Monday, October 20, 2014

KATTAMASAI A Piece of Performance Poetry, 2002



NOTE:

KATTAMASAI is an autobiographical fiction written in a surrealist manner by Benodebehari Mukherjee. In Bengali Kattamasai means master of house hold. Here Benodebehari uses the term to personify his inner self.

“Benodeda lost his eyesight in 1956…but he took it with his usual stoicism. There was not a trace of self pity in his attitude. He took it as easily as it was a passage from one room to another.”
“He saw in a new light the relationships of sensations and their interpretations and the special role of fantasy in their inter-space. He recognized that the dark world of a blind man has its configurations, depths and formalities different from those of the bright world of others.”
“KATTAMASAI is a fictionalized chronicle of this passage written as a chain of anecdotes of various grades of depth and complexity. The introductory anecdote is neat surrealistic and radiates various wavelengths of meaning.” (K G Subramanyan, ‘From translator’s note’)
  
During the Making of KATTAMASHAI by Mahan J Dutta

I write without seeing. I came. I wanted to kiss your hand... This is the first time I have ever written in the dark... not knowing whether I am indeed forming letters. Wherever there will be nothing, read that I love you.
Diderot, "Letter to Sophie Volland", June 10, 1759




*

Now I am there where I can’t hear anybody
Nobody hears me either
A scream of mine does not reach my ears

Kattamashai rests on the ruins of the words
Floating away into the formless colorless limitless void…[1]

Today
I am a representative of darkness in the world of light[2].

If I were able to know myself
The bottomless ocean of knowledge would have been in my grip[3]

If I could weep with fear in a lonely house,
 If I could pluck out my eyes and eat them,
 I'd do it for your ...[4]

When I give up I gain a lot.

It becomes easier to live a life
When you’re a destitute, when you have nothing to lose
It is easy to be happy, easy to go mad.



“Why is it so dark? Why don’t you put the lights on?”
From all the four sides numerous voices say,
“All lights are on, Kattamasai.”[5]

Darkness is more real than light
It exists in itself, without the need of a source.

However, reality is that where you do exist

I am hearing a horn from a train passing away.
The last train of the world.
All the people are going to another world[6]

Far from me, for forever.

Nobody is left. No man. No woman.

Now I am at a place devoid of fire.
Tom Hanks struggles for a sparkle[7].

Refugee? Who is not? We all are in exile, we're shelter-less.[8]
Heraclitus,
I dip into the same river of solitude again and again



A man is an island. An isolated island.
It communicates to others by the boat of sympathy.
If the boat fails to leave its own island under any circumstance
Or if it is destroyed in the mid ocean
The communication collapses[9]

Yet, man prefers to be an island.
Yet, the unavoidable void is full of gains.

Goodbye then, Rudranarayan
Between the two of us there is an impassable chasm,
It cannot be crossed. Do you hear me?[10]

The gold I lost in daylight is found in the dark night.

Don’t look at, don’t touch,
Keep awakened your soul towards…[11]

No, I am not Hamlet, the prince of Denmark.
Neither I am J Alfred Profrock.[12]

I dreamt a nonsense dream.
I believed a nonsense belief.

Today, like Caligula, I can make a wish for the moon.[13]

I’ll by a horse. I’ll call it Rozenante.[14]
And go out for a universal conquest.
Now, I can feel
A music is nothing but a geometrical progress,
I can visualize a sound; I can hear a color somehow



Time too has its own limit. Once,
The journey of light comes to an end as well.[15]

Now, I can see an ever seen but unseen dream.



Samudra in s still from Diploma Film Kattamashai, by Mahan J Dutta


[1]Last lines from Benode Behari’s Kattamashai
[2] Benodebehari Wrote out his memoir with the experience with blindness over twenty years: Today I am a representative of Darkness to the world of light.”
[3] A song from Lalon Fakir
[4] From Pablo Neruda’s poem, “Ode to Federico Garcia Lorca”

[5] From Kattamashai
[6] This is in reference with Meursault, the protagonist in Albert Camus’ “The Outsider” (L’etranger) when he was getting prepared for his final sentence. ‘The Outsider portrays precisely one of those terrible innocents who shock society by not accepting the rules of its game’. Camus himself says about ‘outsider’ in his “Myth of Sisyphus”, “In a universe suddenly deprived of light and illusions man feels himself an outsider. The exile is irrevocable since he has no memories of a lost homeland or no hope of a promised land”.
[7] Casteway
[8] From “Subarnarekha” by Rwitwik Ghatak. In his own voice about the film: “The film not only speaks about the people exiled from the east Bengal… all of us in either ways have turned up to be refugees. This is a much severe problem than a geographical situational problem. In this film, we hear an echo in the character Haraprasad.
[9] From Subala, by Homen Borgohain
[10] Rudranarayan was another name of Vinod Behari. He uses this name in Kattamashai to portray the author’s alter-ego.
[11] A couplet from Rabindra Sangeet
[12] With reference to T S Eliot’s “Love Song to J Alfred Profrock”
[13] Caligula
[14] The horse used by Don Quixote.
[15] “To Albert Einstein”, a poem by Navakanta Baruah

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Selfie

I point the camera at me
 But I cannot see the display screen.
There is a mirror in my room,
But I do not want to use the mirror
As it doubles the distance (that's also a false distance).
I can go for some blind shootings - may be experimental, per se,
(as it always seems to be when one shoots the self).
Then the next problem was there:
When clicked from lesser distance,
My face appears like a reflection on a convex lens.
The face looks elliptical - what I do not like.
A certain distance is ever sought for a good click,
-from the object, from the subject.
The length of my stretched arm is a distance
That might fit for the distance I'm looking for.
But again, I cannot click stretching my arms to their extreme extends.
I need to bend a bit to hold the camera and to press the button.
And that bent decreases the distance from the camera to me
Which annoys me.

Shooting the self was, thus, perhaps, never easy, ever.
Photo used by plagiarism


Tuesday, August 5, 2014

Kankhowa and J. Alfred Prufrock

(at Indira Gandhi National Center for Arts)

I was sitting under a Vata tree
With a cup of tea, it was free.
I was not feeling like going inside
To see the exhibition, I lost appetite.

The ladies come and go, with chips, kurkure or Lays
Talking about someone, she was student of Ramkinkar Baij

Seeds were falling from the tree
One by one
Drop by drop

An ‘untitled’ winged bug
Falling on the ground
Was suffering
Being upside down

Its tiny wings were flapping and making some noise

LET us sit a while then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;

One can disturb the world
Doing nothing
Just sitting beneath the Vata tree
And listening to the unison of the falling seeds

Do I dare?
Do I dare?

To prove myself not but a Corpse, 

Prufrock, do I dare to count the drops? 


 [Perhaps in March 2012, I was sitting in front of the twin Art Gallery, IGNCA, and write something. A huge tree was there who became a character in it. Yesterday I saw the tree was not there. Renovations were taking place. So remembered it again and felt sharing the writing.] August 5, 2014

Friday, July 18, 2014

The Role of Newspaper in Society


Whoever invented it, doesn't matter, but
The Newspaper contributed a lot of developments
To human civilization.
We cannot even think of our everyday lives without a newspaper.

People have intense faith on newspapers.
Wrapping food with newspapers people travel, as if
Newspapers do not carry germs.
When you cannot put fire properly, put a newspaper,
It burns at once - highly inflammable.

Want to hide your face from someone?
Just hold newspaper in front of your face, that's all.
It is being used in sculpting.
It is being used in building constructions.
Putting a news paper on a wet cement floor
You can walk ahead very easily.
You can clean up a dirty mirror with a drenched newspaper.

You can feel yourself socially responsible one
With a newspaper kept on your drawing room.
While packing furniture, there is no other material
as user-friendly as a newspaper.
One can create some sound effects with torn newspapers.
Folding a newspaper and holding it at a corner
One can kill the flies easily.
Folding them, cutting them, gumming them
Just make out some beautiful decorative.
At a railway platform if it is dirty
Put a newspaper on the floor and sit calmly on it.
When your baby is making it all dirty put hold a newspaper only.

A newspaper is eco-friendly,
The use of newspaper is beyond the limits of
Caste, class and gender discriminations.
Newspaper is a symbol for unity in diversity in India.

(Well, some short-comings are obviously there
When left unorganized, it makes your house messy.
Newspapers catch dust easily.)

But to consider the fact we would have remained
uncivilized, backward and helpless

Without the newspapers. 

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Yuan's Moon

"Look at that- a pink moon"
No, it's an orange one

Yuan pointed to the moon.
The autumn dust and mist
turned the moon look alike an orange.

One year old Yuan in his one year age
can speak three languages-
Korean, Japanese and Bengali.

If the moon is pink or orange colored
that is not a matter of concern, but
within his one year of knowing the world

he can see three of the moons. 

One Day at Pitalkhora

One day at Pitalkhora I was listening to the
constant breeze.
You had a lot of things to talk about...

I was putting my ears to hear a noise
                                that was frozen for two thousand years.

Through the constant breeze
I heard many things

I couldn't hear what you were talking about... 


Matchstick Monologue

Image: from a hokkolorob action, against police atrocity in Jadavpur University
I was a matchstick,
I remained useful for many-
In many ways.

Many people removed the wax from their ear with me
here and there.
Many people used me to clean their teeth
after the meal.

Young ladies made many decorative
before they get set for marriage.
And when there was an electricity wiring problem
I fixed the loose wires to the
switchboard.

I showed many games! Many magic!
many mathematical equations I have solved
and explained geometry very well.

I was a matchstick,
and I remained useful for many.
But the things for what I was born:
I didn't do.
Even after serving so many purposes
I didn't do things that I were meant to do.

I couldn't put fire in your hearts
for what I came on earth.

Yeah! I was a matchstick otherwise. 

I heard, some war is happening somewhere in the world

I heard, some war is happening somewhere in the world
Many lives might have lost there.  There might be loses of
many properties, many memories in the sudden attacks...

People could not make a war-free world
with antiwar songs and poetry so far.

Or the matter might be different,
some people could not make time
for music and poetry


till date...


Friday, January 17, 2014

Property Dealing

Let me make the deal on your favor.

I gave you all the corners of half opened doors
where I used to cry in my childhood.
All the empty walls of my sobbing murky evenings are yours.
All the agonies that even the termites could not destroy are yours.

I made almost everything on your name.
Jungle, parvat, basti, sahera,
Ashiq, ruswaan, shaayar, Insha all is yours.

After giving everything I had so far away I am not a destitute yet.
After emptying my both hands I just kept you for mine.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Disposable Sun: A talk with the Sun


I was talking to the sun
About doing something new.
The sun was making face like an ignorant
 I was little irritated at his pretentious behavior
Still I was explaining things.

I was saying about the history he had gone through
About the boring repetitions and the annoying stuff of life and universe
I was explaining how boring it was
To set in the evening and rising in the morning
Without a fail

I was explaining how imperfect it was
To be so perfect

‘Sorry’, the Sun said to me,
I understood very little of your words.
I know very little things; in fact, I don’t have any idea about any other day.

I just woke up this morning
This is the only day I have a life
To live, to die…


To repeat, to remember…