A Sovereign Denial

In power there lies denial. The distractions aplenty that prevail over the mind in power and of what becomes of it. Of these distractions, many have been discussed, felt and written about. However, there is one that is only felt and never pondered upon; one that inevitably manifests but never looked into. And that is the distraction off the body. Of all the conscious denials that a powerful being accords himself to, this particular denial is the most precarious for it marks the beginning of an Ultimate Denial; a probable demise.

Power is what that reflects in the eyes and resonates in the hearts of the subjects. The strength of a sovereign is always valued on the scale of his command and reverence. The reverence so commanded is a corollary to an idea or a form that the sovereign represents. If only a sovereign could have been reduced to be seen as a mortal, what inspiration the subjects could have looked for that is not seen in their own faces.

This is what engenders the Ultimate Denial; the denial of decadence. Like the robe of honour that a sovereign adorns upon coronation, the body of the aforesaid grows to be nothing more than that robe; to be worn and worn out. Gravity finds the sovereign in the same brevity as the divinity does. Although, the celebration and pomp that marks the rise stand proportional to the oblivion that marks the Icarian fall.

The sovereign thus cries. In solitude is where his heart actually beats. The counting of laurels run parallel to the counting of days; marking of legacy with marking of the will of succession. The beating of retreat, the practice of the march past, stomps like the sound of the church gong. These are the days where the air coincides with the vacuum, the audience with voids and the life with death.

But there lies duty in denial. A sovereign errand that must be run before the mighty gets engraved in stone. And that is the rearing of the next immortal, the next robe that shall occupy the form that represents an idea; the one who continues to exude inspiration. A sovereign that begins to look too far wishes to look no more. So the duty is served within closed doors, dressed in the superficial pretence of what it shall look like, and knowledge that both the parties to the pact conveniently ignores.  

This may be the denial that over time, becomes a truth. Like orders, ranks and manners, this denial runs like a custom to a sovereign. And when the time arrives, the time where the sovereign is disabused of his denial, the great act of departure begins. Followed by endless eulogies and accounts that remember the departed, nothing of the ultimate denial is ever fancied. No words that give meaning to the life preparing to bid adieu, no song or sonnet celebrating the ending truths dealt with, of the duties so mournfully served. Maybe that is what we shall call the Sovereign’s Ultimate Denial.

 

Art: Conor Harrington

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On Why I Run (Literally & Figuratively)

As I run, and when 

I do so, putting my body into this

rhythmic motion, my mind

consumed in the melodies of classics, or jazz

Or piercing notes of sitar, I

find myself running, moving, not

Away from nature, but

somewhere deeper into its undefinable stretch 

Of what am I made up of, 

Of earth, fire and water, of elements

That never reiterate themselves until the day

One burns on his pyre, and

All this while,

When I run away from all the life is made up of 

And what is it to be alive, 

It’s only when I run here,

That I run deeper into life 

 

 

Art: Fatime Molnar

 

On Academic Insecurities

I am a person divided by his thoughts; conflicted by his desires, his material reality. As I approach the final year of my Law school, I quite faintly realise what sort of a journey I have traversed. What all I have done and have become of me in the course of the past three and a half years. Nothing of these years reveals anything clearly about any of the questions that wander around my conscience every day, crying for answers. I just have a vague and general perception of my life so far and I don’t know how I comprehend this understanding.

At one moment I see myself sitting on the cusp of a life-changing activity. I see every day, every hour, as a test of passion that demands action. And, then there are moments where I feel like an abandoned boat in the middle of the sea; aware of its reality but devoid of any possibility. I take solace in resignation even while constantly reminding myself of what I should be doing. I do let motivation get me but also push my energies and effort in pursuing things that might not directly assist me on the path I intend to walk on. I might call it a distraction or be diversifying my learning, but sometimes it feels like denial. It feels like running away from what you perceive yourself and your conditions to be.

I don’t know what I see of myself right now and why my friends instil hope in me. The depth of the faith that my family have in me either forces me to create a delusional perception about myself or a sense of betrayal towards them. I’m unable to trace that one ray of light that can show me the way out of this tunnel; an echo that tells me that I’m not caving further. I’m in want of something that assures me of myself and if not full then some of my capabilities. I don’t know what tomorrow looks like, but it is definitely casting a shadow on my today. I hope to see you tomorrow, but I don’t know how. 

A Commentary on Life, By Life

Winged and souled, 

They scale the stretches  of this big

Blue sky, Oh,  

So little, so insignificant, barely

Seen, but there

Carrying lives within as they fly, as

They twirl, dive and then

Rise, 

As it stays, still, the

Big blue sky,  

What would these winged fliers think of themselves,  

Of  who they are, how they are seen, of

What they mean, to

This world

But there they are

Beings seen, being felt

And oh so what this sight is, but

A living commentary on life itself. 

From Numbers to Recipes: Ankit Grover of Slice of Soul Walks Us Through his Inspiring Journey

We all carry stories that need to be told or at least reflected upon. This story is of a man who not only travelled three cities in pursuit of his dream but also three professions; and what diametrically opposite these professions have been. From Jabalpur to Pune via Bombay, this is a tale of Ankit Grover, founder of town’s most intriguing pizzeria called Slice of Soul, and all the ‘in-betweens’ of having nothing to having what contents.

A man, who is now an authoritative source of any knowledge regarding beer or pizzas, was once in a profession where he didn’t even have time to cherish them in his meals. A Chartered Accountant working in one of the leading companies in Bombay, Ankit found himself engrossed in numbers and data analysis. ‘I always had the dream of having my own setup but something had to be done before that’, he said. A stint as a CA was a result of not coming from an entrepreneurial background and a prospective foundation for taking a step closer to the dream. When his job became too small to contain his knack for new technologies and inventiveness, he bade adieu to a generously paying job and embraced a life where he had nothing to do.

The environment, the culture, and everything about that corporate life had become too one-dimensional for me. I anyway had to break away from that monotony today or tomorrow. I knew this job was not what I actually wanted to do’.

Months after leaving his job, Ankit started private practice and simultaneously began to think about opening up a cafe. Back at home in Jabalpur and away from the hush of a metro life, his mind was better placed and creatively more motivated. So, when he found himself at the cusp of taking a step forward and moving from numbers to recipes, he packed his bag and his mom’s faith in him and flew off to Pune.

I had absolutely no knowledge about how the entire process will actually take shape. All I had, was an idea, a concept; and yes, a name which I wanted to give to my café.’ Ankit’s background in a corporate field came handy during the establishing days of his café. Every morning, he would head out and meet different people and hunt for a perfect place that would house his dreams. ‘Field Research was of utmost importance in the establishing phase of this journey. I knew I was taking a big risk, I knew I wasn’t a seasoned rookie, so I had to equip myself with the in-depth understanding of market and the trends.’ Pune is famous for the short lived journeys of food joints. They say, every day 10 cafés open up here and 12 shut down. However for Ankit, faith in the uniqueness of his concept motivated him to survive the competition.

Despite the well guided research and trustworthy connections, there were fall outs. Failures that shatter building faith in oneself and take one back to square one. ‘I would lie if I say that these failures didn’t shake me up from inside. I was terribly disheartened. I even started questioning my methods. However, this was the time when I gathered inspiration from my past. The transition from being academically below average to becoming a CA helped me in collating my strength back and refocusing my efforts.’ There were failures and then there were opinions that discredited his ideas; but his drive to fulfil his passions did succeed and led to the creation of Slice of Soul.

I not just wanted a pizzeria; I wanted one which is authentic. My idea of wood-fired oven seemed unattractive to many and now it is my USP.’ Many features of Slice of Soul are drawn from Ankit’s personal experiences and family outings.

My mom loved pizzas; so having pizzas for lunch was quite common. However, every time we used to go out for pizzas, there used to be quarrels and disagreements over toppings and the kind of bread. In the end we all had to make small sacrifices over desired contents. This was a driving force behind the idea of coming up with Make Your Own Pizza. At SOS, I wanted a food democracy and freedom for customers to not only choose their toppings but participate in every step of making their own pizza. And then, it was followed by Make Your Own Pasta and Make Your Own Salad.’

Many people dare to follow their dreams; but often there comes an interval called ‘backup option’. For many dreamers, this backup option becomes so consuming that it translates into the sad demise of what they actually wanted. Making that shift from a backup option to the process of actualising the dream is a small but the most difficult one and Ankit was glad that he made it without much hassles. However, taking this new step and new profession didn’t mean a total forgetting of the previous one. There were many takeaways from his stint as a CA and the most important of them being his Articleship and Strategic Financial Management that he studied therein. Although to Ankit, there’s a different takeaway which is much closer to heart – ‘After becoming CA, it was easier for me to convince my fiancé’s parents to agree upon our marriage. And it was a delight to have them at the café and prove my mettle in front of them.’

Striking a balance between taking risks and committing oneself to foolproof planning is a lesson that Ankit likes to impart to dreaming entrepreneurs. As a man who believes more in hard work than destiny, quite often uses a phrase ‘Kismat Buland Hai Apni’ as a sarcastic commentary on those who solely relies on destiny.

So if you ever wish to meet this dreamer and achiever in person, you can find him at 101, Fortaleza Complex, East Avenue, Kalyani Nagar, waiting there with his mouth watering offerings and a heart warming smile.

IMG_20170918_130256_163 (1)

 

 

How My Old Clothes Saved Me From Depression

On 25th March 2016, around 24 hours before my 21st birthday, I made a very important decision for myself – a decision about clothes. It was not about what I’m going to wear the following day or the days after that but about what I will not wear now onwards; that was a new piece of cloth. 

As I was grappling with recurrent feelings of self-doubt and uncertainty about the future, I thought of diving deeper into what I thought constitutes me, rather than drifting away from it. There was a need to associate myself with my belongings; no matter how much they’ve been neglected since then. In a constant rush of ‘becoming,’ I had diluted the significance of what unifies me with my innermost wanting and never asks anything in return. What is it that embraces me the way I am and never looks down upon me for what I choose to be? This pure and natural bond of being an association I could only find in a lifestyle that moves away from modern consumerism; a freedom that could only be found in living in the shadows of what shines.

17 months later, now that I think about it, my little pledge to myself, that I so proudly fulfilled, was something more than a decision I took to reorient myself towards what mattered. What may have been a sudden ripple of my subconscious brain now seems to me an escape through which I saved myself, or more like got myself protected. I think I saved myself from the Diderot Effect.  

Diderot, a French philosopher, wrote an essay titled Regrets for My Old Dressing Gown, in which, while lamenting, he explains how the glitter of new things makes us look at the things we already have with disgust. The ‘new’ may symbolise the chronic consumerism of the day, the ‘old’, our neglected possessions, and the process of lamentation may well as be the pain of breaking away from the unity and bond we had imbued with the possession that evolved with us through the thick and thin. Such was the artificiality of the superfluous joy of hoarding new possessions, that Diderot said the following for his new scarlet gown: “I was the absolute master of my old robe. I have become the slave of the new one.”

The state of mind I found myself in 17 months ago, such a decision may have been nothing short of a survival instinct. When everything around me fashioned its wickedness and boasted of its self-constructed significance at the same time, going back to my humble haves and letting go of my have-nots came across as a blessing in disguise. As Diderot said it, poverty has its freedoms; opulence has its obstacles.

A lot has happened in the past year, things that were good and things that weren’t. However, this little promise that I made to myself, and being able to fulfil it, gave me a bag full of positives to rest my future foundations on. What may come across as a minor lifestyle amend, had a much larger effect on how I see my mental phases nowadays. I still have phases of self-doubt and self-loathing lurking inside my head but now every time such thoughts manifest themselves, I’m able to understand that it is just a phase which deserves a brief and limited period of grief. The grief may be temporary but the sense of control of taking decisions about your own life is permanent.

On Regrets in The Process of Becoming

We ponder upon regrets, or more like let them linger because we see ourselves in this journey of becoming. Like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle, we see our present as a part of a larger destiny; an element in the life optimization process. 

Transcience, as preached by Buddhist philosophy mojo, is the only reality of life. The only thing that never changes is the change itself. When life is lived in moments and every passing moment is marked by a sense of decay, every thought about the ‘decayed’ is just a hindrance to the process of becoming. When we regret, we force to recollect and relive the moments we will never capture again. Such is the weakness of regrets. 

When Edith Piaf agreed to perform at her last concert after the death of her most beloved person, she chose to perform a song titled non je ne regrette rein – which translates as ‘I have no regrets left’. It’s fascinating to see a person who has met with such a profound incident of loss denying even an atom of regret in her system. Edith tells us that regret is not natural and is definitely not connected with our material reality; it’s never about what we have become. Regretting is a hedonistic activity of indulging oneself in the artificiality of the past. Such is the frivolity of regrets. 

So as I was talking about life goals with my dear friend and a fellow law student, my only advice to his long drawn out plans was to move away from the linearity of these very plans. It doesn’t matter how you would feel about your career when you are 90 because the happening of that very event in future in nothing more than a contingency. If we will dwell in anything other than present, we will be taking away our energies from the phase that matters the most in the process of becoming. And that is – now! 

 

Picture: Regrets by Jasper Johns

Film Analysis: How Okja Shows Us Rising Emotional Decadence

Okja is undoubtedly a reflection of Bong-Joon Ho’s evolving auteur. A mouthpiece of environment advocacy shied down by wry humour and avant-garde character design. As any film review would define it, Okja is a story about the journey of a young South Korean girl who fights against all odds to get a genetically enhanced pig which does not belong to her either physically or intellectually. The movie never deviates from its central plot and each shot is quite smartly put to create a fast moving progression of the primary storyline; something which really fuels the existing anticipation. However, despite its strict editorial work, there are few shots in Okja that really stand out for reasons other than the central narrative. These shots are not about Mija (Seo-Hyeon Ahn) or Okja; rather they come across as a didactic commentary on a post-modern understanding of human relationships.  

Hayao Miyazaki, a Japanese anime giant, has given us a dreamlike depiction of Mija’s life in the hills. The sounds of running water and breaking branches engulf the viewer in the serenity and simplicity of a life closer to nature.  In almost all the shots we see both Okja and Mija developing a personal relationship not between themselves but also with the natural bounty around them; whether it be the giant rock or the flowing streams. We hardly see any sign of modern technology but there is contentment abound. There’s a prevailing of a selfless yet a settled sort of a happiness which is not dramatically over joyous or unnecessarily indulging.  

And then we move to Seoul; a city to its every definition. Suddenly, we see panoramic and aerial shots being taken of the herd of people moving towards the railway station – just like the ones showing the hills in the beginning of the movie. These shots sort of reintroduce the viewer to the narrative of the film, maybe emphasising on the shift in the storyline. However, I also see them as a conscious effort on the part of the director to showcase a distinction, and that too of a stark one, between a rural and an urban life. However, this distinction is not just physical but also emotional. The aerial shot of the herd of people moving towards the railway station focus only on the quantity of the subject matter and not the identity. So, we just see a faceless crowd moving uniformly towards a common destination reflecting the growing mechanisation of human activity. This is in complete opposition to the free-moving and unregimented movements of Mija and Okja on the hills. 

This regimented and mechanised ‘city-life’ is shown to have a distracting capability of its own. On one hand, we have a determined Mija trying to find a familiar face and on the other, we have an association of beings spatially so close yet empathetically so separated. This brings me to the second most profound didactic theme – alienation. 

When Mija reaches the Mirando building in Seoul she is met with a surprisingly empty office and a lot of glass walls. One of these glass walls separated her and the receptionist who then asked Mija to use the telephone placed on the other side of the glass wall to communicate to her, ignoring the most obvious of Mija’s signals. That glass wall represented the alienation that has become a characteristic of the urban milieu where people are more comfortable in communicating digitally. This also stands in contrast with the kind of communication and understanding Mija shared with Okja despite not understanding each other’s language. This sign of digitally induced alienation is also visible in the scene where a girl who is running away from Okja in a supermarket chooses to make a Snapchat video rather than actually experiencing the feeling of being afraid. 

Within the scenes of Korea, we see another sign of post-modern emotional deficit – Animal Liberation Front. This sign is very subtle and confusing for it operates in overlapping meanings. Modern day organisations walk the line between being phoney and being relevant. And then sometimes we come across organisations or people who cannot fight a cause until it is contextualised; neither can they connect on emotional levels without putting that connection under a contextualised category. ALF failed to grasp both the emotional simplicity of Mija’s relationship with Okja as well as its own decaying ethos – respecting the animal life. Though their understanding does change in New York when they are faced with some disturbing visuals and an unknown fact from the past, the way they operated as an organisation as a whole does reflect a sort of contextualised understanding of animal rights.  Their faith in non-violence and ecological conservation did become a part of Bong’s wry humour but it also reflected as to how modern day organisations have become increasingly normative; vying for immediate short term impact rather than aiming for long term structural changes. 

Okja is not a narrative with explicitly enlarged sub-narratives. These sub-narratives are very subtle and can be subjected to interpretations. However, the use of camerawork at certain shots forces a viewer to delve further into the intentions of the director. The central narrative may or may not promote vegetarianism or at least the abandoning of corporate food processing units, but it sure does try to create an awakening about the rising emotional decadence in the digitally connected urban beings.