Skip to main content

Why We Need Authentic Storytelling

As a race, humans do a lot of posturing. Most of our life is spent in acting out roles and putting on various masks or facades.

You have to tolerate idiots with a smile, if they are rich or powerful or senior in age. Whatever rot they say, you nod your head in agreement, knowing fully well its all bullshit.

The media feeds you crap in the name of news, you lap it up. Politicians mouth nonsense, but you can't protest. Businessmen sell you false dreams, and build empires.

When you see clouds and feel like dancing, you have to pretend to show interest in studying.

Mothers may get incensed by their children's bullying - to the point of telling them to get lost, or throw them out of the house, but pretend to grin and bear it. Mother's love, after all.

You know everything is going downhill, yet have to put on a brave face. What will people say if you start acting crazy? 

We live out lies, subscribe to other people's definition of success and happiness, and wallow in the misery of fabricated untruths. 

Why Genuine/Authentic Storytelling?

Now, since our whole life is full of lies and falsehoods, whether it is in the narrative fed to us, or in whatever we get ourselves to believe in, something should be left untouched.

Stories are that place. Yes, they are make-believe, often made-up, but something in them should ring true. Whether it is a film you are watching, or a book you are reading, or music you listen to, or a painting that you admire, unless there is authenticity, you forget it the next day.

The moment the creator starts play-acting or posturing, the art becomes fake. And you can see it clearly in the book or movie or artwork. It isn't for nothing, the creator is given God-like status. 

It is a world they create - depicting a universal truth, some fundamental, visceral reality that their work is expressing. That is the reason why Tagore and Shakespeare are still relevant. Why Chaplin scores above countless slick comedies made later. Why Ibsen and Brecht and Tennessee Williams stand tall. 

Can you forget Bicycle Thieves or Casa Blanca or Pyasaa or Apur Sansar in a hurry? Can you fail to be touched by Shakespearean tragedies on stage? When you see Sunflowers, don't you wonder how Van Gogh's genius had to struggle with his demons? Isn't Monalisa's smile still an enigma? Premchand's or Sarat Chandra's stories still bring tears to our eyes.

The least a creator can do is to be authentic towards their craft. Honest with storytelling, unfettered in expressing. Only then, the work will endure.....     


#AuthenticStorytelling #RealArt #GoodLiterature #HonestArt

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Does Mother Mary Really Come? You bet!

Prolific writer-activist-thinker Arundhati Roy's memoir, an ode to her mother's formidable personality, is cleverly titled, Mother Mary Comes to Me. Below the title is a picture of young Roy nonchalantly smoking a bidi. Irreverence, thy name is Arundhati Roy! At 372 pages, it is a tome, a sweeping saga that recollects both her mother's remarkable life, as well as her own. Is it a Memoir? Yes and no. Though the book title refers to their mother-daughter relationship, the book - at several junctures treats each one of them as independent and exclusive from one another. In fact, for a good part, her mother finds no mention at all, and the reader is engrossed reading about Roy's exploits and struggles through Architecture College, early attempts to find her vocation and calling, her dabbling with cinema, acting, scriptwriting; her romantic liaisons with the luscious JC, Sanjay, Pradeep et al. A life as extraordinary and unapologetic as Arundhati's mesmerizes in itself. ...

No Hopes for a Happy New Year

It's that time of the year again. When yearly round-ups are done diligently. Lists made, everyone sits down and assesses hits and misses. You tick off the "achieved goals" from your list. Make resolutions to fulfil the ones not yet surmounted. But I am doing something different. I am taking stock of my setbacks, my disappointments, the let-downs this year. I have absolutely zero expectations from the next year. Why? Because its useless to expect anything that I can't control. And since any chance of better days seems very unlikely, I am collecting the bits of my sanity to somehow trudge along the rest of my time on this planet. Why am I being such a kill-joy, you may ask? Well, not out of choice, certainly. What the world and my country, the air I breathe, the people I mix with, have become, all contribute to my rock-bottom expectations.  1. I am terrified, scared of what my country and its people have become. This wasn't the country I grew up in. It seems as if l...

The Sadness Within Us

A curious phenomenon has taken place over the years. Technology has advanced in leaps, modern medicine has become far more effective, we can control pain and disease far better, mental health is getting due attention, there are more avenues for creativity and entertainment.  Yet.... We are no longer able to be really happy. We are a chronically unhappy people. Forever dissatisfied, never content. Always thinking about the past or the future, never enjoying the moment. Think about it. When was the last time you were really, truly, wholly happy? Blissful, joyful? You slog hard at office, get that deserved raise/promotion, party hard to celebrate, and yet at the end of the day, a hollowness creeps in. An emptiness, a feeling of futility. You have a grand wedding - its the stuff Instagram dreams are made of. Your sweetheart looks like a million bucks with the latest designer lehenga, you yourself are spruced up, your family and friends are beaming, the event is going on swimmingly. Yet...