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Saturday, July 21, 2012

EVANS TRIES AN O-LEVEL movie from K.V.Kathmandu

Kindly click on the links below to watch a short film directed by me based on the short story EVANS TRIES AN O-LEVEL by Colin Dexter:
Trailer of the movie:

The whole movie was shot at Kathmandu, Nepal in July, 2012. The first screening for the students and staff was held on 20th July, Friday, 2012.
                                                         PREMIERE MOMENTS

Sunday, July 15, 2012

It Rains.....

It rains from the trees
Someone fries mustards on the puddles
Leaves droop before the shower
Rain is introspection

It rains from the roofs
A shivering sheet of cloth
The bike riders like bats
I can feel the roar of a sea not so far
Rain imprisons you

Rain falls on the grass and hair
Both feel goosebumps
Rain makes you passive witness
It rains within
Nothing sprouts faster in rain like ideas or imagination

The paper is the land where ideas sprout in rain
The drops of thoughts drip into the paper
The drops of words become a stream
And flow like a river into the ocean

It rains from the eaves of the paper
Many paper boats afloat
Many tender arms hold them
Some rain drops stay on the paper
Some glisten in the rays
It rains after a long wait                                               ---by Santhosh Kumar Kana

This poem has been published in the esteemed webjournal MUSE INDIA (issue 49 May-June 2013):

Sunday, July 8, 2012


There is nothing more deceptive than truth. What truth? Whose truth? It is enticing, painful, bitter, sweet or sour, but is hardly known. To know is to understand it from one’s level of understanding and there comes the unavoidable element of subjectivity. Any opinion therefore, is self-dissective. To be born is to be lost. Art, literature and films have been evolving towards this understanding. In fact, the history of literature or art can be called as an evolution from single perspectives to multiple perspectives. It started with a satisfactory and complacent objectivity. So, in stories and films the speaker or the narrator or the writer gained voice over others and other voices were silenced. The readers or the audience were not allowed or expected to question the authenticity or credibility of the narration. The credible singular voice thus ruled over art and literature for years. And that’s very much in tune with the social and family structure. The conventional text   was like the joint family with more characters and singular perspective.The elder of the house dictating terms and the members of the joint family nodding to it without a frown and “they lived happily forever”! Exactly in tune with the disintegration of the joint family system we could see the emergence of Plural voice. The brothers, sisters-in-law etc. raised their voice against an issue which would have been swallowed or pushed aside for maintaining the “structure” of the family, keeping it intact. Now walls threw gaps often and the singular credible voice found it hard to mend them(the dialogue in Frost's Mending Wall). The structure of the text reflected it. Characters spoken about, pushed to the corners raised their voice and exposed the subjectivity of the narrator. The reader by now evolved brought them to lime light, turned others’ eyes and ears to them and they too felt the conviction in their words. The text that was a singular construct collapsed which was termed as DECONSTRUCTION. The text is bound to collapse; the singular voice is bound to lose its volume when the text fails to reflect what life bares. Then came up multiple narratives to percolate into the issue. RASHOMON was one such attempt and the movie VANTAGE POINT. In Malayalam, the film by Shaji.N.Karun, KUTTY SRANK shows a man from the perspectives of many women. In literature, Conrad’s HEART OF DARKNESS tried to show how truth is not a monolith. Multiple perspectives can be seen in Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Marquez and The Witch of Portobello by Paulo Coelho.  

Is there an objective truth? Truth is elusive. The moment you see an accident, it becomes an opinion that is quite limited to your perception, common sense, intelligence, sensitivity etc.

At a traffic junction, if the traffic police/the centre is the truth, there are four different roads of riders and drivers watching it from four different angles! Or even more!! Multiple narrative/perspective in art and literature is like the traffic junction perceived from different roads and angles each having its own credibility and conviction.
The growing trend, not surprisingly, therefore, is multiple attempts to analyse a single event and for that very reason we don’t have epics nowadays. Literature and art is growing with life. It can’t be otherwise.
--Santhosh kumar kana

Tuesday, July 3, 2012


I like those who return home
They are with Nature
They carry the moisture of love
There is a defeat on their face and body, a surrender
Returning home is the last thing you cling on to

Those who return home are children
There is the dirt of nomadic pursuit in them
Their sweat smell like childhood
The exhaustion of the wings

At every stage of the journey there is memory, the smell of home
The body is home
Till you leave it.

-Santhosh Kumar Kana 

Sunday, July 1, 2012


How can an intense being be your ‘normal’?
A mad man is intense
He doesn’t live the surface
He can hear the wail of the earth when he walks
On the puddles on the road he finds pool of blood

He can smell an era
He pities the barks of the stray dogs
They can’t sniff his origin
He laughs at your abnormal normalcy

A mad man is the salt of the earth
He observes what you take for granted
He lives what you lost
He laughs at your unreasonable logic

His matted hair is your wild days you forgot
His rags laugh at your fashionable little
You don’t get his language
It is soaked in sensitivity and untainted love

He can see faces frowning from the skies
He likes the flames in words
And laughs when it consumes the book

He can see tears dripping from the words in a book
And the wounds in between
Some words stained with blood

In the cry of a child the roots of pain searches the depths for water
He finds glazing diamonds in trash cans
He laughs at truth peeping out of his torn clothes

He may brood over the half moon
He feels the pain of words, the pain of being born

His intoxication is neither in a bottle of liquor
Nor in the pursuit of power
His whole body is in trance
He goes drunk by the innocence of a panting face
His dance is not within a song
You can’t hear the incessant music in him

He finds glow worms in the starry sky
He waits in fright for the frogs to cross the road in a vehicle’s light
He pities your insanity
But doesn’t regret his madness
You can’t reach him; you are a little less normal

-Santhosh Kumar Kana
(Completed during my evening walks at Lazimpat , Uttardhoka and Lainchor, Kathmandu)
June, 2012

recited by me at the monthly poetry reading session at IACER, Baneswar Heights, Kathmandu on 30th June, Saturday, 2012

The poets at the session:

This poem has been published in the esteemed webjournal MUSE INDIA (issue 49 May-June 2013):