WRITE UPS
A few pieces of poems, dialogues, essays I have written in the four years of my design colleges.
(The octopus starts humming to himself) Octopus: I’m fabulous, Biggest and the best. The fanciest feast you can give your guest. My tentacles all 8 so purple and long, Come! Sing along to my favourite song! Prawn: Oh mighty octopus, why don’t you take a look around? Is your pride so little that it fits in a song? Dawn upon us are hungry eyes, - Octopus: Finish me will he? Well he can try, Tentacles so thick, the fork cannot pry Pacing the ocean floor, Each day I eat more and more. Prawn: Yet here we are sitting on the same plate, About to meet the same fate. Caught in a mongers net weren't you? Unable to fight your way through. Octopus: It is his privilege to eat me, A majestic creature of the sea. Look at yourself, you lousy prawn Two bites and you’re gone. Prawn: hey! It’s 3 bites you’re wrong, Skin so crispy, golden blonde. Seasoned with Garlic, dripping with butter, What do you have, you raw piece of rubber? Octopus: I have what you don’t, 3 hearts and a body that is all fat and no bones. For it they pay a hefty sum, More expensive than 5 bottles of rum. Prawn: I’m no less than you are, ( plated as an amuse-bouche with some caviar) I’m served on michelin plates, Orders flying off the gates. Octopus: Tossed with tomatoes and green stuff You call yourself a cocktail buff. Old and outdated as you are, Young chefs you leave scared. Deveining you gives nightmares.. Since about you hardly anybody cares, Move along and give place to new dishes, Salmon, Tuna and other big fishes Prawn: Shrimp and grits will always be timeless, The “mmmm” of the diner is priceless. My senses tingle, when the hot oil sizzles, While frying crispy tempura to Prawn Cutlet, Found all around, in every fish market. Sundays are for barbecues, Tuesdays for bibimbap Fridays are for salads and juicy kebab. Octopus: When it comes to exotic type sea-food, I stand in line with the weird sea-horse dude. Making an entrance with charcoal and smoke, Paired with wine and artichoke. Prawn: Look up! The squid has no luck, Eaten first he, faced the end when the mukbanger ignored his plea. Octopus: This set-up is so kitschy, I don’t have enough space, Ew! there’s human drool on my face. The light hurts my eyes and oh! I look so pale, I swear my complexion is not this shade. Prawn: (stop being such a drama queen?) Your form is not that pristine. Colour and form, duller than the clam The squid was eyed by the cameraman. See this shows you’re not the star. You’re not even half of what you think you are. Octopus: See I proved you wrong, Here come the tongs Oh! Oh! there goes my tentacle, the main character of the spectacle. Farewell dear prawn, This is the last time we meet. By next week I’ll have two more feet! Prawn: This person will eat you head to toe, Nothing of you will be left to grow. Goodbye my darling octopus, Get ready for a death, oh, so monstrous. Octopus : What monstrous death, I merely fit in his mouth Prawn: Don’t be proud, because in a bit Everything is going south. Octopus: what?! Nooooo Arghh this hurts. I believe this is tempor- No waittt….. This earthling is pushing me down his throat And that too, with brutal force. Prawn: I told you, honey This is not a normal being, Kept himself starving for merely some money Be glad that you didn’t die in a can, Stuffed with preservatives, invented by the species of man. Mukbanger: Alas the prawn’s turn has come What a pity! My stomach full it has become. Tilt the cameras will you? The viewer’s angle has to be askew, I’ll finish the outro soon, And the prawn will fall to its doom, In the garbage can it will lie, For the lettuce to sing it a lullaby Half eaten it lays to die, Where the rest is eaten by flies
Poems, dialogues and more
The wrath of mukbangs
COLLABORATIVE PROJECT | 1 WEEK
Inspired by a variety of Disney musicals, our take on the script is a musical conversation between a giant octopus and a King Prawn. Through their talks, both the crustaceans (proud and self absorbed as can be) are trying to prove to each other that one is better than the other.
They are well aware of what the future holds for them, yet they try to convince themselves of a better end to their story. Their false sense of pride succumbs in front of a mukbanger, who has decided the fate of both the mighty octopus and the king prawn.
Overconsumption and the plundering of the oceans by humans is a key element we have touched upon in our creative output. The illustrative art that accompanies the script puts the food at focus along with the lips of a greedy mukbanger.
We lay blinded by the fame and money that may come our way. Subtle comments have been made on the money being a driving force for such viral cultures that are often more harmful than helpful, for us and the creatures around us.
As consumers we must be asking more important questions rather than blindly consuming the content that is almost being “spoon-fed” to us these days.
SINGLE SCREENS
PRE THESIS PROJECT | 4 MONTHS
I Me- So majestic and old, Your doors and walls have many stories to be told. Tell me why are you overlooked, I promise I’m already hooked. Theatre- It’s not so simple, you are new here, stories you ask, there are ample. Tell me, do you dare? Honestly, the pain for me is a lot to bear. Me- Let’s turn back the hands of time, There’s lots to know through your mime. Theatre- Ah! Back to the golden days, Celebration, pomp, keeping the real life at bay. First day first show- always, always full, you might’ve heard “Come one come all, even if you’re not a cinema nerd!” There were movies for everyone, Men, women, families and for the little ones. Me- There were movies for everyone you say, But they are a luxury in the current day. “Do you wish to add popcorn and coke, sir?” they will ask you ever so politely. You need to be the country club set That will make you both - the prey and the bait! Theatre- Simpler times had simpler things, Not only attracting the glitterati beings. ₹ 12 could get you a ticket Even if you were a midget. Dilpasand, samosas and chutney sandwiches would rock the canteen, The number of times you could buy these you ask? It was the number umpteen. Just as the food was local, The films were gold. They made the Kannadiga feel like he was playing the main role. SSSSSS of the fan, Eeeeek of the chair, Was all part of the fair. The place was humble, But for the viewer it made a sweet bubble. Me- There are so many things to unfold, From what you said and what I heard. (Sound of footsteps) Is that who I suppose it to be, The one who would have lived these words? II Technician- Come up the staircase, see the projector pick up its pace. It’s a world in its own, which works whether its night or dawn. Me – (A little dark room, with just me and you, Should I proceed or will it be the start of doom.) Technician- Don’t worry young lady, This space is fine, Ageing, but not like fine wine. It was spacious and unbarred, Where I could play my trump card. Absorbed into the space, I could showcase my prowess; “reel lapatna, dalna,karna” This, exactly this, made me go bananas! (sigh) But we’re on the flip side today, Listen to what my friend has to say, “Band room mein pura thand padjayega, Fridge mein baithe jaisa hota hai”. Me- It’s unfortunate, The state of affairs. What you narrate, Your attachment to the space, A plight! that no one cares. Technician- ah, what can we do, Blame the PVR, that’s what is in pursuit. There is one person outside the theatre, Loyal as ever, Go talk to him, he is one of those who matters. III Me- Hello anna, can you speak in Hindi? For you, are the single screens still trendy? I want to know your sense of this space, And if they’re still worth it, then why are they disgraced? Auto driver- A break between rides, My day’s highlight. First day first show was a ritual, something we looked forward to, habitual, spiritual and emotional. I’m telling you, “40 saal se hai idhar”, It is a parking place if not any other, A place meant for jolly, now merely a folly. Me- Beside God, is seen an actor, like there is no one else better. I wish, this place was treated like a temple crushing egos, not something sentimental. Can’t keep crying over something bygone, It is time we move on. Something I have seen around me, Guess what? I am the only girl on the theatre’s street. IV Me to myself- Be careful where you look, There are men staring from every nook. Stepping in, rising suspicion, Cannot tell which film might be in action. Ah! Look who’s walking by, a fellow lady; looks awry. Excuse me ma’am, I have a question to ask, Do you still come here with your fam? You probably don’t come here alone, I’m told it’s not safe. Is there any other reason known? Old woman- Nothing new, single screens we’re used to. I see a fascination in your eyes, about something so old to understand it’s cries. Now you feel there’s no woman, It’s not just the audience, even in films they have no position. Objectified, sexualised; Merely for pleasure, Do you really think I’ll go there and suffer. Me- But, malls, we go and shop And watch a movie before we drop. Pete, a market that never sleeps, you might be coming here to buy your daily needs? Why is it then, A similar situation, both of us in I can watch a movie at midnight, and you never get to stop the fight? Old woman- Don’t you know this, A person changes with space One place he feels like a star, The other, he’s below par. “Aye item” comes a cat call, I cannot step out without purpose, Or this situation I befall. The new talkies feed to their egos, trickling into the ethos. 20 feet posters, all looks pretty charming? Although, quite alarming. Me- Washrooms are a bare necessity, You’ll be surprised! there aren’t any. Gandhi stalls are out of question, Balconies are the only option. Well, a theatre is expected to give theatrics, AAHs, OH NOs and OOFs narration of people’s epics. Each one has their own scene, and an interpretation, which can make a whole film!
only superheroes?
STUDIO WORK | 4 WEEKS
PART 1
It was a night of cold and dread,
a woman captive in the villain’s cell.
She longed for someone to come help her,
but not once did she think that she can save herself.
why is this? why didn’t she think she has the power?
when all she had to do was raise her voice?
it was because she was taught to wait for her knight in shining armor.
she was told that superman would come and save her; she needn’t worry.
but what if there was no one superman, there was only her and millions of minds like her,
who didn’t realize that superman was in them, was THEM.
beyond his stereotyped muscularity there lay a message,
much more important than the spectator’s appeal
that,
humans are born with their distinctive superpower,
born with resilience and strength unparalleled to superman, wonder woman or iron man.
But while walking on this path,
the toddler falls into the bog of humans,
sucked far and deep into the muddy thoughts and norms.
and when he comes out the other end of the bog,
the human has lost his ability, he can only see through the horse’s blinkers.
PART 2
What can be the solution,
a remedy to remove the stain?
let’s imagine…
one such superhuman, who escaped from the bog,
saw the color fill their skies, forests and waters,
formed their own vision and powers.
Their daily routine was like any other human.
wake up, cook, clean, drink, wash, sleep, repeat.
and the remaining time of the day and in between chores- superhuman duties,
of resilience and strength,
protecting self and friends and foes around.
other people would ask,
“how do they do it?”,
“doing these jobs in the house and also being a superhuman?”
“doesn’t even fit the frame of superhero!”
the superhuman escaped the bog,
as rebellious as it looked it was indeed important,
for it showed us,
that if everyone escapes it, then,
the bog will become a pond,
and the people stuck will bloom,
like colorful flowers under the vivid sky.
