California in Saturation

These are pictures around neighbourhoods of San Jose, single family homes in the American Suburbia. No sign of life around the pretty looking houses with elaborate gardened porticoes, even when the weather is beautiful, bright and sunny. Trees flank all along. Some shed their leaves in winter, although many are evergreen, giving the whole place a homely feel. Being in the valley, the area is generally bereft of the sea humidity. It is drier and picturesque. The mountains become the backdrop in all vantages, giving a focus to look at in most directions. The life is secure and contained within the valley. 

The experience of seeing is relaxed, there is not too much going on anywhere. The intensity of activity is controlled, moreso in the suburbs. The city - San Francisco - itself is very at-ease. It is quite different from the pretense and oomph of New York, at least as much as I saw it.

Trains pass around mountains, taking through breathtaking views of settlements on slopes of the valley. Greenery is all around, nestling the colourful houses. Again, no sign of life outside the houses in the suburbs. The brightness meanwhile makes it nicer to be outside. No more descriptions. Still to understand much more!

Caltrain, California

This is not a well rounded post. The opinions here are narrow and ill-informed. 

1.

I am at the Tamien Caltrain station in South Bay Area and there is a train for 5 58 pm that I am supposed to take. A train is waiting right in front of me for the last 15 minutes and I am not sure if this is the one i am to board. There are no indications on the train to match the information displayed on the electronic indicator! I ask the only man sitting on a bench at the station, who tells me this is not the one mentioned on the electronic display. 

When no other train arrives until the time in the schedule, except the one standing, I climb into it following another passenger (who herself was confused) and hope that it will be the train I need to board. A few minutes later, i realize that it is indeed the train I had to take, quite contrarily to what the waiting passenger on the station bench directed.

The Caltrain is a double-decker train with a central aisle. There are two seats each on either aisle on the lower level and one row of seats on each side on the upper. Absolutely empty probably since it is the opposite direction for the time. The young lady equally perplexed if the train is San Francisco bound, came and asked me to confirm if I ended up taking the right train. I told her that I confirm only based on the fact that it departed on the time I checked on the schedule.

The landscapes I pass through are beautiful. No one came to check my ticket. I was surprised. The announcements within the train were unclear, fuzzy, although surprisingly not standardized (like the recent ones in our local trains in Mumbai). For that matter, the announcements even in New York metro trains were not standardized. The stations try to match the level of the surrounding road, rather than the height of the train. You actually climb 4 steps to reach the level of the train. I haven't seen how the disabled actually climb up, although there are provisions for them within the train.

2.

Bay Area: The California bay around San Francisco. Peninsula region.

VTA: Valley Transit Authority

Valley: popularly the Silicon Valley. Geographically, this is actually a valley. Silicon refers to technology parks.

Caltrain: California Train, transportation service along the bay area

BART: Bay Area Rapid Transit, private transportation service along the bay area

Clipper Card: Pass for Caltrain and some other public transport services around Bay Area

Map of Caltrain in Bay Area


3.

The San Jose Caltrain station ticket vending machines / card identifying machines didn't accept either my clipper card pass or my credit card. Luckily I had some cash with me to get a ticket for San Francisco. I went up to the Amtrack dept ticket counter to ask if there was any person who could help me with my problem. However the lady flatly refused saying, "There is no one for Caltrain" in a curt tone, perhaps rightly as if it was none of her business to look into it. This is what you learn to expect out of Americans or American culture in general after living in US for two years. In fact I was quite impressed when out of the same indifference she pointed me to the ATM from where i could withdraw cash to try in the faulty machines.

All how I responded to her was with a gracious smile and a hearty thank you, although swearing by the dumbness of such etiquette in my head at that moment.  Before I move on with my analysis, I must finish explaining how I resolved the situation. After I exhausted all possible mental algorithms of trying all machines, clipper card sensors at the station, I thought of using cash, for which I was skeptical of getting the change back. (buses here in the US will never return you any change. so if your ticket costs $2 and you insert a $5 bill, your $3 are gone - essentially more lost than spent). I was thus skeptical about the Caltrain vending machines too. However it was kind enough to return me my 1 dollar. And thus, Inspite of preparing for my trip to SF in advance and working out cheaper logistics, getting a clipper card pass that would have saved me about 2 dollars one way, I ended up spending cash that I had saved up for emergency. (again remember that you seldom use cash in USA, since you have credit cards for most transactions. In addition, withdrawal of cash from atms costs you 2.5$ each time. its a lot of money in proportion to what you generally withdraw).

However, such inconsistencies in technology and its non-alignment with human dilemmas is what i despise about the over hyped development in the developed countries. I have, over time, trained my mind to get over such first world issues. Although in the pretext of streamlining and smoothening infrastructures, look what happens. There was no one around the station whom I could ask about whether my pass was faulty or if there was a problem with my credit card - both which i had recently purchased or used respectively. there was no one amongst the commuters to help. There was no one I could call. No one at the station - completely unmanned. I was disturbed at the irony of this first world situation - the mythicised glorified narrative of the developed country. in computerizing every inch of interaction into unmanned infrastructure, they continue to erase all physical social exchange leaving vulnerability looming all over - something that is never documented, or even lapped up in the over optimistic dialogues of development.

I am skeptical of technology and development in this light. I worry about this creeping sense of insecurity that latently exists among people in anticipation of overcoming or even coming to terms with technology. Because technology skips the older logical methodical steps that people are used to, quite exponentially, marketing itself as easy to access and "user friendly" it never presents its parallel narrative of the confusion it creates within the minds people. There is also a great politics of such confusion often overlooked by technologists, the advantage of which clearly goes to the company. for example, consider the extra dollars I shelled out to Caltrain inspite of all my preparation - that money essentially went to the company just because of what i like to term as politics of technology.

People living here in west coast America are overly car dependent, thus the government excuses itself of investment in public transport. (People rightfully depend on their own vehicles, since the minimum walk from one place to another will be 20 minutes, and you will feel absolutely at loss of scale while walking on wide highways - I am also talking of my experience in the suburbia, but SF too was largely spread wide apart). Except big cities, getting around this country is a big ordeal. But the difficulty of travel in the US is a narrative explicated by far too many people. What i want to point out is that people/locals thus look down upon public transportation and even those who use it. I was being mocked upon by my landlord when I would take the city buses to travel around in New Haven - "Only poor people and blacks use the buses," he said. At that time i wasn't mature enough to accuse him as a racist. But such is the sentiment that runs across people in the country. Thus, in my perspective, owing to such social pressure must also make many people to move privately. Although I feel such sentiment to public transport is only prevalent in some cities. New York is a very public-transport friendly city. 

However stories for other states and cities across the US are different. What is different here is that people almost don't care to keep a tab about public transportation for emergency situations. They just don't know anything about local ways of getting around - something I have never experienced in my life. Umm - well they depend on Google to tell them routes all the time. Google is their Godfather. Certainly this is a result of both - the individualistic social space as well as the already existing poor image of public image of transportation facilities.

Rightfully then, the Marxists of this country shout for public space and public transport and all those issues of green-ness and sustainability. But we absorb these narratives of the developed lands blindly, without understanding their socio-cultural underpinnings. In fact we never understand how adoption of their narratives and systems would eventually affect our own socio-cultural space, and do ever think if we truly desire it? And do they really apply to us. In what way do they apply, and how should we think about our issues, even if the solutions to the problems may be same?

Perhaps I come from a background where I have had an opportunity to associate a lot of positive attributes to the social space in Indian cities. Or probably I am just a person who relies and trusts real people than a dumb machine who cannot argue back intelligently. Many of my friends like being around such dumb machines, or have begun to enjoy this sterile life within which they can exert their choices without friction. they consistently attempt to convince me of staying back in this unmanned neutralised techno physical space. I am not sure I like it, even if the space in India physically or personally destroyed me. Living here is a mental torture sometimes for a person like me - for some, it is an escape to heaven.

Farewell to New Haven

Last week I left New Haven, and the sacred space of Yale University. I left the beautiful looking buildings, the well kept lanes, the green campus, the finally-warming up weather, the lush museums...In short, I finally escaped the pretty trap Yale. Not to forget that I left a whole bunch of friends behind - people whom I believed to be my family at Yale, who brought to me a culture I longed for, forever, in traces and parts. Although it wasn't overwhelming to leave Yale. I was quite done with it, and I was content of absorbing it as much as it offered me. I needed a change of place for sure.

I collected a lot of notes, cards and gifts from all of my friends before leaving. Neelima visited me over a weekend from New York, and we did almost nothing but talked. I met a lot of friends I might perhaps never see again. I realized that I had made far too many friends than I would expect myself to be knowing. These included classmates, senior students, post doctoral fellows, colleagues from work places beyond of course, friends from the desi community. Each person contributed something to my life in one way or the other. I wrote numerous card notes myself. It was a pleasure to be writing notes after a really long time for people.

Apart from packing, there were lots of things I did in the last three weeks at Yale. Every weekend, we explored different places - from hiking to strawberry picking - thanks to Anumeha's newly occupied car! She took us around a lot of places, and I truly realized what an experience living in the US could be with a personal vehicle! My radius of exploration was pretty limited earlier to the extents Yale shuttle covered.

On another note, I had learnt a lot of Yale, and thought of writing a post enlisting tricks to survive in New Haven. However, I soon realized that my way of living over the two years at Yale was something that not many people would like to imitate or follow. Coming from a middle-class financially constrained background, I might be too strict and limited in my overview, and might not make good case for a person who was coming to experience and enjoy the university life. I decided that it must be left to the individual to explore Yale on his/her on terms. But I do think that living with room-mates, especially those who have grown up in the US can fundamentally change your attitude towards being and even exploiting what the place really has to offer. I was slightly unfortunate since I didnot live ever with "roommates"!

I still don't know how to look back at Yale, for I am too absorbed perhaps in making the immediate future work. I have moved to California bay area, to live with my cousin, searching for jobs here. I decided to come here so that of all things that may fail, I may at least explore a new place. The frictions of new place are the same as before - understanding a new transportation channel, the eccentricities of new geography, new work culture and so on. Although, after New York, this seems far negotiable. I am slow at taking things, and not guilty of expressing my under-information. I am taking my sweet time to learn California. However, life is much convenient when living with a family member who can guide for everyday things.

I haven't made much observations on California, except that it is seriously hard to get around here. And yes, it is more suburban than any one can every imagine! The public transportation can eat up all your time, leaving you with no time at hand. I live in a suburb 60 miles away from San Francisco meanwhile, in San Jose. So I haven't really seen what the city life is like. I am sure it is better and more vibrant than here. I am eager to understand what 'laid back' really means. And I am certain that it will make more sense to me coming from the competitive north east culture of the US. I am looking forward to experience the vibrancy of SF, a city I will be visiting tomorrow.

Mobility in the city pushes you to think and write, and there is something about the initial navigation within a new city. You are overloaded with new-ness and the comparisons with the cities you have visited in the past are so fresh that you want to record them. Many of these are often documented earlier by various people. Still, a cultural perspective colours these experiences for every individual in unique ways. I am going to try to record them. I have grown out of taking pictures of places. I don't know if it is the complacency of the place itself that has transcended into me, or the highly standardized spatial products that keep me back from really documenting these new places photographically.

For the time being, I can say that California, San Jose is absolutely different from any other place I have visited in the US. It is Mediterranean, gentle weather (which people still find warm these days), lots of light and greenery, and a distinctly spanish feel with the low hanging country-tiled roofs of most houses. Buildings are designed for cars first. Thus everything is far apart, and spread out. Any walk is a minimum of 20 minutes. The reference for space-time is the car, not the pedestrian. Thus, minimum distances to places begin counting in kilometers, not metres. I am still getting to terms with the public transport, and may be I could write my next post on the experience at SF, and the trip I will take tomorrow.

Collected Sayings

"No man is an island after all."
Tokyo Godfather, Animae

Every so often there comes a  man who sees the universe in new ways, whose vision upsets the very foundation of the world as we know of it
Albert Einstein: How I see the World, YouTube, Documentary

It is impossible to know the results of your actions.
Ancient Chinese Proverb

A young man to an old man: Are you living here with anyone?
Old Man: A man alone is a neighbour of God.
Baran, Iranian Movie

From the hot fire of being apart,
comes the flame that burns the heart.
Baran, Iranian Movie

It doesn't matter how many mistakes you make as a fresher.
Jay Bhatt, Friendly Conversation.

Atticus, New Haven

This is what happens when you want these things even when you dont need them. Photos after photos of simple, beautiful things I saw at Atticus, a book store-cum-coffee shop in New Haven, attached to the Yale British Art Center. 

I observed the messages, typographic appeal, artistic quality, paper quality, size, neatness, packaging, content of books, ideas behind presenting them, form o the books, postcards, cartoons, innovative cards -- so much. For a moment, it felt that I could make some too, but the more I absorb, the more I get stuck, since a strange feeling keeps paralyzing me. I keep thinking: "Wow, is this also done?"

Many of the seemingly witty messages on these cards/books are quite wise actually. They are pretty deep. There were interesting books that I would have bought. The drawing book, "712 More things to Draw" certainly. It is a blank book with a word and space for it to be expressed visually. I have often done that exercise for myself without such a book (or sometimes done it as exercises in my graphics representation classes back when I was teaching at AoA). But it was refreshing to actually see it into a book form. Another was a book that had no writing at all, rather icons through which you figure the message. I found it equivalent to the modern day heiroglyphs. And also, it connects to the numerous puzzles that are forwarded over applications like whatsapp where a string of icons are being asked to decipher different messages! Hasn't emoticons already begun to take a prominent place in our day to day messaging over electronic interfaces? I found it fascinating to have a whole book of merely "emoticons".

The two small postcards with cartoons are actually from The New Yorker. I clicked one for the form, and the other for its content. "The only thing we didn't plan for was Love" - that nearly killed me for it's message. I could write an essay on that image, for it brings business and emotion together, modernism and irrationality, objectivity and subjectivity on the same plane. The cartoon on 'Useful Degrees' is more of a cultural statement for the US, but applies everywhere, and well said too.

But then I decided, that even re-doing them by myself would be an interesting exercise. So I took pictures to remind myself to go ahead and get myself in action. There is still a lot to learn, if not to be done.

As one of the books spells: "Do one thing every day that scares you." (the book is a diary for the year to note down what scary thing you did each day, with interesting quotations all along).

Translation: Jeevan ki aapa-dhaapi mein

जीवन की आपाधापी में / Jeevan ki aapa-dhaapi mein / In the hustle & bustle of life

by Harivanshrai Bachchan

Listen Audio by Amitabh Bachchan

जीवन की आपाधापी में कब वक़्त मिला

कुछ देर कहीं पर बैठ कभी यह सोच सकूँ

जो किया, कहा, माना उसमें क्या बुरा भला।

जिस दिन मेरी चेतना जगी मैंने देखा

मैं खड़ा हुआ हूँ इस दुनिया के मेले में,

हर एक यहाँ पर एक भुलावे में भूला

हर एक लगा है अपनी अपनी दे-ले में

कुछ देर रहा हक्का-बक्का, भौचक्का-सा,

आ गया कहाँ, क्या करूँ यहाँ, जाऊँ किस जा?

फिर एक तरफ से आया ही तो धक्का-सा

मैंने भी बहना शुरू किया उस रेले में,

क्या बाहर की ठेला-पेली ही कुछ कम थी,

जो भीतर भी भावों का ऊहापोह मचा,

जो किया, उसी को करने की मजबूरी थी,

जो कहा, वही मन के अंदर से उबल चला,

जीवन की आपाधापी में कब वक़्त मिला

कुछ देर कहीं पर बैठ कभी यह सोच सकूँ

जो किया, कहा, माना उसमें क्या बुरा भला।

मेला जितना भड़कीला रंग-रंगीला था,

मानस के अन्दर उतनी ही कमज़ोरी थी,

जितना ज़्यादा संचित करने की ख़्वाहिश थी,

उतनी ही छोटी अपने कर की झोरी थी,

जितनी ही बिरमे रहने की थी अभिलाषा,

उतना ही रेले तेज ढकेले जाते थे,

क्रय-विक्रय तो ठण्ढे दिल से हो सकता है,

यह तो भागा-भागी की छीना-छोरी थी;

अब मुझसे पूछा जाता है क्या बतलाऊँ

क्या मान अकिंचन बिखराता पथ पर आया,

वह कौन रतन अनमोल मिला ऐसा मुझको,

जिस पर अपना मन प्राण निछावर कर आया,

यह थी तकदीरी बात मुझे गुण दोष न दो

जिसको समझा था सोना, वह मिट्टी निकली,

जिसको समझा था आँसू, वह मोती निकला।

जीवन की आपाधापी में कब वक़्त मिला

कुछ देर कहीं पर बैठ कभी यह सोच सकूँ

जो किया, कहा, माना उसमें क्या बुरा भला।

मैं कितना ही भूलूँ, भटकूँ या भरमाऊँ,

है एक कहीं मंज़िल जो मुझे बुलाती है,

कितने ही मेरे पाँव पड़े ऊँचे-नीचे,

प्रतिपल वह मेरे पास चली ही आती है,

मुझ पर विधि का आभार बहुत-सी बातों का।

पर मैं कृतज्ञ उसका इस पर सबसे ज़्यादा -

नभ ओले बरसाए, धरती शोले उगले,

अनवरत समय की चक्की चलती जाती है,

मैं जहाँ खड़ा था कल उस थल पर आज नहीं,

कल इसी जगह पर पाना मुझको मुश्किल है,

ले मापदंड जिसको परिवर्तित कर देतीं

केवल छूकर ही देश-काल की सीमाएँ

जग दे मुझपर फैसला उसे जैसा भाए

लेकिन मैं तो बेरोक सफ़र में जीवन के

इस एक और पहलू से होकर निकल चला।

जीवन की आपाधापी में कब वक़्त मिला

कुछ देर कहीं पर बैठ कभी यह सोच सकूँ

जो किया, कहा, माना उसमें क्या बुरा भला।

Transliteration:

Jeevan ki aapa dhapi mein, kab waqt mila
kuch der kahi par baith yeh soch sakoo
Jo kiya, kaha, maan usmein kya bura bhalaa.

jis din meri chetna jaagi maine dekha
main khada hua hoon iss duniya ke mele mein,
kar ek yahan par ek bhulaave mein bhoola
har ek laga hai apni de-le mein
kuch der raha hakka bakka, bhauchaaka sa,
aa gaya kahan, kya karu yahan, jaaoon kis ja?
Phir ek taraf se aaya hi toh dhakka sa
maine bhi bahna shuru kiya us rele mein,
kya baahar ke thela-peli hi kuch kam thi,
jo bheetar bhi bhaavon ka oohapoh macha
jo kiya, usee ko karne ki majboori thi,
jo kaha, vahi man ke andar se ubal chala,
jeevan ki aapa dhapi mein, kab waqt mila
kuch der kahi par baith yeh soch sakoo
Jo kiya, kaha, maan usmein kya bura bhalaa.

Mela jitna bhadkeela rang-rangeela tha,
maanas ke andar utni hi kamjori thee,
jitna zyaada sanchit karne ki khwahish thi,
utni hi chhoti aphi jhori thi,
jitni hi birme rehne ki thi abhilasha
utna hi rele tez dhakele jaate the,
kray-vikray toh thande dil se ho sakta hai,
say to bhaag-bhaagi ki cheena-chhori thee,
ab mujhse poocha jaata hai kya batlaaoon
kya maan akinchan bikharta path par aaya
vah kaun ratan anmol mila aise mujhkho,
kis par apna man praan nichaavar kar aaya,
yah thi takdeeree baat mujhe gun dosh na do
jisko samjha tha sona, vah mitti nikli,
jisko samjha tha aasoo, vah moti nikla.
jeevan ki aapa dhapi mein, kab waqt mila
kuch der kahi par baith yeh soch sakoo
Jo kiya, kaha, maan usmein kya bura bhalaa.

main kitna hi bhooloon, bhatkoon yaa bharmaaoon,
hain ek kahin manzil jo mujhe bulaati hai,
tine hi mere paanv pade oonche-neeche,
parti-pal vah mere paas chali hi aati hai,
mujh par vidhi ka aabhaar bahut si baaton ka.
par main kritagya uska is par sabse zyaada -
nabh ole barsaaye, dharte shole ugle,
anvarat samay ki chakki chalti jaati hai
main jahan khada tha kal us thal par aaj nahi,
kal isi jagah par paana mujhko mushkil hai,
le maapdand jisko parivartit kar deteein
keval chhokar hi desh-kaal ki seemayein
jag mein mujhpar faisla use jaisa bhaaye
lekin main toh be-rok safar mein jeevan ke
is ek aur pehlu se hokar nikal chala
jeevan ki aapa dhapi mein kab waqt mila
kuch der kahi par baith yeh soch sakoo
Jo kiya, kaha, maan usmein kya bura bhalaa.



English Translation:

In the hustle and bustle of life, when did I find any time

That I could sit at some place for a while and think

of what is good or bad in what I did, said, assumed...

On the day I claimed my consciousness, I saw

I am standing in this world-fair,

Every one here is lost in an ambiguity

Every one is busy in one's own give and take

For a while, I remained astonished, bewildered,

Where have I come, what do I do here, where do I go?

Then, from a direction, did come a push

I too began to flow in that surge

Were the mere external chaos too little

That even the internal emotions underwent a turmoil,

Whatever (I) did, was but out of a compulsion,

Whatever (I) said, was but an out-pour of the boiling thoughts,

In the hustle and bustle of life, when did I find any time,

That I could sit at some place for a while and think

of what is good or bad in what I did, said, thought.

As much was the circus energetic (flashy) and colourful,

There was enervation within the soul,

As much as one desired to accumulate,

Smaller kept going one's formed hand-bowl ,

As much one had the ambition to hold steady,

That much harder the surge would push,

Deals are done but with a cool mind

This was a snatch-act of the haste;

Now I am generally been asked, what do I say

of what values did the destitute come scattering on the path

What priceless jewel have I received?

On which I have surrendered by mind and body

This was but a matter of destiny, don't value-judge me

To whom I considered gold, was mere soil

To what I considered a teardrop, was in fact a pearl.

In the hustle and bustle of life, when did I find any time,

That I could sit at some place for a while and think

of what is good or bad in what I did, said, thought.

How much ever I forget, wander astray or be misdirected,

There's somewhere a destination that calls me

My feet may wade through how much ever ups and downs

Still every moment, it does come near to me

I have on me the gratefulness of destiny for a lot of aspects

But I am most thankful of her for -

Whether the sky hails, or the earth spews heat

The mill of time is relentless and keeps on moving,

I am not at the position I was standing at yesterday,

It is hard to find me on the same position tomorrow,

That which transforms it by its own criteria,

By mere touching the limits of time-space

The world must give upon me a judgement of what it likes

But unstoppably, I, in this journey of life

Escape a yet another aspect of life

In the hustle and bustle of life, when did I find any time,

That I could sit at some place for a while and think

of what is good or bad in what I did, said, thought.

translated by Anuj Daga

Phrases in red are approximate guesses of the Hindi words originally used in the poem. Elaboration / clarification by readers will be appreciated.

'The Lunchbox' & 'Queen'

It is almost surprising to observe how convenient films make for us to slip into their projected realities. Sometimes, I wonder if 'slippage' itself is involuntary, or whether it is purposeful? In other words, I am trying to think about the process of placing ourselves in filmic narratives - do we consciously try to identify with characters of a film, or does it happen subconsciously? Because, isn't this process of identification central to our judgement of any film? Essentially, we like or dislike a film based on two aspects - of how well can we place ourselves within the narrative of the film, or otherwise, how much the far fetched reality of the film allows us to stretch / extend the imagination of our real lives. In either case, films are unreal, firstly on the grounds that they are mere representations. Furthermore, they are even imagined representations, mediated by the minds of the agency of filmmakers. However, when consumed through the screen, the reality of films (mind the paradox) almost dissolves any distinctions of fictitious or real characters, allowing our gaze to be unified with the cinema space.

Anyway, I framed the above preface because I saw two films in one day with a group of friends last week - The Lunchbox and Queen - the reactions of which were quite different for me versus the others. It is obvious that both these two films are way different than each other. And the reason I write about them together is simply because I saw them one after the other on the same day with the same company of friends. The temporal sequence of watching the films automatically make them comparable. My critical analysis of the films would perhaps align with the typical academic criticism / acclaim of most such films including The Lunchbox and Queen. A 'typical' academic would favour the subtle novelty of The Lunchbox (analyzed within the given dominating context of Bollywood masala films) while subject Queen to criticisms of stereotyping, use of filmic elements like songs (even when un-required within the narrative), etc and so on.

However, this is not how the general audiences view films, and while I went on to rant about the same old issues as above, I was being criticized by my friends of forced criticism for the films. (I am often accused of theorizing all things on the planet). Therefore, this time I wanted to understand the mechanisms through which these films strike with the audiences (probably like the ones I watched them with), and how they operate towards, through and along with their identities. What associations do they allow the audiences, and how do they trigger and bring out certain aspects of their own selves?

The Lunchbox, as many may know, is the story that develops in the midst of the repeated mis-delivery of a lunchbox through the well known agency of dabbawalas in the city of Mumbai. Two individuals within a city - a reasonably young house-wife and an aging soon-to-retire government official get conversing about their personal lives through notes exchanged within the compartments of the lunch box. The letters inside the closed boxes almost talk out the inner voices echoing within their minds. The anonymity of each others' identities allows them to reveal dialogues that can not always be verbally expressed. Between conversations about insecurities, eroticism, betrayal and loss emerges a meta-narrative of loneliness and love. While Ila's confusion about the recent alleged discovery of her husband's extra marital affair is apparent in her lack of confidence to confront this with her husband, she is able to come out with this news quite directly to the stranger who is accidentally consuming her food she would lovingly prepare for her husband. On the other hand, the aging old man is able to share with her, sometimes quite tangentially, his intriguing experiences within the city through which he reflects upon his own self.  For both directions, the anonymity of each other becomes an interesting mirror-of-sorts, allowing to reflect upon their inner thoughts and feelings. While ambiguous and troubled with the suspicion of her husband's own extra-marital affair, probably a physical one, Ila herself falls for this anonymous food-eater who is able to lend an unbiased ear to her dilemmas.

Once in a while, the pragmatics of life become more real when Ila talks to her neighour, invisible to the audiences watching the movie. The voice of the old, experienced aunty makes things objective, clear and rational. Although, this rationality is soon convoluted into the subjectivity of Ila's dilemmas. She continues to communicate abstract thoughts, informed by her real life situations not only through her letters, but also through the food she is lending to this un-named, unfamiliar friend (if we may say so) everyday. One wonders if the tastes of these feelings are negotiated through the description of the ingredients passed along the lunch box. Sometimes bitter, sometimes spicy, sometime salty, sometimes even empty boxes - the lunchbox quite literally holds metaphors for emotional graphs of the lives of these two individuals.

I connected to the film through a different channel though. Last year around the same time, I attended in New York, the release of a book by artist Sophie Blackall called 'Missed Connections'. The book illustrates online story-listings of "lovelorn strangers hoping to reconnect." To me, The Lunchbox was a subtle reversal of the above concept, where the box quite physically becomes the medium of establishing a connection, that was eventually missed. The conversational and public transactions of the city, the collisions within their movements and the numerous bodies which we pass through, check out and sometimes desire - all these ideas subversively connect the story of the book and the film. The film invites audiences to place themselves within its narrative to make a decision. It never shows that the characters meet, therefore leaving the ending open.

Queen, on the other hand, begins in a wedding that has been turned over by Rani's (played by Kangana Ranawat's) fiance. While severely disappointed, Rani chooses to go ahead with her ambitiously pre-planned honeymoon trip to Paris and Amsterdam, all alone to get over her gloomy mood perhaps in the spirit of a cold revenge with her own self (in the dejection of the trust she put into a man who wasn't eventually serious about her). Shown to be a middle-class small neighbourhood girl living in Rajouri from West Delhi, Rani has a family one would typically associate with Delhi. She has enthusiastic parents, grand parents, who quite easily take the blow, and allow Rani to indulge into her post-wedding dream.

Rani's exploration in the foreign land makes the crux of the film. She meets people of different kinds and cultures. Hesitatingly enjoying herself, Rani's character evolves as a simple, open-minded and non judgemental young girl. It is here that I found the character hard to understand. I found the character of Rani quite anomalous, or atleast to me, it seemed contrived. I was unable to comprehend the innocent responses of Rani to several situations. Her innocence is overplayed. It is hard to understand how an adult growing up in a globalizing city of Delhi would behave in sharply conventional (for the lack of a better word) ways in foreign situations.

I was not convinced of the fact that she would book a hostel for  living in without researching on the culture of sharing in the hostel. Or for example, her visit to the sex shop without even figuring that she was in one, and still innocently engaging with the toys within the shop as just other domestic accessories was too farfetched. This instance seems specially contradicting in the light of the fact that she was able to sense about the random hook ups of her earlier roommate in Paris, to whom she is also able to offer advise on sex while parting off from her.

On the other hand, I found her struggle with language in the new place (even when the people across the counters spoke English) extremely contrived. While I suspected that she knew how to speak English very well, my friends argued that one could not assume that she was well versed with the language. The communication gaps between French-English-Hindi are bridged by introducing mixed characters who speak different language. To me,  neither did their characters seem convincing. Difficulty in speaking the language almost always becomes the key tool to emphasize the presence of the 'foreign'. But most directors don't handle it well. I remember a scene from Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge where Kajol is stranded on the road without her passport, caught by policemen. The whole situation is so contrived and Kajol's unnecessarily tweaks her language to talk to the police authorities - a scene which looks almost unnatural. I think such situations are forced by the medium of the film where there is no other way of addressing such inter-cultural frictions. One such films that handles it really well is the recent Sridevi-starrer English Vinglish, where more than the language, first time New York visitor Sridevi is baffled by the codes of conduct in language, compounded by her unfamiliarity with English itself. I am reminded of the scene in the coffee shop, where while her attempt to communicate to the person on the counter in English is genuine, she is still puzzled with the tangential mannerisms of greeting, speaking and behaving.

I am wondering about how conscious of our language barriers when in foreign countries, and how much do we prepare ourselves to overcome such situations when going to these places, especially when alone? Rani, for this matter was certainly not prepared, and it is hard to invest in this fact. I wonder if she even knew that people spoke French in Paris! Neither did her parents seem to be bothered how she would move around in the place...Perhaps a lot of such details bother me, and it is these details from where my criticism probably stems. The language conflict in the film certainly doesnot define Rani's foreign experience. Infact, she is far past it. She enjoys clubs, bars and the nightlife of Amsterdam and is able to indulge in different experiences.

I could write a separate post about friction in inter-cultural experiences. But to cut the above story short, I was not able to relate to many of Rani's experiences in the new land. And perhaps the non-resolution of the details of the film was what made me dislike to a certain extent.

I must clarify that I am not demanding details, rather asking for internal logics for the film's narrative through which one doesnot question them. To put it in other words, the technique of film making must implicitly account for details to be evident, which Queen fails to do, while The Lunchbox successfully works out. Probably it is here that differences in our views of films emerge. Everyday entertainment-consuming audiences do not question details, rather accept the constructed narrative reality of the films as a given. Films are measured on their entertainment quotient after all, something that takes away from their reality, into a land acceptably different from that which constructs their own. However, what they do not realize, probably is how such fictional reality is subversively assimilated into their own lives, that appears and operates quietly.

Such everyday audiences do not necessarily want to engage in critical discussions of films (or probably anything!) Gauging from the bursts of laughter between the scenes of Queen, I was able to gauge what kind of humour people enjoy, or are rather made to enjoy. One such instance was certainly the sex shop scene in the film. It is incredible how subversively sex creates humour, desire, lust and even aspirations of beauty through films - something that is shunned from everyday conversation in Indian homes. Nevertheless, hushes and whispers in such scenes are almost overrated. The other bursts of laughter were on jokes on stereotypes, and stereotypical jokes. These included particular mannerisms, tested dialects and rhetorics. Academics generally criticize stereotypes for categorization of characters in a fixed mould. Stereotypes are generally looked upon as a singularized characterization of people, and intellectuals generally look for multi-dimensionality of a character within a filmic representation. In other words, stereotypes are seen as ill-developed caricatures of more holistic beings. More often than not, they are looked upon in pejorative light, for their personal agency is limited by the extents of their culture.

A lot of times, audiences probably donot relate to stereotypes like the "stereotypical" academic view. Before I go on to put my point, I must caution that a lot depends also on the representation of the stereotype in the film. While some stereotypes may be projected in a way that they are shunned (take for example homosexuals in Bollywood films), others may be presented in a way that they come to define the very audiences. Often the strong representation of a stereotype allows people to own, and further assert their stereotypical identities. Stereotyping in some way, also brings to certain individuals a peculiar kind of confidence. Such representation in fact, legitimizes their everyday behaviour and mannerism by bringing it into discourse and putting it out there.

This is certainly what transpired between the difference of mine versus my friends' opinions about the evaluation of Queen. However, quite ironically, while The Lunchbox which intended to bring people to question or even identify their own selves by leaving an open ending, none of my friends seemed to take that extra step. An open ending stopped their thoughts. On the other hand, Queen, a film with clear ending and nothing to contemplate generated a discussion filled with laughter and reiterations of cheesy dialogues. Perhaps I am wrong in my first claim then, for probably, while my friends in their light-hearted viewing were able to enjoy both the films, I had myself subconsciously slipped into the representational space of these films. In spite of the above discussion, I am unable to understand what really creates differences in my watching of the films versus the others?

And then, what does it mean to be academic about our view of the world, and should it make us more happy or more sad?