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Showing posts with label nisha g. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nisha g. Show all posts

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Post-postmodernism – Rejection and making : m k harikumar




transLATION : nisha g 

“ Food  doesn’t target at hunger but it targets at culture -  A technologically  and artistically created culture “ – . Harikumar.

To be stagnant, to be static is something what is against nature. Some people take it their privilege to be  silent in the realm of imaginations and romantic aspirations. We can make a quest for historic facts, can take efforts to interpret it , but if we try to become a historic fact, it pushes you into a realm of a cold stillness. We can stay by history but if we hesitate to look beyond it prevents us from looking beyond. It prevent us from introspecting what we really are.

Man is not flesh alone. This flesh contains a lively creature brimming with life thoughts and these intellectual beings grow forward. They grow into the spikes of time. Whenever you go into the past, that too is forwarded into time zone.  When we identify  ourselves, then there is no more growth.

We can never explain our existence completely. The growth of the future and the present moments all are not rational.  They do not have permanent forms.  Their fate is to change. Even logical aspects turns to be  illogical , the rational become irrational. So it becomes extremely difficult to completely identify our existence.
If we can completely , predict ourselves , we can only be that particular entity. At that spot our search ends. That is the end of all quests all growth.  So we should search for what we really are till the last drop of breath embarks in us.  If I tell it on the other side, the rejection of whatever we are gets transformed into am eternal search. This is the fresher zone we are entering into. This is what is called rejection –the most important theme in modernism.

Rejection is always there. This pull of energy in the opposite direction is actually the positive energy. If this energy isn’t present, an object can’t even visualize another object.  We are able to realize the contradictions because of this theory of rejection.

Any object tries to free from the shell of identity and that is its internal karma or the law of action for eg. A prayer in itself tries to reject itself or else existence tries to refute itself. This is an internal situation.  Even if we imprison our existence, the situation remains till the moment when prayer and existence is reality, they do not have co-rodination with the external world.  However big or small they are they have a fundamental behavior. They have themselves fixed to the corepoint – Prayer and existence are the fundamental conditions. These conditions blocks the growth. Prayer and existence are ‘nature’. If they do not grow, they become stagnant both biologically and thematically. Then we visualize before us a fundamental frozen state ‘A Samadhi’  Ideas, themes and experiences are separated and then imprisoned. Its against this rejection occurs. This doesn’t mix up with nature. Instead this itself is a part of nature and it can reject itself and it continues. Prayer us becomes a sign of tradition and a symbol of nature.  On the plain of ideas and philosophy, prayer and existence rejects to be itself. It struggles to  enter into the flow of nature. Man has to support it. It is essential for rejection and rebirth.

Each and every object enters into a thematic world after the process of self rejection. Each and every object can be visualized as a micro link on a huge chain. But these links basically reject themselves.  The question why each objection is presented in a particular place is a fundamental argument. So man frees everything from it. This freedom of getting rejected is the basic idea which brims in technology art and all permanent thoughts. We try to bud objects  in a new order. Anything like paintings, images which when removed from its original position and placed in a new environment , starts flowing with the new stream.  This is the pattern of post modernism.

Self rejection is endless creativity. It even exists in human nature.
That’s how a being rejects his childhood, youth hood and finally strictes into his old age.
എം. കെ ഹരികുമാര്‍ 

A new entity through rejection
Life has got only a  single philosophy – The flow of getting into a new stream through rejection.  Nothing remains as ever. Everything  is subjective to change. Any object desires to be transformed into a new vigour. Whatever aspect we determine to be ‘still’ that aspect gets alienated from the rest and it remains static.  That means rejection and creation are the two different sicks of the same coin – post modernism. Actually an object or a theme stops representing itself and gets projected into the spikes of time or momentum of the cosmos or it gets viewed from various angles.  For instance, we can see this in the creative work of a small brochure.  No colours in a brochure are predetermined . It is according to the taste of the designer at that particular moment. Whatever is required gets in automatically. The cut outs or collagues or colour strokes are arranged according to different symbols and representations.  A Kathakali head , musical instruments  and even sceneries  merging with the theme may be beyond question. Those images  aren’t direct representations but indifferent expressions. Finally what the brochure will be even beyond the theme or idea to be given. Thus the theme of the brochure rejects itself and creates something entirely new. If there is no rejection then there is no creation.  In post modernism there is nothing like permanent identity.  If you have something like that it attains a status of an immovable  corpse. Thoughts should be innovative.  Identity imprisons man.  Therefore mobility of objects through the waves of ideas gets static. To intersect is the characteristic of modern philosophy. Whatever symbols we find in the web is meant for rejection and creativity of modern mankind. In any object there be an internalized and externalized identity. The instance of bullock head symbolizes a forest. But if its just a painted skeletal frame work of it kept in a restaurant or art gallery, its not a forest it represent but points towards culture.  Thus the OX head deviates from its original idea and exists as a new entity or image. In public it usually is an image for memory. It is reborn as an image for broken relationships. Any object has liberation for itself. It has in itself an innate desire to liberate. In its mundane existence , first of all is not melted into a performance.  Its exists  in many forms. Secondly, it penetrates through human thoughts ; traditional frames, through various situations and changes into aspects of various objects and themes.  We can quote the example of  landscape photograph.  The silvery sky, the trees and the plains blends to form the picture. But if the silvery sky – a split opening alone is taken for graphic designing, it becomes emphatic on that aspect and further if the graphics attains the adaptable characteristics then only the process of rejection and creativity will take place.
Objects or ideas may be a part of  some scientific truth. Yet it may also be the raw materials for many other  creations.  That emphasizes on the fact that there is no definite meaning or culture for anything. If we reset them it becomes a reality. We can reset our own reality. Any object becomes a symbol. This activity is rejection and creation.

Self rejection and makings  moves parallel to all ancient principle, this topples the concept of all art forms.  I am reminded of the street singe who I met a few days ago. That eve I was travelling from Tripunithura to Muvattupuzha. I saw a group of blind women.  They were street singers. They were singing an old song of Smt.Janaki. ( the very famour play back singer) which had the meaning  “ When you laugh the world laughs with you, but when you cry, you cry alone “ When I heard the song I comprehended it as an example for my topic . Neither the tune nor the song had anything to do with the ancient singer. None of the singers needed the situation for which the song was created, the background etc.  The singers rejected the ancient situations and created a new song according to their mood. Here what has happened is nothing but the self rejection of the old song the creation of the new singers.

Numerous bits
Today a wholesome appreciation, thematic presentation or interpretation is inapplicable. Actually the bits are gaining prominence . These bits acts like cinematic experiences. Even though contradictory it is taken as a unified whole.  The perspective towards Tov experiences can be taken as an example.  No vision becomes isolated nor gains importance. One after the other these visions gain prominence. May be the FV Shows we do watch is incomplete  yet. We switch on to other programmes or other channels. But we take all these as connected experiences or else the various programmes become a part of a greater experience.  With these broken bits we gain a wider experience. This is nothing by ‘virtual reality’

The new cultural and traditional life hints at the fact that wholesome thematic aspects will never be adapt for renounciation and creativity. Each and every moment we find a kind of novelty in each and every object or else it seems to be do. As we can find statues and carvings already which exists within the craggy rocks, there is a tendency for every entity to reject itself and acquire a new form.  Therefore it is unreal to consider an object based on its momentary elements and covering it by the misty viel of the wider and broader thematic concept. When we travel through the bits of each second there is  possibility to reject itself and merge itself into a innovative existence.

We do not get enough time to watch along movie or stage performance. Longer interpretations are very against our existence. If we can easily gain it by bits longer interpretations do become a burden.
So it becomes difficult for a person to be the prisoner in the field of art or culture. Man realize that he is a cultural creature traversing through art forms, cultural activities, commercial objects and technically advanced musical instruments. But he need not focus himself to remain a creature woven into a definite pattern because he has the tendency to reject himself.
Travelling through the newly created commodities he experiment with his own existence.
Courage, creativity, consciousness– Everything is being experimented by the human being. Thus from the cosmic experience of the theme, he gets split himself into bit of simple traditional experiences evolving into a newer forms and gets self regenerated. There’s no identity or innate romanticism in it – Both are against the totally free flow of the cosmic energy.  Even in the modern digital technology we have this concept of rejection and renovation. Let us take the concept of ‘virtual reality’ Internet webpages are many in one.  These pages become a reality through links.  But it doesn’t have series, history, specificity of objects or humans.  It keeps on changing according to how we use it.  It travels from the page of the person who select it according to his desire. It  is not necessary that one may return to the page once stared. Each and every paths are opened according to the inquisitive nature of the minutes.

The motion of fishes is an identical phenomenon to explain this. Fishes  do not have  pathways for themselves. All the paths are created in  a momentary instinct. Right at that minute they disappear. This itself is post modernism.  It is nothing but traversing through each time molecules and that to never to return. Self rejection is nothing but rowing with memories and getting into  a shell of self oblivion. Even in recreation we can see that memory and forget fullness are two sides of the same aspect. No cyber pages can accept the motherhood of history.  Those like the multiple  forms hidden within an object create virtual realities. Each single page is multiple pages. But doesn’t link in ideas, themes of forms. Similarly in post modernism  there are chances for rejection and creation. Even in an existence of contradictions we select according to our taste.  Nothing is linked in a series , continuously or thematic resemblance  “ Whatever we are we try to reject it and become a newer identity.
This is a hidden message and it doesn’t hint at anybody but it is purely symbolic ( or conceptual).

                                                              
എം  കെ.ഹരികുമാറിന്റെ  നിരാസവും  നിര്‍മ്മാണവും [ഉത്തര -ഉത്തരാധുനികത ]എന്ന 
ലേഖനത്തിന്റെ പരിഭാഷ 

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Your Smiles


Nisha.G


I feel so crazy
When you smile at me
I feel so nice
When you look at me.
The dimple on your cheeks
drives me so mad.
The blackest thick moustache
Thumps my crazy heart.
On nights when I hug my
Soft silent pillows
I feel you breathe near my face.
On mornings
When the yellow rays
Penetrate the curtains
I feel you coming down
With those warm rays.
Then I do feel...
My limbs bound
By your silent smiles
Like a silver ray near a dark black cloud
Like a cool cool ice gliding down a thirsty throat.
Your smiles showers down on my still soul.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Chase It Down



Nisha. G
Dear
Can you chase it down
Trap your feelings
In the multicoloured net
Call it a name 'Love'
It rises up
Struggles down the net
To rush down the stairs
Give it another name ' CRAZE'
It flutters slow
Across the mental walls
To cling down the heart
Name it 'FASCINATION'
It runs wild
Down the heart beat Zone
Like a mad mare
Call it simply ' PASSION '!

Saturday, October 6, 2012

WHEN IN LOVE


nisha g

When in love you were blind
I knew that cupid had shot
his sharpest arrows on you.
It had gone so deep that
You had forgotten yourself.
You were mad...
madly in love
You could see in my tired eyes
The brightest glitter
You could see in my withered lips
The sweeetest smile
You could see in my weakest limbs
Enthusiasm flowing out
You wished me sweet slumber
And the sweetest dreams
And promised me the hottest kisses
On my burning lips
Your eyes glowed with love for me
Your ears waited for my noisy steps
O! dear when in love you were mad
You were blind !

Sunday, September 2, 2012

it was so strange


                                    nisha g

[Every one might have heard the sea shell's murmur. Every creation of nature feels the sound from it, in one or the other way, for a small crab, when it went near to shell; it felt so…]
Oh! my! the sea washed me away!
My tiny foot prints that carved away
Later it took me somewhere very far
Staggered I to be freed from its bar.
Eh! What’s that soothing highly gay;
on the sunny sand dune which lay?
So dull ! a shell ! a tiny sea shell
 Me a tiny crab, I saw, it so clear and well.

Back to shore's lap, wavelets made me way
Oh! Roaring blue cup, take me back ney!
Ah! You heard my deeply sobbing soul
The waves didn't let me roll back.
"I came" said crab, .still the shell lay
Still dull, under the stinky sun’s ray
I neared the shell slow, very slow
Heard some tone, strange but low.

At its chest, shun by waves I lay
Still I heard, the shell strangely say
 "In you I give my little lovely love
In your sharp claws I enjoy delicacy now”
The shell held the crab close to say,
"My love token, I give, forget me ney,"
Then the sand dunes made a secret shed
To shell, when I gave him a stain in red.
Oh! my sea waves washed me away
Ah! then my claws now, searched a way
My mind echoed that shell's refrain,
Even I knew, all was in awful vain.
'Strange shell lay there still dull
My red stain on it shining in full
It was so strange! So strange for me,
That murmur I felt so deeply in me. ..

                                             IT WAS SO STRANGE

Monday, July 2, 2012

A HUNDRED JUDASES


nisha g

[Man claims, "There is God". Again the athiests protest, "No such God". Even if God exists or not, or this topic is far beyond our talks; still man plays many cruel games in the name of God and sacred places of worship. Here is a poor elephant cry. Who finally becomes a martyr in the, hands of these fanatics ...]         '
My swinging ears hear,
            Temple bells melody ring;
An inner grace helps me,
            Bear these festival drums.
Ah! A single step ahead,
            No I cannot now make;
Black iron chains do challenge,
            A sore on my heavy foot.
Memories of forests swim;
            In full coolness towards me,
All in a sudden haze,
            Hides me and my brain.
In Green's plenty a day-
            I did rally my friends
On a dawn few drones;
            hizzed silly stories in ears.
In the dust on hot noons,
            Madly when I sprawled-
Rains came dancing down.
            Rattled on my black bark.
But that two legged fiends;
            Set into tempest our calm days.
A day they came to trap us,
            To take to your service, God!
Bathe me up, gave food heaps,
            Ornamented me, I a king?
Never could I love these all,
            But the green's ripe August fruits,
 Festivals came it's hue and fun,
            Lord your idol sat on my back;

Days I had to stand before you
            your worshippers never let me rest.
 In your sacred name O' Lord,
            I walked many many miles…
Canes cut my coarse black skin;
            you heard it not, Lord?
Here men have in chains locked you,
            your locks stronger than mine;
Under religion’s red banner
            Strongly shout as they like.
A while, if a while you get,
            Just come out of temples, see-
See your million pious;
            Devotees chant your name.
They bow at your feet,
            Pooh! What a true devotion!
A 'hundred Judases' offer you flowers
            My little eyes then softly tear.
Ah! Pain! hundred red flowers
            They sprout out my poor foot;
 Harriers harass my strength,
            And all that in your name.
Ravens! Black Ravens! everywhere. . .
            Around my watery eyes do fly
 In a raving fit my voice cry;
            A whirl-pool before me, my Lord!


Wednesday, February 1, 2012

ON SLEEPLES NIGHTS



Nisha.G

''My sunshine, my starlight
All Yours
Take just that on nights like this
There will be a broken moon
Let those who have not tasted
The bitter cups of fate, sleep.''

When on sleepless nights
I hear your words
Knocking my sensitive heart
Then I stare out into this still blackness
When I would really want you.
Crave for you down
The slowest moving minutes
Of those dark, dark hours
Through my brown cooling windows
I would see terrific painted faces
of Theyyams-
With red and green blood shot eyes.

Sometimes I do see
An old woman
Like a domon
So, wild, squeezing her
Rottened teeth, gazing at me.

But then the dried ends
Of my undergrown coconut tree
would wipe against
My fearful glass windows
Taking me back to reality
Where I should realize

My love is just like some
Fine dust particles
Some rubbish
A few broken nails
Some hair unwantedly come out
Lying on the floor...

And

All these gathered by a maiden
Into the dirtiest dustbin
Thrown into the waste pit
Burnt along with plastics
Giving the most terrific sensation
Of vomitting
Of Suffocation
Of a pale numbness
Down the brain.

Still I stare into the darkness
With my hopeless hopes of
Seeing a fairy
Placing her light hands& breast
On my black window grills.





Saturday, October 29, 2011

Our Relationship



Nisha.G

Our relationship grew

we began as strangers

We soon became friends

Soon came the coolness

The sweetest feeling of oneness

The exchange of thoughts

The oneness in ideas

The same temperament.

I knew and you knew

Our relationship was growing

You never tried to stop its growth

And I never felt to stop it growing

In between crawled in

A sluggish villian

A big question mark.

A perplexed feeling

A confusing thought

Still it grew

Grew like a wild unpruned plant.

You were like the snake

And I was the tree. No!

I was the forbidden apple

In the golden valley of peace

You were the dream

I was trying to trap into my wakened eyes.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Chase It Down



Nisha. G
Dear
Can you chase it down
Trap your feelings
In the multicoloured net
Call it a name 'Love'
It rises up
Struggles down the net
To rush down the stairs
Give it another name ' CRAZE'
It flutters slow
Across the mental walls
To cling down the heart
Name it 'FASCINATION'
It runs wild
Down the heart beat Zone
Like a mad mare
Call it simply ' PASSION '!