In India, specifically in the film industry, there is an ongoing trend of releasing old, already released films that were hits back in the day. People are flocking to rewatch their favorite films, and theaters are seeing pre-COVID crowds slowly and gradually coming back to experience cinema on the big screen.
Last year, in the month of May, I was in Pune and had the privilege of watching the 1976 film Manthan, which was crowdfunded by 500,000 farmers in our country.
A few months later, I also watched the 2018 film Laila Majnu in the theater. Today, a quick search on BookMyShow tells me that films like Jab We Met, Dil To Pagal Hai, Highway, Queen, and many others have been rereleased and are available to watch in most metro cities.
As a consumer, I am extremely happy to know that I have a second chance to watch my favorite films on the big screen. I am particularly excited to watch Highway, which remains one of my all-time favorite films.
However, as a writer and creator, there are interesting learnings that I derive from this new cultural phenomenon.
Good Work Doesn’t Have an Expiry Date
I have been writing on Instagram since 2015. In May, I will complete a decade of writing online. The app tells me that I have written roughly 1,400 pieces. No matter what stage I have been at as a writer, and no matter how confident or otherwise I feel about my craft, when it comes to writing and sharing my work, I have always felt a deep need for acknowledgment.
Often, my posts have received fewer than three comments, almost zero visibility. In fact, that is mostly the case even today. I have been a witness to so many funerals of my work—something that I wrote from my heart, that took so much time to materialize, only to watch it vanish into thin air.
I often used to feel that whatever I was writing was getting lost in the abyss, where nobody was reading it—not even me after a certain point—and that it was just rotting in Instagram’s database somewhere. However, if there is one thing I have learned from the movie business, it is that good work doesn’t have an expiry date.
As long as I believe in what I have written, and as long as it is still relevant, I have the power to share it again and again at regular intervals—perhaps in a different setting, format, or medium—but I can share it again. Those stories are still relevant.
As I begin to revive and do some CPR on my old creative work and labor of love, here is a self portrait collection of some of my photographs : Mom, I Am Fine.
Now it’s your turn. Go check out your archive and share that poem you wrote at the back of your diary for your high school crush, or perhaps a short film you made on your phone as a college project. Whatever it is, share it here in the comments. I would love to be a witness to your beautiful creative work!
Context Changes, Meaning Evolves
It was during COVID that I feel I made my most impactful work—the kind of work that I am proud of. I had a job, I was in the busy city of Mumbai, I was living with my parents, and yet I was on a roll! Short stories, comic books, blogs, Instagram posts, photography projects—I was on a creative avalanche. Perhaps it was the crisis that brought so much out of me, but whatever it was, if it weren’t for art, perhaps I wouldn’t have survived COVID the way I did.
After the pandemic subsided, I slowly started to share everything I had been working on. I was under the assumption that the internet would blow up, receiving these absolutely crazy ideas that I had produced. Yet, even after putting all my heart and soul into the projects, my work only reached people in my inner circle and a few others. I enjoyed being celebrated and acknowledged for my work, but then again—“Okay, now all of this will rest in the morgue of some database in the world.”
It was only recently that I realized how the people I met in the past 3–4 years were not there when I was sharing all this intimate work. I began to talk about it and share it with them individually, only to get the reactions I had expected back when I first shared it.
What I realized from this is that while the context of these times may have changed—luckily and fortunately, it’s not COVID anymore—the human consciousness is still going through equally dangerous, unprecedented, and risky times, if not more. Are my stories still exactly as relevant? Maybe, maybe not. Should I still offer them to the world for anyone who may need to receive them? A full-body YES!
With that, here is a comic book I wrote and co-created with my friend. Happy to talk about it in depth if it resonates with you.
Repackaging is a Creative Skill
A critical lesson I learned from the film industry is that they’re not just re-releasing films in theaters and expecting the crowd to show up. They’re putting in a good amount of effort to market them, create a buzz around them again, hold screenings, and more.
Even though I live in the mountains and don’t have access to theaters nearby, I still hear about these releases through the social media handles of the directors, actors, and film crews who worked on them.
It got me thinking—if the makers of these films are sharing, marketing, and talking about them, even though they are already legendary and have an existing fan base, why am I second-guessing so much about what people will think of my re-releases?
I wrote all my short stories on my blog. At the time, I didn’t understand how blogs work, how SEO works—I naively expected that the story and its interesting title would be enough to pull crowds to my short stories and perhaps attract the attention of some big-shot filmmaker with whom I would then negotiate for film rights. I was happy to sell all of them for 1 crore!
Much like in earlier experiences, it was only my inner circle who had enough time and affection for my work to read, evaluate, and comment on it. I wrote four short stories, shared them all with so much enthusiasm, only to stop writing short stories altogether out of sheer disappointment of not having enough readership.
I have talked to so many closeted short story writers, playwrights, songwriters, and documentary filmmakers who lament the loss of their work—and with it, their enthusiasm for the craft. It is only natural. And if this is you, I really, really, genuinely hear you, see you, and understand your grief.
My attempt in writing this newsletter is to resurrect some of my work, share some of my old creations, and invite you to share yours. I am excited to read whatever little or great you have created as art. Let’s together re-release our blockbusters.
Here’s mine—a collection of photographs that I sold as prints during my time in Spiti, Zanskar, and Ladakh over three months on a motorcycle.
I invite you to reflect and write on the following prompt:
Look back at something you created years ago. How would you present it differently today? Would you change anything, or does it still hold up as it is? Share it again if you can.
As a feature of all my newsletters, I share one song, one book, one plant-based meal, one film/video that inspired me, and some photographic updates from my life.
Song: Hanumankind’s new music is out!
Book/Newsletter: I didn’t get the time to read the past week but a very dear friend gifted me this interesting book and I am excited to read it.
Meal: I recently attended my childhood bestie’s wedding in Jodhpur. We stayed at a beautiful, quaint palace on the outskirts. The food there was of different cuisines on different days and yet what I enjoyed the absolute most was to wake up, take a bath and then have a plate full of fresh cut fruits.
Film/Video: This video documentary of Delhi from the year 1938 has my heart! It’s a shame what we have made of a beautiful city like Delhi in the name of development.
Photographs:
Jodhpur Read my other newsletters :
The story of moving to the mountains
Photography, my first love
Read my short stories:
SocratreeCompilation of all recommendations :
Video recommendations by Creative Writing Laboratory
Music recommendations by Creative Writing Laboratory
Books read by Creative Writing LaboratoryFree Journaling eBook:
Last year, I compiled a journaling ebook for myself for times when I feel I have nothing to write. I am offering it to you for free. Whether you’re starting your journaling journey or feeling stuck in a creative block, this guide will help you find your way.
Download your journaling eBook here.
Thank you for reading my work
Rishabh Khaneja
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