Film-makers and the madness
Today I went to another studio, one called EyePost on King STreet East in Toronto, along with the students of the Film classes I am attending.
We went to a studio called Technicolor, 2 weeks ago.
Once a guest lecturer came to college and spoke to us about film-making. He appeared casual and not like a cabbage professor. Cabbage-Prof, I just made up the term. You get the idea right ?
In going to these studios and meeting all these people, the noticeable thing is that they are all so crazy and passionate, totally in love with film tapes and editing boxes. They can spend whole weekends sitting and tweaking video for post production in a dark room with two computers, editing equipment, a large screen in front while surviving on beer and cold pizza.
Toronto street nights
Nights crawl and I get depressed. A day wasted. I must sleep now. I could use these hours, not use but enjoy with sketching, graphics or music. But I feel like I was slumping all day. Slumping in a couch and it sank down and down and down. And this night I have again reached the depths of the couch. Depths beyond the couch. An underworld, the real Bottom. I could take a deep breath, grab that escaping oxygen and walk around the room. I cant go out and stand head to chest with black guys in baggy jeans and oversize jackets.
They stand one in front and one at the back and say "Sexy gurrl". There is something dangerous about this. He says "Whats your problem I'm just saying hello. Why r you like Don't touch me and all". I never said that but he can sense it. I dont budge. Ego. He may grab my ass or push me back. But I dont give in. Stubborn that I am.
And then he could be right. Whats all this in my head? Cant I be civil to a fella on the street? But I am not answerable to him. I dont have to be nice. Reading my body and defensiveness, he could be my Dr Phil on the street. Sorting out my issues as I stand, waiting to step on the zebra crossing. But I can smell alcohol on his breath. And he is standing too close. And I feel I cant beat him up like I can handle guys in India. Maybe not win in India, but give it a good try. Here I would pound and he could laugh.
I am scared. But like the time the cop at the concert thought I was a guy and was about to lathi-charge me and I just wanted to talk sense and say ' Excuse me you cannot do this', I now say to the guy 'You are being weird. This is not normal.' As if he did not know. So he is the brat on road. I cannot be the screechy female. Why not? It's not me. Me is dumb. Thats all that is proven.
Anyway, so I cant go out. I will sometime. Maybe with a cycle to bang right into the front of a swerving car on an empty street and walk home with a bleeding knee and a cycle tire in one hand. But no cycle with me just now. And no enthusiasm to step out. No reason. I dont want to talk to chests just now. I dont want to be called sexy girl in my grey slippers and greasy hair hanging down to my shoulders.
So I slump back in my couch and watch 'So you think you can dance'. Sexy people. Sexy stuff. Just what I love. Talent, samba, fox trot, hip hop, break. It makes something leap out of my heart. But the rest of me slumps deeper. Rhinestone studded dresses. A curvy exposed back. Swan-like grace. A guy dancing fantastically in a waistcoat and hat. TV show over. OK..Now what?
Nuit Blanche 2007
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A Bad Day For Limousines
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Nuit Blanche - White Night is an annual art and design festival in Toronto and it was held on the streets of downtown T last night. Roads were cleared of traffic and it was OUT there. SO many people were out on the roads, a novelty for Canadians and commonplace for an Indian!
(Photo by WordFreak on www.Flickr.com . You can see Ricky and me talking to the corseted girl)
Here are some of the things I did -
Walking in a Red Light Area that had been created by some artists. The entry was very morbid as my friend Ricky and I saw a girl walking around in a bridal dress with a goat's carcass. The carcass was complete with head and hooves and tail. It was skinned. She was holding it in her arms and caressing it, then raising it over her head as the internal organs of the goat threatened to collapse over her head. Next we saw she was playing with its intestines.
Saturday in Toronto – CN Tower
Yesterday I went to the CN tower with my uncle. It is 553.33 metres (more than half a kilometre!) tall and can be seen from the looking boulevard or the skypod.
The skypod is right on top, while the looking boulevard is below the skypod. The world has changed and we have modern wonders. In India, we visit forts and temples and here in Canada, the attraction is an antenna! Ok, so it’s the tallest antenna in the world.
(Image taken from www.cntower.ca)
The best part was the glass (or plastic?) floor on the top on which you could walk and on looking below you could see Toronto far away right under your feet. It does give a feeling that you are going to fall through.
Reena Mohan and Bharatanatyam
After vsiting the CN Tower in Toronto, my Uncle and I went to an arangetram. Whats an arangetram? I didn’t know. Never attended one in India but did get introduced to one here in Toronto. I wondered if I would see any interesting Indian guys in the crowd.
An arangetram is the first formal performance of a Bharatanatyam trainee. It was the arangetram of Reena Mohan, the daughter of my uncle's friend. Well, ok.. I sat down in my seat wondering what was in store for me. As the performance went on, I swayed my head side to side with the taal and music occasionally. After all, I was the true blue Indian in the crowd, just 20 days old in Toronto, and was supposed to be knowledgeable and appreciative of Indian arts more than others! In an interval between performances, some Canadians were doing a good job of understanding the mudras or hand gestures in the row behind me. They identified the ones for suffering, removal of sorrows, crown but got stuck after that. "What this?" the guy wondered. I felt very good educating him and saying that it was the mudra for a flute, the symbol of Lord Krishna. You know, the way you explain saying Krishna, RamA, karmA, niravanA.
Independence-day, Kites, Pranav
Independence day. Time to fly a kite on Nani's terrace. Nope, never done it before. Novice. Debutante. So here is an account of kite flying from my thirteen year old cousin Pranav :
About a week ago my cousin and I found a kite sitting on top of our roof. Neither of us had ever flown a kite before so we decided to try to get it up in the sky. It was a valiant effort but we failed miserably. Ever since then we've been determined to find someone to teach us how to fly a kite.
Today our neighbor came over with her husband and two cousins and started flying kites on our roof. We thought it was amazing how they even got the kite to fly. They admitted that they weren't very good but to us they looked like stars. Our neighbor's husband was the most experienced kite flyer. Most of the time his kite would get cut but sometimes he cut other people's kites which I thought was very cool.
My main problem in flying kites is getting it up in the air. I asked my neighbor's husband to get the kite up so that I could try flying it. He did that and soon I had the kite flying high. For about five minutes everything was going smoothly. I was just minding my own business flying very peacefully but then another kite came out of nowhere and cut mine. I was a bit disappointed but I still had a lot of fun.
The funnest part of the whole experience was when we were flying our last kite and it got cut. Then another kite's string just fell into our hands and we started flying that. It wasn't long until that kite was cut though. Then we thanked our neihgbors and they left.
All in all the evening was very fun and exciting. I hope to be able to fly a kite at a reasonable level after about a year. I didn't realise how fun kite flying is until this afternoon. If you've never tryed kite flying before, I think there's a good chance that you'll have fun learning.
Blood on the Dance floor
"Lets go to a shady bar. Slimy sorts" I suggested to my friends. We entered a place that was promisingly bathed in red light. Unfortunately it turned out to be family dining restaurant where people were going through chowmein, kofta-naan and pizzas in gangster red light for some reason.
We hastened to the pub across the road. Ice CUbe in Noida. This one was all blue and UV light. My white men's shirt shone as if I was being beamed up into a UFO. This was more like it. We settled into a Los Angelesy red couch.
The dance floor, right in front of us was on fire. During the rest of the evening, where we slumped worse and worser and worserer on the couch, we witnessed lots of dance floor violence. All happy smiling violence. Not the type where a bouncer kills the fun by chucking a fellow out. This was a gender based drama and one where no feminist could complain. In 3 instances it was plain writ on the guy's face that he just wanted to climb on the girl he was dancing with. And all the girls took the shit with a flick of the hair and a determined smile "No we are not spoilsports! Its ok! Tee hee!"
The girl : "A girl with a good face" my friend said. He declared she had potential. She was dressed in corporate wear. Out to party after work. Dancing in spurts. Promising herself she wouldnt do it again. Smiling. The guy: Wore his jeans to his chest. Wondering how the hell to get fresh with the girl until he fell on her and hugged her with roaming hands with the elegance of a grizzly. The girl pretended it hampered her dance moves,which she was very keen on, and pushed him away to continue her cheerful jig. The guy having achieved something after all walked off oblivious to the object of his affections, and sat down to wipe off all that sweat on his brow. You have to give him full points for chivalry as he offered her the handkerchief once his wipe was over.
Then the DJ announced stag entry was not allowed to a pub which was 80% full of men.