Creativity - what is it? What isn't it?
You begin to seek creative
avenues of self-expression when you develop a sense of belonging to a place.
But the economic reality of being a relatively recent immigrant doesn’t permit
creative self-expression because you are tied down to an office routine. In
such a scenario, the only available option is to enjoy the creativity of
professional artists who are able to find time and energy and the motivation to
stay committed to their art.
By 2017, I was a confirmed
Torontonian, or at least that’s what I felt. My sense of belonging to the place
was, as they say, all-encompassing.
My debut novel was
published, I was now a co-founder of an immensely interesting reading series
(although I didn’t next-to-nothing for it), and I continued to stay engaged
with people who were actively pursuing avenues for creative expression. That
included finding time to go to see plays, movies, performances and occasionally
writing expressionistic pieces about my no-longer-new life in Toronto.
Jasmine Sawant’s play GRAMMA,
staged by the SAWITRI Theatre Group, was a remarkably original attempt at
combining the past with the present and memoir with fiction. Moreover, the play
marked a clear departure for both the playwright and the group – it was
probably the first time that both had worked on Canadian material. Had this
play been produced and staged in a mainstream milieu, it’d have got more
attention than it otherwise did; but then that’s the reality of Canada.
I bought tickets to Broken
Images (a play written by Girish Karnad in 2004) because Shabana Azmi was
to perform the roles of Manjula and Malini. The tickets I could afford were for
the second floor balcony, and much to my annoyance, the organisers had invited
a number of people who occupied prime seating, while those who’d paid for their
tickets (like I had) were scattered on the balconies of the spacious Living Arts Centre in Mississauga.
But leaving aside
pettiness, Shabana Azmi’s performance was a tour de force. There are few
who can match Shabana Azmi’s histrionic abilities, and those who were
privileged to see her perform on stage should consider themselves fortunate.
At the 2017 Toronto
International Film Festival, I went to see Hansal Mehta directed Omerta,
a film that narrates the life of Omar Saeed Sheikh, the British national who
took to jihad, killed Daniel Pearl, the American journalist, and nearly caused
a war between India and Pakistan. Rajkummar Rao’s performance is chillingly
perfect.
A program on WB Yeats,
the Irish poet, organised as part of the Spur Festival in 2017, turned out to
be deeply insightful and surprisingly entertaining thanks to the biopic by Alan
Gilsenan (Vision: A Life of WB Yeats).
That year, the third
edition of Literature Matters featured poet Karen Solie and novelist Esi
Edugyan, both renowned, multiple
award-winning writers. Solie is a poet, and Esi Edugyan is a novelist. Smaro
Kamboureli, the Avie Bennett Chair in Canadian Literature, moderated the
program.
I blogged:
"Solie spoke about ‘On Folly: Poetry and Mistakes’ and Edugyan on The
Wrong Door: Some Meditations. She her talk by quoting from Desiderius Erasmus
Roterodamus (also known as Erasmus of Rotterdam), most famous work The Praise
of Folly, where the humanist theologian and one of the pioneers of the
Protestant Reformation asked: What is more foolish? The poet or the poetry?
"Solie’s
tongue-in-cheek answer: People are generally happy when they see a tradesperson
– a plumber or an electrician; that is not often the case when they see a poet.
That, she added, had to do with more people agreeing that they hate
poetry than on what poetry is.
"In
a talk that was peppered with quotes from many poets and writers, Solie made
the case that follies and mistakes are integral to creativity and that
everything that a writer does is no more natural than other things in the
world. A writer’s responsibility, therefore, is to remain open, vulnerable, and
basically write down everything that’s inside the head on paper.
"Solie
observed that the definition of word folly has evolved to become narrower; in
its pristine sense, it also meant delight, fakery, a dwelling place, in
addition to failure or a mistake. She said fear is a necessary ingredient for
good writing, and that fear, too, had many shades and connotations, just as
mistakes are essential to creativity.
"The
subject of Edugyan’s talk was The Wrong Door: Some Meditations. She began with the
example of the proverbial person from Porlock, who disturbs Samuel Taylor
Coleridge, the Romantic era English poet, while he was penning Kubla Khan (A
Vision in a Dream: A Fragment).
"The
story goes that Coleridge, in an opium-induced haze, was writing a poem that
apparently was flowing naturally and was practically getting itself written,
was disturbed by this person from Porlock, who had mistaken knocked on
Coleridge's door. By the time this person left, the poem has evaporated from
his mind, and mere fragments were of it left.
"Edugyan
said every writer needs a metaphorical wrong door that intruders may knock on
to disturb someone else and leave the writer alone to create. Every writer
fears the sudden, thought-scattering disturbance that ruins her work. She said
solitude and silence are essential requirements for a writer because only
through silence can she cut out the external to hear the internal."
I wrote a
piece on Weston
Village, which is five minutes walk from home. It’s a poor neighbourhood
that reminds me of my very own Teli Gali, where I grew up and lived for three
decades. Diaspora Dialogues selected it in 2018 and Donna Mitchell St. Bernard
interpreted it for the Hello Neighbour program. And another piece that
addressed the growing protest against cultural appropriation (Whose
voice is it anyway?). My piece, published in the New Canadian Media,
focused upon my dilemma of writing about a Muslim family in my debut novel Belief.
2017 ended and
the tenth year of our life in Canada began. It’d be a year that brought many
changes.
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