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Image Source - IMDb Have you seen poetry on celluloid? A soft, lilting song playing out in slow motion? A story unpeeling itself, episode by episode?  I have revisited Shoojit Sircar's exquisitely beautiful movie, October. The whole film unspools like poetry in motion. Each frame, each movement, each word adds to the lyrical quality of the touching film. And Shantanu Moitra's mellifluous background score brings it to life. I still can't get that haunting music out of my mind. Whoever would have thought a mainstream film - about a sudden, freak accident that sends the lead actress into coma could be so very ephemeral, so lyrical? Most part of the movie unfolds in a hospital room, amidst catheters, ECG machines, drips, and hospital beds. Yet, the way the director has handled this serious theme is spectacular.  Celluloid lyricism, economy of expression The director works his magic through poetic frames, expressions, seamless transitions, verbal and non-verbal imagery. His stor

Durga Pujo is a week long celebration these days in Bengal. Dazzling decorations, jaw-dropping idols, exclusive theme-based decor, lighting, sound effects, installations, the entire city of Kolkata is now a giant road-show or carnival or feast for the senses.  From the second or third day of Debi Paksha, the crowds start swelling and you bump into all kind of revelers or "pandal hoppers", as we call them.   For the uninitiated, pandal hoppers are that breed of enthu-cutlets visitors who flit from pandal to pandal ticking off the must-see pujas from their list. This list has the names of this year's popular "theme pujas", as well as the traditional crowd pullers. Also included in the list are the "award" winning pujas that are discussed on social media for either uniqueness or shock value or some other x-factor.  The variety of pandal hoppers is eclectic. From the bundle of endless energy kids, to the selfie-clicking youngster, to the middle aged honcho

It's almost October... This time used to be the best to shop for new clothes, given that Durga pujo is just a week away. But this year, it's been starkly different. Not even the pandemic could dull festivities,  as the R.G.Kar incident has. Tilottama still waits for justice. So do scores or rape/molestation/abuse victims suffering in silence in our country. We are shaken, shattered, in no mood to celebrate.  Yet.....and yes, there's a yet. For several small craftspeople, artisans, weavers, designers, this is the time they do maximum business every year. To sit and mourn is not something they can afford.  There is a Banglar Tanter Haat on in Boi Mela grounds, Korunamoyee, Salt Lake, for the past two weeks. Business has been abysmal, say the artisans sadly, yet resignedly. They too are hoping Tilottama gets justice.  But they have families to feed. When they don't have even a single sale in a day, they know they can't buy that trinket for their daughter back home. The

At some point of our lives, we need to ask ourselves - what is more important? To raise one's voice against what's wrong. or to just let things be and get on with our regular lives? Be immune to something - since it hasn't happened to me, or stand up and protest - because it can some day? Come September-October, and there's a festive feel in the air in our country. Ganesh puja, followed by Navratri and Durga Puja, then Deepavali, are the mega festivals we wait for all year.  To Celebrate What? But festivals are enjoyable only when civic systems are in good health and the society is healthy. If there is glaring rot in society, no festival or celebration can cheer us up.  People in power dangle the carrots of religious festivities, along with the pet drugs of Bollywood, celebrity weddings and IPL, to distract public attention from actual problems plaguing our society. Maslow had explained the hierarchy of needs about a century back. Unless the basic requirements of safety

Farah Bashir's Rumours of Spring recounts her own experiences as a girl growing up in turbulent Kashmir. The book is semi-autobiographical and recalls the horrors of insurgency in Kashmir, particularly it's devastating effects on the lives of ordinary people. Each part of the book describes a particular phase in her life. Growing up in the 90s, when terrorism besieged Kashmir, she recounts how her family - living in a large mansion in downtown Srinagar, bears the brunt of losses in family business, snatching way of personal freedoms, simple pleasures and mostly, the liberty to live the life they want.  The language is intimate, drawing you within, as if you are a fly on the wall in her drawing room, observing things. She paints images through her words and descriptions. Of a shuttered window, of an abandoned attic, of closed cinema halls, and barbed wires, marching boots and flashing searchlights.  She focuses on the impact that army clampdowns and constant policing had on ordi

The recent horrifying, stomach-churning incident in Kolkata is not a one-time aberration. It keeps occuring in our country. And we women are also responsible for this stinking rot in society. Ask yourself these uncomfortable questions. How many of you protest when a girl wearing "revealing clothes" is cat-called?  Did you show your support for our wrestlers protesting against a habitual offender? Did your blood boil when you saw pictures of our sisters in Manipur paraded naked?  When rapists are released from prison or routinely escape punishment, do you raise your voice? How many of you have tolerated violence or even casual sexism in your own home? Do you turn the other way when transgenders are leered at? Do you grin and bear it when the men in your family crack obscene jokes? Do Kathua and Hathras ring a bell? And lastly, how many of you thronged cinema halls to make misogynistic horrors like Animal and Kabir Singh blockbusters? I have asked myself and am distinctly feeli