Rockstar is such an inane term, as insipid as the film!

Must we always live off borrowed ideas when all we have to do is just look around us, behind us, within us, at what the Art and Music of our own land and culture tells us?

This fascination with Jim bhai would have been alright if only we had a history of producing rock bands and a society wherein music concerts were de rigueur but alas! except from Nagaland, Meghalaya and Manipur I know of no other state where metal mania is taken to a rockstar level. I mean I have a huge problem with the usage of the word 'rockstar' too, that seems to have crept into daily usage about 2005-2006 in the urban Indian dictionary to mean a 'cool' person, which in turn crawled in about 2000-2001, when impoverished for employment Indians found Y2K jobs on the Jersey shore.

To co-opt phrases, mannerism and music smacks of lack of originality, self esteem and utter disregard for one's own heritage. Knowing what one has and then going forth and learning, evolving and collaborating is a different 'ball-game' (another word in our lexicon which we use with panache nowadays, in a country where saying 'love' directly was frowned upon) altogether! a Bismillah Khan saab is allowed that, a Ravi Shankar, a Rahman. Not JJ. or any Joe Joe or Johny Come Lately.

Here this dumb dodo not only behaves like a retard but talks like one too. Methinks the Sadda Haq ought to come from Jats angry at this generalized portrayal of a whole region not from the standard shots of flag-bearing or stone pelting or sword wielding - Tibetan, Kashmiri, Khalistani separatists - oops! they forgot the Naxals, Maoists, Telanganawallahs, Kukis, Nagas, Meitis..... The 'bhaabhi-chipkoing' scene was a riot but apart from that this poor Haryanvi from Pitampura suffers from the Macaulay syndrome, wherein we bastard children of his educational policy are still paying the price by thinking not just in English but also of and about and for.

The posters on the wall of his brick baraati are strewn with one of those guitar-strumming 'dudes' who is undoubtedly very evil and inspiring but is this what we want, a man who is rootless, disconnected with his own language, environs and family? existensial angst aside, he seems to be suffering from laziness. His behaviour whether in the canteen or outside it when singing to the bored bus stop by-standers did not for a moment have the magic to transform, which ANY music ought to, as Sri Shankar Sastry will tell you (watch Shankarabharanam and the famous Pop versus Classical music scene). If the cops haul him away, am I glad! Thank you Paapey! This boy belongs in the lunatic asylum! Disgracing poets and singers alike.

A poet, a composer, an artiste is no doubt abstruse, a little removed from reality, over sensitive to the point of being crazy and full of unknown, unexplored anguish waiting to burst forth - creatively. This - note to script writers - is the State of Being. Next comes the Process. How does the damn anguish find a channel, what does it take to give it shape, a structure, meaning, an aesthetic...the nitty-gritties you know. Then finally comes the Product. The song be it that or a painting, a sculpture, a blog, hell a tweet even! What we see in the film Imtiaz, of once-upon-a-time- you- were- my- hero promise, is a BY-PRODUCT of the creation and the creativity itself based on a false premise of romantic pain and other absolutely ridiculous assumptions.

If that was the idea from the get-go, show me the drugs, the groupies, the hysteria in full monty, mass suicides and no shit about 'neat and clean' theek? No sir, that would not gel with the desi audience so what to do we are like this only, we will steal parts-of-an-idea, remain clueless about the most basic facts of life (such as for Art to be meaningful a fullness is essential before you can empty out, a lot of discipline, insane amounts of hard-work and a limitless passion for your Art) and then go forth making mincemeat of every scene, peppering in a few supposed sufi like melodies and voila! dish is served.

Rumi was a blissful soul, his relationship with Shams (of Tabriz) whatever its nature brought out that said couplet that dares to have inspired this pedestrian fluff. Eastern systems including the Islamic are based on Ecstasy and Joy as a given. We are not looking for pain when there is none. That is the assumption be it from the Hindu theory of Karma and Reincarnation (wherein you choose your life by your own actions, there is no Godly interference and such nonsense, you get what you deserve, hence we are not really very charitable either) or Islamic where there is nothing but submission. Of giving up, of accepting, of letting go. So where does the question of possession come in?

His, hers, mine. Such empty concepts. Borrowed ideas. A mish-mash of thoughts.

Either you say okay, I want to fuck her and I couldn't before coz I was too chicken so now that I am famous and all the girls seem to be tripping for my silly jacket let me go try my luck and I swear by Bollywood-Ki-Kasam, I will watch your silly antics, God Promise, but this! Claiming to be all holier-than-thou, a love that is boundless - ha! my ugly right toe! Fighting class differences and every issue on this planet - oh so sad na - to what? to fuck? THIS is our idea of Love? of Music? From the land of Meghadootam. From the land of Natya Shastra. From the land of Kama Sutra for fuck's sake - it tells you how to seduce, go read it pronto!

This from a land which has created artistes and musicians and dancers and lovers without professing such antics and ardor. They come and go quietly in full resplendence. In knowing that doing what they love at any cost, even at the cost of death or separation is worth it. Not because they will be 'famous' one day, that they will push it away bitterly when it comes ....arre be thankful na, grateful ki people love you. It is not something to be scoffed at. It is something that should make you cow down in humility. Yes, I have heard Bismillah Khan saab sitting two feet away from him for a whole day, bless his soul and there was a musician for you with all the fame and all the humility and all the poverty. Undeterred, secular, spiritual. No half-baked anger there. No fuck failures. Pure pleasure in doing his job ie playing the Shehnai.

So let us first get down to the brass tacks of defining ki what is Sangeet. Then let us decide ki yeh banti kaisay hai. Do we need pain to produce art or is art the self expression of sensitive beings who by their very nature feel more pain not the other way around. Then let us decide where sex fits into all this. Does it? This was my issue with Black Swan too. One does not need to be a lesbian or a murderer to portray the same. That is the idea of dramatics - to show what you are not. That is what dance in India is, it is a Natyam - which means Drama which includes Bhava, Rasa, Laya (while Nritta is pure dance - ie only steps) Show us through your chosen medium O Artiste! how you look at Life, give us new eyes, a new way to see the world. Do not increase our pain by behaving like a nincompoop. Your Muse ought to be your own Self. If it is OUTSIDE of you, there is no bloody respite. That is why from Byron to Rodin to Picasso great artistes yes were such shitty human beings, such bastards to women.

The Eastern system produces, at least it did, wholesome beings. Where Art and the Daily Life intersect. Wherein to be a great artiste ( and this does NOT mean a truckload of paparazzi and a fistful of fights at every turn) you need not hurt every human you encounter.

That is why we are so illiterate about our own systems - ancient minds - coz we go to Stephens! We are taught by Jesuits that we are are born sinful and that redemption must stem from pain and sorrow and all things grey and terrible.Do I sound like a right-wing-ranter. I hope so! I am so tired of this bull-shit passing of as a great Indian attempt at God-Knows-What.

The less said about the characterization of the lead actress the better. She wants to what now? Watch a porn film in a seedy Old Delhi theatre? A place where women are picked up to be gang-raped in day light! Nice. How exciting for the men though no? To see someone as exquisite as Nargis and with the surname like Fakhri, to see her desire to be sexual, to watch sex, to want sex, to....you get it. We are so stuck in the Mooladhara Chakra. Will we ever rise up, will the kundalini remain in that sacral zone?

Oh! Should I be mentioning the lackluster and overbearing parents, sisters, friends, mentors. People seemed to love Katana - the role was well conceived as was Dhingra's but everyone in the film seemed to be play-acting except Ranbir - and I don't even care two hoots for him. No spontaneity here, no getting-lost-in-the-moment feel. All carefully put together like Lego blocks and it shows. The struggle to patch it up.

Did I tell you it was about a girl from Kashmir? No? Never mind you'll find the clues all over the place. In fact in every shawl, phiran, kurta, bedspread, runner......