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BLOG # 4- Now You See Me

Last night I had the strangest dream. It was strange because it had the sense of being real or having happened. I was scared, nervous and extremely self-conscious; I think I was perhaps seven. I was small, my surroundings indistinct but colourful and bright; and I was using all the willpower a seven year old could gather up, to not look at the crowd of people in front of me. A voice echoed from behind me, my dream state making it sound as if it was coming through a tunnel, “And now for my next trick…”. In that moment, I had started to wake up and remembered the magic show I had taken part of all those years ago ; a memory so long forgotten I had believed it to be a dream.

I had first heard of the coming magic show from a friend at school. She had told me that her mother had read it in the newspaper and that you didn’t need to buy tickets. Already knowing that my mother would enjoy the idea of a free show, I was quick to tell her once I got home. Surprisingly, even my mother had known, and she had shown me where the ad was placed in the paper. This makes me reflect on Tim Wu’s concept of “Attention Merchants” and the business model. Access to the minds of our parents, neighbors, and friends was the product being resold to advertisers through the loss of giving something away for free (The newspaper), and gaining an audience.

That evening my mom had lined up my older brother, and younger sister on either side of me, helping us into our snow pants and jackets, our scarves securely around our necks and covering our mouths. I constantly looked up at my brother, both of our eyes gleaming with anticipation at the magic that awaited us once we got to our local mall. We were grinning behind the layer of wool that kept our nose’s warm, and random bursts of laughter would escape us as we let our mom get us ready. My baby sister had no real idea of what was going on, but would laugh when we laughed and was content with the excitement that filled the air.

The mall was fairly close to our home, a 5 minute walk away at most. Light snow fell and dotted the light pink sky, as the cold wind brought tears to our eyes. I didn’t bother paying attention to where I was going, trusting the power of my mother’s warm hand around mine to guide me. My brother jumped around, in and out of the snow banks as we made our way to the brightly lit building that shone like a beacon among all the houses. Many families were leaving their cars to the same entrance we were heading to, we could spot classmates and neighbors as we all went through the same sliding doors; a blast of heat embracing us. The sheer number of people there that night, makes me realize again what a smart move it was for our mall to host a magic show for free. The business model described a “loss” as something you give away for free, now that could be newspapers; but in this case I would also include not charging an entry fee to the magic show as a loss. The mall would have to pay the magician out of their own pockets but in return of that they gained our attention and access to us. Once inside the mall, there were parents buying snacks, glancing around at the sales and stalls, and purchasing souvenirs for their kids. Despite Facebook not being around back then, parents and children had managed to share the information about the magic show with everyone. Through this the mall would make the money back from the massive audience and the purchases they make before, after and during the magic show, if not from the magic show itself. This ties into Tim Wu’s statement “Your attention has become the biggest commodity”.

Once inside it was impossible for us to keep still, practically bouncing on our toes we made our way to the makeshift stage near the middle of the mall. There were stalls all around for face painting, or balloon animals, all of them resembling little kiosk stands. There were incoherent sounds and voices coming from every direction, music undistinguishable among all the noise, and yet one voice was crystal clear as it passed our ears, “Go against what your senses tell you, witness something unbelievable and be a part of something great. Ladies and Gentlemen won’t you join me in some magic?” The lights near the stage dimmed.

Resembling sheep herded by a shepherd, everyone rushed to find a seat, many children content with sitting cross-legged on the floor near the front, allowing more seats for the many parents who had accompanied their kids. I sat down with some difficulty, the puff from my snow pants making it impossible for me to cross my legs. Both my brother and I opted to leave our legs spread-eagled in front of us, our rosy cheeks paining from how hard we were smiling.

From what I can remember of the show, I was completely entranced. Not just by the acts of magic alone, but the whole performance. The host was hilarious, dynamically switching between humour for adults and children, making me laugh even when I had no idea of what the joke was about. The lights faded between a deep purple and a light blue, occasionally shining a bright yellow when there was something to focus on; but otherwise creating a mysterious and mystical atmosphere. Drum rolls would interlude the suspense filled music that floated and hung around us, building our anticipation and waking the butterflies in our stomachs; nervous for the safety of this stranger performing these magical feats.

Often I would find myself perplexed by how he performed a trick, and would tell myself I must have blinked or looked away. Now though I have a better understanding of optical illusions and how they are carried out, and that the only way they work is by taking advantage of our senses and our ‘lizard brains’. The “’lizard brain’ is a catch –all term for the areas of our brain that developed between 500 million and 150 million years ago and are primarily responsible for instinct, emotion and recording memories, as well as visceral feelings that influence or even direct our decisions.” (Psychology of Screens, 2016). By using lights and props to distort and create images that are deceptive and misleading to our brains, we are tricked into believing that what’s presented in front of us is the truth. According to the concept of a lizard brain we are not capable of processing everything in our environment with conscious awareness so we focus on only a small portion, this process is what magicians take control of in order to perform their tricks and illusions; by grabbing our attention elsewhere while they do the real trick over there.

The show continued smoothly and I enjoyed it thoroughly until the moment a trick required the assistance of a volunteer. This was when my brother and friend thought it a good idea to point towards me. I had the worst stage fright imaginable and could not believe that my brother would pull such a cruel prank. But if there was one thing that bothered me more than being in front of a crowd it was being called a chicken. So at that point when I was called onto the stage, my little legs carried me onto the stage, not daring to look back at everyone. I said my name into the mic, knowing even at that age that no one would remember it and waited to be given my instructions. “And now for my next trick..I will make this young lady disappear” , I stood patiently behind the curtain he raised , having received my instructions and ready to do my part.

My part in the magic show was probably the most eye-opening , memorable, and terrifying experience. I realized that if I messed up then so would the trick, and that my role was important. I was clued in on how the rick was performed so that I became a apart of the show- no longer just a audience member. Although unlike the way the audience today responded to digitization and became active “prosumers” and “produsers”, through comments, creating content, and sharing of digital media; It was similar in the way that I was not merely a consumer of the content, but through my interaction and volunteering was actively producing content. This shows that even before the era of Youtube and Facebook there was, “No longer a clear distinctions between production and reception, between mass and interpersonal communication.”(J. Good, 2016) , and that I had transcended the “ traditional media/producer-audience/consumer dynamic to place the audience in the role of cocreator.” (J. Sullivan p.224, 2013).

BLOG #3 -LEMONADE

I tapped my feet nervously, and stretched my neck as far as it would go to check the progress of this seemingly never ending line. There was no way I was going to be late, just for an over-priced hot dog. It was nearing 7 pm, and my friend Suman and I stood in line at the Rogers Centre anxiously trying to get food before the concert started. It was May 25, 2016 and Queen Bey had arrived in Canada.

Following the wild success of her visual album “Lemonade”, Beyoncé had been around the world on her Formation Tour, and had finally made a stop here in Toronto. My friends and I scrambled like mice to scrape together the money for concert tickets (a majority of which came from our rent funds), and had made it at last to the arena. The act of possibly being booted from our apartments was second to the thought of seeing our idol. We weren’t just enthusiasts, we weren’t simply fans, we were producers. Even, having even created our own version of the aforementioned visual album, complete with similar scenic settings, and costumes. We were obsessed.

I stood in line with Suman, hoping to get some food before the concert started. We joked continuously about her going on before we could get back, each peal of laughter getting more nerve-tinged than the last, before one of us had to pop our heads out of the line to double-check.

“Of course she’s going to be late”, Suman told me, “she’s Beyonce! I even heard she has to have all her ice-cubes shaped like perfect spheres before she can drink them”. I laughed a long with the ridiculous (probably truthful) rumor, but was still anxious to get back to our seats. Finally we reached the front of the line. Paying for our food, we quickly scurried back into the arena, with tangible relief that the show had not yet started.

Our seats were in the 300’s, and though they looked less than glamourous online, had provided us with a perfect front view of the stage, along with huge screens on either side. The air was thick with excitement. We saw people of all ages, grandmothers, fathers, friends, couples, all bouncing in their seats waiting for the show to begin. While we waited, we messaged our friends who were in different rows, to ask about their views. We traded pictures back and forth, and took many selfies to post on Snap Chat and Instagram, giddy with excitement.

The audience was very excitable, and very impatient. Everyone seemed to be squirming, and squinting to see if anything were about to take place. The slightest movement on stage caused people to erupt in premature applause, leading to extreme excitement that would only spike our heart rates and give us false hope that the show was starting.

Finally, after sitting for about 45 minutes, the lights dimmed. My friend and I held hands, and jumped up and down, forgetting our food that had fallen to the floor. Smoke machines created a light mist on stage, and the opening for Beyoncé’s “Formation” began to come on. Throats raw, we screamed and whooped until Beyoncé appeared on stage. We couldn’t believe it! Beyoncé, the Beyoncé, who’s music we had played with religious devotion since we were in elementary school, was suddenly in front of us, her lace front swinging with careless abandon in her wind machine. We danced along breathlessly as she finished her set, then flowed seamlessly into another.

Beyonce had no openers, and would perform at an impressive, almost alarming rate. After performing “Formation”, she continued to perform about five more, before taking a short break to change costume. During this time my friend and I frantically exclaimed our favorite parts of each performance, and re-watched some of the videos we had taken. During this time, we had gotten friendly with the people beside us, and were soon dancing all together by the time Beyonce had returned back to centre stage.

She had changed into a sparkly red costume, and was performing some of the biggest hits from her latest album such as “Sorry”, “Don’t Hurt Yourself”, and many more. She also performed fan favorites from previous albums such as “Partition” and “ Crazy in Love”. The crowd was incredibly energetic, practically hysteric, and sang along to each word.

Beyonce as a performer was certainly unparalleled to any other live artist I had ever watched. She would perform about 5 or 6 songs in a row, complete with flawless transitions and wonderful choreography, then would take less than 2 minutes to do a costume change, and was right back out. In addition to singing her own music, she also had a short dance session to Desiigner’s popular song “Panda”, and even had a tribute to the late Prince.

Prince’s tribute was complete with a purple backdrop, and had the audience waving their lighter or phone screens to his infamous “Purple Rain”. As the audience was a mixed bag of older to younger individuals, it was incredibly well received and thoughtful for her to include in her set.

Beyoncé addressed us on more than one occasion. Encouraging us to sing along, as well as sharing with us her favorite song on her latest album called “All Night”. She thanked us for accepting her into our city, while we gawked with bulging eyes at the thought of her thanking us for being in our smelly part of the world.

Her addressing the crowd brought forth a sense of intimacy amongst the huge stadium, as (for first time live Beyoncé watchers such as myself), this would be the first time we had heard her perform, let alone speak live.

On speaking about news fans, Renee Barnes says: “…audience[s]…become active participants by appropriating and interpreting the text” (Barnes, 131) . By this she explains the ways in which popular texts, or in this case, performances can be absorbed by their fan base by appropriation and interpretation. This can be seen in my audience experience as the crowd (myself included) would continuously mimic the dance moves and vocals that we were watching our idol perform.

Barnes also says that “…pleasure, emotion and a sense of play are important factors” (Barnes, 130). The concept of including strong emption such as pleasure and play are also in relation to my audience experience due to the connection between the artist and her work and personal experiences, but also on a visual aspect as well.

Throughout her performance Beyoncé projected visuals, such as stills from “Lemonade” to evoke an emotional response from the audience. As we were all familiar with the black lives and feminist movement that Beyoncé had incorporated into her latest work, it added a second layer of viewing pleasure that ran a little deeper than impeccably timed choreography.

In conclusion, Beyoncé’s consideration for her audiences, her fan base, and her artistic integrity made attending the Formation tour, a moment that I, nor history, will never forget.

Make sure to grab headphones,hit full screen and immerse yourself

“False Alarm” -Blog 2

What is it about music that moves us? What does it have that it is capable of taking on a form in all cultures; weaving it’s way throughout history, surpassing boundaries, and surpassing borders? Why is it that it’s a likely companion in moments of happiness, sadness, loneliness, and laughter? Do we run to it when we feel these emotions? Or does it make us feel these emotions? And why is this cycle never ending? The only answer I can think of is that music allows us to be. Whether we’re grieving and needing of peace, whether we’re laughing and wanting to surround ourselves with joyous melody, or stressing and needing to relax. It creates an atmosphere that plays with whatever state we’re in, harmonizing with what we feel, or engaging us in what we want to feel. We as humans use it as a tool and it serves a purpose in our lives, but as an audience we are subjected to whatever we hear, and whatever the artist wants us to feel. Artists, writers, directors and producers, have an agenda in mind, a purpose that we satisfy by consuming; a checklist of criteria that once completed will attract their target audience and spread their message and image. As consumers we choose what and who we will listen to because we can identify what needs or desires we want met. But as audiences we are lured in and objected to whatever we hear or see. With that being said, I will be launching into a review of my experience listening to the Weeknd’s new song “ False Alarm” and my first time watching the music video. The Weeknd is an artist who does not cater to an audience but simply creates music. In fact one of my favourite things about him is that no one ever seems to be feeling his music more than himself. He has a certain vibe that is very distinct and attracts those who enjoy genres of the same niche. I often listen to him when I’m trying to relax or escape and slip out from the real world for a minute. The people who worked with him on his latest music video clearly understood what was up when they created a video that matched his sound perfectly. The video starts off with the camera on a pair of two masked men inside of a vault; steel and deposit boxes making up most of the room. There’s indistinct shouting heard in the background and the men hurriedly stuff bags with money. This is a robbery, just as I noticed that; eerie music began to play and one of the men pick up a bag. The music begins to build, and the bag gets tossed in my direction or this direction of the camera. I’m a part of this robbery. From that moment the beat kicks in and the tempo increases; and the movements of whoever’s behind the camera and everything occurring in my POV is fast paced. I should feel as I am experiencing a robbery from the perspective of the thief, but contrary to that I feel as if I’m this robber. I toss the bag, kick a chair to use it to propel myself and jump over a desk and get to the front of the bank. A hand reaches out, my hand; to give my teammates some handcuffs. The shots are shaky and continuous- making the experience more realistic. There’s a bleeding victim lying on the ground , phone within reach and as I stomp down on the device –SLAM-the lyrics of the song begin. Sirens blare and the screen flashes blue and red as two cop cars stop out front - I pull out my gun and reload. The concept of video at this point makes me feel as if I’ve been thrown into a videogame. As I/the camera turn around to see my teammate coming down the stairs, a body falling along with him, he shoots a security guard in the head; turning to the left, another guy throws a smoke bomb. Everyone’s moving to the back of the bank now, The Weekend has been singing at a steady pace and as young woman’s arms are forcibly held out, I cuff her and for one second we make direct eye contact. This was strange as for the most part everyone that the video interacted with seemed to be looking at the direction of whomever is behind the camera but this woman stared directly into the lens, which made me feel as if she was looking directly at me. Not to mention at that moment the Weeknd sings “you love her..” The back door is kicked open and the music picks up with the gunshots fired, everyone’s in frenzy and the Weekend is singing “She’s a false alarm” at a quickened tempo. The director, I feel did this on purpose so that the beat and lyrics were sung at a faster pace in correlation to the amount of action occurring in the video. A favourite shot of mine was when the camera fell back, and was filming from the ground for a few seconds, my teammates jumping over me to get out. To me it felt like I had actually fallen, and I was taken off guard as I would’ve been in reality. It brought about another element of this music video which was surprise and suspense; despite me feeling as if I was the robber in the video; I didn’t know what would happen next. This only prompted me to continue watching. There is a lot of engagement with the young woman, protecting her in some scenes, using her as a shield in others and her looking directly at you in rare moments in the chaos. At this point I still have little clue what the Weeknd means by “false alarm” but I am too engaged in the video to give it much thought. The lyrics slowly begin to come together as the song progresses. The song starts off by painting us a picture of a woman -" bathroom stalls for the powdered nose (she loves) , high heels with the open toes (she loves) " . From this we can get a sense of sophistication in terms of outer appearance. She enjoys expensive clothes and shoes and love to look like a million bucks. But on the other hand "powder nose" could be a reference to cocaine and; as bathroom stalls are often used as secure places in clubs to snort some cocaine. So we've got a woman who has an expensive taste and loves drugs.

"She's got a good time wrapped in gold, for you , for you", with this lyric the Weeknd could be implying multiple things. First and most simple is that she has an expensive watch; implying that she's rich. Secondly, playing with the idea that she's wealthy, it could mean that she knows how to have fun and have a good time with money being a key player. Both implications indicate that she is rich and that she wants us or him to join her. The last meaning and the one I believe to be true is that " good time wrapped in gold" is referring to the gold wrapping of magnum condoms. At the end of this we get the picture the Weeknd is falling prey to a materialistic and shallow woman, with a desire for money and drugs. But while she's offering sex I'm return - both participants seem to be aware of the lack of love and meaning behind the act.

"All red dress with the devil eyes (she loves) So obsessed with the camera lights (she loves)" These lines seem to allude to her vanity and need for attention but could also be a reference to seduction. She also doesn't just seem to be a pretty girl in a red dress, but quite devious, and dangerous -as is telling by " devil eyes" .

"You love her, but you can't deny (she loves) The truth, the truth." Here we come to understand that the Weeknd is aware of the woman's nature (promiscuity and obsession of material objects) and how empty her love is . Despite him being attracted to her and potentially falling in love with her ; he himself can't ignore the signs of her shallow love .

"It's a dark philosophy. And it haunts her constantly .It's a false alarm to me. She's a false alarm". By "dark philosophy", it's clear the song is talking about her lifestyle of drugs, money, and sex all leading to immediate satisfaction but lacking of any deeper meaning. She acknowledges that it's an empty life. Through this I get the sense that the Weeknd is attracted to self-destructive women; perhaps because he is self- destructive himself.

Overall we know from the lyrics that although the women has the potential to be everything a man has ever wanted ; any affection she displays towards them is fueled by her desire for more materialistic riches. She cannot maintain a relationship as is referred to in the next few lyrics " She always leaves the man She loves" and that money is her only true love " Dolla, dolla bill is her only type " , and diamonds are what gives her solace , " The diamonds make it better " .The Weeknd can see that she is hedonistic and that he will never be enough for her and so regardless of the love she pretends she has; she's a false alarm. " The whole concept of this woman is tied together at the end of the music video. At first I could not understand why they would choose a bank robbery to be the companion of this song, until I began to take notice of the hostage. This woman with her bambi eyes and scared exterior, is constantly protected by the robber behind the camera , in one way or another. It is shown clearly when instead of grabbing the bag of money and throwing it into the van – he throws her instead; despite her struggling against it, ultimately saving her from a car crash. The scenes with her are unique in that there is always something chaotic going on, but our line of vision is drawn towards her by how the whole thing is filmed. It gives us the idea that the robber behind the camera constantly has his mind and eyes on her. The most intriguing scene was when the van lost control and everyone fell over and things slowed down but again we make eye contact with her (3:39), seconds before the man behind the camera gets punched in the face by his pissed off teammate, his blood splattering the van. During this altercation, everything is sow, the music, the lyrics, and the scene- a gun is pointed towards us but before the shot’s fired, the woman shoots our opponent instead. After that everything picks up again with the sound of gunshots-adding to the intensity of the scene; as the man behind the camera kills his opponent. For a brief few seconds after this we only see the woman, she doesn’t seem shocked but a bit out of breath and for a millisecond appears to smile towards us as the Weeknd’s voice is blaring “False alarm!” at a fast temp. To me, it seemed both the robber and her were falling for each other, each having saved each other’s lives despite the complex situation (she was taken hostage by him). It changed my perspective of the woman, making me think that she’s a bit off balanced if she was actually falling for this man. But the man behind the camera seems to taken by her , as he again attempts to save her when their van is about to crash; horn blaring , white lights, no music just a crash as he tackles and covers her. The music has stopped and we are witnessing the final scene. The shot starts off dark slowly revealing the insides of a destroyed and flipped over van. There’s a shard of glass embedded in the chest of the man behind the camera and the woman is bloodied but able to crawl towards the camera. Seeing that she’s okay , the keys to the handcuffs are tossed to her , and she quickly lets herself free of them. She moves towards us and the man and we look directly into her face as the man reaches up to hold her face. She looks transfixed, shocked, and caring- until she grabs a bag of money , drops her façade-her eyes showing no hint of the previous emotions, and leaves the van and man behind. Her eyes almost spelt out “Seriously? You thought this would happen?”. As she leaves she knows the man won’t shoot her – he cares , despite her not giving a fu*k. The man is now alone, everything having failed, no girl, no money and sirens close by. A crescendo of music begins as a woman eerily sings out; the man behind the camera lifts the cross around his neck and admires it, almost as if he’s coming to terms with God in this his final moments. The camera turns to the side and we see the Weeknds reflection in the mirror, a gun raised to his chin-and then a shot. It’s funny to say that I first started to listen to music that night because I couldn’t think of what to write about for this blog. It was driving me mad and I had the worst case of writer’s block that I had had in ages. So I procrastinated. I was stressed out and I did not want to think about this assignment and so I searched for the latest Weeknd album and had some wine. But not just to listen to, to watch –I had heard there were new music videos released, and his are always very engaging. I don’t believe any other artist has the ability to take my mind off of reality and escape as much as him. In this way you could say that I was an instrumental audience “…search for specific kinds of message content…suggesting greater care and selectivity over media as well as increased involvement” (Sullivan. J 2013). I was purposeful in which media I would use, and also in which artist would satisfy both my avoidance (avoiding work) and diversion (entertainment and relaxation) motives (Sullivan. J 2013). It was by luck that I enjoyed the song and music video so much that I found a topic to write about. All contemplation aside I feel that as humans the Uses and Gratification approach definitively applies to us , as we are often driven to do things based on what needs we need fulfilled. If I were relating to my experience I’d also apply the “expectancy-value approach to U&G” in my choice to listen to the Weeknd, rather than another artist. As he has satisfied my affective needs ; “needs related to ‘strengthening aesthetic, pleasurable, and emotional experience” (Sullivan J. 2014, p .114); and escape needs in the past, building an “expectation for need gratification” (Sullivan J. 2013). I knew that he would be able to put me in the right mood because he has never failed before. In the end, The Weeknd is a truly unique artist that is able to attract audiences by giving us what we want, by giving us a sound that is distinct and that we didn’t even know we were missing- and engaging us in his music.

Starboy Album Cover

Tell Tales

In the spirit of October, the month of magic, terror, and excitement-let’s tell a tale.

Not so many years ago, embers softly rose out from a fire, glowing boldly in the night before disappearing into the deep sky. The heat from the fire added to the already humid atmosphere, and created heat waves that distorted the scene before me. I was surrounded by brick and mud walls, with no roof, inside our family home in rural Punjab. The ground was sandy-dirt that rose every time I took a step, and despite the heat there was a cool breeze that left my lungs feeling cleansed. The air tasted of spices and burning wood. In front of me -distorted by the fire’s flames, sat an old man. He sat with his back hunched over, one elbow resting on his knee and the other raised as he held up his cane –even while in that position. His aged face was largely covered by his low dipping nose, followed by his stout beard. His misty blue eyes gleamed, staring around at nothing as he quietly waited for everyone to settle around him. He was dressed in what’s called a dhoti, a white garment that’s mainly tied around your waist. I was surrounded by family, not just my mom and dad, but my 13 cousin’s, 8 aunts, 6 uncles, 3 grandparents 2 nephews, and 2 siblings. It was routine for everyone to gather around after we had eaten dinner, and just before we went for bed, mostly just to talk- but on some rare occasions ..we would be given a story . This story is about things that send chills down the spines of those who grew up hearing about them. Things that many cultures believe to be real and living simultaneously with us- just not seen. Unless that is , they decide to change that. They could possess us , they could be us, they were things….that are like Us, but different –their image disturbed in some way. If you were to see one of them , at first glance you’d think they were just a regular person; until you thought back to how there was something off, something missing, something inhuman -ever heard of Jinns?

My grandpas’ voice boomed steadily and loudly– regardless of his old age , as he spoke my mother tongue. He told us of how long ago his great-great- grandpa had been very pious and well liked. He was a religious and simple man – and many respected him. He lived alone in a little stone house- that largely took on the shape of a cube. He taught many the teachings of the Prophet and the word of the Lord. He was spiritually inclined, and at one with his surroundings. On a cold night, as he sat by a small fire , he noticed a grotesque bug walking the length of his floor. He wouldn’t have given it much thought, but he had sensed something as soon as the bug had crawled through the crack in his wall. He sensed the presence of another being, a presence stronger than that of a tiny bug. He knew – although not for certain- that a Jinn had come. He had called out to it , not showing any emotion or surprise in his voice. Then came a shift change in the atmosphere around him- he felt malice. Quickly grabbing a small tin cup he trapped the bug, muttering a prayer. The Jinn was furious, but my great- great-great grandpa had kept calm and stayed polite. He inquired the Jinn of why he was there, and much more. Through this they struck a deal; my great-great-great grandpa would let the Jinn go; if his kind promised to leave our family alone for the next 7 generations ; and that the Jinn would come back every day, to listen to my great-great-great grandpa’s sermons. The Jinn having no other choice, agreed, and kept his word, coming back and eventually respecting the old man. It is because of this, my grandpa said, that they have always been attracted to us – but never a threat. Still he warned us gravely, “ to be careful, and always say a prayer- for they are mischievous and do not care for humans “ . It was at this point that voices broke out, one after the other ; my cousins and uncles shouted, trying each to tell of their own experiences.

I was snapped back from the past, and stared around the fire as everyone talked excitedly, to then tune into my mom’s voice. She spoke simply, with no added enthusiasm or whisper for effect. Wrapping her duputta around herself she began ; when my grandma had been her age , they had to make a trip to a neighbouring village. My grandpa had been away for work, so my grandma had taken my aunt (my mom’s older sister) and they left early in the morning , to make it by nightfall. Part of the way – nearing evening they had to pass through this very old forest- with worn-out paths going in every direction. They walked close together and many people passed them on the way, as it was a frequently used route -so they were not completely alone. At one point my aunt began lagging behind my grandma and she noticed a man standing on a branch in one of the trees, taking a bite from a sugar cane. She quickly caught up to my grandma who was now walking briskly, and they passed by the man just as my aunt thought of how strange he stood. He was facing them, but it seemed almost as if he didn’t know how to stand properly. Then my aunt turned her head to see his feet faced a different direction than his body, just as he threw his head back and began laughing. A cold laugh that echoed through the trees, and made it clear they were alone. My aunt went to say something to my grandma, to notice that she was very stiff and straight-faced as she moved- maintaining the same speed as she walked. My grandma told her not to run, and not to look back. They had continued to walk sensing that someone was maliciously watching them- just waiting for them to turn around.

I felt a chill down my spine- and looked to see most of my cousins nervously checking behind their backs, scanning the darkness around us. My dad’s roaring laughter nearly sent all of us out of our seats; I could feel my heart pounding against my chest – my breath caught on a scream. We all looked to him , some with their hands to their chest in fright- he laughed stating that- that was nothing compared to the stuff he’d seen. I momentarily glanced back at my mother – her mouth in a firm line – clearly not appreciating my dad’s words. Nonetheless my dad continued; he was a boy probably around 15-16 he said. He had been walking back from the bazaar and was nearing this huge pile of rubble. He said this was around the time this house was being built, so the pile of bricks and wood lying around had been their property, meant to be used later for construction. But often kids would come to play on it-it serving them as a giant mountain to be conquered. But when they did this – the workers would get angry and things would be misplaced. So they began telling off the kids that came to play-warning them they’d be in trouble if they did. This night as my dad walked back home he saw two little boys, in identical clothing playing on the rubble. He said they couldn’t have been older than five, but as he neared them he started shouting at them to get away from there. They laughed and ran off a little ways away- but then stopped and stared at him. My dad continued walking and had a feeling that they would try to go back and play as soon as he walked far enough away; and that’s exactly what happened. In the empty alley leading to his home he heard their giggles echo, along with the sound of bricks being thrown and stuff being moved around. Immediately my dad turned around, ready to tell those kids off, hearing their laughter until the very moment his eyes landed on the rubble. But there was nothing. I watched my dad in the glow of the fire as he shifted his weight and pointed to an area inside our home. Everyone glanced where he was pointing, as he said that months later he woke in the middle of the night to see them standing there, holding hands. He had looked at them long enough to sense no innocence in their appearance, and he ran back to his room shutting the door as their giggles once again escaped them. He said they kept laughing louder and louder, until the CLANG of his metal door-lock, bounced throughout the home. My dad now holding the metal tin cup and spoon he had used to create the clang sound effect, smiled smugly at his story; as my younger sister and I glanced to the area he had pointed out. One of my older cousins whispered to us , “maybe they wanted to play” , giving us shivers.

But I wasn’t ready to leave this chilling night to the safety of my blankets just yet. I knew there was another story, one that I had heard my older cousins and brother talking about when we had first arrived here. Each of them eyes wide with realization, as they reveled in their findings. And these guys really knew how to tell a story. My brother threw some wood into the fire and started to explain how, for as long as he could remember –he’d seen this woman dressed in white. He stood up and walked around, his curly hair a mess atop of his head, and his eyes faraway as he recalled. He passed behind my cousin and held a lock of her hair, describing the woman’s; black as night, and down to her feet. My cousin shuddered pulling her hair away from him. She wore a white dress , her voice an imitation of my mothers, and her face…her face…my brother stopped waking as he thought- before turning to us and stating he couldn’t tell us anything about her face- he’d never seen it. He had seen her his first night here, when he’d woken to use the outhouse. She had been in this opening, walking around these two kids as they played. My dad, who had been all laughs all night, stiffened at this and interrupted: Dad: “Who were the kids?” Brother: “There were two of them , they wore white t-shirts and-“ Dad: “Blue shorts?!” Brother: “YEA THEY HAD BEEN “ Both: “TWINS!” , they both had gasped out the last word. My grandma started saying a prayer, as my mother picked my little sister up into her lap. My cousins and I were taking over each other putting two and two together. Occasionally something like this would happen, our whole family although having experienced these kinds of events, never often shared. Then when we did, we would realize that we were being visited by the same things. This in turn, made them harder to ignore. My brother continued hurriedly, saying that he had pretended he didn’t notice them, and kept walking. But on his way back the door to the empty room had been open, and he heard my mom’s voice calling his name. Still fairly tired he had been about to walk in-before realizing what was happening. My brother stood straighter as he told the next part. He had gone in anyway. Once in he had seen the shape of a body hidden behind the curtains. My brother darted from one side of the fire to the other, getting in each of our faces as he re-told his game of chase. He had pulled the curtain away only to feel someone pass by behind him, when he walked in that direction , he heard my mother voice from the opposite direction. He said he had felt like his head was spinning, that he was only catching glimpses of her. That night he had felt that they had wanted his attention, “why?” He asked us, and then answered “I don’t know”. But she or it or whatever it was, never leaves him.

This was an experience that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. More than the stories told, I remember the way in which they were told. In many aspects this night reminds me of Greek and Roman audiences. Although there was no practice of instauration, there was definitely some organization behind the way we all took on our role of performer or spectator i.e) how no one spoke when my grandpa was telling his story. My grandpa himself could be considered the arbiter of “fact”, as could my dad, mother and brother. Each of these people was the messenger –relaying a story and transmitting it through spoken word directly to the audience. This I feel added to the credibility to their stories and did not take away from their authority as author or performer. There was no separation between the originator of the story and the audience. There was limited planning behind orchestrating the whole night, but there was the fact that this was something everyone made time for in their plans , as an occurrence that routinely happened every night. We would always meet in the same space, at around the same time. This means that this sharing of tales could technically be an event that was collocated in time and space. There’s also the “public-ness of the encounter “ (Sullivan. J , 2013). Our family would gather and meet each other at this time to talk and interact before going to bed. We would come together to see each other, hear our day’s stories, and sometimes get a show. In this case “social and cultural cohesion were achieved through the act of spectatorship itself” (Sullivan. J, 2013). Finally, this whole experience could not have been created were it not for continuous repetition of actions and decisions. As a family we decided to make this nightly event a regularity. It was us who respectfully would wait for my grandpa – the eldest- to always start things off. And it was us, the agents , whom through structure and agency would, “alter and reproduce social structures” (Sullivan.J 2013). But despite this, “ It does not follow that [agents] know all there is to know , about the consequences of what they do, for the activities of others or for their own activities in the future. Nor do they know all about the condition of their actions, that is , the consequences that are casually involved with its production “ (Giddens, 1987) . Meaning that regardless of us making a choice to be there, we do not know what can come from it , and to me it is the un-planned but hoped for story, the surprising twist, the booming laughter of a dad, or creepy comment by a cousin, that creates these experiences.

#audience study #blog 1

- BEFORE YOU READ; PRESS PLAY & LOOP-

My grandpa- Mian Ji

Old depictions of Jinns

Rural Punjab

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