Roots of Existence

‘Never forget your roots’ is something we have grown up listening to. No matter how high up you reach, always remember where you came from. Humble, down to earth and essentially unquestioning is what the successful man is. I have also heard this time and again; and there was a time I actually believed it. I have always had problems at home. Always, what I said was right, was termed extremely, vulgarly wrong and unthinkable by my parents. I was not a family person and without feelings consequently. As I grew up, I apparently forgot my roots and therefore lost touch with myself.

Myself! What am I? This is the question I asked myself suddenly when I saw this picture- ‘Roots of Existence’, clicked by a dear friend, Sudip Chakraborty. What does it tell us? That roots are all important? No. Not for me at least. When I looked at it, I saw strength and an incompleteness which whispered, 'live'. Then when I walked out and saw a tree, all of a sudden I saw the height which branches reach. Are they connected to their roots, I thought. The branches come from the roots, but they are not connected. Their nourishment is through the roots, but what would happen if the roots don’t let the branches go? We will have only retarded trees growing in on themselves.

I am, what is live in me. And what is live in me is what grows. What grows always grows away from me. Growth backward is redundancy! I would go so far as to say, that the sign of life is the ability to let go. Each point in the branch is live only till the next point is built on it. Then, it is that which is live. I have always been told that the root is what matters. The root is strength for you can cut any amount of the tree, but if the roots are intact, it will survive. No one ever told me that the reason it survives is because it dares to let go- once more. It does not fear the axe, though it knows it exists. That is the strength of the roots. And that is my strength as well. The adaptability which helps me take in new thoughts, new ideas and change.

This is what I am. I am not connected to my roots. I know where I came from, but I don’t hold on to it. I want to let it go. I want to reach out and this does not make me without feelings; on the contrary. Feeling is the desire to reach out. And then I realized why the picture got the first prize; it is because it subtly tells us to dream, to go beyond. The bud would never open if it fears, if it wants to remain humble. The desire to touch the skies is what pushes the tree upward. This is not a down to earth feeling at all- not to me. Trees are proud of themselves that is why they dance; they are confident that is why they grow- they help us with fruit and shade, but in the meanwhile they don’t stop preening.

Dev D- Revelation

Valentine's Day was going waste and with nothing to do, the idle mind replayed a certain take off of one fine evening which changed the course of my life. Shadows from the past preyed and I could not but notice how gloomy life was; what's more it seemed irreversible. Potato chips for lunch and innumerable cups of coffee later a friend called at 7 pm.

"Let"s go for a movie."
"Now!"
"Right Now."
Silence prevailed. I started hearing the sound of the take off once again.

We watched Dev D. The movie ended at 10:30 pm, and we sauntered back home at about 11: 30 pm. The roads were deserted and we were the only two people walking. My high heeled shoes were making a tick tock on the road. I hummed a song from the movie…‘yeh kaisi kaisi aankh micholi khele zindegi…’ We didn't speak a word for quite some time. “Dev bhi aise hi sadko par ghumta tha.” "Thumbs-up hai?.” “Sir Coke.” "Vodka ke saath." Back home, we sat down on the terrace and stared into space. The leisurely winds played around and I hummed.

I have never seen a more imaginative adaptation of a classic in my life. Devdas is not an easy novel to adapt. The basic problem is its irrevocability. Each element of the story is written and fixed at that. 'The moving finger writes; and having writ, moves on…' Deva, Paro, Chardamukhi, they are all doomed. Prisoners of fate. They can wait stoically, like Chandramukhi, fail like Devdas or just reconcile with their lot like Paro. But they can not change it. Nothing can change. The plane took off in the evening. As I saw the airport becoming smaller and smaller, something in me rebelled against all the people in the plane. There was no where to go. "Are you OK?" "Hmm”; "That's the sky." "Hmm"; "See that light? That's the…" "Hmm.", "… so when you…Got it?" "Hmm."

I just had to get out. The loo would be empty.. "…so after the sun has gone down; Where are you going?" "To the loo." I got up and steadied to my feet. Holding the back of the seat, I tried wriggling out. "Didn't you have any other t-shirt?" "Why?" "Try not to wear this one again." "It was a good movie,' my friend said, 'coffee?". "I'll come with you." We started talking about the movie- Abhay Deol's sexy abs and Mahi's passion.

There is a lot of youthful sex in the movie and I personally feel it's a milestone in the history of Indian cinema. Paro sending her nude pics to her Dev, their furtive meetings in the fields and behind doors are all taboo for the screen but equally mundane for the private lives of teens. The brilliant use of contemporary controversies- how Lennie becomes Chanda for example, or the BMW episode- and the new light in which they have been seen justify a low bow to Anurag Kashyap.

Being a student of literature, I had many misgivings when I read Devdas. Why should Paro pay for Dev's indecisiveness with a lifetime of chastity and mothering. Why on the other hand, should Chandramukhi's salvation only be promised and yet never attainable. Kafka's 'Trial' has the protagonist standing at the door of the court. The door-keeper will only tell him that his time has yet not come. And he will also blame him (the protagonist) for being lazy in not making an effort to enter! This existentialism finds its way into the heart of Devdas as well.

These are people who have challenged the door-keeper. Chandramukhi is the one character who ends on the most positive note, because she has the least to lose. She is also the one who dares the least. Paro has loved. She has crossed the threshold of feminine modesty. She will be redeemed only by a lifelong sterility, while fulfilling the properly womanish duty of child rearing. Dev is a man; he can't be punished for loving. But he has questioned. He has dared to tip off the caste balance. His sin is against society. This cannot be forgiven. He must die fighting, like a man. The end is decided. Life is the prelude to that end.

All this changes in Dev D. The dreams they saw in Sharat Chandra’s novel, Paro, Deva and Chandra live to fulfill in Anurag Kashyap’s movie. They are not doomed. It is no longer a pre destined world. Dev D is not a movie. It is art work, and that too of the highest standards. “What’s wrong with being a prostitute?” my friend asked. “Nothing. They too do a job and jobs can be changed.” “Yaar lekin usne pant kahan pahni thi!” Our laughter resounded in the silence of the night.

‘Chaan gaya mujhpe jaadu karke vaari tore jaaun main sadke dhol yaara dhol… man mein mere hunk uthi hai koyal jaise kunk uthi hai dhol yaara dhol…’