Go on! Make a film.
Seriously? On whom?
You don’t believe, eh, that I can think of myself in the role of a heroine in a film?
No, that’s not it. I’m surprised because you always think against the ‘hero’.
How do you enter a script without being a hero? It’s a puzzle. If you’re not a hero, you won’t get lines through which to speak what you think. And if you do become a hero, you’ll be asked to speak lines that are against the basis of life itself.
Then become an anti-hero!
That’s a possibility. Anti-heroes get some lines of their own. But those are then tied to some inner wound. The cry of the wound fuels the import of the speech.
Deep wounds invariably come up in regular conversations. The idea has presence and influence.
If protagonists draw on this, and yet refuse to become the heroine, and refuse to accept anyone as heroes? Then what happens?
There is a script here that’s refusing to become a script.
A little like us. You become a worker, but do not desire to be a worker. This counter-current never settles.
What are you saying? Is it that the foundry, the casting, is always partial and incomplete, and it is in this incompleteness that the ‘new’ emerges?
And you want us to recognise that this incompleteness faces the open, the multiple.
And that the gap between consent and refusal is turbulent. It is fertile. Always germinating. This gap is never empty.
Exciting! Time for tea for all. And also, my question: When do we sense the force and the pressure of this gap the most? Let me clarify that I do understand that we sense the heat waves of this fluctuation everyday. My question is, when do these waves travel between us to become rebellious love for life?
You always tease us with a puzzle as you pose a question. Like a song that asks how a song came to be. Questions and puzzles are what make us travel each day in search of many.
And we know this concretely. A murmur may start at a department. It then travels quickly to other departments. It gathers a storm rapidly; it fluctuates.
These storms do not have a hero. Not many words get spoken. They make tremendous impact.
How do you make a script out of this? Few words. When the wave started, when it became visible, when it rose, when it engulfed — all this stays outside the image. It is neither an event, nor is it transparent.
No hero. No herione.
But many songs.
And hard-edged counter attacks.
Incarceration, courts, and dates. An imposed exhaustion.
Maybe some heroes can make an entry here to help explain the exhaustion back to you!
The instant we draw energy from the gap and break through the threshold of codes that partition life, law-givers become crazed and go into overdrive. With punishment. With lectures on moral codes.
And many words are exiled from the dictionary. Rebellion, revolt, rebel, refusal.
Faridabad Majdoor Samachar (Faridabad Workers’ News)
Issue # 351
Page 1: Turbulent, Fertile Gap
Page 2: Many Thoughts Amidst Conversations with Many
Page 3: Claim your Bonus; Commoning; Accidents
Page 4: Surajpur, Noida: Mayapuri, Delhi