Well here it is once again, a brand new election day!!! So many changes, so many promises, all down the drain. 2 years back when the army came to power and started putting all the crooks in jail we all heaved a sigh of relief and dreamed of better times. However, like everything else that happens in Bangladesh, there was no plan. No plan on how make proper arrests, how to make the convictions stick, how to really put the most corrupt bastards away for good. And in this i guess the preceding political parties themselves are to blame, or to credit. Because no attempt has ever been made to overhaul the judiciary and police systems. Crime and punishment has had a very tenuous relationship, like a fleeting summer fling. I had a feeling that all this arresting people and throwing them in jail was only a very temporary measure and it would ultimately prove futile.
And it has.
All the old faces are back for re-election. I think the only casualty is Babur, who's been thrown out of BNP.
So i'm feeling a tad bloodthirsty. We already know the worst offenders. The army should have just wiped them off the face of the earth. Killed the inglorius bastards and be done with it. We could have later apologised to the UN over this regrettable incident. Can you see it? One night of carnage, and 50 or 60 of the worst offendors and their henchmen 6 feet under. Ahh. Brings a tear to me eye.
one can alweays dream.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The Luxury of Mediocrity, or, the horrible film that is ontorjatra
You know, i can understand when bad films are churned out of Hollywood. They have a huge money making industry and they simply HAVE to release a certain amount of films every business year and the moment you enter a situation when you HAVE to do things chances are some of it will work and some of it won't. So yes we are used to god awful movies from Hollywood. But then there are the indie film makers from US and Europe. The whole point of the indie film makers is that they tackle fresh topics, or bring in fresh perspectives, and on the whole serve up an interesting alternative dish to the mainstream big mac that we consume day in and day out.
As a child of the nineties and the new millennium, i would expect the film makers of Bangladesh to try the same things, especially the ones who are making films for the festival circuit and are not dependent on domestic release to earn back their money. We all abhor the atrocious films from FDC, we all think we can do better than that, but sadly we never really do, do we? I haven't watched anything else by Tarek Masud & his wife and Ontorjatra was the first film of his that i watched. With good reason - the mom of one of my best friends was in a starring role. So i went and bought the DVD and put on the movie. And man what a punishment it turned out to be.
I won't even go into the technical deficiencies of the film, the odd camera angles, the bad sylheti accent, the poor sound direction. I'll just talk about the storytelling. There wasn't any. And with good reason too, because you need a good story in order to tell it in an interesting way. Tarek Masud and his wife had a vague notion of a sliver of an idea and then tried to tell a story about that vague notion of a sliver of an idea. The result? Devastatingly bad script, incredibly insipid dialog, deafeningly horrendous storytelling. You'd expect Tarek masud to be a pro by now, with 3 or more films (that i know about) under his belt. Do you really mean to tell me that a veteran film maker didn't understand you need story sequences which actually progress the story? That the dialogs have to be at least as interesting as what we say in real life? I mean i can understand trying to have a bit of theatricality in the dialog but holy shit they were so insipid!!! I frequently tell my ad film maker buddies that i have nothing but contempt for film makers as they can't make a decent movie. I just got more fodder for that particular line of attack. Will the film makers of Bangladesh please WATCH SOME CONTEMPORARY FUCKING MOVIES AND LEARN THE CRAFT???
As a child of the nineties and the new millennium, i would expect the film makers of Bangladesh to try the same things, especially the ones who are making films for the festival circuit and are not dependent on domestic release to earn back their money. We all abhor the atrocious films from FDC, we all think we can do better than that, but sadly we never really do, do we? I haven't watched anything else by Tarek Masud & his wife and Ontorjatra was the first film of his that i watched. With good reason - the mom of one of my best friends was in a starring role. So i went and bought the DVD and put on the movie. And man what a punishment it turned out to be.
I won't even go into the technical deficiencies of the film, the odd camera angles, the bad sylheti accent, the poor sound direction. I'll just talk about the storytelling. There wasn't any. And with good reason too, because you need a good story in order to tell it in an interesting way. Tarek Masud and his wife had a vague notion of a sliver of an idea and then tried to tell a story about that vague notion of a sliver of an idea. The result? Devastatingly bad script, incredibly insipid dialog, deafeningly horrendous storytelling. You'd expect Tarek masud to be a pro by now, with 3 or more films (that i know about) under his belt. Do you really mean to tell me that a veteran film maker didn't understand you need story sequences which actually progress the story? That the dialogs have to be at least as interesting as what we say in real life? I mean i can understand trying to have a bit of theatricality in the dialog but holy shit they were so insipid!!! I frequently tell my ad film maker buddies that i have nothing but contempt for film makers as they can't make a decent movie. I just got more fodder for that particular line of attack. Will the film makers of Bangladesh please WATCH SOME CONTEMPORARY FUCKING MOVIES AND LEARN THE CRAFT???
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Be Afraid, Detective Chapter 2
Chapter 2
The previous day:
Salma knew today was different. For one, she hadn’t woken up with that feeling of throwing up this morning. And the not-so-playful kicks from the new temporary resident in her belly were also absent. Good, Salma thought, the little brat is finally letting me wake up in peace. Hard to believe the months had gone by so quickly. Seems like it was yesterday when the blood stopped flowing, and she mentioned it to Him. He greeted the news with that enigmatic smile that she had come to love so much. She still thought it a bit strange that He was not a bit surprised. Which was weird because she had been on the pill. They had discussed and decided on the pill, because they both hated condoms. Damn those rubbery things. Chewing gum with the wrapper on, as the man said. So she had been on the pill, and had been diligent in keeping track of her cycles and everything. But still something had snuck through. Some little sperm had defeated all her augmented and reinforced defenses and managed to fertilize an egg. And He was fine with the news. Was happy in fact. As if He knew it was coming. Salma never really thought about it before. It was something that was sort of at the back of her mind but she hadn’t found the right moment to ask Him about it.
At first it was all about whether the baby would be kept. Because they weren’t married, it would be a legal and social mess. And He had made it clear that they would not get married. Something about this not being the right time. That’s another thing Salma never understood. Why wasn’t it the right time? She loved Him, and He loved her back. He had a nice job with lots of money, they had an appartment. True Salma never figured out what He did. He had to leave the city frequently. Apparently they (whoever “they” were) needed him to go all over the world and do their work for them. At least that’s what He said. And Salma believed Him…didn’t she? So what if she didn’t know what He did…didn’t know where He worked…where He was from…wait a minute wait a minute…
Didn’t know where He worked? Didn’t know where He’s from? Suddenly Salma started feeling apprehensive. What the hell was going on…Of course she knew where He worked, who He was…He worked for…umm, ok, we’ll get to that one later ladies and gents, His family lives on…ok, so the family question is another blinder…but lets not panic yet, thought Salma. But she couldn’t help herself. She felt panicky. So she did what she always does when she feels panicky. She blamed it on her condition and got busy making a sumptuous breakfast.
Two omlettes, bread, butter, and a potato salad later Salma sat back in the living room watching TV. But her mind kept going back to the questions which she had never asked or thought of. Not in the last 8 months. Eight months? She had been with Him for EIGHT months?? And where exactly WAS here? Suddenly the panic was back. She suddenly realized she didn’t know where she was. Yes, she was home, but where the hell WAS home? It isn’t natural for people to forget their own address, is it? What exactly DID she know about her situation? And why the hell hadn’t she thought about all this before? “Calm yourself Salma, there’s nothing to worry about” she told herself. And as she said it she knew she didn’t believe it. She had a bad feeling. Something was different today, and not different in a good way either. She felt as if she had been asleep, her mind turned off all these months. And now that it was turning on again she was faced with a situation she just could not explain. She closed her eyes and tried to think of Him. That’s what she normally did when she felt anxious, or alone. She would always remember His face, His smile, and it would calm her. But she couldn’t picture Him now. Could not visualize Him at all. How could that be? What the hell was going on? The panic started rising. Salma turned off the Tv andf started pottering in the kitchen. She decided to cook a feast. Her larder was well stocked. She would make a special dinner for Him and He would explain everything and it would all be fine.
Little did Salma know at that time that it would be the last meal she would ever cook.
The previous day:
Salma knew today was different. For one, she hadn’t woken up with that feeling of throwing up this morning. And the not-so-playful kicks from the new temporary resident in her belly were also absent. Good, Salma thought, the little brat is finally letting me wake up in peace. Hard to believe the months had gone by so quickly. Seems like it was yesterday when the blood stopped flowing, and she mentioned it to Him. He greeted the news with that enigmatic smile that she had come to love so much. She still thought it a bit strange that He was not a bit surprised. Which was weird because she had been on the pill. They had discussed and decided on the pill, because they both hated condoms. Damn those rubbery things. Chewing gum with the wrapper on, as the man said. So she had been on the pill, and had been diligent in keeping track of her cycles and everything. But still something had snuck through. Some little sperm had defeated all her augmented and reinforced defenses and managed to fertilize an egg. And He was fine with the news. Was happy in fact. As if He knew it was coming. Salma never really thought about it before. It was something that was sort of at the back of her mind but she hadn’t found the right moment to ask Him about it.
At first it was all about whether the baby would be kept. Because they weren’t married, it would be a legal and social mess. And He had made it clear that they would not get married. Something about this not being the right time. That’s another thing Salma never understood. Why wasn’t it the right time? She loved Him, and He loved her back. He had a nice job with lots of money, they had an appartment. True Salma never figured out what He did. He had to leave the city frequently. Apparently they (whoever “they” were) needed him to go all over the world and do their work for them. At least that’s what He said. And Salma believed Him…didn’t she? So what if she didn’t know what He did…didn’t know where He worked…where He was from…wait a minute wait a minute…
Didn’t know where He worked? Didn’t know where He’s from? Suddenly Salma started feeling apprehensive. What the hell was going on…Of course she knew where He worked, who He was…He worked for…umm, ok, we’ll get to that one later ladies and gents, His family lives on…ok, so the family question is another blinder…but lets not panic yet, thought Salma. But she couldn’t help herself. She felt panicky. So she did what she always does when she feels panicky. She blamed it on her condition and got busy making a sumptuous breakfast.
Two omlettes, bread, butter, and a potato salad later Salma sat back in the living room watching TV. But her mind kept going back to the questions which she had never asked or thought of. Not in the last 8 months. Eight months? She had been with Him for EIGHT months?? And where exactly WAS here? Suddenly the panic was back. She suddenly realized she didn’t know where she was. Yes, she was home, but where the hell WAS home? It isn’t natural for people to forget their own address, is it? What exactly DID she know about her situation? And why the hell hadn’t she thought about all this before? “Calm yourself Salma, there’s nothing to worry about” she told herself. And as she said it she knew she didn’t believe it. She had a bad feeling. Something was different today, and not different in a good way either. She felt as if she had been asleep, her mind turned off all these months. And now that it was turning on again she was faced with a situation she just could not explain. She closed her eyes and tried to think of Him. That’s what she normally did when she felt anxious, or alone. She would always remember His face, His smile, and it would calm her. But she couldn’t picture Him now. Could not visualize Him at all. How could that be? What the hell was going on? The panic started rising. Salma turned off the Tv andf started pottering in the kitchen. She decided to cook a feast. Her larder was well stocked. She would make a special dinner for Him and He would explain everything and it would all be fine.
Little did Salma know at that time that it would be the last meal she would ever cook.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Be afraid, Detective
Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. But there was no beauty to this crime scene. Oh sure, there were the bodies, blood splatters, signs of struggle. A lot of misery and violence had happened in this room. But it didn’t make sense. The door, locked from the inside. The windows with grills, all intact. No sound had been heard from people living across the hall. The guards downstairs said no one had come visiting deep in the night. And yet…and yet…here it all was. A mother and child, dead, brutally slain, bellies slashed open, guts hanging out. What made it all the more gruesome was that the child had been ripped from the womb…and then stabbed. And hacked. And slashed. Why all this violence? The killer could have finished the job much more neatly with a simple slash across the mother’s throat. That would have taken care of the unborn child as well. But no. The killer went graphic. As if he wanted to make a statement. But a statement to whom? The dead victim? Or the police? Or to someone else who may be next on the list?
So yes, it was a singularly ugly crime scene. Not because of the horrible scenes of mutilation and bloodbath. But because it didn’t make sense. And Detective Inspector Delwar hated crime scenes that took more than 5 minutes to figure out. He called them “ugly” crime scenes.
So yes, it was a singularly ugly crime scene. Not because of the horrible scenes of mutilation and bloodbath. But because it didn’t make sense. And Detective Inspector Delwar hated crime scenes that took more than 5 minutes to figure out. He called them “ugly” crime scenes.
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