Most Indians are crazy about foreign clothes, foreign manners, foreign food, foreign education and in fact anything that is foreign. The sweet Indian music is considered to be inferior to disco and jazz. The shyness has been replaced by the blunt talks and vulgar looks. Speaking a foreign language has become a fashion. The young would prefer to work as labourers abroad instead of taking up a good job in their own country.

George Sand, a nineteenth century French novelist asserted way back in 1872: “Art for art’s sake is an empty phrase. Art for the sake of truth, art for the sake of the good and the beautiful, that is the faith I am searching for.” Chinua Achebe, a postcolonial African writer in a trenchant way, goes to the extent of hailing ‘art for art’s sake’ as “just another piece of deodorised dog shit.” Art demands a lot of ingenuity whilst being assertively alert to socio-cultural maladies. Truly it is an artiste’s prerogative to conceive cutting-edge expressions to voice it to as many souls as possible- a multitude of emotions that abode a human heart; and the prejudices of the degenerate society. A gargantuan task indeed- which engages the artists’ in commingling a variety of techniques : concocting newer crafts to laundry the system’s rot and affiliating it with aesthetically tailored recital of events, aimed at enchanting the senses of the viewers in sync. The winning dialogue of The Dirty Picture (2011) – “Filmein sirf teen cheezo ke wajah se chalti hain.

Traditional history stockpiles bitter memories of the past which slush hatred and create divisions. Literature has a leading edge over traditional history as the creative powers of the writers have always invested on tales of love, compassion and friendship.