Catwalk versus sidewalks

By Sujata Raj Dewan

If you were to win this beauty pageant, how would you spend the prize money?" The

question is posed to one of the many participants. The answer --

"I would spend half of it in educating myself and the other half in charity", sets the audience and the judges in raptures, notwithstanding there are ascetics and the noble aspirations naturally find the reward in the crown.

The "Third World Nation" is definitely not behind in her contribution to the world of show biz. Fashion shows and beauty pageants have now become everyday terms. Mothers who lacked the opportunity of the same exposure have two options -- one, to find self fulfillment in grooming their daughters even while they are in primary schools for "The Little Lady" beauty pageants or if parenthood hasn’t endowed her with enough wisdom or purpose, she can always flaunt her talents or the lack of them in the "Mrs. Beautiful" beauty pageant.

The creative talents that abound in this country is really worth noticing. The very fact that they can coin up something as novel as "Mrs. Beautiful beauty pageant" stands evidence to this fact, in addition to the growing number of "pop artists", fashion shows, fashion designing institutes, boutiques ... you name it.

No doubt beauty pageants and fashion shows have served the purpose of providing women with an opportunity of self development and self discovery, broadened the otherwise narrow conventions that fettered the growth of a woman as an individual, however more than these, it has brought with it the love for the superficial.

The very shows that ought to nurture personality development tend to stunt their growth. For, with a crash course on table manners to the rote learning of "intelligent" answers, there is little scope for self development. The elegant forms doing the catwalk would just as soon leave her country for good-that too deceitfully. (I hope that Miss Usha Khadgi has better plans!).

One is then inclined to ask, "How is it that such a noble mind failed to nurture something called "national pride"? But of course there are voices that retort that one is only being human in seeking a future where one doesn’t have to encounter heaps of smelly garbage on the sidewalks. There’s neither dirt(y) politics for you nor the crowds of innocent little souls scavenging in those heaps to ward off hunger.

I feel that fashion shows and beauty pageants are a welcome distraction from the drudgery and the grind of pacing the sidewalks in search of employment, the helplessness of fellow beings and the many frustrations of being unable to make anything out of one’s life. They transport us into a world of illusions and dreams where one doesn’t have to decipher the message of the "bills" on the sidewalks and where everything is beautiful and just as one would like it to be...

But how long can we continue to deceive ourselves? When more than three fourths of our population are homeless and hungry, when education has become the indispensable necessity, are we justified in pouring all our creative forces and what little resources we have into something as trivial as fashion shows and beauty pageants? Isn’t it time for us to redefine our perspectives as to the importance of catwalks over sidewalks, before we can even think of such extravagances? Should the label of "The Third Poorest Nation" bear the connotation of "poor in body and spirit?

I only hope that it isn’t already too late to address these questions.

Monsoon and rain-soon

By Anita Lama

Ever wondered why it's mon-soon and not rain-soon? Just when you step out of the house, down comes the dowmpour, ruining your dress, shoes and perhaps your day too (If you happen to be moody). Call it coincidence or fate but it mostly rains on the important time of the day when you have to make a move, come sunshine or rain. This is the monsoon shower, as unpredictable as mood swings. Well known for evoking manic and depressive symptoms in humans depending upon the prevailing state of mind and circumstances.

Imagine you have no appointments or interviews are not acountable for the next few hours and then "it happens". You get caught up with this unpredictable shower with no shelter whatsoever. How would you react? With disgust or with joy. Undoubtedly you would happily welcome the unpredictable! What if you are on a bike or on a convertible or perhaps even better, just simply walking down the lovely street. The unpredictable shower would no more remain just a welcome but would turn into something more than that. It would be a thrilling excitement and to some — sheer ecstacy. Infact words seem to be insufficient and the feeling of joy remains inexplicable.

Monsoons come in all shades. Some are huge and loom over you the whole day. In other words, it isn’t always pleasant and thrilling. There are perhaps only a handfull sparing a curse on the monsoons. But for those of us bearing the brunt of it, our day couldn’t possibly end without a curse or two in the monsoon. A splash by a speeding vehicle, the never-drying damp clothes and not-so-thriving business due to rains and reasons enough to let the mind go berserk, people become more irritable and complaining. Ever tried walking through Ason after the rains or during rainy season? For those who do , you know it better that you aren’t actually walking on the streets but on a muddy, slushy pathway. Had it not been for the incessant footsteps stepping onto it every fraction of second , it would have probably flourished into a bog with weeds dancing in it.

Nevertheless there are some who wait for rains with great expectations. Their activities and life centre and revolve around monsoon showers and with its failure, their lives too come to a standstill. Perhaps some may spot a rainbow after the shower and might even collect the pot of gold from the end of the rainbow. For them the cliche sums it all "no rain no gain".

And monsoons might come on your way to comfort. Rains may bring discomfort to us many a time delaying our proceedings. But it is one of our biggest neccesities. The very fact that monsoon is unpredictable is just a reminder that we do not live in utopia.

Taxi! Taxi!

By Geetanjali A. Lama

Have the most important people in your life duped you off the last pennies you own in the midst of a teeming neighborhood, in broad daylight? Have you gazed at the skyrocketing electronic meter, with your heart in your mouth and a steady feeling of doom as it rises way above your expectations? Have you just been a reluctant joy rider whizzing in loops and precipitous bends until you’re screeched to a halt at your destination and as you come out in a heap of confusion that sense of déjà vu hits you "didn’t I whiz past this a minute ago?"

Taxi drivers! A breed apart, skilled in the art of slamming brakes, abruptly releasing clutches and pumping the clutch gas pedal and the brake in rapid succession. Poor us, the unenthusiastic victims, clutch on to any available handle be it the tattered seat covers or the grimy handles and hopefully we will reach in one piece if all goes well on the road. Whenever I hail a taxi I have this vague, uneasy feeling that this ultimate "boss " physically sizes up your vital statistics and if it is vital enough to take his fancy then he happily agrees … to succumb. If this is the outcome of woman power I wouldn’t mind displaying it more often …but then these are the words of a much prejudiced individual and help me if I have the wrong concept of the modish women of the nineties. However, in this age of, "if you have it flaunt it," and " go-getters are the takers…" I guess this is not a serious predicament!

So, here’s to life, with its share of strange coincidences…. Moreover, in the course of it, if you happen to be out in the streets, on a rainy evening … find yourself downtown…frantically crying… taxi! taxi! Hopefully you wont, but if you were ever be there and you spot one "king of the road " the general code of conduct here is to bend low, put your best smile with your best foot forward and in a servile tone, humbly request them for a ride home at their cost and pleasure. If it pleases their fancy, they might, grudgingly relent demanding an extra sixty- percent as service tax! By the time you reach habitation, he justifies the hundred bucks you owe him, eyes the wet seat covers almost indignantly from where you have just unparked your ample self…. Well! Beggars cannot be choosers even if they have this sudden Herculean urge to shake their fist and throwing inhibitions to the wind for a while. Much as I wish against present norms and whole-heartedly agree that ’twas time we indulged in healthy fights and street brawls, however "ke garne " being much accustomed to graciously melting quietly into the backdrop with not even a simper… I find myself following suit. Well! One of those uncanny, rare occasions when I have the gut feeling that I should have been born a sumo wrestler if not that I should have taken my karate lessons seriously…. Unhappily for me and the subsequent "dodo" I turned out to be to the sad disappointment of my worried, well wishing parents (god help my well wishers), I learnt how to scream a karate scream of combat… akin to "Ayoh…. Gorkha" and went no further.

Godspeed! if you happen to be male, out in the mean streets, at night, you may never get a ride home and for once in a life time you wish you had been born us with all our worldly possessions! (Puns- definitely intended)

Facts are stranger than fiction I’ve come across a driver who agreed to drive me home in his "one mean machine" belching smoke from a regular Khukuri brand " churot " he took me bumping down the streets, bumped into a well rounded, Pajero and decided to turn this into a wild goose chase…. Ala kollywood, there I was clinging for dear life while he chased the Pajero at a break neck speed, mouthing profanities. Hell broke loose … I suddenly realized I was at the mercy of this angry "Dora vest" attired psycho who I presume wanted his personal share of stunts in the streets. A friend of mine was almost done, for good, before she had the womanly instinct to claw at the Neanderthal and lunge out from the moving vehicle … By the way, initiation into the art of clawing takes place at an early stage and as one grows up it becomes handier !

Therefore, prudence dears, when you hail a taxi and take the major life-changing step of the day, judge and scrutinize them, or else your regular drive back home may turn into a haywire, zig zag, back spraining, expensive affair to say the least.

Blood Simple

David Germain

For those who never caught the Coen brothers’ feature-film debut in theatres,here’s your big-screen chance to see the tense, stylish thriller "Blood Simple."

For those who caught it on video, the reissue of a new cut of this sardonic ode to film noir offers the chance to see it as it should be seen, in a dark movie house surrounded by strangers. The new version of "Blood Simple" runs counter to the typical "director’s cut." Rather than adding footage, Joel and Ethan Coen hacked out what they call "some of the boring parts."

The Coens also note that the film was transferred poorly for video release, and they were unable to license some of the music used in the theatrical version for home video.

So this is the first time a wider audience can see the authentic rookie effort by the brothers who brought you "Fargo" and "Raising Arizona."

The reissue opens with a humorous introduction that pokes fun at the film restoration process and "legacy" of "Blood Simple" opening to universal acclaim and shattering box-office records.

In truth, "Blood Simple" does have something of a real legacy. Though it performed modestly at the box office, the movie was a memorable entry at film festivals and a favorite among critics. It also heartened independent filmmakers.

Shot on a shoestring budget, "Blood Simple" became a launching pad for the Coen brothers to reach wider audiences on subsequent movies without compromising their singularly creepy and cryptic vision.

The movie begins as a bizarre love triangle between a bartender named Ray (John Getz), his lover, Abby (Frances McDormand, wife of Joel Coen), and her jealous husband, Marty (Dan Hedaya), who owns the roughneck Texas saloon where Ray works.

Marty hires private detective Loren Visser (M. Emmet Walsh) to kill Abby and Ray. This simple plan becomes a tangle of misdirection and misunderstanding as Visser, the slimiest and sweatiest of villains, concocts his own diabolical murder-for-profit scheme.

One of the delights of the film is the shifting loyalties it engenders in audiences. None of the characters are quite the sort you’d like to sit down with over a beer.

Abby is the most sympathetic, a woman who pays dearly for her adultery but finds the pluck to deal with Visser in a dark, knuckle-biting showdown.

Ray begins as a nice guy, but in an act of misplaced devotion to Abby, he falls into complicity to the violence engineered by Visser.

Even Marty, who approaches Visser’s sleaziness factor early on, elicits some empathy as a cuckold undone by his own vengeful plot.

Only Visser, a dirtbag you love to hate, is consistently vile throughout.

The Coens take their usual slots, Joel directing, Ethan producing, the brothers sharing the screenplay credit. They compensate for their low budget with simple but startling images: dusty beams of light shooting into a dark room through bullet holes in a wall; a body in a shallow grave raising a gun at the shoveler about to bury him.

"Blood Simple" owes a lot to Alfred Hitchcock, wringing suspense out of understatement and unusual encounters among characters at cross purposes.

The reissue of their debut also makes for a nice bookend to the Coens’ next film, "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" starring George Clooney, John Turturro and Holly Hunter and due in theatres this fall. (AP)

Painting exhibition in Pokhara

By Prakash Thapa

The Creative Artists Group of Pokhara recently organised a painting exhibition ofthe Pokhara based artist Buddhi Gurung at Pokhara sub-metropolitan hall.

Altogether 38 paintings in oil, acrylic and water colours were on display. The paintings depicted landscapes, a rickshaw-puller, bhatti pasals, tribal dances and a sarangi player.

Gurung’s paintings are impressionistic in character full of his own flavour. Like the impressionist painters, Gurung rebels against conventional conceptions of art.

The pioneer of the group is Durga Baral who is also the president of CAG, Pokhara. It was Baral who in the early seventies experimented with new themes in addition to the proverbial paintings of the local landscape. His ‘Tamsuk series’ in pen and ink was a breakthrough among the artists of Pokhara.

Chhetra Lal Kayastha is another active member still working in the group. Because of his physical appearance with his silver hair and white beard, he is known as the M.F Hussain of Pokhara. Kayastha also organised a solo painting exhibition in Pokhara some time ago. Artist Kayastha paints landscapes, street people and ancient temples. Some of his abstract and semi abstract paintings are channeled through his experience and personal feelings.

After Kathmandu, Pokhara is another active art centre. Numerous art exhibitions and interaction programmes have been organised over the years for the sole purpose of bringing the artists together. Its primary aim is to give them inspiration and focus.

Officially registered last year, Creative Artists Group (CAG) Pokhara is now bringing different artists together. Over the last three decades it has changed its name from "Lalit Kala Sanstha" to "Purano Silpi Samuha", and finally to "Creative Artists Group".

The group has Bishwa Ratna Shakya, Gopal Shrestha, Lok Prasad Gurung, Kedar Palikhe, Kiran Ranjit, Ramesh Shrestha, Padam Ghale, Rajdur Joshi, Bishwa Shrestha, Sanjaya Gurung, Prakash Shrestha and Nilam Shrestha as its members. The eldest member is Mr Krishna Prasad Shrestha who was born in the time of the Rana regime and began painting as a hobby.

The group also organised an interaction programme at SOS, Hermann Gmeiner School Gandaki. The talk was mainly focused on the possibility of the development of the arts in Pokhara and its consequences. Speaking at the meeting Bijaya Thapa said "The artists must unite and work together to achieve success." Durga Baral, principal of Hermann Gmeiner school also spoke highlighting the importance of paintings in relation to humanity.

MAIN