A Day in the Life of the Poet and the Raven

The Raven and the Poet had been in the depths of Valhalla for more than an eon now. After an initial period of strife and animosity they both realised that in this place they had no one else for company and hence it would be better to forge a friendship. And as time went by these two became inseparable – the Raven teaching the Poet the fine art of warfare and the Poet teaching the Raven the intricacies of poetry.

Then arrived Phantasos (the worthy son of Somnus and brother of Morpheus; an exchange student from Olympus) and the three together formed an organisation which was to cause a major stir in the world of the Gods as well as us puny humans. This was the Dream Poets Inc., headquartered in Valhalla. But why talk of the Future when the Present is trying to scuttle past us.

Here we find the Poet - lost in the space-time continuum, thinking of his past sins - generally feeling like scum. The Raven on the other hand is smitten with the 5-7-5 syllable simplicity of the haiku and is composing his epic - Haikus from Eden.

R:
Said Adam one day -
No apple for me today,
Eve has a headache.

So, my friend, what do you think of my masterpiece?

P:
Hmmm. Hmmm. Mumble mumble grumble grumble. You have the structure, but where is the mention of the season and the two contrasting thoughts related to the same subject. My dear friend! You must follow the rules of poetry. Otherwise, the critics will slam your work as being pretentious and uninspired.

R:
Critics!? What critics? I am writing these haikus for my own pleasure not for some blasted critic. Counting the syllables and maintaining the symmetry of the haikus has a soothing effect on my nerves. I don’t care if no one ever reads my work, except you, of course.

P:
Ah! But what is writing, if it isn’t read. The triumph of the writer is in extracting a response from the reader – doesn’t matter whether they love it or hate it. You are right about the critics though. I hate them in equal, if not more, measure. But you must write as if your work is going to be read by millions. We both know there is no one else here other than the two of us. But one never knows.

Little did the Poet and the Raven know that in the next few years with the help of Phantasos (whose work it is to create all the inanimate objects in dreams) they would be able to broadcast their work all over the world in people’s dreams.

R:
You are probably right my friend. Tell me, why you look so morose? Has someone broken your heart?

P:
Ah! It would have been so much better had that happened. The pain of heartbreak is like manna for my soul. What I suffer from is guilt, my brother. All those broken hearts I left behind as I moved from shore to shore in search of fulfilment are tearing at my conscience. So many times have I been loved – deeply and unquestionably – and I have thrown it all away for my own selfish motives. And what have I achieved? I rot here, in this Scandinavian hell, for eternity.

R:
Hmmm! But you have me for company!

P:
True! True! So let’s hear some more haikus.

R:
What is for dinner?
- Said Adam one day to Eve.
Apple pie and tea!

An apple a day
Keeps eve a little away.
Now for the doctor …

Of Hypothetical Situations and Escalators

* Hypothetical situation – you are sitting in a plane. The following conversation happens between you and the gentleman sitting next to you.

Gentleman: Great day today for flying!
You: Yeah.
Gentleman: I am Stanley by the way.
You: Hmmm.
|
|
|
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[Two hours later]
Stanley: Nice talking to you. Here’s my card. Drop in sometime.
You: Huh!

Now suppose two months later you found the visiting card again inside your bag and read the name on top of it - Stanley Kubrick.

This is the point where I’ll try to drown myself in a small unassuming puddle of muck. Now I didn’t bump into Kubrick (he’s been long dead) but I did bump into someone whom I have admired as an actor and who has worked with the likes of Satyajit Ray on a number of occasions. And I just didn’t bump into him. I worked along with him for a whole week on a dramatized poetry reading organized by a friend where I was helping out as stage manager. And we became mighty friendly - talking on first name basis, cracking jokes and stuff. Even after knowing his full name it took me more than a month to realize who he was. This was Dhritiman Chatterjee, the protagonist of Ray’s 1972 classic Pratidwandi. He can now be seen in the much acclaimed film Black as Rani Mukherjee’s father. There is a slight possibility that I might be acting along side him in the near future in a play. I have my fingers crossed.

* The first time I used an escalator was in 1988 in the Delhi international airport. These moving staircases impressed me like no other wonder of science had ever done before. I had already been on an airplane a month before but somehow the experience of riding an escalator overshadowed that experience. Throughout my brief stay in London (summer 1988) I did what kids all over the world have done at some time or the other (most snipers in movies also make their escape the same way) – going down an escalator which is moving upwards or vice versa. I spent endless hours trying to find the perfect speed with my small legs to counter the upwards movement of the escalator. What resulted was something akin to suspended animation (I always liked the coyote more than the roadrunner). Somehow running at top speed and still not moving a meter forward has its own charm (I find treadmills interesting for the same reason).

Structured Procrastination

You know you have hit rock bottom when you have to put up someone else’s writing on your blog.

Structured Procrastination
By John Perry
Version of April 25, 1995

I have been intending to write this essay for months. Why am I finally doing it? Because I finally found some uncommitted time? Wrong. I have papers to grade, textbook orders to fill out, an NSF proposal to referee, dissertation drafts to read. I am working on this essay as a way of not doing all of those things. This is the essence of what I call structured procrastination, an amazing strategy I have discovered that converts procrastinators into effective human beings, respected and admired for all that they can accomplish and the good use they make of time. All procrastinators put off things they have to do. Structured procrastination is the art of making this bad trait work for you. The key idea is that procrastinating does not mean doing absolutely nothing. Procrastinators seldom do absolutely nothing; they do marginally useful things, like gardening or sharpening pencils or making a diagram of how they will reorganize their files when they get around to it. Why does the procrastinator do these things? Because they are a way of not doing something more important. If all the procrastinator had left to do was to sharpen some pencils, no force on earth could get him do it. However, the procrastinator can be motivated to do difficult, timely and important tasks, as long as these tasks are a way of not doing something more important.

Structured procrastination means shaping the structure of the tasks one has to do in a way that exploits this fact. The list of tasks one has in mind will be ordered by importance. Tasks that seem most urgent and important are on top. But there are also worthwhile tasks to perform lower down on the list. Doing these tasks becomes a way of not doing the things higher up on the list. With this sort of appropriate task structure, the procrastinator becomes a useful citizen. Indeed, the procrastinator can even acquire, as I have, a reputation for getting a lot done.

The most perfect situation for structured procrastination that I ever had was when my wife and I served as Resident Fellows in Soto House, a Stanford dormitory. In the evening, faced with papers to grade, lectures to prepare, committee work to be done, I would leave our cottage next to the dorm and go over to the lounge and play ping-pong with the residents, or talk over things with them in their rooms, or just sit there and read the paper. I got a reputation for being a terrific Resident Fellow, and one of the rare profs on campus who spent time with undergraduates and got to know them. What a set up: play ping pong as a way of not doing more important things, and get a reputation as Mr. Chips.

Procrastinators often follow exactly the wrong tack. They try to minimize their commitments, assuming that if they have only a few things to do, they will quit procrastinating and get them done. But this goes contrary to the basic nature of the procrastinator and destroys his most important source of motivation. The few tasks on his list will be by definition the most important, and the only way to avoid doing them will be to do nothing. This is a way to become a couch potato, not an effective human being. At this point you may be asking, "How about the important tasks at the top of the list, that one never does?" Admittedly, there is a potential problem here.

The trick is to pick the right sorts of projects for the top of the list. The ideal sorts of things have two characteristics, First, they seem to have clear deadlines (but really don't). Second, they seem awfully important (but really aren't). Luckily, life abounds with such tasks. In universities the vast majority of tasks fall into this category, and I'm sure the same is true for most other large institutions. Take for example the item right at the top of my list right now. This is finishing an essay for a volume in the philosophy of language. It was supposed to be done eleven months ago. I have accomplished an enormous number of important things as a way of not working on it. A couple of months ago, bothered by guilt, I wrote a letter to the editor saying how sorry I was to be so late and expressing my good intentions to get to work. Writing the letter was, of course, a way of not working on the article. It turned out that I really wasn't much further behind schedule than anyone else. And how important is this article anyway? Not so important that at some point something that seems more important won't come along. Then I'll get to work on it.

Another example is book order forms. I write this in June. In October, I will teach a class on Epistemology. The book order forms are already overdue at the book store. It is easy to take this as an important task with a pressing deadline (for you non-procrastinators, I will observe that deadlines really start to press a week or two after they pass.) I get almost daily reminders from the department secretary, students sometimes ask me what we will be reading, and the unfilled order form sits right in the middle of my desk, right under the wrapping from the sandwich I ate last Wednesday. This task is near the top of my list; it bothers me, and motivates me to do other useful but superficially less important things. But in fact, the book store is plenty busy with forms already filed by non-procrastinators. I can get mine in mid-Summer and things will be fine. I just need to order popular well-known books from efficient publishers. I will accept some other, apparently more important, task sometime between now and, say, August 1st. Then my psyche will feel comfortable about filling out the order forms as a way of not doing this new task.

The observant reader may feel at this point that structured procrastination requires a certain amount of self-deception, since one is in effect constantly perpetrating a pyramid scheme on oneself. Exactly. One needs to be able to recognize and commit oneself to tasks with inflated importance and unreal deadlines, while making oneself feel that they are important and urgent. This is not a problem, because virtually all procrastinators have excellent self-deceptive skills also. And what could be more noble than using one character flaw to offset the bad effects of another?

Le Moron

Thinking about:

* “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?”

This is perhaps the most misinterpreted line on stage. Juliet looks out of her balcony, her eyes searching far and wide for the pilgrim who purged his sins by her lips. And she calls out – Where are you Romeo?

No. Absolutely not! She is not asking him for his whereabouts. What she really means is – Why are you Romeo?

I didn’t know this till a few days back. But now that I know, I am haunted by it - not by the Bard or his tragedy but by the provider of this piece of knowledge.

* Obese dogs springing off with a ‘boing boing’ sound after crash landing on someone’s tummy.

* Red eyes. I wish I had them permanently. It’s not the looks. I never bother about them. Mine is the face which sank a thousand ships. It’s all about the devil and Al.

* Humility and the lack thereof in yours truly.

* Percy Sledge and how right he was.

* Finding a small unassuming puddle of muck and drowning myself in it. ‘Dumb ass moron’, say the voices. I agree completely.

* Spiky and Duck. I am so happy for the two of you.

* New Year Resolution – find a wall, turn towards it, start running, gather speed and smash into it. In case the brain survives, repeat. If destroyed, repeat anyway. If I am still a moron, then repeat (this is going to be an infinite loop)

* Fork ( ) command and unrestricted processes and how I once brought the Vanavil network down. Will you shut up for crying out loud?

* Pretentious pseudo-intellectuals and the genuine gems of intellect. I know a handful of both. I would like to tear apart the former and invite the latter to a book slam.

* The fly, the raven and the dead poet. Need to get back to writing. But first, practice for the resolution.

Ok my head hurts and there is a big bump on it and I still can’t stop thinking about the first few (top two actually) points. Sleeping pills or booze or driving with my eyes closed?

Down the River Styx

Over the last two years I have gone to Bang-a-whore (ahmm, old jokes cease to be funny - Bangalore) over a dozen times for both work and pleasure (who am I kidding? Always for pleasure, just this once also did some work on the side). I always had a thing for the city despite the fact that my time there was spent entirely on the triangle of MG, Brigade and Residency roads.

The first few journeys were limited to Pecos (that beacon of light for all children of Bacchus), Purple Haze (gone down the drain over the years), the Bunker (still enjoy their UV lights) and Corner House (hmmm, this place sells the best ice cream in the world. At one time I tried to persuade the manager to change the name of their best-seller ‘Death by Chocolate’ to ‘Life by Chocolate’ citing the fact that chocolate is an aphrodisiac and helps the process of procreation).

But preferences change over the years – now Styx (best rock in town) is in, Cosmo Village’s voluptuous bartenders beckon and Zero G’s dance floor is inviting as always. Spinz (I don’t think I got the name right, whatever) sucks – it’s a crappy place best suited for all ye wannabe yuppies out there. The L-Squares at IIMB rock and the people there will be in my heart forever.

The reason I just took off to Bangalore was quite simple – needed to get some perspective back in life (really?! That’s not what you said earlier in bed darling).

I wanted to go there for two things – to take another look at the world I have left far behind (the world of corporate jobs, formal clothes, presentations and working 50 hours without a break) and to list out the things which would complete my fragmented life and calm the voices in my head. Bangalore gave me a taste of both these worlds at the same time.

The world I have left – I could have kicked the corporate asses to kingdom come. I always gave the best presentations in class and no one looks more killer than me in formal clothes. This world called out to me like a wailing siren (waiting to devour the wonder-struck sailor) but I survived. Been there, done that – I am at peace with what I am doing with my life – writing it is, writing it shall remain. No second thoughts.

The world I want – I already know what was missing in my life. Bangalore just manifested her and put her in my arms – albeit for a very short time. ‘Silence’, command the voices in unison. Silence it shall be.

While in Styx with some old cronies, remembered spilling beer over a close friend a couple of months back and got a little sentimental. I immediately ordered a Bull Frog (vodka based cocktail) to remember BluePuss and the other Horrors. Man we guys rocked. I realized that life was good because I have the best friends in the world (wherever they are and however they may be connected). Remembering the advice a friend gave a few days back –

When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
When you’re sure you’ve had enough of this life, well hang on
Don’t let yourself go, everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes

Sometimes everything is wrong. now it’s time to sing along
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go, (hold on)
When you think you’ve had too much of this life, well hang on

’cause everybody hurts. take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts. don’t throw your hand. oh, no. don’t throw your hand
If you feel like you’re alone, no, no, no, you are not alone

REM Everybody Hurts

More Random Ramblings (due to the lack of coherent thought structure)

* Kids are capable of extreme cruelty. And no, I am not talking about angst-ridden teenagers. O Nay! I am talking about those cute little shits running around as if there is no tomorrow. Yes in my most humble opinion kids can be evil. And I am not talking the ‘Omen’ kind of evil (Anti-Christ reborn and 666). I am talking about your average regular 6 year old.

My mom started teaching again and a few days back I was waiting for her outside her school in my car (I got there about an hour earlier than expected). So I see these little kids playing. They all seemed really excited about something and were huddled together around a boy who was holding something in his hand. Curiosity took the better of me and I got out of my car to take a look at what it was that had spellbound those kids.

In his hand the boy was holding nature’s very own helicopters – dragonflys. Now I absolutely love these creatures for their terrific shape and amazing mobility and for the sheer genius that the universe employed to make them. As a kid I used to run along with them, imagining I had wings to fly. I felt happy that kids were still kids and got excited by the beauty around them. But what happened next left me shell shocked.

The boy proceeded to tear off the wings of the dragonfly one by one and then squashed the remaining body of the creature. And all this was done to a loud chorus of cheers by the other kids. Then a girl standing next to this boy said – lets catch some more and kill them all. The kids started running around frantically in pursuit of those magnificent creatures. In the next ten minutes they went on a murderous spree and killed over a dozen helicopters. I was so outraged at this collective brutal act that I wanted to enter the school compound and butt whack them so hard their next ten generations would have trouble shitting. Some how I controlled my anger and realized that I could squash them the same way they squashed those innocent dragonflies.

In retrospect I realized that what they did would leave no guilt in them. Kids don’t know concepts like guilt and remorse and this very innocence and purity of their cruelty makes them so dangerous. I swear by the universe that I love kids and am still one at heart or at least would like to be one. But what I saw left me puzzled.

Came back home and saw the news for a change. Three rag-pickers (aged 6 to 11) killed a 5 year old boy because they had decided they didn’t like him. And they weren’t affected by this at all even after the police arrested them. They simply failed to understand the seriousness of their actions. I didn’t know what to think of this whole situation. Luckily there was little Ashi (my neighbour’s 5 year old daughter) who restored my faith in little kids. She has been my spiritual guru for some time now and gives the best advice on all aspects of life. When I told her what the little kids in my mom’s school did that afternoon she just laughed about the whole thing. Then she proceeded to chase her little dog around my drawing room and brought a big smile back on my face.

Innocence is not dead. Not yet.

* Spontaneity is so over rated and so misunderstood. All of us admire it and crave it. But there are very few who can wield this powerful weapon. Some call it wit, some call it charm. I call it a practiced art. ‘Hah! Are you listenin' to me, son? I'm givin' ya pearls here.’ Being able to reel off line after line of rib-tickling humour and being able to charm the ladies (or charm the gentlemen depending on your gender and sexual orientation) requires endless hours of practice. To be able to leave a lasting impression and whisk someone off their feet requires deep thinking and introspection. So all ye romantics out there listen carefully – there are no spontaneous people in this world – all us charmers are good actors who pretend to be making this stuff with the back of the toenails of our left foot.

So you! Yeah I am talking to you O Red Haired One. Next time you are setting me up on a chance encounter with such a gorgeous, beautiful, adorable, magnificent, stunning, ravishing, pulchritudinous girl, don’t give me a message at 6:30 pm to tell me I am going to meet her at 7:00 pm. I will be left speechless and stunned (yeah, me - speechless) as I was today. Give me at least two hours because every creature is unique and one has to think about all the things one should say and things one should hold back.

Well at least you tried. It’s a beginning.

* Going to Bangalore this Friday on a much needed vacation - will be there for almost a week. Also need a break from this virtual world. Need to spend some down time and clear up (or maybe clutter up) my head.

* Opus I

This silent call you make,
A silence so raging loud
I fear the world knows its meaning.
If you fill every corner of a room
Where can I look?
If I close my eyes
the silence becomes louder!
There is no escape from you.
The only way out
is in.

- Spike Milligan

The Collective Sigh of a Thousand Vacuum Cleaners

Easy Clean Dust Buster 5000 was the latest and most sophisticated offering by the UDirtyVClean Corporation (headquartered in Salem, Massachusetts). In fact it had been more or less responsible for resurrecting the fortunes of the almost insolvent Corporation.

The 4000 series with its latest Stick design had failed to fire the collective imagination of the usual suspects who bought the products offered by the Corporation. They complained that it resembled the now obsolete broomstick both in design and functionality. It also didn’t offer any comfort to their sore bottoms, a feature they had deeply craved ever since the High Council had decided to replace broomsticks with vacuum cleaners. This had been done during the harsh winter of the Chinese year of the Green Monkey.

Feeling the heat from its clientele, the Corporation went back to the design board and created the 5000 series. It had a bold upright design with luxurious seating and extra storage space for spells and incantations. They also threw in the brain of a benign logo-phobic (the only one available) to make the new series more user-friendly.

The prototype of the 5000 series, Serial Number H/AL1138 was sold to the head of the High Council. Behind her back, she was known as Her Royal Highness of Prolixity for her ability to stun everyone with an endless barrage of words. This more often than not caused the listeners to drown themselves in a small, unassuming puddle of an anorexic bat’s blood.

Her verbosity meant that in a state of rage she could spew any dangerous spell from her extensive repertoire of dark magic. And this worried the good-natured and humane Easy Clean Dust Buster 5000 Serial Number H/AL1138. Not only was 1138 the official carrier of her royal posterior, it was also the mobile storage unit for all her powerful magic. Countless times it had seen innocent but curious bystanders turn into aardvarks, flamingos, guinea pigs, lion tailed macaques, Caribbean rhinoceros iguanas and even puss and fungus just because they had been interested in listening to the words of an old hag riding a shining brand new vacuum cleaner.

“This had to stop”, thought the simple minded but well meaning 1138 to itself, its one horse power motor making a loud roar - the world must be rid of people who use their lithe tongues and dark words to stupefy others - death to the exploiters of the word. And thus began the great Vacuum Cleaning Revolution in the Chinese year of the Rooster. What had began with a roar ended with the collective sigh of a thousand vacuum cleaners. And only I, the short story writer, am left to tell this horrifying tale of annihilating suction. But no listeners left.

© 2004 Anshumani Ruddra

Convocation

One of the happiest days of my life - 41st Convocation of IIT Madras held on the 30th of July 2004 - here receiving the degree from one of my favourite people on campus, Prof MS Ananth.

Random Ramblings

* Last week a friend had come down to Chennai so the two of us went around the city with two other friends from IIT and had a blast. It’s weird but these guys had never had booze in the afternoon. So I introduced them to the pleasures of getting drunk in the afternoon, something which I have been doing very regularly of late.

* Saw Ram Gopal Verma’s Naach the same day. I liked the film because it was bold and different but it was really slow. Another problem with the movie was that it was very monotonous and had no comic relief at all. There was not even a single light moment in the movie. It was intense all the way. Of all the pathetic actors we have in Bollywood, Bachchan Jr and Antra Mali are the only promising ones. Here are my two cents on acting for the two of them – stop clenching your jaw muscles when you want to show anger. Doing it over and over again undermines your overall performance. There are many other ways of showing anger. Maintain eye contact with the camera and for crying out loud don’t blink at the wrong moment, it destroys the whole scene. Look at Samuel L Jackson. The guy doesn’t blink at all during a monologue and his stare is so captivating you can’t take your eyes of the screen. Practice looking in the mirror while reading your lines and don’t blink without reason. Our actors are extremely poor with non-verbal communication. Every action, every movement has to have a reason and should convey something.

* I am dying.

Ok I am being over dramatic.

But I am dying to meet you.

Can’t believe you are so near and yet so far.

* Went to the airport today. I love all these places which have a huge mass of humanity – railway stations, bus depots, libraries, etc. I think these places are really romantic. But Chennai airport (and especially the exit) is the single most unromantic place I have ever seen. A graveyard has more romantic potential. I simply cannot imagine a guy, who has just landed, running all the way to meet his babe and give her a kiss and a hug and just take her in his arms for ever and ever. The architects must have been warned in advance about the possibility of something like this happening and designed the exit in such a way that it would be impossible for the couple to do PDA – public display of affection.

* Why do people hate clichés? I love them, period. One day, I am going to write a book on clichés. It will be the most comprehensive study of clichés ever.

* Been watching this cartoon channel called Animax very regularly. It’s a Japanese channel and mostly has animated stuff based on mangas (Japanese comic strips). I simply love this series called Inu Yasha. More on this later.

* I have already told babe about this so I don’t care now about letting the cat out of the bag. These days I am going against everything the Horrors stood for. I joined a gym and have been working out very hard and very regularly. Gained 20 pounds but it doesn’t show yet, maybe in a couple of months when I cross 200 pounds.

* Attended a Beatles celebration concert at the British Council. It was alright, could have been better. They didn’t play ‘When I’m 64’ so I was disappointed.

* Been missing my IIT buddies a lot these days. A lot of stuff has been happening with them and it hurts that I can’t be a part of their life any longer. I mean of course I am a part of their lives. But it’s not the same. Babe called the other night and it’s the happiest 20 minutes I have spent in the last 4 months. I am turning into a softy. We homies got to keep it real.

* Been listening to Alice in Chains – Jar of Flies (also Rooster from the album Dirt) non stop for the last three days. I love this group. Thanks Shravan for introducing me to them. Reminded me of my fifth semester when I went through a depression for nearly six months. Broke all the cardinal rules of boozing back then – drank when I was alone, drank when I was sad and drank with people I didn’t trust. I never thought that a mature level headed guy like me would stoop so low and make mince meat of my so called self esteem. When you are in love with the idea of a person rather than being in love with the person, expect a kick in your balls. Punters call it a crush. I call it stupidity. Your mind plays games with you and makes an ordinary (down right pathetic) human being seem like an angel. I am not being vindictive (dude remember you said this to me) but it’s the truth. I am glad I got that out of my system, even though it’s been ages and life has become so much better.

* Been trying to sing like Louis Armstrong – What a Wonderful World – almost matched his voice.

* I have nothing left to talk about with my parents. I mean I love them and everything but I can no longer relate to them on any subject – the only draw back of coming to IIT. It has made me too independent. I think I need to get out of Chennai for a few days and take a break from life. Bangalore has great weather these days – cold – exactly the way I feel these days.

* Enrique’s ‘Don’t turn Off the Laaaaeeeeghts’ just started playing. Hate these random jumps in Winamp. Aha – Strangers in the Night – Frank Sinatra is amazing. Been singing Strangers before every performance to clear my throat and get myself high, works each time.

* Met the girl with the ear piercings again today. She is such a sweetheart. Just feel like cuddling her.

* Clairvoyance – the supposed ability to perceive things that are not in sight or that cannot be seen. This word has been on my mind for a long time. So has Nonchalant.

The 8150 Days of Me

I remember this rather dull night, at the peak of north Indian winter, some six years back. I had been trying to solve a particularly tricky problem of mechanics from Irodov for nearly four hours. The solution was quite elusive and required a very subtle trick which my tired mind was unable to comprehend. So I kept the problem aside and decided to approach it with a fresh mind the next morning. I was also distracted because of this particular book I had acquired a couple of days before that – The 120 Day of Sodom (or the School of Freedoms or the School of Libertines) by Marquis de Sade. The book tells the story of a bunch of old men who enslave a group of teenagers and perform various sexual perversions on them and eventually kill them. All this is done while listening to stories told by old prostitutes.

Bored with my physics problems and unable to sleep I decided to read this book. Back then I had this principle of not leaving a novel unfinished and so I read this gruesome book throughout the night. When I finished reading, in the early hours of the morning, my mind had gone numb and an all pervading feeling of disgust settled over me. I didn’t eat anything the whole day because of fear of remembering the details of the coprophilia described in the book.

Fast forward to the present – I finished seeing Pier Paolo Pasolini’s film Salo: The 120 Days of Sodom based on original text by Sade but set in the Fascist Republic of Salo in 1944. Here is how the film is described on the back cover of the DVD I viewed (released by the British Film Institute):

Banned, censored and reviled the world over since its first release in 1975, Salò has rarely been shown in its complete form in Britain and did not receive BBFVC certification until late 2000, when it was passed uncut. In 1994 its US video release prompted the prosecution of a bookshop, and in Australia the ban on Salò was lifted in 1993, only to be reinstated in 1998 after questions were raised in their national parliament.

The film Salò is based on the Marquis de Sade's novel 120 Days of Sodom, with the setting transposed to an empty Lake Garda mansion in Mussolini's miniature Fascist Republic of Salò, Italy in 1944. Four wealthy and powerful libertines gather in a palazzo to organise a gluttonous, theatrical series of sexual tortures to be inflicted upon a terrified collection of subjugated young men and women.

The film's content and imagery is extreme, and it retains the power to shock, repel and distress a quarter of a century on. Pasolini was murdered shortly before the film's release, when a casual sex encounter on a beach outside Rome went tragically wrong. The reaction to the murder ensured that the public perception of Salò was tainted by the score-settling indulged in by his enemies on both the Left and the Right. Yet it remains a cinematic milestone - culturally significant, politically vital and visually stunning. The DVD release features a poster gallery, an on-screen director's biography and a director's foreword read by actor Nickolas Grace.

The film was even more gruesome and graphic in its presentation of violence then the way I had visualized it after reading the book. Nothing shocks me these days, but this movie was like a thunderbolt, waking me from a reverie like nothing else has ever done. Why did Pasolini make this movie? More importantly how did he accomplish the task of making such a harrowing movie?

As disgusted and revolted as I am after having seen the contents of the movie, there is still only one word which I can use to describe the movie – beautiful. It is sheer genius – the light work gives a very surreal detached feeling, colours are used brilliantly and direction – the best I have ever seen. I highly recommend the movie to every film aficionado, but don’t watch the movie on a full stomach and if you can’t take the violence – stop immediately. The weak of heart should not watch this film.