Our state exceeds vocabulary, ironic for an identity-obsessed generation. ‘Brain rot’ has more to do with ‘economy rot’, ‘housing crisis rot’, and ‘climate rot’: Conflicts between the ascribed way of living and the amount of technical difficulties we’ve inherited from previous renters. Hippie exaltation through protest and psychedelic art and counterculture rings true today too, despite the non-specificity of Gen Z’s wars… because what is Skibidi Toilet even a response to?

Duchamp placed a urinal in a gallery and called it Fountain. He called the institution of art arbitrary. He forced it to either accept or reject a toilet, reviewing and rearranging the institution. Challenging its purity (upheld by gatekeepers), helped ‘art’ redefine itself. Skibidi Toilet places a human head inside a toilet. It’s part AI slop, part niche video game reference and completely lacks reference points. The institution being challenged here is meaning itself. That in-definition is evolution. When there is no singular enemy, absurdism consumes absolutely. It becomes a way of thinking, feeling, living, laughing and loving. You can’t gatekeep what you can’t define.

The somethings developed from our nothings have created a language of our own. The aforementioned ‘brain rot’ tussles with fulfillment and existence at large. The scale of the problem exceeds even delusion; our psychoactive drug is just going outside. The post-mortem of meaning is a privilege shared between us, Hippies, and the anti-art Dadaists, and this shows up in every aspect of our expression.

Gen Z neo-absurdism weaponises the information/technology/depression/irony/futility boom of the last few decades for its own benefits. The response doesn’t need a gallery or a protest march or a record label, the toilet goes straight to a billion screens. Deep-fried memes, video game parodies, the entirety of r/grippysockcrayonbox, all created with the overarching idea that there’s nothing to be done but react. As current events continue to carpet-bomb our conscience, it gets tougher to have ‘morals’ and ‘motivations’ that aren’t as cracked as the mirror held up to us.

We struggle to categorise our mental strain, explaining it via individual shortcoming or disorder rather than a collectively absurd feedback loop. We live in times where the toilet may as well be a fountain, and the fountain may as well have a body part sticking out of it.

While we rush to erase the Mughals from our history textbooks and reattribute their monuments to temples, we’re forgetting their biggest crime: These astrology themed coins that Jahangir issued during his reign (1569–1627). Jahangir was the more art-hoe-wild-child king of the bunch, so his fascination with zodiac doesn’t come as a surprise.

Our team had the pleasure of visiting @sarmaya_india for their ‘Odyssey of the Rupee’ exhibition last month. The Indian Rupee recently celebrated 75 years of independent usage, and the exhibition details its earliest forms under various rulers. Akbar was the first to issue the word ‘rupiah’ on the coins, Jahangir introduced these zodiac coins in the same century.

Jahangir’s proverbial tote bag was the claim that he was the first to inscribe constellation symbols onto coins. (he was beaten by the Turcoman Atagbegs by a few centuries). He was already accused of heresy for coins with his own portraits with inscriptions of ‘Qizah’ (destiny) on them. The astrology coins were considered haram (alleged idolatry and depiction of living things) and were later melted by Shah Jahan.

Jahangir’s religious tolerance and punishment of spiritual frauds found a balance in astrology, a global belief not tied to any one religion. We’re amazed that the performative male has existed this long. The detailing and symbolic choices show a very studied approach to astrology. Astrology was foreign yet rooted, universal, relatable and still specific. Much like today’s zodiac fiends, Jahangir saw a vision.

The European influence on the art, especially from the Zodiac symbols that feature non-traditional mythological beings like Centaurs and Cherubs and the angelic figure of Virgo, is evident. The lions, bulls and crabs were localised, helping them feel like a part of the larger canon of Mughal art.

Their value today varies from sign to sign. Geminis are worth more than Leos, and they’re both cheaper than Cancers. Their rarity and collector’s interest speaks to a sort of prophetic vanity. They fit perfectly with the rest of Jahangir’s experiments as a ruler who interpreted his throne as an outlet for the arts.

(Originally written for @edit.ayc on instagram)

The more I read and write, the more I realize that nothing I ever think will be even remotely original. However, in the most selfish and self-serving way possible, originality is the only thing I want to leave behind. Therefore, the only way to achieve originality in my very flawed brain is to chop up as many things I enjoy, scrape them together, put them in a blender and pray that the end-product is edible. My logic is that you can’t be accused of unoriginality if your range of influences is too broad to be identified. I start with this almost-rant as a preface to say this: My relationship with the English language is that the language is an intrinsic part of everything I think, create and breathe. Everything I know, see, love and hate, especially functioning in a country where this is not the primary language, is English.

I cry in English too, when I stop to think for a moment and remember my time in primary school during the monsoons. I remember long rubber boots, transparent raincoats, foggy windows and the smell of dirt. I remember all of this through the writing exercises doled out by my English teachers at even the slightest change in weather. I remember vocabulary books and assigned novels that I kept in my bag, and I cry. I cry because things aren’t as simple as they used to be, when language was nothing more than a few exercises delivered by a warm face.

I cry because three years into my Literary and Cultural Studies degree, I still feel completely inadequate and confused. There’s so many words I haven’t read or written, and I probably never will. My brain tends to get in the way of most prophetic missions. The awareness that nothing I know will ever be enough is overwhelming, I wonder if I should know anything at all. English takes over me, makes me feel like nothing and everything simultaneously. It allows me to feel powerless but with unlimited potential. I hate how those two gut feelings coexist and constantly attempt to topple each other.

From the ages of sixteen to nineteen, I called myself a poet with pride, I’d show everyone anything I ever wrote with great confidence. To me, the act of writing was liberation from any actual criticism. I somehow excused myself from giving my work any actual thought once it was written. An English teacher in the 11th grade once asked me how long I take to edit my work once it’s written (I remember being so flattered when she told me she liked it), I replied by saying I didn’t. Once a set of words left my grasp they became somebody else’s issue.

In the last year, I haven’t been able to show people what I write in my personal time, if I ever write at all. If I do choose to make my work public, it ends up coming out sporadically in places that most people won’t go looking to read. I tend to edit harsher than ever, modifying my original idea so heavily that it becomes a shell of the first breath. I self-omit so harshly that the idea never leaves my mind most times.

English is a language of circumvention, it gives me the perfect vocabulary to hate everything I ever do. I haven’t found a natural synonym to words like ‘corny’ or ‘cringe’ in the other two languages that I speak. These two English words fit my self-description perfectly.
The same language that started off as my gateway to creative expression became my biggest gatekeeper. English empowers me to think I’ll never be good enough. I find it fascinating that ‘I’ll never be good enough’ is a complete and structurally sound sentence. The sentence refuses to elaborate or explain; good enough for what?

English is also conveniently timed, because here is where the vast lexicon begins drying up and fading away. The language offers no explanation, so I’ve learned to make no assumptions and have no expectations. When you need it most, English will abandon you — It would be difficult for a language built on the backs of so many others to have a backbone of its own. Since I’ve moved cities and started living in a place with different types of people, I’ve been working on improving my Hindi. When I go home for the holidays I try to speak to my parents and grandparents in Sindhi. However, neither of these languages come as naturally to me as English does. I learned French in both school and university but my fluency is ‘A-grade’ at best.

Languages aren’t taught with the intention of understanding them, rather with the intention of passing a class. No matter how hard I try, I cannot creatively express myself in a different language. All of my shot directions, loglines, screenplays and camera angles are in English, I see in this language too. It is inescapable, exhausted, yet a source of renewal and completely beyond my current level of comprehension. I just pray the words materialize in front of me some day, at a more convenient hour. Until then, I can only try harder.

Originality is something English can only help with if I choose to pursue it in the English fashion. That would mean taking the best bits of other languages, simplifying them and mixing them together until they’re unrecognisable. I wear my influences on my sleeve, I see references to the things I love everywhere I go. I hope to return the favour to these influences some day.

RUAB by Dhanji — Album Review

Ruab may have changed my life. 9.0/10

Part I. Introductions.

First night I discovered Dhanji was 14th May 2023 in AntiSocial Mumbai. For the Udbhav and Karun show. Dhanji opened the show with Foosie Gang. I remember telling my best friend Yatharth at the show “listen to this man’s drums”. The drums really stuck. I looked him on spotify immediately and thus began me and Yatharth’s obsession with this Gujrati rapper.

We were late to the party, in some ways. Fans at the Mumbai show were already shouting “Ruab kahan hai?” He gave us a random date in June and that day passed. Me and Yatharth continued to follow @skrrt.skrrt on Instagram and kept up with the endless hype of this mystical figure. In two and a half months, we had the lyrics to the lead single Thaltej Blues memorized, by the time Ruab actually dropped, it felt like we had caught up to the party.

Hindi is not a first language to me, it isn’t even a second language (there are no Sindhi rappers yet, maybe I could fill that market.) Despite my struggle with Hindi, I found myself paying deeper, sharper attention. Yatharth explained to me that the word Ruab roughly means to carry oneself with confidence (I looked it up; ‘ruab khaana’ means to hold in awe.)

Part II. Take it on a drive.

And hold in awe we did. The album dropped on Yatharth’s birthday and once the cake was cut and the family was thanked, we took the album on a drive. We sauntered around south Bombay praising the instrumentation and catching bars like “that's not good struggling artist music, is it? / its an artist struggling to make good music” and going Ohhhhhhhhh.

Dhanji is a myth builder. Dhanji is also the myth. Between rapping about his 12th standard marksheet and buying “Shares of Amdavad” there’s the vision of a person being created. A person in love with his city, a person that’s so aatmanirbhar-core (sorry, it felt like it fit.) The lyrics on this album are (from what I’ve been able to catch) incredibly quotable, almost as if written with the intention of being caught by friends sharing this experience in a car.

Part III. Gaane ki baat karo.

First listens are everything. The boom-bap drums, horns, trumpets, organs, slam-esque delivery reminded me immediately, and unforgettably of the first time I listened to Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly. From what I can tell from Dhanji’s really insightful Inqualab Decypher interview, these two artists, while not worlds apart but definitely different, share the same jazz, funk and rap reference points. Dhanji’s hip-hop education shines through, he’s not just referring to his influences, he’s Gujrati-fying them. At the core of this album, there are classy, unique and catchy songs, because aesthetic isn’t everything, the music needs to speak for itself too, Dhanji has the perfect balance of both.

His flows are so confident, energetic, almost as if this album has been four years in the making (it has), and perfected down to the bar. Not one vocal take on the album across features and Dhanji himself is unconvincing, everyone is on their A-game because they understand the importance this album holds in the greater canon of Desi Hip Hop. A landmark album that will be looked back on fondly as a pioneer as Indian Rap albums as an event, a spectacle and a builder of character. Dhanji bears his soul for listeners, but I get the feeling that such honesty comes naturally to him, he’s just been waiting for the right time and sound. The songs themselves flow into each other with technical prowess, props to his talented mixing team and producers. The album feels like a simultaneous motion, all 11 tracks have weight, substance, sonic consistency and a rightful place on the track list.

All in all, I never thought I'd be listening to Gujrati Jazz Rap and making it a new facet of my personality. It’s very clearly and evidently Dhanji’s time now (the album made it to Pitchfork, did 100,000 streams in less than two days), so if you’ve made it here early, “Dekho matt, ghooro.”

Listen to the album here.

Adding on to the screenplay, I realize I forgot to include more background that I had written as separate assignments. These include loglines and character sketches that I believe help increase engagement and give context. I own all of this work.

Log-Line:

Kartik, a young writer, creates a 100-page movie manuscript after the loss of his mother in a made-up language that he himself cannot remember, his father is behind both deaths.

Synopsis:

Kartik Karan writes, that’s all he’s known for. From a very young age, all he’s done is write, everyone in his life assumed he’d find success with his words as a novelist or journalist. His mother was a poet, she passed away when he was 17 (He suspects that his father was responsible for her death but was unable to prove it). She was the reason he wrote (whether by force or passion), her old writings became his inspiration.

After the loss, People around Kartik found his mental state deteriorating. He stayed locked up in his room all day, unable to remember what he was supposed to be doing, leaving only to attend school or eat meals. He developed slight amnesia, but wrote it off as simple forgetfulness.

Once school ended and summer began, Kartik stayed in his room against his father’s will. Kartik’s father wanted to go to his native village and show Kartik what life is like there, and how people deal with loss (Kartik believes he will be murdered as well if he goes). His father wanted him to apply to college and move on, but Kartik fought with verbal viciousness induced by pure panic and shut his father down, to both of their shocks. Kartik stayed in his room for a month straight while his father was gone.

Mr. Karan found his son in the same chair and clothes he had left him in. Within a month, Kartik had created a 100-page manuscript. An idea for a movie that evolved into a completed script. Proudly, he submitted it to various competitions and local producers. In the coming weeks, as a result of his artistic release, he cleaned up, shaved his face, apologised to his father and applied to colleges. The script left his mind as soon as it left his drafts.

However, He firmly believed that this creation had changed his life, and he would be able to successfully move on and use his superhuman writing skills for the better.

An email comes from a producer, she tells him to never contact him with ‘spam’ and ‘garbage’ ever again.

Confused, Kartik opens the document he sent in and realises the whole thing is in a made-up language.

He searches for some of the words he’s used online but none of them make any sense to the internet either. Kartik always wrote in English, and took pride in his skill in the language. However, all 100 pages were filled with red-underlines for every word, not one thought that had left his mind during his month of isolation had been documented, as much as he racked his brains, he could not remember a single line of his own work.

His efforts had gone to waste, his artistic release was over nothing. He had spent a month inventing and forgetting a new language, and only the typographical carcass of his genius remained and one specific line that he remembers writing (or thinking), it rang in his mother’s voice; “Death is only the beginning, my dear son”. The loss of memory that impacted him when he lost his mother had crept up on his art, something that he never expected because he neglected his mental well-being.

Character Sketches:

1. Kartik Karan: Prideful about his writing ability, believes that his gift is god-given. This idea is fuelled by his over-affectionate mother who was a poet herself. He was always forgetful in a kind of endearing way, but after the loss of his mother, he forgot the bare necessities like showers,shaving and snacks. It isn’t that his neglect is intentional, these essentials exit his brain completely because he becomes hyper-focused on the movie script that would ‘save’ him. He accidentally romanticised the ‘tortured artist’ trope and thought it was benefitting him to be cut off from reality. Evidently, a month of his life goes to waste because his amnesia bites him back, almost as revenge from the mind for the neglect it suffered. He tries not to be affected by her actions just hours before her death, and is expected to forgive her. He spends the film trying to let go.

2. Mr. Kamal Karan: Kartik’s father. A dubious, mysterious character with grey intentions and greyer hair. His affection for Kartik only begins when his mother dies. There can be two reasons for this; Kamal realises the value of family after losing his dear wife. Or, he was behind her death, and was now playing cover-up by pretending to be a deeply caring family man. While Kartik hardly saw his father, he had never seen his parents fight when they were together. Mr. Kamal was barely around, as he worked on building roads in the village he had grown up in. The family was proud of him for giving back to his community after having made it out of there years ago.

3. Mrs. Kanupriya Karan: An only child who married a man with two older brothers, who gave birth to only one child. While the film starts with her death, the impacts of how she lived keep cropping up through her son and her husband. There are no explicit conflicts between her and her husband that would lead to him killing her. However, as their marriage ages, so does her penchant for passive-aggressiveness. A natural-born writer, she begins inserting caricatures of her husband and his family in her poems. Every time someone would annoy her, she would exaggerate their mistakes for her readers to laugh at. Her displacement of her issues through art becomes progressively more difficult to ignore because her tolerance for stupidity keeps getting lesser. The day she dies (from a heart attack) is the day her poem about a young boy named Hartik Haran who was too attached to his ‘mommy’ was published. She had left her son with a dependance on her; she doted on him endlessly and monitored his social life carefully to prevent him from becoming a delinquent. However, she turned her only son into an antisocial artist with a hero complex with her extremely flawed parenting.

For my Fundamentals of Screenwriting class at university, we were asked to submit original screenplays for 10–15 minute short films. This is mine, I reserve all rights or whatever other legality ensures I keep my hard work. Do not put my shit through Dumb Ass AI chatbots, I do not consent to my A+ being used by a computer.

Act 1, Scene 1 — INT. KARAN HOUSEHOLD’S KITCHEN — AFTERNOON

We see KANUPRIYA KARAN (51) sprawled dead on the floor. She is clutching a torn piece of paper in her left hand with a poem written on it.

She is lying on her stomach with her arms and legs outstretched and head turned to the right. We see her from the right side, there is a slight frown on her face, a combination of confusion and fear.

We hear a door creak open. After a few seconds of silence Medical respondents drag her body away.

When she is dragged away, her son KARTIK KARAN (18) and husband KAMAL KARAN (49) are revealed to be standing at a distance in shock. The moment she is dragged away sirens begin blaring once her body fully disappears from frame.

CUT TO BLACK, ROLL TITLE

Act 1, Scene 2 — INT. KARAN HOUSEHOLD’S DINING ROOM — MORNING

KARTIK and KAMAL are seated facing each other at the dining table. There are condolence cards and sweet boxes on the table.

KAMAL (without looking up from his phone)

Was the entire Arora family at the funeral?

KARTIK

I remember the old guy, he was stuffing biscuits into a box he brought from home, like a Tupperware one. I don’t remember the rest of his family being there.

KAMAL (faking a laugh)

Alright, we’ll be sure not to invite them to the next one.

KARTIK looks at his father blankly then looks down at his lap. The camera shifts to a top-down of him writing on an almost-full page.

KAMAL

What happened to you?

KARTIK pockets the notebook and looks back up

KARTIK (slowly and softly)

Whose funeral is the next one? Mine?

KAMAL

What are you talking about?

KARTIK

If you could orchestrate mom’s, then you can do the same for me. Can’t you?

KAMAL

What is wrong with you? Are you in your senses? You think I’d kill your mother? (pause) My wife?

KARTIK

I don’t think you’d do anything, father.

KAMAL

Shut up, shut up right now. (don’t exclaim) You have no idea how bad things are for me right now. Tujhe bilkul nahi pata mujhpe kya beeti hai.

KARTIK

Jaanna bhi nahi hai. Funeral pe toh itni khushi se sabko hi-bye bol rahe the. Why is it so difficult to be happy now?

KARTIK storms off.

Act 1, Scene 3 — INT. KARTIK’S ROOM — EVENING

Kartik runs into his room, slams the door behind him and passes out on the floor after crying for a few minutes.

The camera is angled with him on the floor, facing the window as evening turns to night then to morning.

He wakes up, takes his phone out and begins typing in his notes app. He brushes his teeth, uses the toilet and takes a shower all while typing. He leaves the house while still typing, absentmindedly getting on the bus to school.

(CUTAWAY) Kartik shares a dinner with his father at DINING ROOM

KAMAL

How was school?

KARTIK

It was.

KAMAL

How do you feel about your finals?

KARTIK

I don’t.

The next few shots are a repetition of Kartik living the exact same day with cuts getting progressively faster. By the end of this sequence, it will look like Kartik jumps from place to place without even moving away from his phone.

Act 2, Scene 1: EXT. SCHOOL ENTRANCE — AFTERNOON

KARTIK passes a sign that says “SCHOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER”, still glued to his phone. He walks up to the bus stand, walks into the bus and is home in the next cut.

He gets home, checks his email on his computer, and the first email reads “GRADUATION CEREMONY”. He deletes it.

KAMAL enters his son’s room.

KAMAL

Son, here’s a new shirt for graduation, I hope you like it.

KARTIK

I do.

KAMAL (excitedly)

I’m watching my son graduate, no matter what.

KARTIK (deadpan)

You are.

KAMAL

Yes, I am.

KARTIK is driven to graduation by his father, he has a photo taken with a deadpan face. He gets back home, throws the new shirt on his bed, and goes to copy-and-paste the note on his phone to his email.

The title reads “KARTIK KARAN SCREENPLAY 1”. He copies the email onto his computer and begins typing.

KAMAL begins knocking on the door after a few hours, KARTIK ignores it. KAMAL opens the door with his spare key.

KAMAL

Son, we have to talk about this.

KARTIK

I guess we do.

Act 2, Scene 2: INT. KARAN HOUSEHOLD’S DINING ROOM — NIGHT

KAMAL

You’ve been locked in there for twenty-four hours with no food and probably no sleep, what’s your game plan here?

KARTIK

I’m writing a script. For a movie.

KAMAL

A movie? About what?

KARTIK

Can’t say, I don’t know yet, I know it’s great though.

KAMAL

I’m sure it is. But listen, this isn’t a healthy way to live for a normal human being.

KARTIK

Who said I was one?

KAMAL

Don’t kid yourself, you’ve only changed since Kanupriya-

KARTIK

This isn’t about her

KAMAL

It always was, Kartik, it was always about her, no matter what anybody else did, it was always about her. Did you read what she died clutching? It was a poem about you Kartik. She called you clingy, she said ‘little momma’s boy was nothing without his mommy’. She’s written about me like that too, she’s written about anyone who’s even slightly inconvenienced her. You’ve read her work, you know I’m not wrong.

KARTIK

Is that why you killed her?

KAMAL

I’m not having this conversation again. I loved your mother, she got on my nerves sometimes and she hated everyone too much and she should’ve kept a lot of those poems to herself but she was here for me when no one else was. Kanupriya meant the world to me, this hurt me as much as it hurt you.

KARTIK

Sure, right.

KAMAL

There you go talking shortly to me for no reason. Look, I want to say I’m sorry for not trying harder through this time as your father. I feel like I should do more, but only if you…

KARTIK zones out, he begins seeing flashes from Act 1, scene 1. However, the flashes are very blurry and parts seem to be missing. This makes him panic, as if drowning in his mind. He rushes out of the hall. KAMAL sighs.

Act 2, Scene 3: INT. KARTIK’S ROOM — MORNING

KAMAL lets himself into his son’s room the next morning. He hands KARTIK an omelet for breakfast. It has exactly three green chilly slices in it. KARTIK’s mother’s voice rings in his head

KANUPRIYA (O.S) (VOICE IN HIS HEAD)

“Green chilies three, make you tall as a tree”

KARTIK (under his breath)

No one in our family has ever crossed 5’9”

KAMAL

Kya?

KARTIK (nods his head in disagreement)

KAMAL (after a few seconds of hesitation)

Son, I want you to travel with me. Come to my native place. This is the first summer we’re spending without your mother…

KARTIK begins twitching

KAMAL

…And I really want you to meet my family. You see, at the beginning of every summer, they host a ceremony to mourn loved ones they’ve lost…

KARTIK starts shaking

KAMAL

…And they’re going to be celebrating Kanupriya’s life first this time because she died so rec-

KARTIK bursts into shouts and screams

KAMAL (shouting in response)

What the fuck are you doing? Kya chal raha hai?

KARTIK (slamming his hands to his head)

DEAD DEAD DEAD GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT

KAMAL runs out hurriedly with a distraught and angry expression, door slams behind him showing us KARTIK on the floor.

Act 3, Scene 1: INT. KARAN HOUSEHOLD — MORNING

KARTIK wakes up from his bedroom floor. He goes to his father’s room, it is empty. He takes the spare key of his room from a drawer and closes the door.

He walks around the house and picks up all of the biscuits, chips, instant noodles and papads he can find. In his room, we see a smile progressively growing on his face. He shuts the door behind him and a click sound is heard on the other side.

Act 3, Scene 2: INT. KARTIK’S ROOM — MIDNIGHT

KARTIK is at his desk typing for hours without rest.

When he does choose to rest he simply stares at the ceiling with his hands limply sitting on his sides.

Voices ring in his head.

KAMAL (O.S)

She died holding a poem about you Kartik. She called you clingy.

KANUPRIYA (O.S)(Sarcastically)

No I did not! Don’t let your father poison your mind my dear baby. I’d never call you clingy or overbearing or childish or codependent or anything like that. Kamal, as usual, is lying to you. You just write your movie script, I’m sure it’s the greatest movie the world has ever seen.

KARTIK (muttering)

God, I hate you both.

KARTIK continues to write, the shot slowly fades to black with him hunched over his computer.

Act 3, Scene 3 — INT. KARAN HOUSEHOLD — MORNING

A month has passed since KAMAL left. He comes back and goes to his room and realizes his spare key for KARAN’s room is missing.

He rushes to his son’s room and finds empty food wrappers everywhere. However, the room itself has been swept, vacuumed and the curtains are drawn to let the summer sun in.

The computer is turned on and there is singing coming from the shower. KARTIK comes out singing with a massive beard he grew over the month. He hugs his father.

KARTIK

I missed you.

KAMAL

You did?

KARTIK

Yes! Anyway, yeh dekhiye, these are my college applications.

KAMAL

When did you- Never mind, I’m proud of you, good job.

Both of them walk out with their hands on each other’s shoulders. They stumble out of the doorway but laugh it off.

Act 4, Scene 1 — INT. KARAN HOUSEHOLD — AFTERNOON

A montage of KARTIK cleaning up his act. He shaves his beard, starts eating cooked meals and looks forward to a response from these colleges. Him and KAMAL are seated at NIGHT in the DINING ROOM

KAMAL (blurts out hurriedly, regrets instantly)

Why are you so happy aajkal?

KARTIK

(laughs) Come to my room

In KARTIK’s room, KAMAL reads emails sent to multiple production houses and film directors. They all contain the same attachment titled ‘KARTIK KARAN FINAL FILM SCRIPT’.

KARTIK (pointing in excitement)

This is it. The reason I feel so free is that file right there. The greatest film script the world has ever seen. A generational landmark!

KAMAL (laughs)

Alright son (whatever keeps him sane).

Act 4, Scene 4 — INT. KARTIK’S ROOM — MORNING

KARTIK (reading from computer, muttering quickly)

This email is to inform… unconditional offer… glad to have you on board… blah blah… Semester starts in (looks at the calendar) one month… okay. (looks away from screen) Not like I have to bother with this once my script is read.

KARTIK turns the volume on his computer all the way up and goes to the KITCHEN and starts making an omelet. He looks at the green chillies and shakes his head.

KARTIK (under his breath)

Not this time.

The computer dings. He runs to check it. The email is from one of the most popular directors of the country at the moment. Excitedly, he opens it.

The camera is angled at the computer and KARTIK’s head begins ringing. KARTIK reads the email in KANUPRIYA’s voice.

KANUPRIYA (V.O) (trying her hardest to sound like a different person)

I am shocked by your tenacity to waste my team’s time and resources with this unintelligible filth. I cannot tell if you are a genius or an idiot. Never contact us here again.

KARTIK (opens the attached PDF and begins whispering under his breath)

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.

The camera pans from the PDF to his dropped jaw, the whole document is in gibberish with red underlines.

Act 4, Scene 3 — INT. KARAN HOUSEHOLD — MORNING

KARTIK (panicked muttering, copying random words from the document and looking them up)

What is a ‘berdnsxnc’ or a ‘gchrouprsm’… kya ho raha hai… maine hi toh likha tha… kya hai yeh… papa ko dikhana padega…

KARTIK hits PRINT and almost collapses over the printer. He stumbles out of the room.

KARTIK (calling out weakly, falling on his way to the hall)

Papa! Please! Where are you? Come see this, I don’t know what happened…

KARTIK sprawls on the floor. He is clutching a piece of paper in his left hand with the first page of his gibberish manuscript written on it. He falls on his stomach with his arms and legs outstretched and head turned to the right. We see him from the right side, there is a slight frown on his face, a combination of confusion and fear.

We see KAMAL’s feet walk in slowly, he stops between the camera and KARTIK’s face.

The camera travels upward to his emotionless face, as if looking down at an empty floor.

He calmly pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials 100.

KAMAL (deadpan, emotionless delivery, face must be made completely numb and immovable before delivering)

Hello, is this the hospital? Yes, it seems as if my son has had a heart attack. Why, yes, this is Mr. Kamal Karan, it’s great to hear from you too. Please send a team to my address. Yes, yes, the usual, thank you so much.

Camera angle should be ground facing, from the POV of Kartik. The lens blurs and un-blurs while looking at KAMAL’s feet entering the frame.

KANUPRIYA (Voice ringing in KARTIK’s head, O.S)

Death is only the beginning, my dear son.

KAMAL walks away from his son’s unconscious body, into his room. Ceiling shot.

CUT TO TITLE

In the twelve years that the film has been around, it has gained a reputation as the biggest and best-produced superhero film from India. Factors that make a concept ‘globalized’ include the transmission of culture, goods and services, technologies and information. Ra.One’s international appeal as a film with vaguely Indian values and speaking the Hindi language serves as proof of its globalization. The film was soundtracked by American R&B music icon Akon and the VFX and CGI were outsourced entirely to American companies like NVidia. (Desai)

The film is set in London, following an Indian family grappling with western values and their conflict with Indian ones. Shah Rukh Khan sports a very poor South Indian accent. His character’s son is a ‘rebellious’ pre-teen with an American accent and strong negative emotions towards the typical hero character that every movie and video game portrays. The son wants a villain that out-does the hero, and Khan’s character, the game developer Shekhar, agrees to make a tougher villain to appeal to his son. The film’s title also feeds into this ‘villain-first’ narrative. Ra.One (named after the mythological Raavan, considered a ‘villain’) played by Arjun Rampal is the titular antagonist of the video game, made to appease the youthful and angsty son Prateek. This was an unconventional premise for Bollywood films at the time. However, the film has drawn comparisons to films like Tron: Legacy for its visuals. This was not a fresh premise or visual experience for western audiences, but it was the second-highest selling Bollywood film of that year worldwide.

Film critic Mayank Shekhar has credited this international appeal to a rise in NRI (Non-Residential Indian) populations that flock to see Shah Rukh Khan. He is considered the face of modern Bollywood, therefore a film in previously uncharted territory for Hindi films could potentially be carried by name value. If people were uninterested in the computer-generated visuals or science-fiction plot, they would at least stick around for King Khan.

The superhero film is a western concept. India’s culture of comic books is more rooted in traditional characters like those shown in Tinkle or historical graphic novels like Amar Chitra Katha. Therefore, Indian cinema has no superhero comic books to derive blockbusters from. Ra.One can be seen as an attempt to import these western tropes into Hindi cinema, but a genuine ‘cinematic universe’ of Indian superhero films has only technically been offered to Bollywood through 2022’s Brahmastra and its threatened sequels. Many films were named as Ra.One’s influences like the aforementioned Tron or Terminator 2: Judgment Day but these allegations were denied by the Ra.One team, claiming that G.One was the first superhero who “lives in a family”.

The visual effects team required inputs from foreign companies. The body-suits that Khan and Rampal wear in the film cost around ₹10,000,000 each and were developed specially for the film in Los Angeles (Bhattacharya). Technology like this had not reached India at the time, making international input essential to the film’s existence. Globalization also implies that technology can cross borders for the benefit of every country. However, this access was only possible through a hefty Khan family wallet.

In his TedX speech on Bollywood’s globalization, Mayank Shekhar told a story of how American-Senegalese singer Akon grew up listening to Bollywood music in his home country of Senegal. He was called to Mumbai to record Chammak Challo and the music director duo Vishal–Shekhar were amazed by Akon’s ability to sing the Hindi lyrics within three hours of being in the studio. “Africa, North America, Asia, if this isn’t globalization I don’t know what is”, Mayank concludes. The song ‘Dildaara’ from the soundtrack of the film was based on Ben E. King’s song ‘Stand By Me’, the Ra.One team purchased rights to the song to rewrite it. Even musically, the film borrows from western aesthetics and artists and combines it with typical Bollywood music tropes. (Kher)

However, ‘borrowing’ is a very loose term and some critics argued that Ra.One grabbed from too many western reference points to be enjoyed as an original piece of work. “I got inspired by a lot of superhero movies but I have made an original movie.” King Khan asserted. This does not stop comparisons from being drawn because of aesthetic ties to films like Tron: Legacy in terms of technological universe building, bikes or color palette and the Terminator franchise for its futuristic physicality and body graphics like metal limbs. The film’s ‘H.A.R.T’ also rings of Iron Man’s metal core, right down to its stylistic choices and function. It is difficult to view Ra.One without its spiritual predecessors and ‘inspiration’ points.

To bring up the plot again, the idolization of the ‘villain’ that Prateek undertakes is highly western, India has a tradition of writing greatly dislikable villains. Even his gamer name Lucifer is a Biblical reference to the Devil. The film’s plot also follows the superhero film structure of laying the technological groundwork for things to go wrong, conflict rising and then an aspect that was brought up in the beginning (the H.A.R.T.) swoops in and saves the day, G.One dies in the end but is later revived because Prateek and Sonia missed him

On one hand, plagiarism allegations may be a little tough on the Hindi-medium superhero film because at the time, Bollywood had no other reference points to work off of. Ra.One seemed like a decent starting point for a large culture of Indian superheroes who combined western technology with Indian traditions and values. On the other hand, the budget required to pull off a feat like this one comes by very rarely. To an extent, Ra.One would have been impossible without foreign influence, therefore making globalization essential to the future of science fiction and superhero films in India.

This paper aims to explore how ideas against capitalism and mass-consumerism show up in Japanese writer Murakami Haruki’s writing. This paper aims to assess his opinions on these concepts and thus his political standing as well. Boku, from Murakami’s novel Dance Dance Dance goes to great lengths to describe a disdain towards capitalism, therefore reflecting the author’s views on the same economic system. Boku claims that “everything has been sublimated to a single concept” which expresses the sameness that Murakami may feel seeping into contemporary literature.

In Daniel White’s paper ‘What’s So Postmodern About Murakami Haruki?’ He argues that there is a distinct connection between the rise in anticapitalistic sentiment and the categorization of contemporary literature as ‘postmodern’. These two concepts are tied together by the themes and narratives in Murakami’s works. The paper proceeds to emphasize the nihilism that his protagonists explain through their lifestyles and story arcs. Murakami’s work represents the modern-day identity crisis that an influx of consumerism has caused; “Identity was not about rebuilding shattered pieces of selfhood in the wake of World War II, it was about things: money, commodities, status and style”. This section of the paper spends time assessing what other critics thought of Murakami; they referred to him as easy-to-read, but also too far departed from the classical standards that other pre-war writers were attempting to maintain.

However, after Norwegian Wood had sold four million copies in Japan alone, it is apparent that Murakami was shaping the new mainstream. Matthew Strecher points out that Murakami combines ‘high art’ and ‘mass culture’ by making his endings more absurd than the typical novel; there is a subversion of expectations of each end of the spectrum, which is significantly postmodern according to Strecher. Murakami does not produce the mass-made novel expected from capitalist publishing. Murakami’s characters are placed in very interesting situations, forcing them to “actually formulate and exercise an identity in late capitalist society” (15). White asserts that these character revelations are incited by events in the novels, crediting them to Murakami’s anticapitalistic slant. He also explains the relevance of Fredrick Jameson’s criticism to Murakami’s work; “ Art has lost some of the authority it commanded in modernism” (20).

Kanya Wattanagun and Suradech Chotiudompant revolve their essay around identity in a capitalist society as seen in Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore. In regards to the main character Kafka Tamura, “His journey could be regarded as an allegory of empty self in search of

stable identity”. This novel is regarded as his most absurd, calling heavily into question what identity is left in post-war capitalist Japan. Characters in this novel wear clothing of a specific type; Hoshino, a young truck driver who assists the old man Nakata on his journey, is very attached to his flowery shirts and cap of his favorite baseball team. These elements of his are brought up repeatedly throughout the novel to assert how consumerism makes up a huge part of his identity. “why the heck have I spent all this time getting worked up like the team was some extension of myself?” (27). Wattanagun and Chotiudompant explain this phenomenon very well, stating that capitalist society forces identity-less people to attach themselves to images they see around them. This justifies why Hoshino spends so much time in the novel feeling empty inside.

Murakami implies that Hoshino is not the only person in Japan who feels this way. The two authors of this paper quote the Japanese scholar Otsuka Eiji who says that “Our existence consists solely of the distribution and consumption of “things” brought us from elsewhere”. Murakami’s characters and their emptiness is not just philosophical but also politically literal; Capitalism robs the individual of their soul. One of Kafka on the Shore’s primary themes is the alienation of every character from the ‘good’ life of a large house, a fast car and new clothes. None of these things are ideal once somebody digs under the surface. Hoshino stands as a prime example of this again; finding himself disillusioned with his reasonable job and vast savings.

Murakami uses magic to push ideas against capitalist ideology. There is an undertone of magical occurrences happening only because there is no other realistic alternative to freeing oneself from the rat-race. Nakata, who is unable to read or do math, making him virtually useless because he is unemployable, serves as a perfect foil to capitalist functioning. He is made to feel constantly different and ostracized for not being useful. Here, magic becomes an alternative to capitalist cruelty. Nakata can speak to cats and this brings some happiness to his life. However, he seems much calmer and settled than people who do know all the things that he does not. Instead of being weighed down by concepts like money, he is focused on his real life of enjoying food and conversing with cats. His ‘stupid’ nature comes off as enlightened when studied through an anticapitalistic lens. Overall, The paper offers valuable insight into how identity is morphed and distorted by capitalism, and how Murakami’s writing fits that mold perfectly.

He uses the two central characters of one side of the plot to display his issues with capitalism, mostly dealing with how faceless one becomes once put through the cycles of it.

Fatchu Dhofarudin and Fajria Noviana published an essay about Murakami’s short story “A Folklore for My Generation: A Pre-History of Late-Stage Capitalism”. The story is about an argument between a couple, representing two clashing perspectives on the patriarchy. Murakami uses this short story to point out the various intersections of patriarchy and capitalism. They collide to keep women down as both employable and sexual objects, because even when they are ‘allowed’ to work, they are paid less and seen as inferior. Marriage is also viewed as a capitalist tool of suppression, a sentiment shared by quite a few writers of the past (Phillip Larkin in the Whitsun Weddings sticks out as a shining example of this). A quote from the story that stands out sorely as an example of this utilitarian nature is “I will marry someone a few years older than me, and you will marry someone a few years younger. That is the way things are done. Women

mature faster than men and age more quickly.” (113) The two authors state that “ several forms of patriarchal hegemony are represented” (114) in this short story, providing for a compelling argument against the titular institution.

Jonathan Dil believes that Murakami’s book Dance Dance Dance is his most direct in terms of outward criticisms of late-stage capitalism, especially in Japan. He also points out that the novel is not simply a theoretical piece but also an understanding of the coping mechanisms that emerge when an individual is faced with death. Dance Dance Dance repeats a lot of the characters and locations of his first three novels and Murakami is praised for better utilizing them in a new, specific setting “of Japan’s bubble economy in the late 1980s” (35). Boku, the protagonist’s social reintegration after his first adventures seems abysmal; “ Human relationships are increasingly being reduced to economic transactions and where everything is for sale” (36). However, this bitter cynicism is frequent not only in Murakami’s money-exhausted protagonists, but also in the Japanese youth generally. A life-shattering world war and worldwide monetary disputes can dim the mood of living in a country dealing directly with these issues. Dil believes that capitalism had won a war of ideologies, but its soldiers were everyday people like Boku who received no remuneration. Murakami uses the hotel that reoccurs in Boku’s dreams as a simple analogy for capitalism’s rapid and uncomfortable acceleration. In his dreams, the hotel was simple and looked as if its construction had stopped midway. When he returns to it, the hotel has twenty-six floors and fails to live up to the innocence Boku initially approached it with.

Dil also claims that Dance Dance Dance and Murakami’s general canon is a “remedy for the stresses/tension of the capitalist dynamic” (41). Boku’s identity dilemma falls under the same category of the aforementioned Hoshino and Nakata. However, his approach to it is easygoing, he believes that if he keeps moving forward, things will sort themselves out. This nature was not found in the characters of Kafka on the Shore; they chose to mull over their state and let the magic of the world take over them. The paper then proceeds to talk about the consumerist choices that characters in Murakami’s novels tend to make (that Dil mentions are very carefully curated). All of his characters have a good amount of western brand and pop-culture knowledge. While these characteristics of theirs are carefully decided, the rest of their lives are completely out of their control, dominated by external factors that bend them against their wills. While they deal with the absurdity of their lives with bared teeth, they try their best to maintain a sense of sanity through schedules. Murakami’s characters love to cook, clean and do chores. He understands that there is very little we can do as survivors of capitalism other than maintain our level heads by maintaining routines in their lives, no matter how absurd they may seem. Murakami also lives his own life in a similar, structured way.

In my own reading and enjoyment of Murakami’s works, Kafka on the Shore stood out to me for multiple reasons; Firstly, the plot took multiple readings to get a full grasp of. It follows two timelines that end up colliding with each other and those two stories have so many little nuances and details that re-reading becomes a scavenger hunt of shiny new details. The entire reason I have undertaken this topic for my essay is because I thoroughly enjoyed Murakami’s usage of western brands in this novel, from their casual mention to major logos being plot devices. I am grateful to have been able to find academic backing for the ideas I imagined when reading the book, it is always good to know you’re not alone in a critical thought. The two symbols I want to talk about in particular are Johnnie Walker and Colonel Sanders from Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Johnnie Walker physically manifests in Kafka Tamura’s father, Koichi Tamura. His every action is crazed and bloodthirsty. The book delves into the very freaky process of how Johnnie Walker kills cats and eats their fresh, still beating hearts. He describes this evil act as a necessity, giving no substantial reasons as to why. He simply puts Nakata in a situation requiring the old man to do something that had never crossed his spotless mind; “it’s either I kill the cats or you kill me.” (189). Johnnie Walker is a Scottish whiskey brand. I do not believe that Murakami only coincidentally picked a western alcohol brand to represent such madness. To me, this reads as the sickening inner monologue of a drunkard accelerated a few thousand times. Considering the consequences of World War II on Japan, their resentment towards anything from the British Empire is understandable. Japan values its own alcohol (saké) greatly, which could also be another reason why a foreign brand is not being painted in a good light, rather in the blood of innocent cats. Given Murakami’s unsubtle nods to ideologies he dislikes and his own political statements throughout the years, this theory does not seem too far off.

Kentucky Fried Chicken or KFC is a mega-hit in Japan. People associate Colonel Sanders, the mascot, with enjoyable food and good memories. Mascots have the power of evoking strong emotions. Unfortunately, the emotion Murakami chose to ascribe to Sanders in Kafka was lust. Colonel Sanders sells sex to Hoshino in exchange for valuable information that would further the plot. There are very vivid descriptions of the sex worker that Hoshino employs, which can be written off as the male gaze. But the complicated relationship with sexuality that Murakami has previously explored gives us reason to believe that this sexual encounter holds deeper meaning. As established in Wattanagun and Chotiudompant’s paper, Hoshino’s life and character arc is marked by complete emptiness. Therefore, sexuality is a distraction from his truth and he does not show much enthusiasm about sex once the act is finished, feeling guilty for being distracted from his mission. The hole in his life can only be filled by attaching his sense of worth to Nakata’s mission, in which Colonel Sanders is an aide. He helps the two adventurers greatly, but also confuses them with philosophical banter. Colonel Sanders’ character is the most on-the-nose representation of Murakami’s ideology; He monologues about how he only chooses to be in the body of Colonel Sanders and is actually an interdimensional being chosen to guard the gates between Hoshino’s world and the others. This strange exchange confuses Hoshino but cements the intention behind choosing the Fried Chicken icon; It represents the disgruntlement Murakami feels with the American brand’s popularity.

There is nothing subtle about Haruki Murakami’s literature. I found it gross and perverted the first time I chanced upon it but further readings and careful dissection of the material has made him one of my favorite writers. The search for deeper meanings was not a chore, but rather a labor of love, inspired by the brilliance of his writing. It draws you in and latches on. Murakami’s leftist views are also on full display in his work. Once the surface is crossed, the nuance to his criticism is endless, as vouched for by the excess of literary articles about his work. He manages to paint almost every protagonist of his as a victim of the capitalist way of thinking. He uses their personalities and life events to very carefully critique the impact that capitalism can have on the individual. Such a microscopic lens is necessary to understand the full extent the rat race can have on us. The writer of the ‘Rat Trilogy’ does a great job of providing that perspective.

This paper argues that the entire music industry has been transferred to the internet. This is evidenced by the popularity of music reviewers and the predominance of streaming as the most viable source of access to music. This paper aims to study how the emergence of the internet has changed our perception of music in this day and age.

The internet has fully reformed how we view music. As consumers, the process of listening to music involved turning on a radio, or buying a CD or vinyl. If someone wanted to listen to a brand new album, they had to take a risk by investing in a physical copy of it. Today, streaming is either free or affordable. Music listening has become casual, something one plays in the background. It is no longer a dedicated activity like reading or watching a movie. This essay is divided into a few parts based on the various elements of the online music landscape. Firstly, a few examples of how people meet online and start musical groups. Next, this essay will discuss how short-form video has influenced which songs become popular and how musicians have changed their styles to become popular on video platforms like Tik Tok or Vine.

Following this, the ability of certain artists to maintain longevity and relevance in the music industry despite rapidly changing trends and preferences. Once all of the production end of the industry has been covered, this essay will cover the reactions and evolution of audiences, especially reviewers and music discussion forums. Finally, the essay will cover how India as a country of creatives, consumers and internet users has grown to adapt to global changes in the music industry. The aim is to provide a holistic view on the landscape as a whole in order to understand its rapid change better.

Section 2: How to Start a Band Online; Odd Future, Brockhampton, Seedhe Maut

The first and most apparent change that the internet brought to music culture is how fluid it made the connections and interactions between musicians. Brockhampton was founded on a Kanye West discussion forum. The band’s de-facto leader Kevin Abstract put up a simple post; “Who wants to help create a band?”. Kevin filtered out the twelve people on that forum who he liked the best. They were all teenagers who up and left for Los Angeles in a matter of a few years. Brockhampton took the world by storm because they sounded fresh, energetic and hungry for the world’s attention. They flooded the internet with so much music that the world had to listen (The albums were literally named Saturation). The only comparisons that this boy band garnered were from an older, rougher and more innovative band; Odd Future.

Odd Future was founded in 2008 in Los Angeles. Odd Future is credited with solidifying internet rap as we know it today. OF made clothing lines, held their own shows, made sure each artist on the roster had a fairly compensated record deal and a platform and generally used the internet very savvily for their own promotion. Over the years, many members of the collective came out as queer, helping validate the existence of more alternative and left-field artists in mainstream music. They were proof that anyone with talent could flip it to make a following, and that collectives developed a sense of ‘found family’ (Younger). Frank Ocean was a trademark member of the collective. He was signed to Def Jam, a record label that would not give him the budget to create a project or the platform and schedule to release said project. Inspired by his independent, wild and free-spirited peers at Odd Future, Frank recorded and produced a mixtape of music himself with the help of a few friends and put it out for free on Tumblr. ‘Nostalgia, Ultra’ became immensely popular immediately after its release and is still hailed as a classic R&B project. Def Jam was forced to pay attention to the artist they had trapped and the budget allotted to him for his studio debut was $3,000,000. Frank Ocean managed to turn the internet’s freeness into a massive fortune by showing perseverance and intuition.

India is catching up to the internet rap scene as well. The movie Gully Boy showed audiences and potential artists how internet platforms like YouTube and SoundCloud could make careers for people who started from nothing. India has a general stigma against working and earning money from unconventional sources like music or art, but this movie opened up the eyes of millions, causing practically an outbreak of fresh new rapping voices eager to show off. Seedhe Maut is one of the most popular names in Gully rap, the two members met in 2016 and regularly “rake in anywhere from 100,000 to 800,000 views on YouTube.” (Mirchandani). They are now working with international artists who they connected with over the internet, which speaks to the crossover appeal of the talent that India has to offer to the global industry.

Section 3: The Influence of Trends; Instagram Reels, Tik Toks, Vine

Vine was a short-form video sharing platform that took the world by storm between 2013 and 2016 before being shut down by its parent company Twitter. These were its peak years, giving many video creators entire careers. The usage of music in these six second videos had the potential to make musicians famous. To bring back the previously mentioned Frank Ocean; His song ‘Thinkin Bout You’ gained more popularity and a new comedic context. A video of a potato tied to a fan swinging around with changed lyrics ( “A Potato Flew Around My Room”) from the song became an extremely popular video (Turner). Bobby Shmurda is said to be the artist who benefitted from vine the most, with his breakout song ‘Hot’ in 2014 reaching #1 on the United States Hip-Hop charts due to its usage in countless vines. The internet provided him with his entire career, and after a stint in jail, he has resumed his career in 2022.

However, in a post-Vine society, Tik Tok has clogged up the music industry. Where artists would put out full songs with no idea as to where it would do well, they have now begun making music for the precise reason that it will do well on the platform. “ Some artists, including Halsey, Charlie XCX and Charlie Puth have complained that their labels are forcing them to heavily promote their music on TikTok before releasing a song, interfering with their artistic integrity.” (Dever). Artists have begun fighting in the same leagues as comedians, painters and other content creators for the attention of the Tik Tok consumer base. Record labels pressuring artists to jump onto new promotional techniques is not uncommon and has happened since the beginning of mainstream music, but the rapid pace and short attention span of the internet age has made things more difficult for artists. They have to spend more time promoting music rather than making it.

Compared to Vine, where a song would simply become famous after being re-used in many videos, Tik Tok music marketing is menacingly intentional. Labels hire smaller internet celebrities for lower prices and they still go viral because many songs get used for dance challenges. These dance challenges are created for the platform, handed to dancers to increase streams. It used to be the other way around, challenging creators to come up with dances. Saturation has reduced longevity; Careers are made and fade away overnight, one-hit wonders come and go. Having an illustrious career spanning a decade is now a thing of the past, most musicians focus on hits over quality, they achieve fame with one song and then exit the mainstream music conversation, being reduced to either a niche or complete irrelevance. The key to a successful career in music begins with disregarding every pre-established notion of what sells for a few months and consistent reinvention. Artists like this have become a rarity because reinvention is not valued over repetition of a formula that has been proven to work.

Section 4: Maintaining an Internet Career After Blowing Up

One prominent example of reinvention and relevance is Odd Future’s founder and leader, Tyler, the Creator. “The level of evolution that Tyler has achieved should be strived for by any artist who actually wants to be remembered.” (Linden) Tyler and his crew started off making audacious shock-rap that offended older millennials and confused people their age. However, he turned his small cult following into mainstream appeal by changing up his sound. Tyler understood how poorly lyrics about murder and hating school would age.

Critics noted a sudden maturity in his newer works, because one gimmick could never last forever. Unfortunately, Tyler, the Creator is only one example of a dedicated artist working to make timeless music.

According to the longest-standing charts in music history, Billboard says that “Longevity in the music industry is fleeting” (Rosenblat). This article details the statistics behind achieving longevity, explaining that streaming helps artists build consistently, but their albums can age poorly in only a few years due to rapidly evolving trends. Artists that have enjoyed longevity have a good balance of mainstream appeal and timelessness.

Section 5: Opinions and Discussions; What Did Fantano Score It?

Anthony Fantano is a YouTube content creator who started his career reviewing his favorite songs in 2007. Over the last decade and a half, he has become the most popular voice in music criticism. He is known for shaping the opinions of many young impressionable fans and now has a visible impact on reactions towards music (the industrial hip-hop outfit ‘Death Grips’ is said to have been single handedly popularized by his rave reviews of their music). “Fantano’s no-holds-barred approach to critical darling acts made his reviews essential viewing for all hyped releases” (Davino). Multiple factors have contributed to his popularity. Firstly, he does not claim that his views are objective truths. Every video is underscored with the caption “Y’all know this is just my opinion, right?”. Second, he brings personality to the generally drab genre of reviewing art. His delivery is silly at times, he inserts jokes into less serious reviews but generally can be taken seriously because he puts his face to his reviews. Thirdly, he reviews everything, covering every genre possible, posting almost every weekday, offering something to everyone.

However, his popularity raises many questions; Who is allowed to have opinions? What makes his opinions correct? How seriously should he be taken? Fantano has made it this far because his personality has developed reliability. While there are no qualifications that can make the subjective art of reviewing any more correct, Fantano “maintains almost no relationship with record labels or the broader music industry, and said he has turned down numerous offers to be absorbed by a larger brand.” (Coscarelli). Authenticity is valued in the content creation space because it is now a rare commodity.

“The digital age has also challenged many traditional ideas about writing and journalism.” (Wilson). People no longer prefer the snobby high-brow written reviews of blogs and newspapers. Anybody can review, but wittiness and quality subject matter is important to breaking out and making a career from critiquing art. However, the internet gives everyone the opportunity to try their hands at reviewing music. In a sense, having an opinion has been democratized by music forums and boards. This calls for the mass-inclusion of the general listening masses into the canon of ‘good’ music.

Section 6: The Indian Inclusion

India’s music industry grew by 20.3% between fiscal years 2021 and 2022. It is now worth roughly ₹1,620 crore. Streaming is now more popular than ever (accounting for 90% of sales) but revenue from those streams are mostly from advertising because Indian users do not generally pay for a premium streaming service. YouTube, free with advertisements, is the most popular way to stream music. “As much as India might grow as a market, it won’t quite thrive and break into the world’s top ten until we fix the conundrum of YouTube’’ (Gurbaxani). Record labels and artists only stand to earn more and hence promote their work more when streaming services are popularized.

Udbhav is an indie singer-songwriter hailing from New Delhi. Due to a lack of mainstream coverage, he took to Reddit to get familiar with his fans. This is a stellar example of using the internet to its full capacity. Through digital interviews like these, he flipped the need for mainstream coverage at all, connecting directly with his fanbase. This personal touch makes a world of difference in an age where idols can seem so far away. Udbhav talks about being influenced by the aforementioned Seedhe Maut in terms of production styles. He samples old bollywood music to create contemporary trap beats. This fusion is the most potent and well-executed display of international idea exchange.

I had the privilege of interviewing Udbhav for a podcast I did in March 2021. Conversation with him was light, breezy and informative. To chip off a piece of the mind of an artist I respect greatly was a true honor. In retrospect, I sounded embarrassingly nervous but he took it really well. He talked to me about the impact New Delhi has had on him, how his biggest hit ‘Kaafizyada’ was a completely accidental hit that he wrote “after my first existential crisis”. His sheer honesty shines through on any platform that he is given, any interview of his feels raw, honest and authentic. The internet has allowed for his personality to shine, deleting the gap between the audience and the professionally curated image of an artist before the internet age. Halfway through the interview, he asked me “Do you believe in God?” and we laughed about it, and his success over the almost two years since speaks to this easygoing attitude, he lets things happen on their own, and he has harnessed the internet in a way that his fans will always be able to reach him when they need to. We talked about the legality of sampling and re-using old bollywood music, about which he laughed and explained how copyright can be dodged by manipulating the sample to a point where it is unrecognizable. He currently sits at 90,051 monthly Spotify listeners and is believed to be at the forefront of the Indian indie scene.

Indie music is kept alive by brilliant personalities. Tanmaya Bhatnagar is another talented voice that has made it to the mainstream from home recordings posted to the internet. She is slated to play at the Mumbai rendition of the internationally acclaimed music festival Lollapalooza in 2023. In an interview on Platform magazine, she mentions that music saved her life, she was losing her mother to schizophrenia and began writing and singing to cope. She uploaded her live performances to streaming and gained popularity from those. Her style is a combination of online and offline marketing tools, where one compliments the other. She stands at 1,32,228 monthly Spotify listeners.

Another artist praised for her uniqueness in an oversaturated internet landscape is Dot. Formerly known as Aditi Dot. Her YouTube music is described as “instantly hummable and stays with one well past the first listen.” (Sikhwal). The Scroll article about her goes to great lengths to praise her technical prowess and songwriting ability. Most of her influences are cited to be international artists like Fiona Apple and Regina Specktor. Her most popular works are YouTube hits and she has not exactly converted that success on Spotify. However, these videos managed to score her some live performances. Indie artists are constantly walking the line between internet popularity and offline attention that could potentially earn them more revenue.

In a country like India, a career in the arts is still a risk. However, there are enough talents converting their abilities into online success and monetary gain to set a precedent for future aspirants. In a few years, the landscape could be entirely dominated by independent artists doing things on their own terms. Labels are no longer compulsory for distribution, release, promotion and monetization. All of these label functions have been turned into tools provided by the internet, leveling the ground Indian musicians stand on.

Section 7: Conclusion and Final Notes

The internet generation is allowed to make music for granted. It is simply a set of sounds playing from our phones, unrestricted by time and place. Streaming allows us to forget the sheer amount of time and effort that goes into making a singular song. While the process of creation has also been greatly simplified, making truly memorable art still requires effort and passion. This essay has attempted to cover the various aspects of music that were re-shaped to be molded in the light of a fast-paced consumer economy, in the hopes that its future can be more carefully mapped out by studying its multifaceted present. The obsoletion of the record label as an industrial unit is one hopeful outcome of modernization. Even through oversaturation, consumers learn to filter what they listen to based on quality and genuine interest. We are only witnessing the beginning of a democratized and truly talent-centric music sphere where the freedom to create is impartial and neutrally diverse.

I’ve never had the urge to own a watch. one could recieve it as a gift, wear it a few times as an accessory and forget about it completely. We have smartphones that tell us the time in a more readable way, so watches don’t mean much to me.

But I passed by Time Palace a lot, it usually gave the impression of being full, but not noisy. Occupied, but not crowded. I wouldn’t know, but I assumed business was booming. Maybe people did care about watches, couldn’t be me.

Then my uncle had a cancer scare. He visited our part of town to get checked, and stayed with us for that time. We didn’t talk much, just the usual distant pleasantries, but my mother (his sister) and him would have low, almost whispered conversations. I assumed she was worried for her sibling, and didn’t pay attention.

Oddly enough, I heard the words “Time Palace” shared between them. What a watch store had to do with the potential of cancer was beyond me. I assume it was just a landmark to them, because that’s what Time Palace meant to me. But I saw my uncle in the watch shop when I passed by it the next day. I was confused, but something told me not to walk in there to greet him. So I went home, asked no questions and went about with my life.

My uncle did not have cancer. Upon receiving his final results, we celebrated with a little cake that I brought home on my way back. He wore full sleeves, and shook his hands a lot. Despite the weather being hot, I understood. He had been nervous, facing his own mortality. I was just happy to see him.

He left for his own home the next morning, but I had an interaction with him slightly before he left. It was two in the morning, I woke up from the heat to go get some water, my uncle was in the kitchen too, now shirtless. I walked in on him running water on his left hand. When he saw me, he quickly pulled his arm away from the water and into his pocket. He left without a word and I helped myself to the water. I knew I wasn’t dreaming, because I heard his exclaim, I felt the water down my throat, and I saw a perfectly circular mark on the back of his hand.

I thought about it too late, my uncle was gone by the time I woke up. I didn’t know who to talk to about this, so I kept quiet and went about with my life.

I saw my uncle again, clearly leaving Time Palace, wearing a shirt, I couldn’t glance at the circle on his hand, and I got the feeling he knew what I was looking for. We kept our conversation short, he got in his car and drove off, I didn’t see him for a while after that conversation.

I had a watch, a gift from a relative years ago, it probably didn’t work. I found my gateway into Time Palace. I walked in the next day, requesting for my watch to be fixed. They put it in a pouch and wrote me a bill. It wasn’t too pricey, but they told me they don’t take money unless the job is done. This made sense to me, so I made my way out.

When I got home, I noticed a pamphlet for the watch shop in my hand, along with my bill. I had no recollection of taking this with me, but I gave it a read. It was a singular page, with no second side. The name of the shop was in. a slightly larger font and the services they offered were listed below.

Time Palace

• We repair all clocks and timepieces
• - We buy all clocks and timepieces
• - We sell all clocks and timepieces
• - We give Time Loans

Time Loans? I had to ask about this. And I did, when I picked up my watch, I casually asked about the Time Loan. The person at the counter replied almost a little too casually; “We. lend you time, in exchange for labour.” I was still confused, and they saw it on my face, so they asked me to take a seat while they wrapped up their work, they’d be with me in a minute.

“See, it’s simple, you make and fix watches for us, and we add time to your life. So let’s say, you were to die in 5 years, but you took a Time Loan from us, we’d extend that deadline by how much work you can do for us.”

But that didn’t make sense, what was giving a watch shop the ability to extend lives?

“You’d be surprised by what money can buy, young one.”

The word money hadn’t even been brought up.

“Listen, kid, time isn’t real. We can push it’s boundaries if we pay it well enough, how do we make money? Better watches, better fixing, and a few offshore bank accounts.”

I was starting to get weirded out. I got up to leave before the front desk person grabbed my hand and branded me with the same circle as my uncle. My whole hand was on fire.

“Information is money, kid. You owe us now.”

They pushed me into the back of the shop, to a dingy toilet-sized room where I struggled with a clock with arms that moved in reverse no matter which way they were fixed. It suddenly rang and I dropped it in shock. The front desk person kicked me out.

I looked at my hand, the circle was beginning to fade into the back of my hand. It stung a little, but other than that, I felt fine.