Skip to main content

Bande à part


[This is a ridiculous story. It is based on a scene in Godard's movie 'Bande a part']

A minute. The three of them were sharing that one minute together. A romantic girl in black sweater and two boys wearing old hats. The young souls were wearing their bodies loosely. It was as if they had not yet decided on the uniform they want to wear for their lives. Perhaps, they wished not to be bound by one uniform at all. Right now the boys were wearing the bodies of hollywood film stars and the girl was wearing a radiant body whose sole purpose is to extinguish in love.
They were seating snugly in a cafe booth. The young sits close exuberantly, the old indifferently. The youth in its modern temper was sipping at Colas. It was a moment of awkward silence that triggered it. The minute of silence. There was nothing to do and hence they must sit in silence.
Words stopped. Lips were persed. Everybody was keen on knowing who breaks first.
The silent minute was to last forever. She had said that the silence will bring with it lifetime's worth of waves of feelings hitting at the banks of our conscience.

( A moment's divergence please - For a moment there, it seemed a ghost was speaking through her. The words coming out of her sounded wise, but her face remained cheerful in purposelessness - an expression considered to signify naivete.)

Yet no one was looking inside. everyone was looking at each other.. eyes into eyes.. overlapping globes.. If eyes could kiss.. watery painful kisses. Gazes were as if playing the game of fencing. With a sharp squeeze at times she would jab at the boy with the tilted hat. At other moment, she would cower under the weight of two admiring gazes, imagining her naked.

And then it struck her.. who knows the time? where has the time gone? Has the minute gone past? Or has it just begun? If all three intersecting gazes were locked in a jealous embrace, who was minding time?
She notices that one of the boys was looking rather shabby with a trace of facial hair showing. She wondered if the hair was there before the minute started. Sure, no hair can grow that fast, can it? The boy was balding a bit.. maybe he's put some hair growth potion accidentally on his chin rather than his scalp. That stupid hat.. who was he fooling? hat = baldness. Everybody knows that.
At an indeterminate moment, one of the boys tried to come close to her. In his stylish aggression, he put his elbow by the edge of the table. That caused him to fall right off and into her bosom. He had always dreamed of it, but not in the last one minute. She would have rather had the other boy against her bosom. But she was happy nevertheless. They burst out laughing. The minute was over in 36 seconds. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Why I repair my shoe

I have 3 shoes. One formal, One sport shoe and another a mix of the two. The last one is particularly awesome, cause of its uniqueness. It looks like a formal shoe, but is as comfortable and flexible as a sport shoe. I bought it for my first job in Mumbai. I was newly rich and was expected to behave like one. I found this gem of pure black leather in a Colaba Causeway showroom. Quite a find. But its been almost two years now and the shoe shows its age. For all its awesomeness, its quite a weak shoe, to give out so early. I have stitched it, got new laces, and strengthened its sole. It doesn't look shiny anymore cause the leather has suffered from a few hostile trespasses. I think, like a man, things too should be allowed to carry their scars. Shiny scar-less men are just so... irrelevant. 

Since childhood, I have been used to using things for long times. Clothes, equipments, shoes etc. I can't just throw things away cause they don't look as good anymore or they don't w…

Reading India through 'Dictator's handbook'

What's the difference between a democracy and a dictatorship?
The book says, not much. India, agrees. Current political dispensation especially agrees vigorously.

"Soma" of hindutva and past glory + divided impoverished amnesiac masses + legitimised attack on individual rights + tremendous wealth shared among few = brave new world of oligarchical India.


Essentially, democracies/ dictatorships etc., are simply variants of the same power dynamic between the ruler, essentials, influentials and inter-changeables.

Interchangeables are the nominal selectorate - the individual voters who have nominal (or cosmetic) power to choose leader - most of us.
Influentials  are the real selectorate - the guys who really choose the leader. In US recently, the electoral college famously went against the popular vote and elected a clown as their president instead. In India, theoretically, the system is a bit better in terms of a wider base of influentials - it could be religious gurus, party…

How many shots of the girl dancing or laughing aimlessly does it take to establish her as a Manic pixie dream girl?

Learning from bad writing: Meri Pyaru bindu These days I am writing my first story that I intend to complete and publish. So as you can imagine, I am in the writer mode most of the time - anxiously looking for writer's intent, choices, character arcs, alternate story lines etc, while watching any movie or reading any novel. With a well written story, these choices are not that apparent. You have to look hard and yet you might miss out on essential choices that the writer made, to make the film/ novel a great piece of art. It feels as if the story flowed out from the author's mind onto paper with zero loss in translation. For that reason, it is difficult to learn much from good writing. It inspires, yes of course. It helps you get in the mood or get into the right frame of mind. But it can't teach as well as a badly written movie/ novel can.
A badly written story makes you aware of your own fallibility. It grounds you. Most importantly, it helps you see the many ways in wh…