When I was in college, I had watched a play performed by the team of Asmita Theatre Group. It was a story of a muslim man who drove autorickshaws for a living. His son had just died. Whenever that man came in contact with any passenger, he shared his grief but no one listened. It was an Indian adaptation of Chekhov's Short Story Misery. It was the first time I had cried so much in a theatre. Every single one of my friends cried unashamedly, unapologetically. Every professor, every student I could see in the darkness was sobbing relentlessly. That day I changed as a viewer.
Although I am very generous in shedding tears, one of the most curious pieces I have cried on was something called a "counter-map" in an exhibition a few years ago. Made by artist Mohamed Abusal, this imagined metro map of Gaza left me in uncontrollable tears. As a lover of public transportation who enjoys riding buses and metro, this innocent vision of having just a functioning mobility system in Gaza while being in a perpetual existential threat was both heartbreaking and heartwarming.
I cried uncontrollably while watching Grave of the Fireflies, and the tears didn’t stop even through the night that followed. Even now, whenever I think about it, like at this very moment as I type, I have to fight hard to hold back tears. What surprises me is that I cannot consciously relate to the story. I have never gone hungry because of poverty or endured anything close to what the characters went through, yet the film still affects me so profoundly, as if it reached into some deeper, unspoken part of me.
I always cry while reading Sahir ludhianvi's nazm Parchhaiyan about the love of a couple in war and the end of war and the call of the poet for the people to act against the govt. It's not always the activist part but the part where he starts with us saam muje malum hua jab Baap ki kheti bik jaaye mamta ke sunehre khwabon ki anajaam bhi bechi jaati hai..., that moment he starts talking philosophically about the world which feel so contemporary today even if there is no war here in India, but the situation is sad, I invariably read it every week once and cry
This is a beautiful and perceptive piece Anurag, I am generally very reserved with emotions and real-life difficult situations don't bring out any sort of physical reactions at all, but films are a different beast all together, I often cry when something on the screen (mostly my computer) moves me and that is often cathartic for me, I cry frequently and without a care in the world, even in a cinema. It's beautiful, don't know about it being hypnotic though!!
When I was in college, I had watched a play performed by the team of Asmita Theatre Group. It was a story of a muslim man who drove autorickshaws for a living. His son had just died. Whenever that man came in contact with any passenger, he shared his grief but no one listened. It was an Indian adaptation of Chekhov's Short Story Misery. It was the first time I had cried so much in a theatre. Every single one of my friends cried unashamedly, unapologetically. Every professor, every student I could see in the darkness was sobbing relentlessly. That day I changed as a viewer.
After reading your article I just remembered I heard november rain by gnr on the weekend. Listened at home again. Song took my mind someplace.
Everytime I watch K3G, I weep when the two brothers are sitting on the bench. Even while writing this comment, there is a tear just thinking about it
Although I am very generous in shedding tears, one of the most curious pieces I have cried on was something called a "counter-map" in an exhibition a few years ago. Made by artist Mohamed Abusal, this imagined metro map of Gaza left me in uncontrollable tears. As a lover of public transportation who enjoys riding buses and metro, this innocent vision of having just a functioning mobility system in Gaza while being in a perpetual existential threat was both heartbreaking and heartwarming.
Beautiful essay.
I cried uncontrollably while watching Grave of the Fireflies, and the tears didn’t stop even through the night that followed. Even now, whenever I think about it, like at this very moment as I type, I have to fight hard to hold back tears. What surprises me is that I cannot consciously relate to the story. I have never gone hungry because of poverty or endured anything close to what the characters went through, yet the film still affects me so profoundly, as if it reached into some deeper, unspoken part of me.
I always cry while reading Sahir ludhianvi's nazm Parchhaiyan about the love of a couple in war and the end of war and the call of the poet for the people to act against the govt. It's not always the activist part but the part where he starts with us saam muje malum hua jab Baap ki kheti bik jaaye mamta ke sunehre khwabon ki anajaam bhi bechi jaati hai..., that moment he starts talking philosophically about the world which feel so contemporary today even if there is no war here in India, but the situation is sad, I invariably read it every week once and cry
This is a beautiful and perceptive piece Anurag, I am generally very reserved with emotions and real-life difficult situations don't bring out any sort of physical reactions at all, but films are a different beast all together, I often cry when something on the screen (mostly my computer) moves me and that is often cathartic for me, I cry frequently and without a care in the world, even in a cinema. It's beautiful, don't know about it being hypnotic though!!