Birth of a Masterpiece – A Case of Animal Farm

George Orwell - Courtsey : http://www.George-Orwell.org

Sometime ago I came across an interesting essay by self-anointed provocateur Christopher Hitchens about Animal Farm, an evergreen masterpiece by George Orwell.  The essay talks about the book’s birth, teething problems and everlasting relevance. However, what caught my attention was this paragraph taken from Orwell’s own introduction to the book.

“ . . for the past ten years I have been convinced that the destruction of the Soviet myth was essential if we wanted a revival of the socialist movement. On my return from Spain I thought of exposing the Soviet myth in a story that could be easily understood by almost anyone . . . However, the actual details of the story did not come to me for some time until one day (I was then living in a small village) I saw a little boy, perhaps ten years old, driving a huge carthorse along a narrow path, whipping it whenever it tried to turn. It struck me that if only such animals became aware of their strength we should have no power over them, and that men exploit animals in much the same way as the rich exploit the proletariat.”

This is a very interesting example. An acute need to express something – continuous search for a medium to do it – and a situation providing the ultimate ‘illumination’. Wolfgang Kohler, a Gestalt Psychologist, pointed out that an insight is the result of a dynamic interaction between the person and the situation. Many of us nurture similar desires to express several ideas, opinions etc. However, the reason why many of us cannot convert a ‘raw’ idea into a ‘product’, is because of this lack of ‘dynamic interaction’. We fail to interact with our situation. We fail to read our surroundings. So many stories, poems, novels, haikus, dramas are floating all around us. George Orwell can read it. I can’t. Do you?

How can we learn to interact with our situations? Certain mental habits may facilitate this. A persistent quest – ‘Prichchha’ – a persistent habit of questioning – a persistent habit of noting down details could help. Many studies in Psychology have found that a dialectical mind – a questioning mind – an observing mind – brings out better insights. Albert Rothenberg studied 22 Nobel Laureates, and found that the common differentiating factor among them was a dialectical mind – constantly looking for gaps, the unexplained, the contradictory, the anomalous, the odd.

Maybe we should also develop this quality – who knows – our masterpiece might just be lying next to us.

References.

Khandwalla, Pradip (2003). Lifelong Creativity. Chapter 6. Pages 90-92. Tata McGraw-Hill, India.

Kohler, Wolfang (1947). Gestalt Psychology

Rothenberg, Albert (1996). “The Janusian process in scientific creativity”, Creativity Research Journal. Vol.9(2&3), pp. 207-231

Poetic Innovation by Gulzar

Gulzar - A genius

Gulzar - A genius

When writing poetry itself demands such high standards of creative abilities; inventing a new form of poetry should demand one to be absolutely genius! Well, one such genius of modern Hindu and Urdu Poetry Gulzar (original name – Sampooran Singh Kalra) has come up with a very interesting form of poetry called “Triveni”. It was introduced first around 1972-73, but has enjoyed lot more popular success since the beginning of the new millenium.

Gulzar has however gained greater fame as a lyricist and director in Hindi film industry. The poetry form Triveni that he has introduced and made popular is rather a beautiful modification of traditional Shayaree of Urdu poetry. In a traditional Shayari there are two lines in one Stanza which is known as a sher. In Triveni, Gulzar adds a third line to a normal stanza. The beauty of it is, that first two lines in themselves are expression of a complete image, but when you read the third one, a whole new dimension is added to the original one.

How did he derive the term “Triveni”? Word Triveni comes from Triveni Sangam, the famous confluence of three rivers Ganga, Jamuna and invisible Saraswati at Allahabad, India. Ganga and Jamuna are visible but Saraswati is a mythological river and is supposed to be flowing underground. Similarly in Gulzar’s Triveni, the first two lines depict a situation or an image but the third line, in a way unearths the undercurrent truth and the entire situation gets a new meaning.

Look at this example :

maa ne duaaye di thi…
ek chand si dulhan ki….

aaj footpath par lete hue… yeh chand mujhe roti nazar aata hai!

(Translation)

Mother had blessed that…
I get a wife (so beautiful..) like a moon!….

And now…lying down on this footpath….this moon, to me, looks like a Roti (Bread)

(I know. The translation sucks!! Or maybe it’s me!)

I can’t resist pasting one more…

Mujhe aaj koi aur na rang lagao…
Purana laal rang ek abhi bhi taaza hai.

Armaano ka khoon hue zyaada din nahii hua hai…

(Translation)

Don’t color me any differently today,
the old Red, is still fresh!

It hasn’t been so long, since the ambitions got killed!!

And the last one….

Tere gesoo jab bhi baatein karte hain,
Uljhi-uljhi si woh baatein hoti hain…

Meri ungliyon ki mehmaangi, unhein pasand nahin…

(Translation)

Your hair,
whenever they talk…they gibber

Don’t they like their guests?…My fingers!

If you want to hear Gulzar himself reciting watch the video clip inserted here. Or you can read some more Trivenis here, here and here. (Note: All links and the recital below, are in Hindi)

How to write a novel

In Haruki Murakami‘s Sputnik Sweetheart, I came across a very interesting passage, where one character ‘K’, explains his opinion on writing a novel metaphorically to his friend Sumire. The author uses the metaphor only to describe the process of writing a novel. But I feel this metaphor could be very well applied to any creative pursuit.

"Sputnik Sweetheart" was published in Japanese in 1999, and in English in 2001.

"Sputnik Sweetheart" was published in Japanese in 1999, and in English in 2001.

Here, I am producing the same passage as it is. . . (All rights reserved by Haruki Murakami and Random House)

……..

After a while I started to speak, “A long time ago in China there were cities with high walls around them, with huge, magnificent gates. The gates weren’t just doors for letting people in or out, they had greater significance. People believed the city’s soul resided in the gates. Or at least that it should reside there. It’s like in Europe in the Middle Ages when people felt a city’s heart lay in its cathedral and central square. Which is why even today in China there are lots of wonderful gates still standing. Do you know how the Chinese built these gates?”

“I have no idea,” Sumire answered.

“People would take carts out to old battlefields and gather about. China’s a pretty ancient country – lots of old battlegrounds – so they never had to search far. At the entrance to the city they’d construct a huge gate and seal the bones up inside. They hoped that by commemorating the dead soldiers in this way they would continue to guard their town. There’s more. When the gate was finished they’d bring several dogs over to it, slit their throats, and sprinke their blood on the gate. Only by mixing fresh blood with the dried-out bones would the ancient souls of the dead magically revive. At least that was the idea.”

Sumire waited in silence for me to go on.

Writing novels is much the same. You gather up bones and make your gate, but no matter how wonderful the gate might be, that alone doesn’t make it a living, breathing novel. A story is not something of this world. A real story requires a kind of magical baptism to link the world on this side with the world on the other side.”

…………….

Isn’t it interesting? What do you say?