PREFACE

My hands are twitching. My legs are clamoring. My eyes are sniveling. My head is drowsy. I am detonating. Maybe that is what independence does to you. The sense that there isn't one above you or none below, it is only you amid the hoo-ha of a racing existence, makes you know that you do not exist alone. You co-exist. Side by side, arm in arm. And that is what independence does to you. That is what an Independent Artist believes in, and abides by.

Kolkata is known across generations as a dilapidated, exhausted ancient capital of blooming capability accompanied with the flair of a genius. This city has seen independence like no other. It has always been the first choice of everything, be it for the Authority or the Freedom Fighters. This city has also seen culture grow and nurture in between apartment lanes and remaining streets.

From Pam Crain to Carlton Kitto, Kolkata was the nerve center of the new generation and their zealous spirit to welcome all that was new and all that was ready to fit this new soul of utter freedom. Independent Music was whamming against all obligation. Moulin Rouge, Chowringhee Bar, Trincas, Blue-Fox, Someplace Else, Golden Slipper would spend evenings watching this new generation walk in and out in all its ecstasy and its' maniacal true-blue. What was even more interesting was that the new generation was not composed of the youth alone. The new generation extended from 16 to 60, and all that was in between. Park Street was Hollywood redefined. Spot-singers from abroad, cabarets, magic shows filled in the evening and the midnight with the enormous cheer and vehemence. Yes, you can say, this new generation was free.

But then, one gunshot and everything went silent.

It would take a few more decades before another group of people would huddle up and step back and forth to fit into the city's regular exhaustion. However, this new generation is not accompanied by any enthusiastic relation. They play alone, they listen alone, they write alone. But is that really all? NO!

This new generation talks about its' own life, its own sense, its own mind, its own reflections, its own sensitivity. This new generation walks up and down, moves to and fro, and sees and understands the way they do. They rhyme among relationships, sensations, sentiments, excitements, responsiveness. This new generation has taken up the responsibility to re-establish freedom. To regain independence of thought and culture, to see the world in their new way. But this generation remains forbidden and secluded. This generation is so very young and so very vulnerable. Yet the glimmering ray of love glitters in their eyes.

I wish to talk about this generation, and that is what I will do. The artists-the musicians, the poets, the painters, the actors, the filmmakers are under a hectic schedule of contribution. They are busy contributing in art. For all I know, that is what Art is about...contribution. What if the second author never adds up his own words? What if the second musician never breaks the chord structure? What if the second painter never manages to bring more layers of gray? What if the child never gets up and walks in its own way? For the second and the third always contribute to the first. Hence, Art!