A clash of cultures

A clash of cultures

Randeep Singh Nandal

Special Correspondent, Defence Affairs

Monday, February,25 2008 (New Delhi)

Bhaiya - it's a term commonly used to describe an inhabitant of eastern UP and Bihar. A term used in exact opposite sense of what it means.

In Bombay it is a term of abuse, call a Maharashtrian a Bhaiya, a colleague warned me, and you could get into trouble. I got this piece of advice a few weeks before Raj Thackeray advertised the Marathi Manoos's aversion to these people ...some millions who now live in Bombay.

In the rest of India people tut-tuted this latest exhibition of the Sena's xenophobia ...the media led the charge holding opinion polls and debates ...where statistics were deployed to prove how this fear of the migrants was just plain nonsense ...expert after expert ...eminent citizens of this great metropolis ...spoke about the past ...how this was just a continuation of the Sena's history...look at their record they said ...first it was the Gujarati then the South Indian then in the 90's it was the Muslim ...Raj Thackeray, they said was just following in his uncle's footsteps ..its the north Indians now ...ignore him and it will blow away.

Bombay's North Indians were being targeted for petty gains by a politician on the make. Grim faced news anchors nodded their heads .. This was all a drama and we know who the villain is they seemed to suggest. An open and shut case, don't you think? Well, yes and no.

Let's for a moment look at the entire incident ...the first inaccuracy is that this is a campaign against North Indians, it isn't, this Marathi angst is specifically against the migrants from UP and Bihar. So to term this as an anti North Indian drive is misleading, more so because no one in North India, and here I am talking of the states of Punjab, Himachal, Uttrakhand, Haryana and Rajasthan, considers people from eastern UP and Bihar as North Indians!!! The term used to describe them in these states? You guessed it -Bhaiya!

But then, many would argue that even if it is against a specific group, it is just scaremongering, they are just poor folk who have as much a right to stay in Bombay as anyone else. This after all is a part of India and as citizens of India they have a right over Bombay that no one can take away. This, incidentally, was the view of one of a very eminent Bombay wala, a parsee gentleman who referred to how the Parsees had found refuge in India ...how at the turn of the last century they controlled the island city ..how no one calls them outsiders. This again is an argument that is hard to refute-- it has fact history and reason behind it. Except for one small detail, even at the height of their power the Parsees never outnumbered or threatened to swamp the local Maharashtrian.

And this is the core fear that is propelling this resentment against the Bhaiya. Think of your middle class Maharashtrian, he gets up in the morning and the man who gets him milk from the shop is a Bhaiya, he goes to work and stops to buy a smoke and is sold a pack by a Bhaiya, he gets into a taxi and there again a native of Bihar drives him to work, in his office the guard who opens the door for him again is a Bhaiya ..as is the boy who serves him tea, on his way back he stops to buy vegetables and is sold some by a man from Azamgarh , next to his house is a clutch of boys listening to a Bhojpuri song at full blast. The maid in his house is from Balia and the boy who comes back to repair his cable connection is from Mirzapur . Can you fault Mr Pawar from feeling that his city is being overrun by Bhaiyas?

You may say as many do does this mean that all Gujaratis and South Indians, all the Punjabis and the Kashmiris should be chased out of Bombay, does Mr Pawar support ethnic cleansing? No. he doesn't because of two very different reasons First, he realises that every other group has a sort of mean cap on the numbers who will stay here, a cap that does not apply to migrants from Bihar and UP, he has seen their numbers in the city explode in the past decade and knows that these numbers will keep swelling. The second point that makes the Maharashtrian uncomfortable and this is something that has been ignored by many of us is the one single aspect that scares the Marathi manoos the most, with these increased numbers lies the very real spectre of increased political power. This above all, is what fuels the disquiet.

Here you have to realise that for all the money the Gujarati might make in Bombay, all the resentment the well to do Marwari arouses in Calcutta, both these communities are content with acquiring financial muscle, they never meddle in local politics.

The migrant from UP and Bihar is different, part of it is his socio-economic makeup, the way he behaves in a small group and his behaviour when he has the numbers are completely different. I will give you an example, go to Punjab there for decades now most of the farm work has been done by Biharis, in fact in villages there always a score Biharis who have embraced Sikhism , their Bihari accented Punjabi the butt of thousands of jokes, but the fact is that these men are just trying hard to assimilate in the society they live in, contrast this with the migrants in the twin cities of Jalandhar and Ludhiana, here they have the numbers and there is no attempt to embrace, there are entire suburbs that are virtually no go areas for the local administration ...in the recent elections many Biharis even stood for elections on Samajwadi Party tickets, talk to the local people and you sense the same resentment that you hear here in Bombay - "our city is being taken over"

Not many in Ludhiana were surprised when Khalistani militants targeted a local theatre showing a Bhojpuri film earlier this year. They were trying to tap into this resentment. Five people, all migrants from Bihar and UP died. Speaking to local journalists I was struck by the total lack of sympathy, an SMS started doing the rounds "this is what happens when they think they can form a mini Bihar here". A sentiment easily dismissed as a parochial, racist. Perhaps, but a sentiment that is deeply felt.

The eminent citizens who speak so eloquently of the cosmopolitan Bombay that cannot be held hostage by the lumpens of the MNS are right of course but we ignore the fact that this group of eminent citizens inhabit a different India a city within a city, the Bombay of theirs is very different from the Mumbai that a Marathi sees.

Unlike your film stars and industrialists the Maharashtrian cares how many local corporaters or MLA's are from Bihar and UP. So when the Maharashtrian looks at this unceasing migration into his city and he does see it as his city, this sense of political power slipping away real or imagined is awakened. Each community has its own attachments to their language or culture, the Punjabi to his language his food, the Bengali can be in any part of the world but come Durga Puja and he will celebrate it and of course the Bihari will take with him his language and culture, the Chat Puja that so irritates Thackeray Junior is just one of those cultural imports that are inevitable.

The entire Idea of India is that there is space for everyone, this is the only country in the world where 10 men can sit down to dinner, and each could have completely different food habits, habits dictated by his religion or the region he belongs to, nobody minds and these adjustments are made by millions on a day to day basis, we Indians know this, our land belongs to all of us and to accomodate each others' quirks is the only way we can survive. There is a simple rule that governs this accomodation, do not offend your hosts, so if you go to a masjid, even if you are not a Muslim you cover your head, visiting a south Indian home you take off your shoes, in a Sikh home resist the urge to light up a smoke.

This latest round of violence started after a huge SP rally in Mumbai's Shivaji Park.

Shivaji Park in Dadar is in many ways the heart of Marathi Mumbai, and make no mistake the SP rally was a Bihari UP rally, with loud Bhojpuri music blaring, thousands gathered, it is their unalienable right to do so. But don't ignore the symbolism of a rally like this, here on a turf the Maharashtrian considers his own was a trailer of the political muscle and aspirations of the migrants, a challenge had been thrown out, a sign of things to come, Is it logical, this fear? Was it logical for the anti Hindi protests in Tamil Nadu in the 60's? The struggle that little communities make to get their languages officially recognised, is that logical? why Muslim children in Hyderabad learn Urdu in a state that speaks Telegu, does that make sense? Do you ever question why people in different parts of Rajasthan wear different kinds of turbans? The answer to all these questions is, well, to borrow a phrase, 'We are like this only'

Cultural pride or sensitivities or habits are built over centuries, they mask arrogance, anxieties, tradition, inferiority complexes all rolled into one. And they are emotional bonds these. Many Maharashtrians are proud of Shivaji, his hold on the people here can never be matched by lets say a Bengali, just the same way a boy from Satara can never quite feel as emotionally attached to Rabindra Sangeet as many Bengalis do. A Maharashtrian feels his hold on his state is under threat, his culture is being overwhelmed or disrespected, Raj Thackery tapped onto that discontent .

A lot has been said about this gentleman and it would be futile to do yet another psycho analysis of him and his motives for the stand he has taken, but one thing needs to be taken note off, for those of us who like to contrast his stance with his cousin Uddhav's new found love for North Indians, perhaps we should examine how a party like the Sena ...which has nothing but Maratha pride as its core identity and ideology, how attractive would a party like this be to your average migrant from UP or Bihar? If this were to be true then perhaps the SGPC could also try its luck here. The second thing to remember is that Raj's message is directed at not only the Maharashtrian in Bombay, the grapewine carries it to every village in Maharashtra, every Sena supporter who joined this party attracted by the image of a latter day Shivaji out to restore the pride and status of the people.

Raj realizes that a bird in hand is better than the mirage of a North Indian support base, a realisation that now seems to have dawned on the Sena as well with Bal Thackeray, now belatedly speaking out against migrants as well. Many see Raj's outburst as a ploy for the elections next year, if true it would be remarkably shortsighted for any politician no matter how obtuse, I suspect Raj's audience is different ...he is talking to the Sena's supporters across the state, preparing for a battle that he hopes will come after the Balasaheb era has ended.

This afterall is a man who had the foresight and the political courage to break out of the Sena the moment Uddhav was anointed heir. If he had wanted to do gali mohalla level politics as many now accuse him, he could have done that safely within the Sena. It was only 30 years ago that another cartoonist was accused of street corner politics, he too was mocked as being presumptious in supposing that there was an audience for his words. We all know who had the last laugh.

That brings us to the moot question ...whose India is it? The Supreme Court has called the events in Maharashtra an attempt to Balkanise the nation. Raj Thackeray has called for the Constitution to be amended to curb uncontrolled migration. Both statements are correct. India belongs to all Indians free to move and live where ever they want, it's also true that our Constitution has been amended several times to reflect the realities and problems of the India as it exists now. But this comment of Raj Thackeray's was treated as the ravings of a lunatic, he is crazy many said to suppose that the Constitution of India could be amended to stop people from living where they want to.

Forgetting that the same Constitution prohibits me as an Indian from owning property in Kashmir and Himachal and many northeastern states, what is the danger I pose, what catastrophe would be ensue if 25 lakh Biharis made Shimla their home? If the principle is extended then maybe each state should have the right to curb or decide the percentage or population of migrants from other states. Tamil Nadu has a population of 42 million, its birth rate is 1.2 per cent, it is acknowledged as a well governed part of the country, UP has a population in excess of 200 million! its birth rate is double that of Tamil Nadu , and doesn't look as if its slowing down anytime soon.

Every study tells you just how bad things are in the state, a state of lawlessness, it is Omkara Land . So if over the next 50 years 15 million people from the state make Tamil Nadu their home in search for a better tomorrow , do you think Tamilians will sit by and watch silently . And don't say 15 million won't migrate, it could happen, 40 years ago nobody would have thought that 30 per cent of Bombay's population would be from UP but it is and in the next 40 years it could rise to 50 per cent.
For a lesson let's take a look at the fate of Bombay's twin and the senior twin at that as a cosmoplitian city before partition, Karachi. In poured millions of migrants from India, they were welcomed as the men who had led the struggle for a separate Muslim homeland, but the resentment from the local Sindhi's soon boiled over, the Muhajirs soon cornered all the government jobs because they had an advantage, the new Pakistan's official language was Urdu, not many Sindhis knew it, and it just happened to be the native language of most of the new arrivals.

Even though we are talking about maybe a few lakh clerical jobs, the local Sindhi never accepted them as anything more than ' Mohajirs" or refugees. The felt their own culture and language was being overwhelmed. The resulting tension boiled over in the 80's and the 90's, thousands have lost their lives, it has also killed the city.

The UP Bihari migrants, many say, are hard working, a subtle way of saying that Maharashtrians are not. It isn't so simple, the migrants are hardworking sure they are, but the reason why they are making the most of lower end jobs, lets say in Haryana, is because the average Haryanvi enjoys a better standard of living, education and thus expectations than your migrant.

In a factory he doesn't get a job because the migrant is ready to work for half the money the Haryanvi expects. So the simple biggest advantage that he has because he is a native of Haryana becomes a liability in the job market. So what do we do, make haryana a replica of Bihar UP?
We are a nation of a hundred races, a score religions and thousands of languages.

Most of the time we co-exist happily and the core reason for this co-existence is the single covenant that each social group based whether on language or region or religion be allowed their own realm. As UP and Bihar spiral deeper into poverty and lawlessness, every Indian would want to welcome the people of the state. But not at the cost of losing their own identity. Bihar is India, all of India though, can never be Bihar.

Hee-Haw!

Over the past few days, I have been really irritated with the news channels in our country. Actually, not the past few days, for the past few months or years probably. I was quite upset, and finally decided to do something about it. So i finally decided to send a mail to all news channels. In a state of impulse, I just scribbled something on the computer, and shot off a mail.. Mistakes, there will be.. Naivety, there will be.. Please bear! :)

The Fourth Pillar? Yeah Right!

The past few days have been quite action-packed as far as NEWS was concerned, with politics taking centre-stage for a change. It would actually be wrong to say that only the past few days have been action-packed. Every day has been. If nothing happened, at least action was created by you people, like it has been the case for many years now. I want to clarify a few things. I am not a frustrated man, who has nothing better to do than send hate mails. I am not affiliated to any political party. I do not consider myself to be as 'educated', 'well-read' and 'thoughtful' as you are! I am just a 23 year-old student who is frustrated with seeing the kind of worthless stuff that you show on News Channels these days. And this mail has ben sent in a state of anger and frustration, so please forgive my tone.

I used to be really proud whenever I saw the news on TV. I used to say to myself, "Wow! We really have the power to say whatever we want on News Channels! These news anchors are really lambasting the politicians, and no one can touch them! Kudos to Freedom of Speech, and the Freedom of the press!". I used to feel bad for the Americans after reading reports of how the Bush administration controls their news, and consequently feel proud that in India, which is still not developed fully, we have the power to do so! But that was in my teens! The gravity of what you guys can control and how much you guys can affect has seeped into me more recently. The News Channels surely haver a lot of power, and they surely can control the minds of innocent people. And yes, you can show whatever you think is important! Nice! The problem is, that now this pride has turned to disgust. Disgust over the quality of news we have. Disgust over the worthless crap you are forcing down our throats. Disgusted that you, who are a part of the so-called Fourth Estate, have so little concern of what you show on screen.

We blame politicians for violence. We say that they incite riots. We arrest 2 individuals for inciting violence. But who will file an FIR against you? You cannot deny that news channels have ruined the state of India, the bonhomie, the peace, as much as the politicians. You sit comfortably in your Delhi offices, mulling over how you can rake up another issue, so that your advertising rates will improve, so that you airtime can be more expensive, so that your TRPs will improve and what not! You have completely succumbed to the pressures of conglomerates, and don't care a damn for the people you are affecting. How many of you gave some importance to the farmer suicides in Maharashtra? Oh sorry! I know, the whole 'Prince' episode was so important! Sorry I take back my words! How many of you try to update us on the world as it is today? Oh sorry! Your crime shows eat up the night slots! And why do all of you have stupid crime shows in the night, where the anchor himself looks like a serial killer? Well, you have them because your rival channel has them too!

You may be sniggering at what I am talking about, and why I am so worked up. And I'll tell you why. Because you have lost all seriousness, conscience and self-pride. You have forgotten the reason why you set out to be journalists. And most importantly, you are so ignorant, that you have no clue how much media, and especially mass media affects the thinking and mood of people. You have created a state of fear in the country. Something what the United States has done to its people. People I know sleep, walk, live, breathe, talk in a state of fear, of something bad happening to them. And a major part of that fear is thanks to the 'Sansani' and 'Crime Diary' shows which you keep on airing. When Mumbai was peaceful on the evening of the 13 February, you were showing incidents of violence which were a day old. Do you know how much panic that creates? The place where I study, the North-Indians with me were scared to even venture out on the roads. They were scared of me, of all Marathi people. And that wasn't only because of the irresponsibility of Raj and Abu Azmi, that was all fueled by your channels. You kept on comparing Balasaheb and Raj, you kept on spreading rumors, you kept on showing old clippings. Some of you, I don't want to name them, even went to the extent of concluding that, "Now will there be a state of fear within the Muslims in Mumbai? Because Raj is doing what Balasaheb did, so he may also target the Muslims like Balasaheb!" What the hell were you thinking when you made that statement? How irresponsible can you get?

I talked about the 'Raj-Abu-North-Indians issue' only because it is fresh in our minds. But the news channels have done so much damage, that you will not realise this now. I must say that I do not mean to generalise. Some news channels have really managed to hold their own ground. But a majority of channels are sucking up to the huge corporate houses. I was chatting with a senior media-person, who has been affiliated with a certain news channel. I asked him the same thing about the state of news channels today. And the reason he gave me was - TRPs. You think we really care about your TRPs? Do you really think that you can influence people, make someone into a hero, demolish someone, create a state of panic in the country, spread hatred, never focus on the really important issues - all for your TRPs? If you feel that you have no responsibility, then shame on you. If you feel - 'Arre yaar, don't get so worked up, its ok!' - then I feel you should be shameful of calling yourself the Mass Media. So go ahead, show crime shows, call astrologers and tarot readers all night, show inconsequential photos of Sanjay Dutt's marriage, and please! Never focus on the real issues!

I can go on and on, citing examples and showing problems. But I know that the heartless and brainless beings that you are, you will just throw this away as another hate-mail i.e. if you get any! But I am an optimist, and I feel that things will change, I hope that things will change. But they will never change unless you change yourself. Don't wait for a bloody revolution to happen, because when it will happen, it will be a big mess. India is developing, and you are an important part in its development. So please be aware that your every action is doing something to your viewers, consciously or sub-conciously. And Mr. or Ms. CEO of the channel, sorry that you have to read this mail from a 23-year old nobody. You might as well dismiss it off. But believe me, even though I have not seen as many summers and winters as you have, I can say that it will come and haunt you in some way or the other. When your house will start getting affected, only then will you realise that gravity of what you do. I pray to God, Ram, Rahim or anyone or anything that you have faith in, that we realise this before anything bad does happen.

If you had the patience to sit through this entire tirade of my feelings, thanks. If you deleted tis mail before reading anything, well then what's the point of addressing anything!

I just hope that I could reach out to some people. And I can definitely say that I do echo the emotions of many urban students that I know. I have mailed this to all the e-mail addresses of news channels that I could find, but I urge to forward this to as many news channels as you can, and of course if you can!

Thanks,
God Bless,
Peace,

Suhrud Godbole

Finally...

Finally i have decided to write something of my own! till now i have been copying and pasting stuff that I like.. but dunno why, but its really hard to write a blog..! guess i still have to get used to writing anything on the computer! I prefer the traditional pen and paper.. But anyway, might as well give it a shot.. so from now on, i will try!

Not I

Not I

By Samuel Beckett

Written in English in spring 1972. First performed at the Forum Theater of the Lincoln Center, New York, in September 1972. First published by Faber and Faber, London, in 1973. First performed in Britain at the Royal Court Theatre, London, on 16 January 1973.

Note:
Movement: this consists in simple sideways raising of arms from sides and their falling back, in a gesture of helpless compassion. It lessens with each recurrence till scarcely perceptible at third. There is just enough pause to contain it as MOUTH recovers from vehement refusal to relinquish third person.

Stage in darkness but for MOUTH, upstage audience right, about 8 feet above stage level, faintly lit from close-up and below, rest of face in shadow. Invisible microphone.
AUDITOR, downstage audience left, tall standing figure, sex undeterminable, enveloped from head to foot in loose black djellaba, with hood, fully faintly lit, standing on invisible podium about 4 feet high shown by attitude alone to be facing diagonally across stage intent on MOUTH, dead still throughout but for four brief movements where indicated. See Note.
As house lights down MOUTH`S voice unintelligible behind curtain. House lights out. Voice continues unintelligible behind curtain, l0 seconds. With rise of curtain ad-libbing from text as required leading when curtain fully up and attention sufficient into:

MOUTH: . . . . out . . . into this world . . . this world . . . tiny little thing . . . before its time . . . in a godfor– . . . what? . . girl? . . yes . . . tiny little girl . . . into this . . . out into this . . . before her time . . . godforsaken hole called . . . called . . . no matter . . . parents unknown . . . unheard of . . . he having vanished . . . thin air . . . no sooner buttoned up his breeches . . . she similarly . . . eight months later . . . almost to the tick . . . so no love . . . spared that . . . no love such as normally vented on the . . . speechless infant . . . in the home . . . no . . . nor indeed for that matter any of any kind . . . no love of any kind . . . at any subsequent stage . . . so typical affair . . . nothing of any note till coming up to sixty when– . . . what? . . seventy?. . good God! . . coming up to seventy . . . wandering in a field . . . looking aimlessly for cowslips . . . to make a ball . . . a few steps then stop . . . stare into space . . . then on . . . a few more . . . stop and stare again . . . so on . . . drifting around . . . when suddenly . . . gradually . . . all went out . . . all that early April morning light . . . and she found herself in the--– . . . what? . . who? . . no! . . she! . . [Pause and movement 1.] . . . found herself in the dark . . . and if not exactly . . . insentient . . . insentient . . . for she could still hear the buzzing . . . so-called . . . in the ears . . . and a ray of light came and went . . . came and went . . . such as the moon might cast . . . drifting . . . in and out of cloud . . . but so dulled . . . feeling . . . feeling so dulled . . . she did not know . . . what position she was in . . . imagine! . . what position she was in! . . whether standing . . . or sitting . . . but the brain– . . . what?. . kneeling? . . yes . . . whether standing . . . or sitting . . . or kneeling . . . but the brain– . . . what? . . lying? . . yes . . whether standing . . . or sitting . . . or kneeling . . . or lying . . . but the brain still . . . still . . . in a way . . . for her first thought was . . . oh long after . . . sudden flash . . . brought up as she had been to believe . . . with the other waifs . . . in a merciful . . . [Brief laugh.] . . . God . . . [Good laugh.] . . . first thought was . . . oh long after . . . sudden flash . . . she was being punished . . . for her sins . . . a number of which then . . . further proof if proof were needed . . . flashed through her mind . . . one after another . . . then dismissed as foolish . . . oh long after . . . this thought dismissed . . . as she suddenly realized . . . gradually realized . . . she was not suffering . . . imagine! . . not suffering! . . indeed could not remember . . . off-hand . . . when she had suffered less . . . unless of course she was . . . meant to be suffering . . . ha! . . thought to be suffering . . . just as the odd time . . . in her life . . . when clearly intended to be having pleasure . . . she was in fact . . . having none . . . not the slightest . . . in which case of course . . . that notion of punishment . . . for some sin or other . . . or for the lot . . . or no particular reason . . . for its own sake . . . thing she understood perfectly . . . that notion of punishment . . . which had first occurred to her . . . brought up as she had been to believe . . . with the other waifs . . . in a merciful . . . [Brief laugh.] . . . God . . . [Good laugh.] . . . first occurred to her . . . then dismissed . . . as foolish . . . was perhaps not so foolish . . . after all . . . so on . . . all that . . . vain reasonings . . . till another thought . . . oh long after . . . sudden flash . . . . . very foolish really but– . . . what? . . the buzzing? . . yes . . . all the time buzzing . . . so-called . . . in the ears . . . though of course actually . . . not in the ears at all . . . in the skull . . . dull roar in the skull . . . and all the time this ray or beam . . . like moonbeam . . . but probably not . . . certainly not . . . always the same spot . . . now bright . . . now shrouded . . . but always the same spot . . . as no moon could . . . no . . . no moon . . . just all part of the same wish to . . . torment . . . though actually in point of fact . . . not in the least . . . not a twinge . . . so far . . . ha! . . so far . . . this other thought then . . . oh long after . . . sudden flash . . . very foolish really but so like her . . . in a way . . . that she might do well to . . . groan . . . on and off . . . writhe she could not . . . as if in actual agony . . . but could not . . . could not bring herself . . . some flaw in her make-up . . . incapable of deceit . . . or the machine . . . more likely the machine . . . so disconnected . . . never got the message . . . or powerless to respond . . . like numbed . . . couldn't make the sound . . . not any sound . . . no sound of any kind . . . no screaming for help for example . . . should she feel so inclined . . . scream . . . [Screams.] . . . then listen . . . [Silence.] . . . scream again . . . [Screams again.] . . . then listen again . . . [Silence.] . . . no . . . spared that . . . all silent as the grave . . . no part–. . . what? . . the buzzing? . . yes . . . all silent but for the buzzing . . . so-called . . . no part of her moving . . . that she could feel . . . just the eyelids . . . presumably . . . on and off . . . shut out the light . . . reflex they call it . . . no feeling of any kind . . . but the lids . . . even best of times . . . who feels them? . . opening . . . shutting . . . all that moisture . . .but the brain still . . . still sufficiently . . . oh very much so! . . at this stage . . . in control . . . under control . . . to question even this . . . for on that April morning . . . so it reasoned . . . that April morning . . . she fixing with her eye . . . a distant bell . . . as she hastened towards it . . . fixing it with her eye . . . lest it elude her . . . had not all gone out . . . all that light . . . of itself . . . without any . . . any. . . on her part . . . so on . . . so on it reasoned . . . vain questionings . . . and all dead still . . . sweet silent as the grave . . . when suddenly . . . gradually . . . she realiz–. . . what? . . the buzzing? . . yes . . . all dead still but for the buzzing . . . when suddenly she realized . . . words were– . . . what? . . who?. . no! . . she! . . [Pause and movement 2.] . . . realized . . . words were coming . . . imagine! . . . words were coming . . . a voice she did not recognize at first so long since it had sounded . . . then finally had to admit . . . could be none other . . . than her own . . . certain vowel sounds . . . she had never heard . . . elsewhere . . . so that people would stare . . . the rare occasions . . . once or twice a year . . . always winter some strange reason . . . stare at her uncom-prehending . . . and now this stream . . . steady stream . . . she who had never . . . on the contrary . . . practically speechless . . . all her days . . . how she survived! . . even shopping . . . out shopping . . . busy shopping centre . . . supermart . . . just hand in the list . . . with the bag . . . old black shopping bag . . . then stand there waiting . . . any length of time . . . middle of the throng . . . motionless . . . staring into space . . . mouth half open as usual . . . till it
was back in her hand . . . the bag back in her hand . . . then pay and go . . . not as much as good-bye . . . how she survived! . . and now this stream . . . not catching the half of it . . . not the quarter . . . no idea . . . what she was saying . . . imagine! . . no idea what she was saying! . . till she began trying to . . . delude herself . . . it was not hers at all . . . not her voice at all . . . and no doubt would have . . . vital she should . . . was on the point . . . after long efforts . . . when suddenly she felt . . . gradually she felt . . . her lips moving . . . imagine! . . her lips moving! . . as of course till then she had not . . . and not alone the lips . . . the cheeks . . . the jaws . . . the whole face . . . all those– . . what?. . the tongue? . . yes . . . the tongue in the mouth . . . all those contortions without which . . . no speech possible . . . and yet in the ordinary way . . . not felt at all . . . so intent one is . . . on what one is saying . . . the whole being . . . hanging on its words . . . so that not only she had . . . had she . . . not only had she . . . to give up . . . admit hers alone . . . her voice alone . . . but this other awful thought . . . oh long after . . . sudden flash . . . even more awful if possible . . . that feeling was coming back . . . imagine! . . feeling coming back! . . starting at the top . . . then working down . . . the whole machine . . . but no . . . spared that . . . the mouth alone . . . so far . . . ha! . . so far . . . then thinking . . . oh long after . . . sudden flash . . . it can't go on . . . all this . . . all that . . . steady stream . . . straining to hear . . . make some-thing of it . . . and her own thoughts . . . make something of them . . . all– . . . what? . . the buzzing? . . yes . . . all the time the buzzing . . . so-called . . . all that together . . . imagine! . . whole body like gone . . . just the mouth . . . lips . . . cheeks . . . jaws . . . never– . . . what?. . tongue? . . yes . . . lips. . . cheeks . . . jaws . . . tongue . . . never still a second . . . mouth on fire . . . stream of words . . . in her ear . . . practically in her ear . . . not catching the half . . . not the quarter . . . no idea what she's saying . . . imagine! . . no idea what she's saying! . . and can't stop . . . no stopping it . . . she who but a moment before . . . but a moment! . . could not make a sound . . . no sound of any kind . . . now can't stop . . . imagine! . . can't stop the stream . . . and the whole brain begging . . . something begging in the brain . . . begging the mouth to stop . . . pause a moment . . . if only for a moment . . . and no response . . . as if it hadn’t heard . . . or couldn’t . . . couldn't pause a second . . . like maddened . . . all that together . . . straining to hear . . . piece it together . . . and the brain . . . raving away on its own . . . trying to make sense of it . . . or make it stop . . . or in the past . . . dragging up the past . . . flashes from all over . . . walks mostly . . . walking all her days . . . day after day . . . a few steps then stop . . . stare into space . . . then on . . . a few more . . . stop and stare again . . . so on . . . drifting around . . . day after day . . . or that time she cried . . . the one time she could remember . . . since she was a baby . . . must have cried as a baby . . . perhaps not . . . not essential to life . . . just the birth cry to get her going . . . breathing . . . then no more till this . . . old hag already . . . sitting staring at her hand . . . where was it? . . Croker's Acres . . . one evening on the way home . . . home! . . a little mound in Croker's Acres . . . dusk . . . sitting staring at her hand . . . there in her lap . . . palm upward . . . suddenly saw it wet . . . the palm . . . tears presumably . . . hers presumably . . . no one else for miles . . . no sound . . . just the tears . . . sat and watched them dry . . . all over in a second . . . or grabbing at straw . . . the brain . . . flickering away on its own . . . quick grab and on. . . nothing there . . . on to the next . . . bad as the voice . . . worse . . . as little sense . . . all that together . . . can't– . . . what? . . the buzzing? . . yes . . . all the time the buzzing . . . dull roar like falls . . . and the beam . . . flickering on and off . . . starting to move around . . . like moonbeam but not . . . all part of the same . . . keep an eye on that too . . . corner of the eye . . . all that together . . . can't go on . . . God is love . . . she'll be purged . . . back in the field . . . morning sun . . . April . . . sink face down in the grass . . . nothing but the larks . . . so on . . . grabbing at the straw . . . straining to hear . . . the odd word . . . make some sense of it . . . whole body like gone . . . just the mouth . . . like maddened . . . and can't stop . . . no stopping it . . . something she– . . . something she had to– . . . what? . . who? . . no! . . she! . . [Pause and movement 3.] . . . something she had to–. . . what? . . the buzzing? . . yes . . . all the time the buzzing . . . dull roar . . . in the skull . . . and the beam . . . ferreting around . . . painless . . . so far . . . ha! . . so far . . . then thinking . . . oh long after . . . sudden flash . . . perhaps something she had to . . . had to . . . tell . . . could that be it? . . something she had to . . . tell . . . tiny little thing . . . before its time . . . godforsaken hole . . . no love . . . spared that . . . speechless all her days . . . practically speechless . . . how she survived! . . that time in court . . . what had she to say for herself . . . guilty or not guilty . . . stand up woman . . . speak up woman . . . stood there staring into space . . . mouth half open as usual . . . waiting to be led away . . . glad of the hand on her arm . . . now this . . . some-thing she had to tell . . . could that be it? . . something that would tell . . . how it was . . . how she– . . . what? . . had been? . . yes . . . something that would tell how it had been . . . how she had lived . . . lived on and on . . . guilty or not . . . on and on . . . to be sixty . . . something she– . . . what? . . seventy? . . good God! . . on and on to be seventy . . . something she didn't know herself . . . wouldn't know if she heard . . . then forgiven . . . God is love . . . tender mercies . . . new every morning . . . back in the field . . . April morning . . . face in the grass . . . nothing but the larks . . . pick it up there . . . get on with it from there . . . another few– . . . what? . . not that? . . nothing to do with that? . . nothing she could tell? . . all right . . . nothing she could tell . . . try something else . . . think of something else . . . oh long after . . . sudden flash . . . not that either . . . all right . . . something else again . . . so on . . . hit on it in the end . . . think everything keep on long enough . . . then forgiven . . . back in the– . . . what? . . not that either? . . nothing to do with that either? . . nothing she could think? . . all right . . . nothing she could tell . . . nothing she could think . . . nothing she– . . what? . . who? . . no! . . she! . . [Pause and movement 4.] . . . tiny little thing . . . out before its time . . . godforsaken hole . . . no love . . . spared that . . . speechless all her days . . . practically speechless . . . even to herself . . . never out loud . . . but not completely . . . sometimes sudden urge . . . once or twice a year . . . always winter some strange reason . . . the long evenings . . . hours of darkness . . . sudden urge to . . . tell . . . then rush out stop the first she saw . . . nearest lavatory . . . start pouring it out . . . steady stream . . . mad stuff . . . half the vowels wrong . . . no one could follow . . . till she saw the stare she was getting . . . then die of shame . . . crawl back in . . . once or twice a year . . . always winter some strange reason . . . long hours of darkness . . . now this . . . this . . . quicker and quicker . . . the words . . . the brain . . . flickering away like mad . . . quick grab and on . . . nothing there . . . on somewhere else . . . try somewhere else . . . all the time something begging . . . something in her begging . . . begging it all to stop . . . unanswered . . . prayer unanswered . . . or unheard . . . too faint . . . so on . . . keep on . . . trying . . . not knowing what . . . what she was trying . . . what to try . . . whole body like gone . . . just the mouth . . . like maddened . . . so on . . . keep– . . . what? . . the buzzing? . . yes . . . all the time the buzzing . . . dull roar like falls . . . in the skull . . . and the beam . . . poking around . . . painless . . . so far . . . ha! . . so far . . . all that . . . keep on . . . not knowing what . . . what she was– . . . what? . . who? . . no! . . she! . . SHE! . . [Pause.] . . . what she was trying . . . what to try . . . no matter . . . keep on . . . [Curtain starts down.] . . . hit on it in the end . . . then back . . . God is love . . . tender mercies . . . new every morning . . . back in the field . . . April morning . . . face in the grass . . . nothing but the larks . . . pick it up–

[Curtain fully down. House dark. Voice continues behind curtain, unintelligible, 10 seconds, ceases as house lights up.]

Heath Ledger Obituary

Heath Ledger Obituary in the Toronto Star:



The shocking facts are these: just 28 years old, a respected young actor with one Oscar nomination already under his belt, found dead, naked, face down at the foot of the bed in a Manhattan apartment with sleeping pills nearby.

If it was personal demons that conspired to destroy Heath Ledger – police said yesterday there was no obvious indication of suicide – they were already making their presence felt many years before.

During an interview in 2002 at the Toronto International Film Festival, Ledger seemed so uneasy before the premiere of his film, The Four Feathers, that he stopped an interview at one point, asked the reporter to turn off the tape recorder and said, "Sorry, mate, but sometimes it all gets a bit too much."

Yesterday afternoon, the news emerged that he had been found dead by his housekeeper, who was waiting to admit a masseuse.

An autopsy was planned for today, but police said the death was a possible drug overdose.

Ledger told The New York Times in a November interview that he "stressed out a little too much" during the filming of I'm Not There, in which he was one of six actors playing Bob Dylan, and had trouble sleeping while portraying the Joker, whom he called a "psychopathic, mass-murdering, schizophrenic clown with zero empathy" in the Batman flick The Dark Knight, which recently finished filming.

"Last week I probably slept an average of two hours a night," Ledger told the Times. "I couldn't stop thinking. My body was exhausted and my mind was still going." He said he took two Ambien pills, which only worked for an hour.

In 2006, the Star's Peter Howell asked Ledger if he'd ever had any experience with drugs.

"Yeah, but not heroin," replied Ledger instantly. "Not heavy drugs like that. I've smoked pot and I know what it's like to be high."

Ledger's life was a strange mixture of the charmed and the damned from the beginning.

Born in Australia in 1979, he came from a family that included himself and three sisters. When his parents divorced acrimoniously when Ledger was 10, he never forgot it.

Years later, during that 2002 interview, he sported a tattooed bracelet with the letters KAOS that stood for the names of his mother and sisters. His father's name was nowhere in evidence.

When asked about that, Ledger hit one of his legendary flashpoints and said, "You're wondering if I have problems with my dad? No way. I love him."

Ledger admitted he'd come to realize "how much I'm like him" and when asked in what way, admitted sheepishly, "We both like to party."

Early successes in Australian films led to him being cast in the American teen flick 10 Things I Hate About You, followed by Mel Gibson's The Patriot.

Movies like A Knight's Tale and The Four Feathers made him even more of a teen heartthrob, but already there was media gossip that he liked to party too hard and was becoming a production liability.

Director Ang Lee ignored all those rumours and cast Ledger opposite Jake Gyllenhaal in Brokeback Mountain, where he gave an astonishingly sensitive performance. It made you wonder what he had tapped into to find those feelings and something he said in 2002 suddenly acquired new meaning.

"I've been trying to get a better idea of who I am by studying my parents," he said then. "After all, they're the blueprints, aren't they?"

During a 2005 interview about Brokeback Mountain, Ledger was massively different, but not always for the good. His self-destructive energy was gone, but much of his youthful sparkle had also vanished. There was sadness behind his eyes.

He insisted that "I'm a huge fan of love; I've investigated it thoroughly all my life and will continue to," pointing to his ongoing relationship with his Brokeback co-star, Michelle Williams, and the incipient birth of their daughter Matilda.

But what made more sense was his description of Ennis, the character he played in Brokeback.

"He doesn't know how to love, how to express himself. His genetic structure and years of family tradition are deeply imbedded in him. That's his biggest battle and it gets the better of him."

In recent months, Ledger had broken up with Williams and his public profile had grown increasingly dark and troubled.

We may never know what went though his mind in his final hours, but something he said during that 2002 interview comes back as a haunting memory.

"There are times, mate," he confessed, "when I don't have the slightest idea of what it all means and that scares me to death."

Switchfoot - We are one tonight

The result of brilliant pre-viz and great execution!

The Path of the Righteous Man

Jules: Wanna know what I'm buyin' Ringo?
Pumpkin: What?
Jules: Your life. I'm givin' you that money so I don't hafta kill your ass. You read the Bible?
Pumpkin: Not regularly.
Jules: There's a passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you. I been sayin' that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never really questioned what it meant. I thought it was just a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker before you popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. Now I'm thinkin': it could mean you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could be you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be a shepherd.

Stop Motion

Woah! Cool! wanna do something like this on a free day...

Richard Hammond presents Bloody Omaha (The Graphics)

Why oh Why dont we think about this! when i saw this clip, i was blown away! not coz it was amazing, but because it is SO DO-ABLE!!!! we can do this! a bit more effort, and we can do this! videos like these dont excite you, they depress you! make you think about how u r whiling away your time in doing nothing!