Escaping the Pujas

The feeling closed in on me with unerring single-mindedness. I increased the volume of my music system, took refuge in a pen & paper, moved from standard to Patiala measure…but, it was a losing battle...When I moved from city-ex to city-why, career was the driving force. And sure enough, I love money. But like again, during so many moments, the aftermath of my decision stands before me and quizzes me on my preference map. Friends, house of memories, at least one face, one known touch- or a rung more on the professional ladder? Do I say, the time stood still then, or do I say it was stagnant?

I am sure I could have escaped this deluge of uncomfortable queries- if it wasn’t for the time of the year. Strange- for the harder I try to severe the umbilical cord with Kolkata, it re-surfaces in some way or the other. E-mail forwards with stills from the latest creation from the potters of Kumartuli puncture my defence. Vir Sanghvi writes with élan what Pujas mean to Bengalis. The skies of Kerala take on the ‘Sharat’ hue…the indigenous season. Even the sound of ‘Dhaak’, the vengeful beats leak through the armour of an alien city. Broken images of my city roads, disparate smell of bastard noodles mixed with gleaming beads of sweat on enthusiastic pandal-hoppers, the quiet rustle of new leather on new feet- all prey on, feast on my solitude like ruthless vultures faced with an overgrown wildebeest.

Mauled, homesick, I reach for consolations. Words like pragmatism, professional, stoicism, grown-up, mature are propped up cushions for my aching mind- the walls of my yellow room affectionately ruffles my hair, and the floor beckons me to its soft lap. The crystal glass tenderly caresses my lips, A. R. Rahman medicates my wounds with his latest offering- but as I said before it is a losing battle. In which one is reduced to mendicancy…begging for refuge from city-ex, begging for company from city-why, begging for a uni-dimensional preference schedule from providence, begging for either plain genius or plain mediocrity from life...O yes, I hate the Pujas. Or love it beyond reason.

Propaganda

George Orwell, whilst writing his essay Charles Dickens, penned an insightful perspective regarding the nature of propaganda:

All art is propaganda … On the other hand, not all propaganda is art.

Bertrand Russell, by contrast, provided yet another insight:

Propaganda, if it can create an almost unanimous opinion, can generate an irresistible power.

These two definitions were written, respectively, in 1939 and 1938; thereby presenting an almost equal overlap in historical context. Both definitions are sound and both advance the notion of propaganda with tremendous insight.

Propaganda, however, has changed immensely since that time.

The image above and to the left, conveys some understanding of the ‘archetypes’ of early twentieth century propaganda: recruitment during the world wars, patriotism, civil aid, and the denigration of a common ‘enemy’. These archetypes have remained in the popular mindset. Indeed, if asked to define ‘propaganda’, or provide an example of ‘propaganda’, one might immediately conjure up images of Nazi Germany, the British Home front, etc.

The world, growing ever more sophisticated, and having advanced since those days, has, naturally, sought to advance the agitprop form. One might consider the colossal importance of advertising in this regard. One needs, thus, only consider a public transport ticket, cinema ticket; baseball cap, shoes, jeans; stationary, computers, and so on, to find magnificent examples of the settings in which propaganda has been imprinted.

Indeed, one might seek to divide propaganda into two principal forms (if this notion of a diverse array of ‘propaganda’ is accepted,) including: propaganda of the State, and that of Commerce. Both Orwell and Russell soundly encapsulate the modes of communication in this respect.

A further question might now be posed, however. Which is worse? The State’s propaganda, or the agitprop of Commerce? The first led to international and civil chaos. But did not the other, as well? Transnational corporations, through advertising, continue to exploit poorer nations and the sway of popular products can lead to civil war through economic dichotomies. This author believes that the two ‘modes’ of propaganda are equally responsible for the modern social disorder present in the world, today.

'Perfect' Hands

The nature of manual labour has been a subject much written about; indeed, it is one lending itself aptly to a discussion of the inequalities of class, race, and gender. The nature of such labour has never been, however, exclusive to such modern environments as factories and mining sites. Tolkien described, in the Hobbit, the character of Beorn thus:

Standing near was a huge man with a thick black beard and hair, and great bare arms and legs with knotted muscles.

The particular attention paid to his arms is an act of description meriting consideration. It exemplifies the ‘imperfections’ possessed by those employed in manual labour, beyond the ‘sterility’ of the office.

Equally, in the seminal People Might Hear You, Robin Klein mentions the work performed by Mr. Tyrell, noting his hands were not marked by the strain of heavy labour. Francis, the heroine of the novel, details the fact that Tyrell could not possibly have worked in a factory.

In this, (perhaps somewhat Marxist strain of thought – of recognizing the distinctions between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat –) it is possible to note that a system of ‘perfect hands’ amongst certain professions would lead one to recognise higher status, and moreover, to a system denoting the type of work undertaken by certain person, and their fields.

Nick-Number

In this particular branch of the Army's officer training school, the instructor was returning a test. The students identified their work by the last four digits of their Social Security number.

In the early hours of a morning, the instructor was calling the numbers. “Four-seven-seven-zero?” he asked.

“Here,” replied one half-awake lieutenant-to-be. Taking the paper, though, he realized he had mistakenly asked for the wrong paper.

“Seven-zero-seven-five?” asked the instructor.

“Here,” repeated the student, gearing for trouble.

“I thought you were four-seven-seven-zero, soldier,” spoke the teacher.

“That's right, sir,” answered our hero. “I have a nick-number.”

Rare Birds

A guy is caught by a ranger eating a bald eagle and is consequently put in jail for the crime. On the day of his trial, the conversation went something like this:

Judge: "Do you know that eating a bald eagle is a federal offence?"

Man: "Yes I did. But if you let me argue my case, I'll explain what happened."

Judge: "Proceed."

Man: "I got lost in the woods. I hadn't had anything to eat for two weeks. I was so hungry. Next thing I see is a Bald Eagle swooping down at the lake for some fish. I knew that if I followed the Eagle I could maybe steal the fish. Unfortunately, in the process of taking the fish I killed the Eagle. I figured that since I killed the Eagle I might as well eat it since it would be more disgraceful to let it rot on the ground."

Judge: "The court will take a recess while we analyze your testimony."

15 minutes goes by and the judge returns.

Judge: "Due to the extreme circumstance you were under and because you didn't intend to kill the Eagle, the court will dismiss the charges. But if you don't mind the court asking, what does a Bald Eagle taste like?"

Man: "Well your honor, it is hard to explain. The best I can describe it is maybe a combination between a California Condor and a Spotted Owl."

Butt-Bitten

Two campers are hiking in the woods when one is bitten in the butt by a rattlesnake. “I’ll go into town for a doctor,” the other says. He runs ten miles to a small town and finds the only doctor there delivering a baby.

“I can’t leave,” the doctor says. “But here’s what to do. Take a knife, cut a little X where the bite is, suck out the poison and spit it on the ground.”

The guy runs back to his friend. “What did the doctor say?” the victim cries in agony.

“He says you’re gonna die.”

En-Glish

Twenty reasons why English is hard to learn...

1. The bandage was wound around the wound.

2. The farm was used to produce produce.

3. The dump was so full it had to refuse more refuse.

4. We must polish the Polish furniture.

5. He could lead if he would get the lead out.

6. The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.

7. Since there was no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.

8. A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.

9. When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.

10. I did not object to the object.

11. The insurance was invalid for the invalid.

12. There was a row among the oarsmen on how to row.

13. They were too close to the door to close it.

14. The buck does funny things when does are present.

15. A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.

16. To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.

17. The wind was too strong to wind the sail.

18. After a number of injections my jaw got number.

19. Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.

20. I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.