“And… cut!” Amitabh Filmiwalla shakes his head. It was a bad take. “No, no, yaar. Up on your feet again, Javed.”
The mantrik lays his hands on Javed’s corpse and says, “Live! Live, Javed, live!” There is a faint humming in the air as he says this. The one bullet that didn’t form an exit wound pops out of his gut like a champagne cork, and the
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The one bullet that didn’t form an exit wound pops out of his gut like a champagne cork, I like the imagery here and the hot trickle of blood from his stomach slows, halts, and then reverses entirely. I’m slightly confused by this last action. Does the blood flow just stop completely or does the blood Javed has lost re-enter his body?
Wardrobe!” this last, not addressed to Javed at all; This isn’t a complete thought, you might want to use “this last is not addressed to Javed at all” or something similar.
A line of his-not at all required but it might clear things up a bit; I was slightly confused by this the first time I read it ancestors stretching back as far as Independence knows what was wrong with that take - that is why his name is Filmiwalla. He explains.
When you are struck by bullets, it must be poetry: the arc of your blood describing a perfect parabola in the air as your final moments are captured in HD. Beautiful imagery. I like the idea of a “poetic” death.
All in all, I really liked this piece. It took me a few readings to really get it, but there's nothing wrong with that, right? Your ability to characterize and describe is truly amazing. Good work.
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Was there anything else you found confusing? I know I used a lot of Indian Things without glossing them.
-D
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Once again, I really enjoyed this piece. Good luck this month!
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