In a Lonely Place

"Oh I didn't say I was a gentleman. I said I was tired." - Dixon Steele

All of us have films, songs or books which we feel come eerily close to describing our predicaments in this life. For those amongst us who have been touched by a curse early on in our lives, we might gravitate towards art that works as a means to counteract that curse. But there exists some curses , which cannot be counteracted and have to be bargained with for the entirety of our lives. Not to mention the curses which await us at various junctures in our lives. We all must bargain for the best deal. And art can help us to weigh in the pros and cons of that bargain. On a good day one might end up blessing the curse for the wonderful gifts it has bestowed. On a bad day the curse mockingly laughs at us while we grapple with the question of our mortality. The most dangerous man in the world is the one who knows himself - many have said and know this. And knowing oneself is a lifelong task. On somedays you do and on other days you don't. The fortunate amongst us, discover something new about ourselves everyday and through every event or every 'process' as Alfred North Whitehead puts it. Somedays you discover a new gift and some days one discovers a new curse. And we often rediscover the same curse or gift again and again. Life is strange. And art is always there as a reward or a medicine to help us continue ploughing.

I am 35 years old while writing this blog and can introspectively say that I have countless flaws and a few gifts. The structure of my life allows me to work with my gifts to a certain extent which allows me to ignore and hide my flaws - to a certain extent. The human brain is wired for survival and in its idle state ie. when it's mostly making use of its gifts, is programmed to bypass the flaws. You might notice them - get fleeting glimpses, but they are quickly forgotten and the work continues. For me personally, there is one 'scenario' or one situation or a process which unequivocally brings all my flaws into the spotlight. One 'process' which brings out the dormant mamallian and reptilian shards of my DNA to life - My personal relationships.

Relationships with family, friends.. My colleagues, the larger community, humanity.. My relationships with these I feel are not worthy of much pondering as of now.. Live and let live.. Help each other.. Drink, eat and laugh together..

Jimmy Page said that a guitar is a faithful muse & playing an electric guitar is like making love to a woman. I vehemently agree. The Euphoria, the ecstacy , the adrenaline, exploding-imploding emotional & spiritual volcanoes which I often experience while playing a fully stacked and cranked electric guitar, outside of this holy union of biology and electricity, I have experienced only while loving a woman. Even when I am not playing the guitar, during my daily ritual of listening to my favourite composers at high gain, lying on the floor, with my eyes closed - allowing the composers to evoke the most majestic feelings and emotions, the most magnificent and terrifying spiritual states, conjuring the most wildest and hidden aspects of my nature & being - its is the most violent and the sexual spirits that the musicians bring to the forefront during the climaxes of their musical odysseys.

My heart skips some beats as I type out these lines because I've just remembered a terrifying & exhilarating forgotten realisation - There are some places where a woman can never take me, places of the mind, the heart and the soul that can only be unlocked by imagination, music and other arts. Maybe she can, maybe such a woman exists, maybe such kind of love can exist between a man and a woman. (This is the only question which recently on rare occasions has the gravity to pull me out of my metacave with its tools of creation & exploration & introspection for an interaction with the opposite sex and indulge in some earthly activities. This question and my ungovernable attraction to everything beautiful and novel.) But until the day arrives where I can myself testify to such a union( one almost happened, long story, another blog maybe!), I shall refrain from claiming as such. And what these places are I shall tell you later. The admission of such desires and fantasies can condemn me my dearest reader to your judgement and my shame. I have made these confessions to some women recently out of my own intrigue sometimes and sometimes out of tired desperation. These were the women who were swimming with me in the stormy seas of love or lust and make what you may out of a drowning man's confession to a drowning priest, for our current topic of discussion I feel that it misses the point.

I first saw In a Lonely place almost a decade back. Brimming with raw Dionysian energy, I was used to wearing all my desires, fetishes and my recesses on my sleeves. Having aced the toughest exams in the world in my teens, my confidence was morphed into arrogance, snobbishness and supreme egotism rivalling and perhaps befitting to our Vedic & Greek ancestors. I am guilty of still clinging on some these traits covertly. These traits allowed me to somewhat sanely work in the chaotic Indian media industry - filled with mediocrity, corrupted egos, fragility and meekness - my younger self battling to sublimate and crytsallise the ideas I wished to express musically and visually in this environment. Hence I was able to relate to the uncompromising disposition of Dixon Steele - the anti-hero of this film. This film hinted to me that this was not the ideal approach and I wondered when, where and how this path will take its toll on me. I love my work, and back then everyday was an adventure. I was busy chopping away a path for myself through the jungle of mediocrity that is the Indian media industry. I saw most of the people my age falling in love and getting married, their youthful pursuits of art & novelty subdued or vice versa, and I used to joke to my family that I am already married to my work. Its hard to explain to folks who marry their work for a sense of security or to climb the social ladder - aiming to reach a mountain peak littered with trash and guided by sherpas & tow lines, the rush of climbing an unknown pristine peak without bottled oxygen and no sherpas to hold your hand. It's an obsession which leaves no space in your being for other planetary pursuits. You are in a lonely place. And when a stranger is allowed to enter such a place or is invited there - entropy & violence is inevitable.

As someone who sees the world through a poetic lens only, for me there was only one kind of relationship that could exist between myself and a woman - a romantic one... And that too of the volcanic variety. I have never had the need for human companionship or for seeking out companions or friends for my journey through life. With art & work my solitude & melancholy morphed into child-like treasure hunt. Also, I have been very fortunate in that higher powers have made sure that I cemented a few precious comradeships during my school days and my college days. These extremely precious people I hold very close to my heart and soul till date and after leaving college these folks made sure that I always had a pair of ears and eyes to witness my journey through thick & thin and without judgement. An unwavering and ever growing comradery which to which I attribute everything good that I have done in my life. Another variety of bonds which I relish are those established while working with fellow warrior-poets in creative domains. So what need does a companionship with a new human being serve of mine besides creative exploration? After a beautiful encounter with the most terrifying goddess the only need that continuously props up is the romantic, the sexual, the poetically violent & dramatic domains of existence between a man and a woman in love. As a poet I feel it is my duty to explore these domains of human life to their full extent. Here again one can sense my desire for romance subjugated to the laws of poetry. That aside, my own experiences with music and the arts showed me that the only other experiences that come close to manifesting the artistic & poetic storms in me is the entropic churning being in love with a woman arouses within me. The universe reveals to us its deepest magical secrets, its infinitely unknown gardens of paradise and hellscapes, both within us and outside of us, our curses and blessings through life, art and also for me atleast - women.

But what does it mean ? To love a woman? I learnt a lot recently. The easiest to comprehend is the poetic arc of loving a single woman for the entirety of your life. But loving multiple women don't violate the laws of poetics either. Laws of Poetics also allow for the existence of love in transactional relationships. I can violently and feverishly be in love with a woman for a few days, weeks, months, years just to find myself not in love one wretched day. What I might find attractive in a woman today, I might find extremely repulsive on that wretched day. Two lovers uncloaking each other's gifts & curses is a tempestuous process. Sometimes it feels like an inevitability, after experiencing an intense torrent of spiritual, emotional and sensual energies from my lover, that I will fall back into the arms of my original love and muse - music & art. I always have this home, clinic, shelter & a spaceship to go back to and leave this planet. And why are so many men and women afraid of getting their heart broken? Only a person whom you love immensely can break your heart. The pain and agony of a broken heart is a testament to one's capacity to love. And there is poetry in healing after a broken heart. It's like evolution on steroids. The alchemical mind experiencing death and rebirth multiple times in a single life time. Before this paragraph tortures you with more incoherent ramblings let me borrow some words from the master wordsmith Maria W Rilke to express precisely which I am failing to express -

To love is good, too: love being difficult. For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation. For this reason young people, who are beginners in everything, cannot yet know love: they have to learn it. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered close about their lonely, timid, upward-beating heart, they must learn to love. But learning-time is always a long, secluded time, and so loving, for a long while ahead and far on into life, is — solitude, intensified and deepened loneness for him who loves. Love is at first not anything that means merging, giving over, and uniting with another (for what would a union be of something unclarified and unfinished, still subordinate — ?), it is a high inducement to the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become world for himself for another’s sake, it is a great exacting claim upon him, something that chooses him out and calls him to vast things. Only in this sense, as the task of working at themselves (“to hearken and to hammer day and night”), might young people use the love that is given them. Merging and surrendering and every kind of communion is not for them (who must save and gather for a long, long time still), is the ultimate, is perhaps that for which human lives as yet scarcely suffice.

Rilke in the above paragraph makes it abundantly clear- That love is an extremely selfish act. A selfish individualisation. A hedonistic education where one can learn & the courageous one's unlearn. And Rilke's words finally gave me the answer to a puzzling aspect of being in love - My loneliest moments in life were experienced when I was in love. It is while being with my lover that I often realise that for the matters closest to our heart, we are always alone. In such moments once again art comes to caress you. It emboldens you to embrace your solitude even more! Love is just like art - a beautiful illusion - supreme deception - But art can be much more than love! Art & solitude is and always be the supreme aphrodisiac and my fate has often lead me to situations where this has been confirmed.

One's curses and gifts are amplified in love. Its rewards can only be matched by the rewards of creating & exploration. Also its punishments are amongst the worst that can be inflicted on a human being. In my life, the adventurous zeal that I experience in my journey as an artist, I have only found otherwise on my journeys & pilgrimages through the rich landscapes of love. And here again I consider myself extremely fortunate that I had the immense privilege and pleasure of embarking these adventures with women who had the courage to love. Women who opened their mind, body and soul to this fool, ready to confront the unknown and the mysterious, accepting both ecstacy and pain with equal grace. The tragedy and violence of love sometimes I wonder - a force so powerful - and I am constantly amazed at the human spirit - which lifts up, smiles and laughs at this force, not only embracing it, but mocking it, so that they can love undaunted.

Our protagonist from In a lonely place - Dixon Steele - a poet and a lover - a poet warrior and a lover - we know little of his past - he has no family - we know he has loved many women before, we know he has fought and witnessed the violent fury of nature in WWII, we know that he will write a script for his ever nagging agent, producers and directors only when he wants to- only when an idea obsesses him.. Basically, Dixon Steele's is a man completely beholden to the laws of Poetics. And at this stage in his life when his creative pursuits have stagnated, life presents to him an alternative, or an escape, as it does to several poets - to fall in love with his new neighbour - Laurel. Here I would like to talk briefly about the director of this film - Nicholas Ray.

There are artists who inspire people. Then there are artists - who inspire other artists - The poet's poet. Nicholas Ray my dear reader is the latter. I hope one day you get to experience the exhiliration and ecstacy an artist feels upon being exposed to the works of a master artist.

So, Dixon Steele falls in love in a manner befitting a poet - truly unhinged and with suave. And the woman - Laurel - a budding actress not yet accustomed to the extremities of a poet's being, relishes it at first but soon struggles - with his lifestyle, with his present, his past, his circumstance, his creativity, his love, his wrath. Dixon Steele like a true poet, selfishly pulls her into the stormy seas of love. For her its too much, you as a witness, as the audience, don't blame her, you too doubt Dixon Steele's love, for its on the brink of destructive madness. But you want them to stick it out for a little bit longer - you wish that Laurel put a little more faith in him, you wish that Dixon Steele steps down a bit from his poetic drunken madness, because you as the witness to this unfolding plot soon begin to realise that this is not a love story - its a tragedy. Nicholas Ray's writing and directing skills are at their peak here. A poet like myself, smiles when this movie ends. This film is an ode to the tragedy of poetic love delivered with unmatched class and style since its release. I smile because even though it feels like Dixon Steele is doomed, forever cursed, him being a poet, I know he will love like this again. He has loved before and he will love again no matter what the tragic cost. And Laurel realises at the end how much he loved her. She does not cry over the calamitous nature of her doubts and its tragic result. She cries over the madness and tragedy of their love. She knows that she was loved and how precious that is. Will she love again - Maybe? Will Dixon love again - Fuck Yess!! Love is an intoxicant without any limits of intolerance. Also amongst the most powerful intoxicant that exists. And Dixon Steele will want more.

A few folks have told me that Dixon Steele does not really love Laurel. He is in love, but not with Laurel. He is in love with love - His idea of love. There is a reason why Nicholas Ray chose his protagonist( or antagonist) for this movie to be a writer -a true writer - not of the commercial variety, but a poet. Love is an extremely selfish act. The idea of love is much more powerful than the act of love. Thats just how humans are - our ideas govern us. And a poet knows this. Being unselfish is like cheating in love. It dilutes its potency. Unselfish love is not dangerous. Only a dream like idea - passionate romantic love, has the potential to later morph into a nightmare and hence fulfilling the prophecies & poetic arcs of the idea. If one makes the mistake of loving their lover more than the idea of love or the poetic reality of love they have already strayed. Ideally, one expects to be loved unconditionally & expects their lover to act unselfishly in all such matters. This ideal- of an unconditional, unselfish lover can only be achieved by an extremely selfish person. That's the paradox here. Paradoxes are Perplexities are what make life rich and poetic, Jorge Luis Borges & Dixon Steele would agree.

I have so far focussed on the tragic folds of this beautiful film by Nicholas Ray. Ray's mastery in this movie is that I find myself miraculously smiling and laughing throughout this film. The crisp, witty dialogues - stylish performances by the cast - superb black & white imagery - the technical & artistic craftsmanship - Nicholas Ray's cinematic language even today feels fresh & precise. To smile and laugh in the face of a tragedy is one of those rare things in life which elevates our being - Appreciating both beauty and horror in the most central aspects of human existence. This acceptance of tragedy, for me atleast is an invitation to live life boldly and to love fearlessly. It deepens our sensitivities and also provides us the courage to feel ever more deeply and confront life with more vitality. It broadens my love and respect for all the women lately I have loved, whom I wished I had loved, whom I have hated, the ones who hated me and the closest to my heart - the recurring lunar eclipses. It doesn't matter wether you love a single woman for the rest of your lives, or you love multiple women at once, or fall in love with various women over the course of your life. Any of these paths if pursued with a poetic zeal will reveal to you and make you face the tragic disposition of life if you have been denied of it's existence so far either through the absence of art or love or life itself.

There exist many other tragedies through which life manifests to maximise its pleasures and sufferings. There are some horrors that poets and artists dare not tackle, but not for the reasons you think. We never see in this film Dixon Steele talking about his diabolical experiences in the hellish battlefields of WWII. We never see anyone discussing this with Mr Steele, not even Laurel. We hear a couple of lines from his old friends & colleagues alluding to - "he changed after the war", that's it. Nicholas Ray shows us a man who wants to love - not someone licking their wounds. He is a mad man in love. And he knows the value & significance of paroxysmal love after his time in the hellscapes of World War 2. My own wars - both internal and external - spiritual and material - have only managed to add more richness in my romantic pursuits. So many men and women of my generation, who have been fortunate enough to have been spared the horrors of war and refuse to partake in the metaphysical wars, and hence not trained in the art of warfare, and who sadly design their lives to avoid the tragic fates of warriors & lovers, will never be able to extract the essence of this film. In my own country Bollywood and Popular culture dare not approach romance with such stylistic taboo laden embracing of this holy war & its sufferings. War after all is a bad thing, something to be avoided at all costs, and a tragic fate is for losers and only victory exists in their being no war at all or in avoiding all such schisms. Such castrated spirits however, if their fates permit will one day have the honour of being electrocuted by the spirits of poets such as Nicholas Ray.

If you dear readers have not yet watched this film it does'nt matter. But I pray that you have fallen in love and have experienced love and do not shy away from its passions and poetic violence. Some works of art, like love, are extremely dangerous and such works of art exist only to be found by the seekers of the unknown. It would be grave error on my part to violate the law of poetics by 'recommending' anyone to watch this film. This blog is not about this film. My heart is filled with childish excitement as I conclude this essay ( with Fusion by Ludwig Goransson playing in the background). This excitement stems from the realisation of the many fortunes that life has bestowed upon me -Like watching this film many times and even more amazing - the planetary romantic encounters that life has made possible for me. In a lonely place - an alchemical dream or a self fulfilling prophecy - I feel blessed it exists. And I am going to borrow Rilke's words again to thank those men, women and artists who make these dreams manifest in real life -

Rilke's poem' Again and Again -

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love

and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,

and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others.

fall: again and again the two of us walk out together

under the ancient trees, lie down again and again

among the flowers, face to face with the sky.

Article for 59th Karlovy Vary IFF Magazine 2025.