23 April 2006


Would he be a fictionist if he doesn’t extrapolate the facts?…a fictionist is called so because he has the license to extrapolate the known. By ruminating he may provide drastic or harmonious conclusions, compared to the preconceived ideas of the living, or else create a genre of thought (state of da art).
The ease, with which a writer transcends the readers to his philosophized or pictured scenario, is the sole judge of any written matter.
However for a work of fiction, the author has to be meticulous about when he incorporates the unproved…uses his liberties…twists the tale!
The work is complemented if there are minimal facts against the proposed theory.

Simply, a work of fiction is a success if it has convinced the readers to take another stance and become, even for an instance, observers of their own loyalties, notions or limitations.
Although they all seem different they are intricately related. Limitations in thought or otherwise force us to believe in something we cant comprehend which may or may not be rational rather ‘a vague idea is developed in which some confidence is placed’- notion. These notions usually remain unchallenged and when they are, it is usually easier acceptance of an ‘alternate’ which is where loyalties surface-the act of binding yourself (intellectually or emotionally) to a course of action.

Dan Brown’s work “The Da Vinci Code” is a classic, a man’s own conclusions are his only limitations and to challenge one’s own definitions is a Herculean task.
The author has done this not only for himself but for all his readers.
Mr. Brown has exhibited his skill and command, in many facets, as a fiction novelist,
through this work, of his.

Firstly, the subject chosen has caused a lot of unrest and controversy.
That he chose to research this field and create doubts, so much so, that there are holiday packages being organized in France and England, to help people site for themselves, the facts and fiction in the novel; makes me believe - that the novel is a success.
He has come under a lot of criticism by the staunch believers, as well.
All these conflicting opinions have only helped the book sales. It must be added that it showcases his professional acumen.

Secondly, his research of the subject is worthy of adulation (from the perspective of a neu-veu reviewer).
Citing any of his reasons as fact-fiction or outright whimsical would lack conviction, as one of the central characters, of this novel aptly puts it “the Bible wasn’t faxed from the heaven”.

Finally, it is a matter of debate if the proposed theory is his. The theory of the Chalice and Mary Magdalene has been discussed often enough in history but never was it put forth with such captivating style wherein trusting the author is a fallacy we would all like to indulge in, inspite of knowing the bottom line….IT IS- a work of fiction.

He has presented a fine cocktail of facts as we know them and a theory. That fiction is used to bridge the gap between facts and form a chain of engrossing events make the book very palpable.

If the novel has created queries amongst the readers and post reading caused them to refer the scriptures, confirming to themselves their faith which they have mostly inherited and not sought, then the purpose of the novel is served. On the basis of which it must be mentioned that dissecting his work is futile.

Today endless discussion rooms have come up on the internet and yield stranger views of the people on this subject. That such rooms exist and are running with increasing attendance only imply that there are no proofs against the various theologies people either agree or disagree with, so the discussion might continue until some other more-seemingly-consequential controversy comes up.
Albeit, faith is a matter of faith, considering the hullabaloo, proving its authenticity may become the new definition of MOKSHA.

The fact that people who haven’t read books for years have picked it up and read the book at one go, goes miles in complimenting Mr. Brown.
Society has been positively influenced by the book for reading is once again back in fashion, and the defendant deserves a major chunk of the credit.

However countries like Philippines have already restricted the screening of the movie
Da Vinci Code, releasing this summer. Dan Brown’s publishing partners ‘Random House’ have been held against charges of using somebody else’s work (referring to ‘Holy Blood Holy Grail’).
But then Dan Brown has never claimed that the theory around which the novel revolves
is his. All novelists use facts from numerous sources including scientific and historical …so as to compliment their work. Mr. Brown has openly admitted referring
to ‘Holy Blood Holy Grail’.
The best-selling writer's reputation had been called into question by claims that he lifted parts of another book for the central idea of his thriller The Da Vinci Code. With a $100m (£57m) movie starring Tom Hanks due to be released next month, Mr. Brown would have been publicly humiliated by a defeat. His 2003 novel has sold more than 40 million copies worldwide. He was defendant Random House’s (his publishing firm) star witness. Defence's lawyer John Baldwin QC, summing up, said the ideas (the central plot of the novel) were "too general" to be protected by copyright.
Claimants Mr. Leigh and Mr. Baigent had to concede that their work “Holy Blood Holy Grail”, a non fiction novel published in 1982, a bestseller in its day, had "repeated" ideas put forward in previous books and the jury was summoned; the verdict -“Random House publishers and Mr. Dan Brown not guilty”.

The pull off:
The whole court room drama and legal procedures have given the upcoming movie unnecessary limelight and attention. Something which works in favour of Dan Brown, the publishers “Random House” and Da Vinci Code –The movie. The claimant’s novel “Holy Blood Holy Grail” was also published by “Random House”, that both the books are being talked about ever more, makes you wonder if t’was just another marketing strategy. The jury had also said in their own way –that the case lacked substance from the start.

the article was written after
exchange of views with Sudir and Pulkit.

16 April 2006

Ambush Turned Sweet

Ambush turned sweet,
And him, a master,
A master of deceit

““To be or not to be stoic I wonder.

Whether to take arms against the sea of troubles and by opposing aggravate them,
the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune are nothing but distractions, as in moving pixels, ‘programmed to tease’.
All this time could be better served in appreciating beauty, exploring and feasting over it;
Again and again and again, time and time again so much so, that the present becomes the future and the past.

But it will sure get creepier inside.
The pent up volcano does not always burst, until the crater is too wide open, most of the times it just smolders, hoping that the movement within would subside, that’s the nature’s way of controlling the most visibly destructive force.
Why do we want to communicate our anger, why do we admit those words that perturb us, we have let the crater too wide open as for a volcano though there is no way back to refocus but with us its temporary.

The point is, however, inconsequential, if there is struggle- then
open the crater so wide open that nothing not even the smallest bubble of lava may be left unheard outside the crater.

The path in the middle is that of drawing boundaries, the one we all follow.
Changing ideologies to circumstance? How do we expect to do that if we are forgetful by inheritance?”

But, such were discussions with him, confusing me, making nonsense of straight cases and sense out of nothing at all. Covering all cases, no matter what the subject, and rationalizing till he himself got lost and forgot where he had started. His ideas however were strangely justified.

He always felt comfortable; no situation could catch him off guard. Ask him about this and he’d reply that he’d never thought of it himself, somehow I felt with him that he was- what he was- because he spoke from his experiences, so much attachment in his verses that you could almost travel those journeys and moments he spoke about, sitting next to him.

After he said that, I contemplated for hours at stretch, until he asked me—
“Where have you been?”
just the way he interrupted me, more often than not,
not asking my physical whereabouts for I had been sitting under the tree with him all this time.
I replied—
“I’ve walked pretty far with you and now I guess its time to leave”

He replied, “what took you so long to understand that”

“Understand what”,i said.

he said,“that I am a liar”.

He couldn’t have faked that I thought, for
he was speaking with alarming authority,
and with such conviction, that it forced me to develop instant hatred.

He had never used that tone with me,.. why me? with anybody, I never knew he could speak that loud and with such ridicule on his face.
I at once considered leaving for I had learnt every thing from him and every thing was perfect, but a lie!
Nothing hurts more than this, you learn, care, here remarks all in the name of being taught,
feel its all a selfless act by the tutor and you the beneficiary in the end, only to subsequently realize your mentor was trippin on you,
while you were constructing your,… everything.

Waste your own time as well as the other one’s, and tell him he was being faked, while you keep the mask and him the faith.

Like a few other times before this during that period, I kept mum, thinking that a blunt request to leave, had hurt him and so he reacted sarcastically.

He said “don’t you get it
all this time I wanted to keep you with me and get over my daily chores, now my home is near….i don’t need u anymore. I was with you, teaching you things I didn’t know myself”
It was the last lie that I heard from him as all his words from the past were re-echoing and I was re-evaluating everything.

I left because I was going down, deeper than ever, his teachings ricocheting, the ridicule on his face, more than repulsive; this was more than the suffering, before I met him.
He gave me courage etal.
Why did I go with him when he said that he didn’t like the idea (over the cup of coffee when we were just fellow travelers).

His ways had always been a riddle. I left him right there, then.

On my way back every step reminded me of the various discourses, which were so crisp and true, I wondered how could I never think which such clarity….
However it was all farce, 'game' and me the one who was fooled….

The tree where we had sat was visible from the distance, on my return journey
And there he was, but very different now, lying deep in his burial….

He did not want me to see him in such pain I presumed for it would have shattered my faith in him….

All this time i kept cursin him and tried hard to figure out why?,

some questions are not answered but dissolved.

15 April 2006


Beethoven and Vincent Van Gogh were two individuals who had it all but the art to speak else they would have made religions.
I had minimum exposure, perhaps.
But the thought just never dwindled or fade it never could change the conclusions drawn.

Van Gogh sacrificed one meal usually to save for the colors.
He wasn’t bothered, his work consumed his heart.
He painted whatever grew in the crevices of his mind without a concern about the meaning or implications or how foolish he might look.
The quality of a work lies in the courage of the workman.
The product is always a consequence an aftereffect an implication of what transpired.
Van Gogh painted what is called modern art.

He painted hilltops, his own room and portraits not as they were plain visible but as he thought they were, it’s said that this art made the artists view prominent.
Gave him the liberty to express.
Prior to this an artist would be a freehand Xerox, the better the quality of the product the better the artist.
During his life time though his talent was never recognized, he bartered those multi million dollars of his for daily bread or more paints. He never new their worth himself. He must have been doubtful about his ways and methods on numerous occasions. Follow ed his dreams painted his mind over matter. Unaware of his great work he painted a masterpiece after another.
Call it a curse that he was ahead of his times, if you still dare.

He painted his subconscious, and when he thought he had painted enow,
He wrote that he had painted all he imagined, and that there remained no more reason to live.

Greatest of works happen without slightest of knowledge, that they are recognized is their fate.

Beethoven is said to have written his most loved symphonies when he had gone deaf.
Without a concern for predefined harmonics and their sequences he wrote pieces of music which if he had heard himself would have rejected after the first few notes.
They are more than just difficult to play, because any artist has to break his habit or notions or sense of play learnt, professed or admired.

But those harmonies, when produced even today, invoke unfelt emotions.
He broke norms of orchestra and followed an unchartered territory.

The point is Beethoven never reacted to his own last works for he was deaf,

That either of them didn’t form religions as we call them is another boon,
For I just refuse to look the other aspect cause it has to be a negative approach.

The point is you and I have already made history sometime in our life worth being remembered all eternity,
That it gets recognized is the act’s fate, just like it is ours to produce it.

The most fascinating aspect is that when we were all privy to the moment when we were worth anecdotes and adulation we were both unaware of its significance and alone.


But there’s a difference
They didn’t do it for someone else,
they did it for themselves,
Their own hearts;
That someone else benefited from it was of no consequence to them. They couldn’t foresee it either.
Built their own notions, developed their own ideas lived by them and died by them.

Believers of their own thoughts that they had helped bloom, but selectively disclosed if at all.
Their eccentricities remain confined to them,
their art for all.

14 April 2006


“I studied law and made a fine lawyer, success came and I realized the ways to deal with tuff and ambiguous situations, life kept its momentum and never let me panic. With all confidence I kept supporting my beliefs with evidences and witnesses. Cajoled them with authority and outsmarted many colleagues with my abilities and would you believe it sometimes stature alone.
I, like any young lawyer wanted success and skipped the ethics if they proved to be a hurdle, but never broke the law.”
The crowd laughed and the mood was perfect.
He went on—
“One feeling that has bugged me since long is that all my judgments have been prejudiced”
I guess, everyone felt the shift in tone a little more after the last word although the entire sentence was spoken with same gravity.
He continued, “biased by myself”,
The silence was deafening on the completion of this sentence.
Something unexpected was coming up, reporters gripped their pens,
Cameras adjusted angles, conversations came to a halt, the wine glasses suddenly lowered, every one knew that a smart one liner would soon follow and change the complexion of everything or perhaps something more grave was about to unfold, either way this was not a moment to be missed.
He said:
“even physically I’ve always observed half the objects available for view”,
smiles followed and they all felt that the one liner could’ve been smarter.
“no matter how much I try to put them out of the picture they are so deep rooted that I’d have to quit thinking if they were absent -- my beliefs, religion, my superstitions and various other notions, I unknowingly have always followed a certain path, self made but never desired.
Give me a saintly verse and I’d give it my interpretation to suit the circumstance, my fellas know about that”, a certain group of old lawyers in the front smiled cynically.

Crowd sensed some confession was going to be delivered; lately many a literati, police officers and people from all walks of life had started to deliver strange farewell speeches or public statements.
They’d be some kind of confession, unburdening, to be at peace in future; media assumed. You could almost smell an ‘awakening’, as the dailies had called them.
“I think my decisions have always been accepted because most of us think along similar paths, always observing half the view.”
He paused, gulped air and expectancy grew sharp.
It was clear the pause was nothing but skipping the most critical portion. Being in this profession and after attaining such success he could’ve said it all without having spoken a word, but he kept mum.
“In the end I’d like to say that I am guilty of having made decisions the true right of which I never had, not that anyone else has and that is the only consolation”
“very broadly speaking there are a hundred even more interpretations of one fact stated,
equally for and against the defendant, I for myself had always chosen one and delivered a decision— beg your pardon”.
He couldn’t have been more candid without a trial against him, they all cheered his final smart act, he took ‘awakening’ to a different level.
He looted from everyone his final achievement, tons of solace.

13 April 2006

It’s never the cue it’s the hand over it

It’s never the life it’s the trajectory followed

It’s not what they think

It’s the conviction that kills

For what if..., you end in heaven with the Satan?

The sole and the only truth is there are no rules and laws

No consistency,

Except for notions hidden within;

For its you who decides whether it’s a sunlit day or the scorching heat of the candle.

Get off it; it’s not even there,

the horse, beneath the saddle.