He is you. He is me.
Don't know why I missed out on 'Tamasha'. Finally, saw it last night, an amazing, yet difficult movie to make. Ranbir Kapoor, as Ved, was predictably fabulous, and Deepika as Tara, was the apt catalyst who turned Ved's life upside down.
More than a movie, it was a treatise on modern life. It was like watching your daily mundane existence being portrayed on the wide canvas, as you struggle through to keep your inner conflict in check.
You want to be someone else, but you end up being someone else. You want to do something else, but you end up doing something else. But, in that helpless mechanical existance as well, we have a choice - to say 'No' to it. After all, we have chosen that life, and no one but ourselves are to be blamed for it. And, no one but ourselves can change it as well.
So, at the witching hour, with the lingering sound of 'Matargashti' in the background, I penned the following poem:
He wasn't a man of 9 to 5,
He wasn't a man of calculus,
He wasn't a man of logic,
He wasn't a man of law,
He wasn't a man of anything of this world order.
Who was he then?
He was a man without a watch,
He was a man of poetry,
He was a man of drama,
He was a man of anarchy,
He was a man of everything out of this world order.
Who is he now?
He is a man wanting to forget time,
He is a man trying to write poetry,
He is a man creating drama,
He is a man breaking in and out of his self,
He is a man challenging everything of this world order.
He is in all of us. He is you. He is me.
As I finished the poem, I wondered what would I have done if I had not been a writer / editor?
More than a movie, it was a treatise on modern life. It was like watching your daily mundane existence being portrayed on the wide canvas, as you struggle through to keep your inner conflict in check.
You want to be someone else, but you end up being someone else. You want to do something else, but you end up doing something else. But, in that helpless mechanical existance as well, we have a choice - to say 'No' to it. After all, we have chosen that life, and no one but ourselves are to be blamed for it. And, no one but ourselves can change it as well.
So, at the witching hour, with the lingering sound of 'Matargashti' in the background, I penned the following poem:
He wasn't a man of 9 to 5,
He wasn't a man of calculus,
He wasn't a man of logic,
He wasn't a man of law,
He wasn't a man of anything of this world order.
Who was he then?
He was a man without a watch,
He was a man of poetry,
He was a man of drama,
He was a man of anarchy,
He was a man of everything out of this world order.
Who is he now?
He is a man wanting to forget time,
He is a man trying to write poetry,
He is a man creating drama,
He is a man breaking in and out of his self,
He is a man challenging everything of this world order.
He is in all of us. He is you. He is me.
As I finished the poem, I wondered what would I have done if I had not been a writer / editor?
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