Benaras- the unexplored attachments




The movie overwhelmed me.

I realize I have been using the word 'overwhelmed' for about everything that gives me goosebumps and leaves an imprint. I need to work on that.

But it does that exactly. Overwhelm me. Fills me with such a storm of emotions, the amalgamation of so many kinds of them, that I cannot contain them within myself. It bursts out of me through tears. Tears that do not state happiness or sadness, just the state of being overwhelmed. I wish I knew the word for it. It burst out again afterward in quiet recollection of the entire experience, in tranquil solitude, through the words I wrote.

What touched me most was the visual appeal; the earthly music that slowly reached its own crescendo, and fueled that burst I talked of; the subtle interpretation of love, relationships, and life through poetry; and that factor I still can't seem to point out. It is a surreal portrayal of the city of Benaras as a lady love. It's a pseudo-reality, almost magical.

I have to watch it again to complete this review.

It can have lots of critical analysis. It is deep. Open to any kind of interpretation. That's the beauty of it. The audience can make his own interpretation according to his mind.

It's a different wavelength that this movie works in. Only some part with reach you, others won't. Your mind works in a different wavelength than your friends'. It will give you a different experience from that it gave your friend.

The entire film is a conversation. Conversation between the stranger and the city. A just so talk. Words scattered. The stranger introducing himself and his beloved.

'Anything organized cannot hold in Art.' That is just so true. Art is the expression of our thinking, our interpretation of things around us, our voice in the most authentic and unadulterated manner. It was so nice to hear about the journey from both the director and the producer themselves.

Review:

This is my interpretation, which is perhaps just one facet of the 8-minute film. Do watch it, and let me know of your version of it.

Everything you love talks to you in an inarticulate language that others cannot understand. Others cannot understand your love, only you do. The old city of Benaras speaks to the stranger who comes to visit it and falls in love with it. She is disturbed by the talk of the stranger. She doesn't know the stranger while the stranger knows her well.

The stranger finds her purity in the air, simplicity in the residents, expression in the beauty and visual appeal, and approaches her to talk before trying to confess his love. She is disturbed doesn't want to talk. But she grows attached to his presence. No one had addressed her so far, no one had called her out to talk. When he is finally packing up to leave the city, she talks to him, seeking him out to bid adieu. She asks, smiles, bids farewell with a promise of his return soon.

It is a feeling that eludes me- an effervescent emotion, I can't name it- my faculties lack in this field.

Do watch.

Linking the post to #UBC , and #DailyChatter.


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Queeristan by Parmesh Sahani

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  Queeristan (Amazon Link) Thanks to Audible Free Trial I listened to this amazing non-fiction on LGBTQ inclusion in Indian workplaces. Author Parmesh Sahani identifies as gay Indian, working closely with Godrej higher management and employees for years to create an inclusive workplace, both legally and in spirit. This book is a result of those years of experience, research, collaboration with individuals from difference spectrum of the society and organizations who has successfully transitioned into a queer friendly one.   Indian history is inclusive. From the Khajuraho temple architectures, to Konark to the Rig Veda, there is existing proofs even 2000 years ago of Indian inclusiveness of queer. It’s the draconian British law that criminalised it, which was scraped in 2009, came into effect once again following a sad judgement in 2013 and eventually was scraped off for good in 2018. I am in awe of the lawyers who fought this legal battle- colleagues and partners – Arundhati Katju

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