Her grandmother leaves the home to go back to the village she is from before dying. Yumiko tries to stop her but fails. Her grandmother never comes back. She met a boy with a bicycle named Iuko and the story cuts forward to several years when they are married and have a new-born child. Their life is happy and charming until Yumiko becomes a widow. After five years or so a well-wisher of Yumiko finds a match for her named Tamio who lives with his daughter and his father in a village by the sea far away from Osaka. Yumiko moves there with her son to start a new life. I sat still in my chair even after the end credits were gone and the faint hint of light was clearing out the darkness of the screen. I was in my room and it …

Listen to these Sounds of Mother Earth

On a recent trip to an ‘isolated mountain’, I happened to realize how insignificant we are in this vastness of space. Traveling at the speed of light, it would take almost 100,000 years to cross the Milky Way. So if you imagine a particle of dust upon this gargantuan planet, you are still nowhere near to perceive how infinitesimally small a position we occupy in this universe. Yet, here on Earth, not everyone of us are reinforced when we think about our place in this space. Some of us even dip ourselves in the faith that Earth is flat and everything else around us is revolved around this celestial being to cope with this implausible vastness. But in the grand scheme of things, the truth is, we are just too small. Reflecting on this vastness and our insignificance within this universe often leads to a philosophical question and that is: Should one feel dreary for being too small? Because this idea of banality gives an immense spur to nihilism, that’s for sure. For all we …

Of Swan Lake

Back when I was a kid, another fascinating thing about an animated series was the music. The weekends were full of joints from Justice League, Spider-Man: The New Animated Series, Gargoyles, Cédric, Oswald, Bob the Builder, Noddy, Looney Tunes and many others that I probably don’t even remember the name of. Back when there was not really a thing called internet to take over the control of your attention span. No annoying notifications from your IG or Twitter to ponder upon. So everything you would do, especially, aesthetically, you would do in absolute wonder. You know the Richard David James’ quote, “The holy grail for a music fan is to hear music from another planet, which has not been influenced by us whatsoever. Or, even better, from lots of different planets. The closest we got to that was before the Internet, when people didn’t know of each other’s existence. Now, that doesn’t really happen.” There was a minimal beauty in grasping an album by heart. The one album that you’d know every word of or …

Rainbow Road

The hardest part of resumption is that you probably wouldn’t know where to begin! And if you would, you wouldn’t know how. But there’s always a way. I haven’t posted in days. In 42 days to be precise. And I couldn’t possibly allow myself to pop up out of nowhere and just post an article on “A Brief History of Impressionism or something”. It’s something I love to do, that’s a sure thing. To write articles about different artistic movements, myths, music and many more (literally anything that comes in mind). But I somewhere felt the urge to write about the absence or break I had been on before I got into my regular blogging schedule. Back in the days when I was just a rug rat my parents would buy me drawing books! There would be apples and bananas. God, there were always apples and bananas in drawing books. But most importantly there would be drawings of suburbs and villages. Drawings that I was fond of. They were like pieces of music, I guess, …

An Ocean in between the Waves

For the past two days I was absent. I could not blog. It’s somewhat ironic especially when the last blog that I had published was on not breaking the chain of daily blogging. The absence was somewhat both intentional and unintentional. But it was more of a imprudent mistake. For that reason I could not entirely be absolved or blamed. So what happens when you aim to blog on a daily basis but cannot? “You feel terrible. You feel like you will never blog again. You want to smash the computer and want to smash anything that comes in your hand and then you break even more.. You just go on a rampage and wreck everything.” Well, absolutely not. These things do and should not happen. And if it happens to you, let me tell you..it’s absolutely okay to take a break. And if anything, it’s actually good to take a break sometimes. So when you comeback you can get a fresher aspect of writing. You can have new ideas or you can just write …

Someday the Waves

Looked through my window and it’s almost dark out. It’s only 4:48 in the afternoon or might I say evening. I had a lazy day today. It was almost to the point where i thought I’d not write and was going to give up on daily blogging. One half of me had had every excuse to give up as well. I thought I am going to post something really amazing tomorrow. Something informative and interesting and would take an ample amount of research in order to formulate; so it’d be precise to skip a day and do some research on the topic. while the other half of me didn’t want to break the chain of daily blogging at all. I supposed it’d be unnecessary and improper. Especially when I didn’t have a proper reason to not write. It was an incessant conflict of self. And it transformed my sheer idleness to restlessness. So I decided to give it a try. Because sitting there and dwelling upon whether or not to write or post was not getting me …

A Festival of Light

Diwali is one of the most beautiful days in India filled with light, good wishes and joy. A festival that symbolizes the spiritual victory of light over darkness, good over evil and knowledge over ignorance. There was a time when my brother and I would make lists of firework for these days and for our parents to buy for us. The elation would go on for days. Sometimes we’d collect dry leaves, especially leaf from banana trees and set them up on fire in the evening. It was kind of a warm up game for us before we’d start playing with the firecrackers. Though there is a different myth behind this ritual of setting the leaves on fire. it’s called Narapora or Burir ghor porano ( To burn an old entity’s house) and is performed to welcome the spirit of freshness, to burn all the evils inside us and that wander around. However, I had a different experience of Diwali last night. The neighborhood went absolutely dark after an electricity blackout for more than two …

The Sound of Settling

Last night I got an notification from WordPress. It said “You’ve received 100 followers on Community Nap.” I was happy to see the progress. I mean, it has just been a month since I’m actively posting. And it made me want to write even more. However, today it felt kind of different. I was not in a mood of writing at all since morning. I guess the spirit of Saturday was all over me. But the fact that i swore to post everyday till tomorrow in the beginning of this week compelled me to just sit down and start writing. But I had not been able to come up with any idea until I had to go out. I guess it’s an impediment for a lot of bloggers to come up with something to write. And that is somewhere absolutely normal. We sit in front of the computer. We just start to dwell on the topic we try to write and at the end….There’s nothing. A sort of Writer’s Block that is absolutely common among …

Halloween Inscriptions: Part – II The House of the Pristine

It has been 4 and a half years since this event has taken place. One of the few experiences I have that can be addressed as supernatural and unearthly. A few days ago I published a blog on anxiety and how its existence is able to distort our thought process; The Ghosts of the Past. This whole experience, however, had occurred before The Ghost of the Past and is still remained unexplained in my comprehension. Nonetheless, I believe there is always a reason behind everything and we’d eventually be able to find an answer for anything yet to be explained. So I would not put it under the category of ghost. To call it supernatural seems to be a good way to address it even though I think the word ‘supernatural’ may be an exaggeration. Back in January, 2014 my friends and I would meet up and chat in a school lawn in the evenings. The place was only 15 mins away from my home. So I thought it’s convenient to be able to stay …

Wherever You Go Today, You Go Today

I guessed I wouldn’t be able to write when I woke up this morning. I supposed I’d, may be, listen to a bunch of music for the rest of the day. Though, the plan was a bit different when I went to bed last night. I thought I’d write and I’d write about the play that I had watched in the evening. The morning, however, had a different plan scheduled. Autumn rains have its own nobleness; which I believe is entirely different than anytime of the year. So, when I woke up to a moist and dreary weather, I felt the urge to unbind and listen to some Fleet Foxes and, may be, watch a movie and make some music later. But it all took a different direction with the emails of all the new posts published by my fellow bloggers. So I decided to write… But about what…..? The question came up in my mind since I was not willing to analyze the play and write about it today. But then something caught my attention and …

“ফার্স্ট পার্সন”: HOLOCENE DAYS PT. 1

We didn’t have a second floor yet. Our house was almost surrounded by trees, some were really big wood apple or bael and mango trees and the small ones kind of formed bushes and shrubs. The bushes had concluded into a mound and the mound into a field to the east. It was where my friends and i would play every afternoon. Our house used to have a steeper stoop to the front porch and it was all red in color with enough space to congregate and chat. This activity was a staple back in the days for those sitting as well as those passing by especially on warm summer nights and weekends. The porch was engirdled by half wall and half grille. My granddad would sit in an armchair on there or on the stoop almost all day and would have a little chat with neighborhood folks. Some of them would even drop by to have a longer conversation and cup of tea. My granddad had a very specific routine of things that he would …

Montage

Originally posted on Memory, Fiction…:
1 The cigarette was hanging between his lips, the smoke was curling up in the air. The moon was astonishingly bright that night and the halo, too clear to remain unnoticed. He took out his phone, wrote “Lunar halo. Have a look at the moon.”. “Aren’t you sleepy?”, a reply came before the next puff of the cigarette. He took the last puff, smiled while exhaling. He looked at the distant hills, those small lights, the other side of the river. It was the beginning of the fall, his most dear days of the year. He went back to his room. Chopin’s Nocturnes was still playing on the music player. Everything was too good to be real. 2 He took out his phone, looked at the screen. It was 10:30 pm. The roads were empty, the shops were closed. He was waiting for the cab to arrive. It was the same place where he usually waits for her for rare meetings, those glamorous afternoons. He wrote her before getting into…