Visual poetry about the metaphorical connection between the self flagellating practices of Shia’s and the Tazia processions of Sunni’s, on the 10th day of Muharram, remembering Hussain’s Karbala incident, from the eyes of Sufis.
a film by rajat nayyar
(watch on vimeo)
Read the full story: http://espiritokashi.wordpress.com/2013/11/19/mourning-of-muharram-varanasi/
Khari Baoli is asia’s largest wholesale spice market. It is a 800 metre long road with alleys interconnecting this main road. The market on average does a business of Rs. 50 million/day, yet the labor speaks of no work. This short film is the story of the journey of a sack through the market and the unequal distribution of it’s final value amongst the people involved in it’s trade.
This story is about the face of trade at asia’s largest spice market.
Dastaan Ae Dilli : A Young India Fellowship Initiative
this gentleman, says a word
walking around these lanes, known as the one-third
bringing the news of the one that he heard.
cleaning the mirror, those parts that blurred
said, from his boat aloud
that he has vowed,
speak nothing, but of the cloud.
his words came from silence,
about the violence,
mellowed with the supreme guidance.
gentleman’s no nomad,
it’s the place that was in his head
and the ancient that he had read,
while he ate that free bread.
the river flow wouldn’t let him be,
with bells, a revolution, he could see
so he travelled to revisit his roots,
to fill the hollow with love, in a papaya like fruit,
you’d rather not call him a recruit.
his foot trails caused commotion,
outburst of the emotion,
and a sense of devotion.
and now, gentleman is no where to be seen,
says, he has always been
burns every house in the scene,
these houses made of reason,
in the land full of self treason
and on top, it was the rainy season.
the gentleman was then confused,
the destination, since history been abused
it’s very own definition has been misused.
been long we act outward,
foolish enough to dive skyward.
the only action worthy of a human being,
is to dive in to the divine within.
listen to it with eyes, from there begin.
there is no way out, he said there is a way in, he read
and each moment is to be wed.
the world is designed to keep us in illusion,
the infinite being outside is just a confusion
the infinite is inside and outside is only it’s diffusion.
the gentleman keeps cleaning the mirror of his heart,
people say, people see in his mirror, their part
right then, he hones his art.
to make way for a new start.
it’s simply a belief in time,
when silence is better than a wound on lime,
words must be an architecture of silence, sublime!
and a constant state of panic simply is a crime.
we are hungry for news about ourselves,
each one looks at other’s shelves,
seek within yourself, Kabir delves
it’s the mirror story,
live it like a ghazal and not it’s theory,
the gentleman honours the glory.
it shines on his face, that grace,
he is the flower and also it’s case,
like an ancient lover, in this time and space.
that’s where we are heading,
to dive within, is what we’ve been dreading,
it’s not easy, the ego shredding,
love, only love, is the heading.
I recently filmed Muharram 10th day Matam rituals in Varanasi. I found it truly interesting that traditionally Shia’s shed blood to remind themselves about the sufferings of Hussain and on the other hand, Sunni’s carry Tazias during the procession, which are decorated with flowers and these flowers are buried in the ground. I noticed that water is sprayed on both, the body oozing out blood and the roses that are buried deep down.
This beautiful connection hits me. Both blood and roses, are a sign of ego and it is important to shed the ego, to realise the beloved. This message must always be remembered. I think we have misunderstood the scriptures, ghazals and poetry. So, I wrote this piece, inspired by and about my experiences before and after the Matam rituals.