Monday, April 21, 2014

Y'all talking to me?

It beats me how despite being humans, we don't know how to express ourselves through words. And then when we do—through poetry or a painting or a movie—it's pure delight to witness our genius. So much said via short verses; so much asked with a few strokes of paint, so much revealed in a few scenes.
I'm no expert on poetry though i like to believe that i understand a fair amount. Be it Keats or Bharathi or Ghalib or Rimbaud, there's no denying the fact that poets not only see things differently but also express themselves in a not-so-usual manner. For lesser mortals, seeing itself is a mighty task—let alone expressing what they saw.
Similarly, i can't comment on art either. I appreciate the craziness of colour thrown on the canvas but that's it. They say so much and their questions are best left unanswered. Hence i maintain a distance. Thank you very much.
On the contrary, i can go on and on about cinema. I'd be ungrateful if i didn't admit that it has played an enormous role in keeping those few shreds of sanity still alive in me. I haven't contributed anything to this particular art form but i've reaped a lot in return. Joy, grief, insomnia, unbridled laughter, calm, disturbance, unrequited hardons, a state of absolute nothingness, hypnosis, etc. Everything.

PS: We're talking about expressions, right? I forgot to mention the musicians. They cunningly use heartbeats in their compositions. We don't even realize it but it's there somewhere. Dub dub dub dub...either softly or harshly. And if you pay heed, it's somebody's heartbeat. Yours, maybe. Maybe mine. That's an expression too. Without any words to begin with. 

No comments: