Masaan
Lemniscate is our fate and so are the certain arcs that frame us together in a loop, infinitely.
The first scene of the movie moans the life to emotions of Devi. Indeed, making love is an art and the curiosity of all the senses within us proposes it all. Vulgar is the way the world accepts it. Vulgar is the notion when it is not bound to commitment. Vulgar it is when it is made public. Vulgarity lies in the secrecy of it. It was love, undeclared. It was love, that died. The sensibility of portraying sexual encounter is so intact that it galvanizes the awkwardness felt by a couple when they make love for the first time, in close association to reality. The morality of cheap thoughts emerges when it is spitted on the character of Devi, "tumhari zindagi toh condemn ho gayi" after the police intrudes in their private space and films her nude.
As the plot progresses, the sheer simplicity expressed by Deepak as he falls in love with Shaalu takes us along to a different aspect of the poetic narration of pathos and love. As they progress with, "Koi ladki paanch rupiye ke bhujiye ke liye itna utpaad bhi toh nahi machati", the psychedelic experience sets it. In the backdrop of Durga mata concert and lightings, when the music of Indian Ocean hits the soul with wierd, "Tu kisi rail si guzarti hai, main kisi pull sa thartharata hu, tu bhale ratti bhar na sunti hai, main tera naam budbudata hu, kisi lambe safar ki raaton mein, tujhe alaav sa jalata hu", the couple romance surrealistically. The whole cultured simplicity of love and acceptance makes the "mann go kasturi" when their balloons fly in the air and those hues take our breaths away. With telephonic conversations on the terraces, the illustrations go deeper with, "Sitaaron ko ankhon mein mehfuz rakhna, badi der tak raat hi raat hogi. Musafir hain hum bhi, musafir ho tum bhi, kisi mod par phir mulaqat hogi." My words won't give the goosebumps which their expressions did.
There is no ranting. There are no lies. On spotlight and the literal sense of the words, there are just two stories depicting love and bereavement running parallel. Located in Kashi, where souls are said to liberate, these are the stories of love that was innocent enough to not survive. The most beautiful aspect of hope is that none of the characters in the movie give up. The honest philosophical depiction of emotions spark out loud when Shaalu tells Deepak with intense innocence, "Tum Nida Fazil ki ghazlon ki tarah ho". Deepak has no clue of who Nida Fazil is and blushes in acceptance-denial.
Indeed, at the heart of the film is a tussle between what has always been, and what can be during the celebration of life, death and everything in between. From females as "ghar ki izzat" to improvised low community which is called "dom raja", the lyrical journey of the movie is as hard hitting as the word, "masaan".
The first scene of the movie moans the life to emotions of Devi. Indeed, making love is an art and the curiosity of all the senses within us proposes it all. Vulgar is the way the world accepts it. Vulgar is the notion when it is not bound to commitment. Vulgar it is when it is made public. Vulgarity lies in the secrecy of it. It was love, undeclared. It was love, that died. The sensibility of portraying sexual encounter is so intact that it galvanizes the awkwardness felt by a couple when they make love for the first time, in close association to reality. The morality of cheap thoughts emerges when it is spitted on the character of Devi, "tumhari zindagi toh condemn ho gayi" after the police intrudes in their private space and films her nude.
As the plot progresses, the sheer simplicity expressed by Deepak as he falls in love with Shaalu takes us along to a different aspect of the poetic narration of pathos and love. As they progress with, "Koi ladki paanch rupiye ke bhujiye ke liye itna utpaad bhi toh nahi machati", the psychedelic experience sets it. In the backdrop of Durga mata concert and lightings, when the music of Indian Ocean hits the soul with wierd, "Tu kisi rail si guzarti hai, main kisi pull sa thartharata hu, tu bhale ratti bhar na sunti hai, main tera naam budbudata hu, kisi lambe safar ki raaton mein, tujhe alaav sa jalata hu", the couple romance surrealistically. The whole cultured simplicity of love and acceptance makes the "mann go kasturi" when their balloons fly in the air and those hues take our breaths away. With telephonic conversations on the terraces, the illustrations go deeper with, "Sitaaron ko ankhon mein mehfuz rakhna, badi der tak raat hi raat hogi. Musafir hain hum bhi, musafir ho tum bhi, kisi mod par phir mulaqat hogi." My words won't give the goosebumps which their expressions did.
There is no ranting. There are no lies. On spotlight and the literal sense of the words, there are just two stories depicting love and bereavement running parallel. Located in Kashi, where souls are said to liberate, these are the stories of love that was innocent enough to not survive. The most beautiful aspect of hope is that none of the characters in the movie give up. The honest philosophical depiction of emotions spark out loud when Shaalu tells Deepak with intense innocence, "Tum Nida Fazil ki ghazlon ki tarah ho". Deepak has no clue of who Nida Fazil is and blushes in acceptance-denial.
Indeed, at the heart of the film is a tussle between what has always been, and what can be during the celebration of life, death and everything in between. From females as "ghar ki izzat" to improvised low community which is called "dom raja", the lyrical journey of the movie is as hard hitting as the word, "masaan".
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