Monday, 9 June 2008

IF SHRI SHAKESPEARE COULD READ THIS!

As Bill (of the Shakespeare fame) in his days would have said:

To be, or not to be, that is the Question:

Whether ‘tis Nobler in the minde to suffer

The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune

Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe

No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end

The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes

That Flesh is heyre too? ‘Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish’d. To dye to sleepe,

To sleepe, perchance to Dream; I, there’s the rvb,

For tn that sleepe of death, what dreames may come,

When we have shuffel’d off this mortal coile,

Must give vs pawse. There’s the respect

That makes Calamity of so long life:

For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,

The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely,

The pangs of dispriz’d Loue, the Lawes delay,

The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himselfe might his Quietus make

With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne

No Traveller returnes, Puzels the will,

And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue,

Then flye to others that we know not of.

Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all,

And thus the Native hew of Resolution

Is sicklied o’re, with the pale cast of Thought,

And enterprizes of great pith and moment,

With this regard their Currants turne away

And loose the name of Action.

Then, in modern times, the olde Enlishe became:

To be, or not to be: that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing them? To die; to sleep;

No More: and, by a sleep to say an end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub:

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuddled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause. There's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life;

For who could bear the whips and scorns of time,

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely

The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy lakes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

That undiscover'd country from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have,

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all;

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,

And lose the name of action.

Of course, in today’s times, when ‘who has the time?’ this famous soliloquy would become in the sms 4mt sumthng like ths::

2 B nt 2 B: tht is the ?;

Whthr ts nblr in the mnd 2 sffr

The slngs & ROs of outrajus 4tun,

2 tk Rms agnst a C of trbls,

& by oppsng Nd thM? 2 di: 2 zzz:

No mre; & by a zzz 2 sy V Nd

The ake, & the 1000 ntrl shox

Th@ flsh is air 2? ts a cnsmmasun

Dwowtly 2 B wshd. 2 di: 2 zzz,

2 zzz: prchnce 2 drm: ay, thrs the rb,

4 in tht zzz of N, wot drms may cum,

Wen V hav shffld of this mrt ,

Nst giv us paws. Thrs th rspkt

Tht mks Clmty of so lng lfe:

4 hu wud the whps & scrns of ,

Th opprssrs rong; th prd mn’s cntmly,

Th pngs of dsprzd’d luv, the ‘s Dly,

Th inslns of ofis, & th spms

Tht ptnt mrt of th unmrthy tax,

Wen he hmslf mite hs qYtus mk

Wth a bodkin? Hu wud thse fRdl

2 grnt & swet unda a weRy lfe,

Br tht th dred of smthng aftr N,

Th undscvrd cntry frm hus born

No trvllr rtrns, pzzls th wll,

& mks is rthr thos illz V hv,

Thn fly 2 othrs tht V no not of

cnsns dth mk cwrds of us all,

& th ntv hu of rslusun,

Is sckld , wth th cst of thot,

& Ntr of grt pth & mmnt

Wth ths rgrd thr AC/DC trn a-ry,

& lse th nm of axun.


Heh! Heh! Not bad, eh?

Sunday, 30 March 2008

A Shoody, Shabby, Shady Affair!

Some months back, the highly esteemed Sahitya Akademi, based in New Delhi, announced a Literary Translation in the Indian Literature Golden Jubilee Competition. [I failed to see the incorrect usage of the English language therein :-)]
For a lark, "Paglee" written by Ravikiran "Chots" Shastry, was submitted by yours truly. Surprise of surprises it was awarded a Consolation Prize! I was informed that a "glittering" function would soon be held. Now, at a level, I was thrilled - for Rabindra Bhawan,

where the Akademi is housed in New Delhi's Mandi House, was my breeding ground for my 'education' in theatre, since, till recently, the National School of Drama was also operating from the same premises.
So...
Then came a letter [
just in time to beat the financial year ending deadline, no doubt :-)] that it was being held in the Akademi's Conference Room (2nd floor) in BOMBAY!!
Now what follows is pathetically hilarious!
The Bombay Chapter of India's sole Literary Apex body is housed in one of the dingiest habitat ever!


Wait, there is more...!
On arrival, we discovered that the ceromony was to be held in the
basement!! There was no body to receive the guests, and though it was the scheduled time, sloppy workers were still trying to 'pin' banners (of the lowliest variety, I might add!

.

In the dingy excuse of the basement, all and sundry were doing there thing. After a while, as the local
dhaba chokra poured out styrofoam cups (only a quarter full, mind you, since such were his instructions!) of lukewarm tea, you partook of the 'refreshments' soaking the samosas in water thin chutney.
Then, as abruptly, the ceremony began. There were barely thirty forty people at the function!!



Speaking in a mike which none could hear, Shri A.J.Thomas, Editor of the Akademi's Enhlish Journal said something which none could decipher. After ten minutes of droning, the Chief Guest and the Award presentation Guest spoke. Subsequently, the award ceromony was quickly gone through.
Then, after his speech, Sh.K.S.Rao, Regional Secretary, somewhat reluctantly called on the winners to say something; "but ONLY for two minutes!" he admonished.
Phew! And then as unceromoniously, it was over.
ONE question intrigued me throughout: Why wasn't it held in New Delhi?
ANSWER:
"Bhai, then you'll have to pay these 'winners' train fare and boarding expense!! Instead, let us fly to Bombay and have a paid holiday in Bombay!! After all, what better way to exhaust the sanctioned funds for the current financial year!!'
- And then they went home, happily ever after.


WAIT, WAIT!!
There is more!! (How could I forget?)
Somewhere in the midst of the proceedings, an oily clerk sidled up to me and gave a BLANK travel voucher to sign "where the x-es are," he whispered. As quietly, I did as ordered - [we had been assured that the admissible local travelling fare would indeed be forthcoming, after all.] Then, slipping me an equally blank envelope, he started to slither away. But I was faster. Grabbing the back loop of his trousers, I pulled him back and hissed, "You have made me sign a blank form! Fill in the amount, you rascal!!" "Okay, okay, you do it yourself."he mumbled. "How much?" "Rs.250." "HOW MUCH?" I was aghast! "You think I came by bus, or what?" "Heh, heh!" he triumphantly informed, "But that is what has been sanctioned, you see!" "Give me back that voucher!" I growled. "Wait, wait," he stammered, "Why don't you talk to my boss?" "GIVE ME BACK THAT VOUCHER!" I snarled. Quaking, he returned the document, which, with immense relish, I tore into four pieces, right in his face.
P.S. - I hasten to assure my dear readers that none of this disturbed the proceedings!!

Monday, 3 December 2007

Wednesday, 21 November 2007

बेकाउज हिन्दी में लिखना है ....

Just very silly actually, but having right now discovered this 'facilty', couldn't resist using it :-)
No more of this, I promise.
But have got complaints that how come I don't have pix of self on this page? Sorry, but thought I could do well without all that jazz; BUT, here goes


GENERAL RAVI THE B.

Hope this is found sufficient :-)

Tuesday, 20 November 2007

To share with some people!

NATEE BINODINI

A friend is planning an ambitious feature film project on the famous dancer-actress of Bengali theatre of the late 19th century.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Binodini_Dasi

Curious to know about her life, persuaded Nikhil to part with her autobiography “Amar Katha”“Amar Abhinetri Jiban” (My Life as an Actress, 1924/25 left unfinished), I was compelled to share her words in her letter to her mentor, Girishchandra Ghosh, dated (My Story, 1912), followed by 1st Sraban, 1316:

“… A long time… you told me, repeatedly: “God does not create living tings without reason. We all come to this world to do His work. We do our work and once it is one we forsake this world and depart.” How often have I pondered over these words! But I have never been able to understand from my own life of what use an inferior being such as myself has been to God, what work of his have I been able to do; and if I have indeed been of some use, then why after having worked for so many years will there be not an end to the work?

Whatever it is that I have done throughout my life; has that been the work of God? Such low acts; can they have been for God?

My restless soul asks time and again, “What is my work in this world?” The time fast approaches when it will be time to take leave of this rest-house known as the world. Then, what have I achieved in all these years? With what words of consolation shall I take leave of this world? what is to support me when I become a traveler of that final voyage! Mahashoy(her term for her mentor),… explain to me, in what part of the Lord’s scheme have I have been of any use? In what part am I still of use or ever will be? – One who is beholden.”

No, I am certainly not alluding to myself :-)

But her story indeed makes wondrous reading – an actress widely and greatly appreciated, yet shunned because she was born to a whore, and treated all her life similarly.

On Cormac

Just the other day, a friend (Daya Gupta) presented me a book “The Counsels of Cormac,” a book of advice from the great Irish King, Cormac MacAirt.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cormac_mac_Airt

As fate would have it, after a recent fiasco with a leading Production (TV) House, the opening lines of the book were indeed ironical and aptly suited for the times – then and now! Here are they:

O Cormac, Grandson of Conn,” said Carbre,

“What is best for a king?”

“That’s easy,” said Cormac:

Composure rather than wrath,

Patience rather than contention,

Geniality rather than arrogance. …

Productivity in his reign,

Attention to every unfortunate,

Many charities. …

Let him have legitimate claim to truth,

Let him rebuke falsehood

Let him love justice

Let him quell fear.

Saturday, 10 November 2007

PRESENTING CHARLIE BROWN!!...some of my favourites.





...the last being VERY CLOSE TO MY HEART :-)
by the way, click on a strip for better viewing
Sorry for being 'off the air" for quite some time, but work and with nothing to report, there was no point in blogging. My mistake.
So, while I regroup, here's some cute pieces of Charlie Brown (& Gang) I'd like you to share...

Ravi The B.

Ravi The B.