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In my office, the moment I get real close to somebody that person would either get a transfer or quit. I have seen this happen so many times – with Yashwanth, Ravi, Jimmy, Senior, Chaina, Gambhir, Anshul, Shruthi, Sharat, Kajal, Sajeev, Johny, Kumz, Jose, Venky…Last month the curse crossed the road…Srini, a friend who works in an office near mine quit. This post is dedicated to him (and of course, to all the friends listed above).
It was Srini who introduced me to the world of ‘inspired posters’. And posters kept me going, perhaps more than anything else, through 2009. It also took up more time than anything else in 2009 – I became am IMPA addict, downloaded 15 years worth of posters, spent hours peering at thumbnails trying to identify ‘stuff that looks like other stuff’ (that explains the glasses), man, did I have a good time…
One of Srini’s early posts was about art-inspired posters. That sent me scurrying to my art books collection. I did find a few (perhaps farfetched) similarities…
Archimboldo
David Brinkley
William Hogarth
I also stumbled upon a painting by Degas, Spartan Girls Provoking Boys. Bingo! Doesnt that look like Goya’s famous massacre painting.
Edgar Degas. Spartan Girls Provoking Boys. c.1860-62
Francisco Goya. The Third of May. 1814. (flipped for comparison)
Googling for Goya brought me to the blind flaneur who had posted on Goya. I left a comment about the apparent similarities in composition, and the flaneur (love him) wrote on his site – “Babu has a discerning eye, and his website documents many resonances in contemporary visual rhetoric”. Wow, that sounds much better than ‘stuff looks like other stuff’.
So here goes…
Jai Shree Ram!
Adios Amigo!!
Stock Clearance Post! Have two more balposh posts in the pipeline…gonna give this a break after that. Promise!
Last Friday I was in B’lore, whataday – breakfast at Windsor Manor…
an afternoon to remember…
Dinner at Hard Rock Cafe…
Midnight, landed in Chennai, no taxis, walked a kilometer for a rik. How Pushpak!
Many years ago, on Alleppey Express,
Unable to sleep, I stood at the door,
Looking at the stars, humming INXS,
And spied on the top berth, a lovely F24.
Last week I saw Dasvidaniya, the ten-things-to-do-before-I-die movie. At the end of the movie the cast talks about their bucket lists, and amongst the usual see-a-new-place, be-a-better-dad stuff Suchithra Pillai stood out, and I quote, “get together with all of my friends…whom I’ve been in touch with ever since I was a child…one big get-together before I go”. I couldn’t sleep, what an idea, a big bang before I conk, that would be something…I started calling, texting, mailing, scrapping, poking ‘all the girls I knew when I was single’
Do you remember an inn, (deleted),
Beside the sluggish Ouse,
The wide grey sky, and the pigeon-pie,
Two very old canoes
In a corrugated shed
Behind bamboos?
Do you remember the kisses,
The novels left unread,
The moorhens’ cry and the clouds piled high,
The home-made ginger bread?
And the abundant blisses
Of that brass bed?
Most of the replies were on the lines of…
Not the inn, nor the place,
Nor the dance, nor your face,
Nor the fleas. Will you please
Understand that I’m ageing, bourgeois, and am waging
A war to keep up
(On income diminished, I’m socially finished and lonely as hell);
That girl who went prancing and glancing and dancing
Through your fields of wild oats
Was not I.
I’m lined and refined and my husband is kind
But quite cold
A wife who has bedded on straw in the raw he’d abhor.
’Tis a lie, ’twasn’t I;
Ask no more.
The stuff in blue above is not mine (of course!). The verses are from one of my fav books, Peacocks & Commas, Spectator competition’s greatest hits collection, choke full of wit and verbal dexterity. Example: Hamlet summarised in three limericks, Kafka rewritten Wodehouse-style, poems in praise of the lavatory.
Peacocks & Commas was edited by Joanna Lumley. She was big in Britian in the ‘50s – model, actress, TV star, Bond babe. (Recently she was in the news again, celebrating some Gorkha immigration case verdict).
Thanks Joanna.
Credits: Do you remember an inn – Ginger Jeleneck, Not the inn, nor the place – Mrs. MG Lloyd.
Most movies about writers, journalists, etc. would have at its core a scene in which we see the actor at a keyboard – cue zoom out, pan, montage, music builds up, zoom in, crescendo, close-up – fingers typing THE END, krr, krr, krr, the novel, screenplay, report is ready. Only, nobody tells us what happened between the hyphens.
I for one start with an outline, cut, paste, hew, hack, struggle with it for a couple of days till it takes over my brain, initiates an infinite rewrite loop…till suddenly, like some North Korean stadium display thing, everything fits together and…works.
But today morning was different. While driving to work, playing Dodge ‘Em Cars on Royapettah High, I almost subconsciously started composing a post on, er, driving to work, playing Dodge ‘Em Cars on Royapettah High. The words came ea-si-ly, a little too easily, there was something about the flow, the cadence, that was familiar…as if I was channelling something from the depths of my memory.
Took me an hour to fish out the original…it is from the movie The Perfect Storm, the Clooney – Mastrantonio scene.
The fog’s just lifting.
You throw off your bowline, throw off your stern.
You head out the South Channel…
…past Rocky Neck, Ten Pound Island…
…past Niles Pond, where I skated as a kid.
Blow your horn…
…and wave to the lighthouse keeper’s kid on Thatcher Island.
Then the birds show up.
Black-backs, herring gulls, big dump ducks.
The sun hits you.
Head north, open up to 12.
You’re steaming now.
The guys are busy, you’re in charge.
You know what?
You’re a goddamn swordboat captain.
Is there anything better in the world?
Now, back to my stuff. To use a phrase made famous by mimicry guys, ഇനി ക്ലൂണി ചെന്നൈയില് കാര് ഓടിക്കുകയാണെന്നു വിചാരിക്കുക
The sun is blazing.
You start the car, release the hand-brake,
You head for Royapettah High…
…past Vivekananda College, the roundana…
…past Vijaya Medicals, and almost drive over a kid.
Blow your horn…
…and shake your fist at the shop keeper’s kid.
Then the natives show up.
Black faced…TVS50s, big dump trucks…
An auto hits you.
Head north, open the window…
You’re screaming now.
The cops are busy, nobody is in charge.
You know what? You’re driving in goddamn Chennai.
Is there anything worse in the world?
Thanks Rohit.
PS: The DMK colour posters are not there on the movie website, perhaps a WIP. RIP!
That is Malayalam for cut & paste (Malayalam is, incidentally, a palindrome. See, you learned something new today). OK, coming back to Vettattam, the first time i saw the poster on the wall opposite Melody, I braked so hard the auto behind me almost went up my tail pipe. I knew i had seen it somewhere. Did a lot of IMP surfing, no luck, then today i stumbled upon TC Chandler’s fun site and guess what i saw…
Did you spot the similarities – the legs, the jugs, the grass, hey I can use a cig now…
Sorry sorry sorry. Couldn’t resist…
Babu Kuriakose 
