Sunday 29 December 2013

Shutter, The Malayalam Movie: A Non-Useful Review

I watched the 2012 Malayalam movie "Shutter" (ഷട്ടര്‍), a directorial debut by Joy Mathew [1]. It is a good movie. I loved the movie neither because it was completely shot in my home-town Kozhikode nor because the characters speaks the Kozhikode dialect of Malayalam. I loved the movie neither because the direction was excellent nor because all the actors acted very well. I loved the movie not because it uses the sound diligently; not for creating any dramatic effects that is actually not present in the scene. Of course, these are some of the elements that makes a good movie. And there are plenty of movies like that. There are other additional reasons why I loved this movie. This post is about that.

A non-spoiler summary of the plot : Rasheed is a conservative moralist within his family, who cannot approve of his teenager daughter interacting with the boys studying with her. He wants to stop her studies and marries her off. That does not deter him from bringing a prostitute to his empty shop during one night after getting fully drunk. Due to some circumstances, he gets locked up along with the prostitute inside the shop for one whole night and a whole day. From inside the shop, he can see things happening around the shop through a slit on the shutter that closes the shop and a ventilator window that opens to the front side of his home. Caught up there, listening to the outside world, he realizes that everyone around him wears masks and only thing that is true and dear to him is his family. Finally, he becomes free from the shop without having any harm done to his life, pride and family honor. Afterwards, he becomes more liberal and understanding towards his daughter and allows her to continue her studies, scrapping off his plans for her marriage. I do not want to describe how he gets free although it is very important for this discussion, since I do not want to spoil your suspense element.

What we see here is a man living in a corrupt society, which in turn corrupts him too. To say that he is honest and not corrupted at the outset is but foolish. It is also foolish to say that he was not aware of the deception and corruption around him. A post-modern man is clearly aware of the corruption, deception, illusion, and ideology prevailing in the society and he also more or less know why all this is happening. But the common nature of the post-modern individual is denial and cynicism. He denies the reason. Then he cynically says that things around him are indeed corrupted and he does not believe in the society and its justice, but he cannot do anything about it, and thus he justifies his submission to it. This is what we call ideology or bad faith.

If you look again, you will notice that nothing has happened to his order of life at the end of the movie. His family life and social life continues as it were. But now he has realized his mistakes and has a good understanding about things happening around him. His understanding of the world has changed, but the world did not itself change. To make it a bit complicated, I would say that the whole series of incidents did not affect his Symbolic order, but just expanded it a little with a clearer understanding. The formal familial relation with ones wife and daughter exist largely in the Symbolic order. Rasheed is a conservative moralist. Any relation between man and woman is sexual for him. That is why when he saw the prostitute on the street, he immediately thought about the possibility of taking her with him. That is exactly why he does not like any contact between her daughter and her male friends. He fears that such a contact leads to sex and cannot approve of it. Clearly, this is the double standard that he retains.

An important question is why Rasheed was not satisfied with his wife. Why is he seeking sex outside of his marriage? It is in this question that we confront the otherwise nonconfrontable fact of human psychology: the Real order. The sexual urge exist in the Real order, since it is instinctual and natural. The Symbolic order explicitly prevents sex outside marriage. But there is still a possibility. There are prostitutes available. Prostitutes lives in a corner of the Symbolic order. The prostitute is inside the Symbolic order since the word prostitute exists and since they are available and since sexual intercourse with a prostitute is possible. Not necessary to have a prostitute, but the possibility of sex outside marriage exists even with a stranger. It is this possibility that ultimately tempted Rasheed to invite the prostitute, Thankam, into the shop. While the Symbolic order explicitly prevents the-outside-marriage sex, there still exists a possibility and a phantasmagorical temptation. The latter is in conflict with the first. This explains the existence of the Real order and the fact that sex exists in the Real. That which exists in the Real is undeniable. Therefore, sex outside the marriage is undeniable.

If sex outside the marriage is undeniable in the Real, but unacceptable in the Symbolic, what can one do? Keep such a hope in ones Imaginary order. In the Imaginary order he creates an alter ego or alter egos who can have sex with anyone in any manner. This creates the fantasy and at times crops into the real world and thus threatens the Symbolic order. To have sex with the prostitute whom he meets on a night is a fantasy that Rasheed kept in his Imaginary order. Therefore, when an appropriate situation came, despite the sense of guilt, he gave into it. Any fantasy, however dear that may be to us, when happened in reality turns out to be a horror, since it ultimately threatens the Symbolic order and hence ones life itself. That is what happened to Rasheed. He is unable to copulate inside the shop. After a while he tries again. He approaches the sleeping prostitute and touches her. Suddenly he senses the presence of a non-existent snake inside the room. He is scared by it and moves away from the woman. That snake is nothing but a proper representation of his guilt and the horror that he was experiencing throughout the affair. However, it is interesting to note that the woman had no fear of the snake. She dares to check the room thoroughly for the snake. This is because she does not have any guilt. Sex with a stranger for her does not happen in fantasy or Imaginary, but in the Real as well as the Symbolic. The Symbolic because she is able to talk about it and even argue about it over phone without any sense of shame or guilt. She is in a way more exalted a human being than any other in the movie.

The whole movie is about the moral corruption of a man, who finally gets some moral education. At the end, he appears to have become a good human. But the irony remains. If sex outside marriage is undeniable, what morality does he learn? In what sense does he become good? Good is simply a word that signifies a concept. He does not particularly become good. He just become good according to the Symbolic order in which he lives. He was not actually corrupted and now becomes un-corrupted. He is a post-modern individual as he is before and now. He just learned the morality of the world and accepted it. That is all. Is that a great transformation? Yes, indeed, psychologically. But not spiritually, since he does not still realize anything about what happened to him and what he has learned.

During my visit to Las Vegas last year, I have seen men passionately kissing each other on the street.  No one even noticed them; so it seemed at least to me. In Las Vegas streets such an act does not threaten anybody's Symbolic order. Thus those men do not become particularly bad or evil in that Symbolic order. That is how the word changes its meaning and position according to the Symbolic order to which it is tied with.

It is interesting to notice how Rasheed gains his "enlightenment". He is simply locked up in a dark room from which he can see the life outside, the Symbolic order, through a small slit on the shutter. The title of the movie "Shutter" is very suitable and nothing is more important in this movie than the shutter and what it covers. Obviously, it is not the first time that we hear such a thing. All the saints like Buddha, Sankara and so on and prophets like Muhammed and Christ disappeared for a while into solitude before attaining their spiritual enlightenment. We can forget all the saints, but only consider the philosopher Rene Decartes, who famously said "ego cogito, ego sum" ("I think, therefore I exist": That is, I am thinking. I am able to think. Therefore, no matter how many illusions exists here, but what I call I exists. Otherwise, it will not think. Therefore, I exists beyond any doubt.) [If you have been deceived by the more popular translation "I think, therefore I am", then I am sorry for you. Please consider to learn more about the Decartes' cogito argument]. Decartes understood the existence of cogito (the thinking I) when he secluded himself from the outside world and shut himself inside an oven to escape from the unbearable cold outside. He had nothing else to do but think about the possibility of knowing the objective truth of the outside world. In the movie, Rasheed gets locked up inside the shop not out of his will. His seclusion was somewhat forced. Yet, he is able to rethink of his life and actions. He is able to understand his mistakes that conflicts with the Symbolic order and correct himself.

Possibly, what every man needs is such a dark, secluded place. Where one can directly encounter the fantasy and its horror and realize ones alienation with respect to the Symbolic order. Unless a man is able to get along well with the Symbolic order, his life will be miserable. He becomes an criminal or just a degenerate drunkard or rapist or a great artist with profound creativity. The late Malayali poet A. Ayyappan was such an artist. He was unable to cope with the society and its order. He lived in the streets, outside the social order, and created extremely honest and creative poetry. In the movie also, we can see such a character: a drunkard old man who always sings poetry that other characters cannot understand. That character lives outside the social order. In fact he is even a threat to the social order. That is why everyone hates him and drives him away as soon as possible after getting any service from him.

The Symbolic order that comes under the threat in the movie is clearly a male-dominated one. Females have only secondary position in that order. That is why it tried to protect ones daughter from illegible sex. That is also why it allowed the girl to continue her studies. In doing so, we might first feel that it is giving a higher position to the girl that she deserves. On the contrary, it just integrates the women's need to get educated and be more free in their life into the existing social Symbolic order, without reducing the man's importance and dominating position in it. In this aspect, the movie is not too revolutionary, I claim.

This paragraph contains elements that spoil the suspense of the movie. Safely you can skip it : I want to prove the above point. That the movie does not particularly elevate the status of females. In fact, the shop is opened by one of Rasheed's daughter's male-friends upon her request. She instructs the friend not to look inside the shop but merely to unlock it. Thus, she saves Rasheed's pride and honor even from her own friend. By this act, she proves to Rasheed that she is an intelligent girl, having a stronger moral standard as compared to Rasheed's. What is her moral standard? To keep such a shame from the outside world and thereby saving ones status. This proves that she believes sex outside marriage is a sin. Thus she subscribes to the values of the Symbolic order and is not particularly spiritually elevated. This makes Rasheed confident that she will not get involved in illegible sex. So, he allows her to continue her studies. Clearly, the male-domination continues.

This movie is the director Joy Mathew's debut. And it is excellent. I hope we can see more good movies from him. The stellar performance of Sajitha Madathil as the prostitute is unforgettable. In fact, every actors acted very well in this movie. This again implies that this movie is really a director's movie.


Saturday 28 December 2013

Midnight Musings on Words, Labyrinths, and Sree Narayana


Not being understood is the most terrible curse in this world. Now I better understand those people like Kafka and Nietzsche. But, seemingly, there is no solution for that. If I ask myself how I can make others understand me, I recognize an even more terrible truth: That I don't myself understand myself! 

To tell others what I want to tell them about me, I need to depend on language. There, I realize that I cannot express myself quite well in words. Words deceive me. Really. When I listen to my own narration, I realize that the words flow on their own account. It is as if I have a very insignificant role in the process. When I think, write or say something, I sense that the flow of the words are automatic, beyond my own control, obeying some prescribed structure of the language. That may be why I am still unsatisfied even after I think I said what I wanted to say. 

I don’t trust words any more. They don't represent me. They don’t' represent my inner feelings and urges. They gravely misrepresent me. Perhaps, language itself is a prison!

I feel I am stuck in my own __________ . I don't know what is the word to be used here. Certainly it is not “life”, “body”, “paradigm” and so on. Nothing that I can think of. Still, I feel I am stuck. The fact is that I feel I am stuck. Perhaps, I feel that it is a fact that I feel that I am stuck. Or, even, it is a fact that I feel that it is a fact that I feel that I am stuck. I am exasperated! Language is a labyrinthine prison. Maybe, it is so for everyone, but not many realize it.

A few days back, I had been to Sivagiri. The most prominent proponents of Advaitic version of Hinduism were, I believe, Malayalis. Sri Sankara Acharya founded it. And Sree Narayana Guru was a major figure, as were Cattambi Swamikal, Nitya Chaitanya Yati, and so on. 

Sivagiri Mutt of Sree Narayana Guru is situated on a hill. It is where the Guru is said to be enlightened. Being an atheist, I could not feel anything “sacred” or “spiritual” about that place. I did not feel any “cosmic vibrations” all those goat-head ones claim they feel when they go to places like this. But, still, it is a beautiful and serene place. Very close to the nature, calm, quiet and silent! I saw the Guru's hut – a very simple one. Great figures like Rabindra Nath Tagore and Gandhi visited the Guru there. Later, I went to the tomb of the Guru on the hill. Enjoying the serenity of the place and wondering about the magnificent life of the Guru, I returned. He was not just a saint. He was an politically activist saint, who acted as a spiritual vanguard of a great struggle of a bygone generation of oppressed people against the upper caste of Kerala. 

Down the hill, in the book stall, I procured a copy of Guru's “Atmopatesa Satakam”. Written in a bit tougher Malayalam, but I don't like the interpretations and explanations added by someone for each stanza for some reason.

Those who still wonder how much money a man wants, when one would get satisfied in ones life and why life seems to be miserable even after becoming rich and healthy! I say unto them. Indeed life has no meaning. Life is absurd and worthless. But if you feel frustrated about it, then it is because  you have not invented you own meaning to it. It is because you chase a non-existent illusion all the time without realizing that you are merely wandering aimlessly in a labyrinthine prison. But don't feel guilty about it too. It is not your fault. Absolutely not your fault. In sharing you my thoughts, I love you like God loves humans:)

Tempted to conclude with a quote, thanks to the movie Dead Poet's Society:

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately,
to front only the essential facts of life,
and see if I could not learn what it had to teach,
and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
                                           --Henry Thoreau


Chennai,
Dec 27, 2013

Tuesday 24 December 2013

Books

I added a page on this blog: Books. It consists of a list of most memorable books I have read so far. If books are windows to the world, they have been my windows. Truly.

Since I have created this list purely out of my memory, they are not necessarily listed in the chronological order of my reading. Besides, there are quite a few books that did not find themselves into this list. However, I was able to add some kind of time-line into the list. They are separated according to blocks of a few years in which I read them. These intervals of years signify different times in my life: 1996 to 1999 during which I enrolled myself into our village-library with the help of my friend, during which I was able to develop a penchant for reading, and during which I believed almost everything that appeared in books! Then 1999 to 2003 during which I was an undergraduate at Thrissur, during which I started speculating the truth of what I read in books, during which I developed a firm foundation for my reading and ideas, during which, with the help of my good friends, I was introduced into great writers and thinkers like Jean-Paul Sartre, Albert Camus, Karl Marx, Friedrich Nietzsche and so on, and during which I started understanding that there are no absolute truths, but everything is a perspective. Then 2003 to 2005 during which I was job-less mostly and then became a teacher, during which I struggled to develop my own perspectives and ideas and miserably failed. Next 2005 to 2007 during which I was a post-graduate student, during which I fully recognized and accepted my failure to develop my own perspective, during which I disowned many of my own ideas and perspectives, during which I disowned a lot of other things, during which I fully understood Nietzsche's idea of eternal recurrence and affirmation of ones fate and life ("amor fati"), and during which I became a complete nihilist and extreme atheist. Then came 2007 to 2012, my lonely Ph.D. days, during which I became what I am today, during which I read not just books but also a lot from the internet and watched a lot of movies, during which I learned to affirm my fate, and during which I don't still understand what all happened to me. 2013 was a stable year with a lot of developments in my life, during which I started getting regular salary and was able to buy any book I wanted, during which I pledged that I will not sacrifice reading for anything else and became so determined. My life, academic development, and other things revolve around all these years and the books I read.

So, that was my narration of my own story, which, indeed, is a lie from a pure psycho-analytic perspective!

Sandeep
Trivandrum
Dec 24, 2013.

Tuesday 3 December 2013

Survival During the Non-Apocalyptic Era

Genre: Fiction

The sun during the day,
The moon during the night,
The joy of waiting
When they were not there,
Were my primary reasons
For not embracing suicide,
The last resort to escape
The infinite possibilities
For metamorphosis
And transcendence,
During the Non-Apocalyptic times.

#sandeeppalakkal-chennai-thethirdofdecembertheyearoftwothousandthirteen.

Monday 2 December 2013

A Portrait of the Artist in the Eve of Apocalypse

Genre: Fiction

The Hope:
I would've been happy,
As long as my sky did not crack;
As long as the peace of my meditation was undisturbed;
As long as the animals around me did not quarrel each other.

The Orgy of the Intellect:
All I needed was an ideology
That would keep my sky from cracking;
That would keep the peace of my meditation undisturbed;
That would keep the animals around me at peace.

The Disillusionment:
But, today, I became aware
That my sky was indeed going to crack;
That my meditation itself will go futile;
That the animals around me will cease to exist.

The Departure:
In the evening, I looked at the departing sun
Until the twilight faded away in the horizon.
Adios my dear old friend,
My reason for deferring a suicide on many mornings!

The Apocalyptic Strength of Will:
The last sun departed, the last night freezing in,
I am witnessing the final moments, my moments of the truth.
These final moments for me are not for engaging in fornication.
Neither are they for felony nor rape nor self-indulgence.

The Last Resort:
These moments, my final moments,
Are the only private things I ever own.
I imagine a colourful sky that will never come to be,
Yet, bring meaning in eternity to my vanishing soul.

The New Hope:
With the ever depleting strength of mine,
Let me embrace you, dear death.
How beautiful you are! To arrive tonight,
This night of the apocalypse.
I will drink from your everlasting fountain of bliss
Forever to quench my everlasting thirst.

The Release:
I feel very light, for I can sleep tonight
Without the burden of a morrow.
No more anticipations, no more hopes,
No more sunrises to shine in my life.

The Meaning aka Nirvana:
My mind is quiet,
My heart secure.
My breath is deep,
I am One with the God.
I feel no pain,
I feel no shame,
I feel no guilt,
I am One with the God.
Lying on my bed,
Reduced into the null in the whole,
I am One with the God.
I am One with the God.

--sandeeppalakkal-chennai-decemberthesecondtheyeartwothousandthirteen.

Sunday 1 December 2013

Pratibha's Voice [Experimental]

Genre: Fiction

I am nothing, a nobody. Now, I am a voice inside someones head. To be at least a voice in someones head -- that is one of the best blessings of my existence.

I was born when I was twenty-one years old. It was the fateful day that my best friend's father forced me into his bedroom, when there was nobody at his house, and pressed me on the bed under his body. I was scared. That was the first in my life in such a magnitude. I cried and cried, and begged him for my honour. He did not heed, but pressed me onto the bed with more force. I put a staunch fight against him, using all my strength. In a few minutes, as I was losing my cloths one-by-one, I recognised how weak I was. My eyes were filled with darkness and I saw no chance for escape. But I could strongly feel the dark, deep abyss into which I was falling eternally.

There was a moment. I became temporarily free. Just to take a breath. I saw him removing his undergarments and embracing fully nudity. And below his belly, I saw his meat, fully erect and ready for the torture. Yet, it was rather silly. A tiny, weak shaft in all its ugliness around it!

Ironically, I could not help laughing! I don't know how I got the strength. In all my sincerity, I laughed!

“Is this all what you got? Is it with this that you are going to do what you are going to do?” I asked  him being unable to suppress my laughter.

His face became red. He was being overpowered by his anger. His weapon, too. Suddenly, it was diminished to nothing. All its might that it tried to assume a moment before was lost at once in the void of its purposelessness. The man was ashamed. Anger and shame belittled him to nothing. After all, to be aggressive is the sign of the weak. He slapped me on my face. Twice. But that could not deter me from laughing. His courage seemed to have drowned in the heavy tide of my laughter. I spat on his face. Vehemently. He grabbed my long black hair and pulled me out of his bedroom.

“Get out of here, bitch!” He shouted at me.

He was a coward. He dared not to kick me out of his house in my full nakedness. He went back to the room and rushed back at once with my dresses. As soon as I was able to slip inside my attire, he pushed me out.

I went back home with a mind that was torn inside out. 

It was the day I realised my identity in the world. It was the day I understood who I was. 

It was the day I was born into this world.

To be continued.........

Centenary Reflections!

I was aware of this. But I did not want to exaggerate it. That this blog now crossed One Hundred posts. One hundred posts! As I look at it, it seems to be big. As I think further, it is insignificant.

So what is the purpose of this blog? Here, I would like to quote Terry Eagleton:

"What we need is a form of life which is completely pointless, [...]. Rather than serve some utilitarian purpose or earnest metaphysical end, it is a delight in itself. It needs no justification beyond its own existence. In this sense, the meaning of life is interestingly close to meaninglessness." 
--The Meaning of Life, Terry Eagleton.
The quote seems to say it all. Not really. I have a purpose for this blog. That is as I have stated many times here: To enjoy the inexorable pleasure of writing. And what do I write? Perhaps, as I stated in my first post in this blog, I do sense the ordinariness of my life and the grandeur of the ordinary. On a hindsight, it is about this grandeur which I sense in the ordinary nothing that I write in this blog.

I love this blog and love blogging. As you have recognised, this blog is a completely personal one. Just Google how to write a blog. You will find numerous articles on how to make it a success, how to get more readers, how to advertise, how to make money out of it and so on. I have not fallen and will never fall into such traps. I am not writing this blog to be read, but just to write. All those articles and perspectives on blogging/writing and the challenges blogging face from Facebooking have appeared recently. I remember that I started writing this blog in an era when likes and shares and comments were not important. I love those days, and they are already the "good old" days of the Internet.

When I shared my Catch Me if You Dare in Facebook, someone asked me why I share things that he could not understand! That is the level of animosity Facebookians harbour towards individualism. The idea of Facebook is to be not different from others but to conform to the common filthy standard. I reject this and stay adamantly reclusive in the blogger and elsewhere.

I remember starting the blog by writing down very short posts. But the blog developed me into a better blogger, I think. As I developed the blog, it developed me too. The exchange was mutual. In the beginning, I used to struggle to write anything meaningfully and properly. I don't feel that tension anymore. Once I have the topic [there are many, I claim] and the right mood and time, words flow. The inspiration is that I can put it in this blog! That's why the blog becomes my favourite, again.

Not to mention a few friends who I gained through this blog!

As a concluding remark, I would like to say that I will be here, blogging, as long as Google removes the Blogger from the services that it provides. If that happens, I will still try to survive in some other form, on some other platform, as a blogger! I am aware that the personal blogs of my type are getting reduced in the Internet and the new focus is on more impersonal writings with some purpose. But what can I do about that? To express myself freely is my freedom, even if I am not the favourite of the masses.

Of Umberto Eco, Truth, Inquiries, Memories and Etc.


Life is nothing but memories. Memories, distorted and remembered in a nonlinear order! They recreate my past, again and again, inside my head, like a movie. All my pain and pleasure depend on what I remember and how I remember. When I lose my memories, I lose my life and its meaning. Death is not just physical, but it signifies the loss of ones memories forever.

The loss of memory was one of the major themes for Umberto Eco's two novels: The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana and The Prague Cemetery. In both novels, the main characters, Giambattista Bodoni and Simone Simonini, respectively, wake up in the morning to realise that they don't remember who they are and what they used to be in their lives. Later, Bodoni even laments that he does not remember if he made love to any women, including [the woman who claims to him to be] his wife [which is true]. Love forgotten is love never existed. A life forgotten is a life never lived, not even in the dreams; it's quite like never born at all. In the novels, the memory losses cause both the protagonists to start an ardent endeavour to regain their memories and recreate their past. The result is that we have exciting, passionate, emotionally and intellectually stimulating stories!

One of the protagonists, Casaubon, in Umberto Eco's Foucault's Pendulum also gets caught in a similar situation. He does not lose his memory, but he becomes fully disoriented and is unable to properly interpret the sequence of bizarre events he and his friends had to go through, as a consequence of their pranks. He tries to organize his memories in order to interpret them and thereby recreate his past in a more meaningful way.

In fact, all of the Eco's novels are like this. The protagonists get caught in very strange situations and become completely confused. They do not shy away, but want to solve the mystery by engaging in intellectual inquiries and reflections. This is why Eco becomes my favourite. Each character starts a feverish search for meaning and stability in his own way. This leads to an intellectually stimulating conversation with the reader in multiple ways. 

In Mysterious Flames of Queen Loana, the Prague Cemetery and Foucault's Pendulum, the protagonists start writing down everything. They start the "talking cure" as suggested by Sigmond Freud. 

Baudolino in Umberto Eco's another novel Baudolino also starts telling his story, but not to himself; he does not document it himself, but tells his story to another character, Niketas Choniates, who starts documenting it to interpret it. Here, like many of Eco's characters, Niketas Choniates is also a fictional depiction of a historically real individual.

In The Name of the Rose, which is Eco's first novel, William of Baskerville and his disciple Adso of Melk, set forth to solving a murder mystery in a monastery. The search for truth again starts an intense and stimulating conversation, which gets entangled with the questions truth, interpretation and such philosophical questions. Here, the story is told in the voice of Adso and the author [Eco] claims he just translates a historical document he came across. Finally, the point is a document written in search for finding a meaning of events by proper interpretation.

Eco's another novel, Island of the Day Before, which I have not started reading yet, tells the story of Roberto della Griva, who gets shipwrecked and washed up on the shore of a lone island. I do not know anything about the story beyond this point, but surely constitutes an attempt by Griva to reinterpret his past. I am sure that the novel will contain a self-documentation by Griva of his thoughts, interpretations and inquiries.

Reviewing Eco's novels is beyond my talent. Already you can find a few reviews and discussions in the Internet. This post [and a sequence of coming posts] is not about Eco's novels, but how they inspire an interpretation of my own memories. I do not know yet how and to what extent I am going to do this, but we will see that in the coming days. In other words, this is a review of my self-documentation of my own interpretation of the past and search for a meaning. Note that I have said "a review of my self-documentation", which means that the real self-documentation, in its candid and true form, will not appear here:)