All the world's a stage and all the men and women are merely players.

[sagarikawilliams]

All you had to do was push a button and the dolls came to life, started to sing songs and dance, their slim arms flailing about in automaton sync with their feet. The dolls sang everything from nursery rhymes to upbeat Bollywood numbers. And every time one of those dolls stopped singing, we’d prod them inside out, banging their bodies, trying to get them to work again – to continue entertaining us, to keep on controlling them. Not to mention the fact that these pretty dolls came in various sizes, but they were all like similar triangles – each line, each angle perfectly corresponding. And each executed their acts in exactly the same fashion, like a choreographed and well practiced dance recital. We loved dressing them up in scraps of colourful and glittery clothes – our very own fashion models to primp and peel when we desire.
How pliant and vulnerable those dolls were, squeeze them just a little tight and our hands dented their perfect, fictile bodies. How compliant they were, playing the roles we wished them to – beauty queen, college girl, mother of two, wicked witch – they acted out every character we wanted them to impersonate, all the while, smiling with their fake lipstick-tinged full lips. We sang “I’m a Barbie girl / in the Barbie world / Life in plastic / is fantastic” and made them shake it to the beat, acquiring a strangely sadistic sort of pleasure in our authority over the lifeless, speechless selves.
Now I realize how much the Barbie dolls resemble today’s women.
Women whose waists shrink like a sweater left out in the rain. Hunger wrings their bodies out as they squeeze into pairs of skinny jeans, like a lemon pinched out of its juice, its rind and threads the only remnants. Torsos tucked into scraps of cloth that are barely visible. The veins protruding in their arms look like roads on the map to acceptance. With knob-like knees and elbows that send shudders through their bodies every time something brushes them. Their hip bones demarcating boundaries assumed to be crossed at first sight. Their collarbones so deep one could drink out of them and ribs that jut out of and stretch their paper skin as if they’re trying to escape the waxed cream-lathered prison.
Women counting calories like a stingy miser tallying his hoard. Heads reeling and mouths slack open, panting, from recurring nightmares of the needle on the weighing machine drifting towards the right; they suck their breaths in as they pose for a photograph. Fashion magazines become their mirrors of ‘Erised’, and their way of shrinking at the sight of reflective surfaces, a mirror of their self-confidence. Star-gazing and fun night-outs long-forgotten, beauty sleep wins the race. Buying clothes without trying them on seems like the dumbest idea because all the mannequins are perfect slim figurines with their porcelain skin and legs that go on forever. Having to suffer the humiliation of not being able to buy something beautiful because it only comes in small sizes. Daydreaming about the day they will wake up and discover, to their utmost surprise, that overnight they’ve transformed into a thinner, prettier and more likeable version of themselves and not being able to sleep at night for fear that that might not happen in the morning.
The only way a girl can feel secure in this world is if she has the perfect physique. The only way she can be accepted is if she complies with the norms. The only way she can survive in this dollhouse is by playing along with the other toys, at the hands of the stern and unforgiving puppeteers that orchestrate this internationally celebrated act.

If you want to shine like a sun,first burn like a sun.

[sagarikawilliams]

When a friend broke to me the news of A. P. J. Abdul Kalam's death, I found that I didn't flinch.

He was an aged man, 83 years old, and that he had passed away felt natural and unsurprising. I was beginning to find scores of mournful posts on my news feed, most of them with his picture - the familiar face framed in the whiteness of his hair, sometimes smiling, sometimes listening, sometimes rousing minds. I found I had no tears in my eyes for his death. It was as if I was untouched by this tragedy that had the nation weeping.

I also found that the image of Kalam in my mind - one that I've had since I first knew him - had not dimmed at this news. It was there, as bright as it had been before, unchanged. It was like the news had not relayed to my mind due to some error. Surely there should have been a change in that image, now that the man was dead?

Or, maybe there was no reason for that image to change at all.

We did not know A. P. J. Abdul Kalam because he was man who was alive and not dead. I am alive and not dead. Anyone who reads this line is alive and not dead. Being alive is no claim to prominence. We knew Kalam for what he was and what he did.

Perhaps, above all, he was a teacher; and a student too, as great teachers are wont to be. The people who loved him the most were students. He was also a servant of humanity, a pioneer of science, a patriot all his life. He was a brave man, and he was a good man. Not one of those have ceased to be true since yesterday.

Neither has his legacy gone to the grave.

Every torch burns itself down in giving light to the world. When its fire dies, we do not mourn the blackened, wooden stump that remains of it. We behold the army of flames it has left behind, and feel committed.

So my mind looked at me in askance - Do you want to mourn his 'death'? - and smiling, I responded - 'No.'

Old men and women die. That is what happens, and I am none the sadder for it. Kalam's passing does not bother me. I register the fact. As I walk my mindscape, my eyes meet his - as it has done many times before. He wants to tell me something, he wants to tell us all something.

His watch had ended, and he had passed. Our watch has not ended yet. He wants us to lift our torches now, lift our torches high, lift them in blazing defiance and face the long, dreary night that looms dark on the horizon.

We are bound to take up the mantle. This is not a ceremony of farewell. This is a coronation anew. A coronation of the minds he has ignited. This is a call for us to wage whatever battles lie ahead, and rise up on our wings of fire. Kalam's presence has raised itself to a higher order, we should see that it burns stronger than ever at this hour of need, and forever afterwards.

Indeed, he is out of sight.
But he taught us to see with more than our eyes.

New Beginning

[sagarikawilliams]

Monsoon marks a new start
The clouds had been heavy all day. And when they finally let go in the evening, it was as if the string of an old, worn out bracelet had snapped and the beads had collapsed onto the floor. At long last, the clouds stopped groaning from the discomfort of the weight they'd bottled in.
Several umbrellas flew open on the busy street like a bat's wings at the arrival of dusk. Dirt stuck to the ground like a recalcitrant child refusing to leave its mother's hand. The rainwater started swanning the single towards low-lying corners in alleyways that not even the ghosts of the dead frequented. The heat that was trapped in the ground began oozing out as the droplets seared over it like beads of sweat on a miner's forehead, cooling it, freshening it. Evoking the modern Narcissus to indulge in his beauty in the reflective concrete, the rain was reduced to a vice.
Skirts swept the muddied ground, trailing behind the hurrying ladies. Shoes clung to the sludge, refusing to budge. Arrogant cars sloshed dirty water in all directions, annoying the passersby to no end. Hair that had been punished with a heated iron, danced in all their curly, frizzy glory - it was an act of rebellion. Blurred spectacles rendered eyesight next to zero, and every object became a blob of some colour to the orbs they were trying to protect. Tongues peeked through lips that were open in wonder, to taste the water of the heavens, and rushed back in, for fear of being caught. We dragged the soaked doormats inside like waves of the ocean being rolled onto the shore. And the softly showered drops from that forgotten half-open window sparged the floor slick.
Somewhere, far away, pruned fingers strummed the strings of a guitar and the faded melody victoriously echoed through the splatter of the rain. Somewhere, two friends walked hand in hand, grinning from ear to ear and talking excitedly in their high-pitched teenage voices, creating a million memories in every second that drifted away like wisps of dandelion. Somewhere, a boy read a riveting thriller, the sound of rain completely obstructed by the stomping of his racing mind. Somewhere, the whiff of hot, freshly fried bhajiya sizzling in oil escaped into the air, making mouths water in sync with the clouds above. Somewhere, the buzz of the generator mixed with the beeps of email notifications and telephone rings and complaints about piles of work remaking and curses towards the rain for ruining a perfect workday. Somewhere, an old retiree retrieved intimate music records, turned them on, and drowned in a sea of nostalgia.
As the rainwater truckled down our windows, we wagered on the droplets as of they were racehorses, and we, the spectators, cheering them on and anticipating the triumphs of those innocent subjects of gravity. We reveled in the joy of the first rain, with no desire to let it go.
And when the rain stopped, everything fell quiet like the wick of a candle just after it has burnt to its last breath. And for a moment, just a solitary moment, all clocks stopped ticking, all boots stopped tapping, all heels stopped clicking, all frigs stopped croaking and all hearts stopped beating.
Everything came to a standstill and it was like a vintage photograph that carried the overwhelming aroma of beginning a fresh start.

TAMASHA

[sanjita_mohanty9]

Sanjita mohanty
1633152
ENGLISH HONOURS

 Why always the same story?' being the tag line of the very famous movie Tamasha by Imtiaz Ali portrays various emotions of a human being which knows no limit. The lead role is played by Ranbir Kapoor as Ved who does not restrict himself in displaying feelings and sentiments which is apparently not acceptable by the society at large. Ved basically is a person from the corporate world living a very monotonous life among workaholics which actually is very frustrating to him as a person but he has gradually adapted himself to such kind of lifestyle. Now coming to the tagline as mentioned above Ved is very much into stories and mythologies. He grew up listening to stories which were narrated to him by a road side story teller who often mixed up the story lines. When once interrupted by Ved, he contradicts him by saying that nothing actually was different among all the mythologies and epics, they all were the same, they all had the same views and ideologies. He also points out the fact that Ved's own life story was the same as theirs. Ved being into stories was also a very good story teller. In the end of the movie he convinces his dad that he did not want to continue his job by showing him his extraordinary talent of storytelling.

 

   To escape the monotony in his life, Ved takes a week off from his daily duty and goes on a trip to Corsica where he meets Tara. There is a scene in the movie where Ved decides to fake his identity as "Don" and similarly Tara as "Mona darling”. He says that he could possibly be in any form and any character he wanted to and did not have to think about the people around. “What happens in Corsica, stays in Corsica" is a dialogue from the movie sums up all the above explanations. Tara is really fascinated by the character of Don played by Ved and eventually happens to fall in love with it. Now talking about Don's character, he portrays himself as a person who did not care about the stereotypes present in the society rather questioned about the presence of these stereotypical thoughts. He was someone who conversed with the hills and mountains, drank water from the lakes, never got tired of exploring, and of course could build up innovative stories and entertain the crowd. After returning from Corsica Ved again switches to his previous routine which Tara is not able to accept. She kept questioning his real identity and always made him realize that he actually was pretending to be what he was at that point of time whereas his real identity was the character of Don enacted by him back there at Corsica. Throughout his life Ved never could convince his father that he was not meant for engineering and specifically hated maths as a subject. There is this clown introduced in the movie which apparently is a mockery made on his monotony and obligations.

 

    In between the scenes, Ved often makes an imagery in his subconscious mind of the stories and mythologies narrated to him and moreover relates those to the incidents taking place in his own life. There is a scene where he asks the road side story teller about his own future story who then accuses him of being a coward and restricting his hearty feelings and desires due his fear of the society. This is when he realizes that only he could change his own story. My personal views after watching this movie were that we all have our emotions poured out on the incidents taking place accordingly but all that makes a difference is the only fact that we fail to express ourselves totally (as in 100 percent) in order to impress the society. We always express our personal sentiments keeping in mind the limitations and the restrictions that the stereotypical thought process of the society has set for us and as a result add on to our own loss.

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Sanjita Mohanty

 

She Was Silent

[shreyasankar57]

 On a Sunday

A very beautiful morning

I took my daughter on a mountain trek

She was just four

 

She little fingers clinged on to mine

Sulking - how much more, mommy?

I replied, a little more, child

Just a little more

 

After an hour, I was still fine

But she became pale, but hadn’t complained

I did not let her rest either

Think of the beautiful view, just a little more

 

I asked her to imagine,

To anticipate, to hope

Like I always did

Especially when she lost all her hair

 

The once noisy child, had turned silent

Gradually sucking the life out of the house

How could she do this to her family? I thought

And what is she going through actually, I wondered

 

But that Sunday

I was resolved to find answers

An answer to all my maddening questions

I made sure to know all the answers from her

 

As we reached the top

I looked at my daughter

My smiling, blue, beautiful daughter

And asked her

How do you feel, sweetheart?

 

Once I asked her, without her replying

I found answers

Flashes of her nose bleed hit me like the wind

Realising that she deserves better

 

Then when I faced her back,

As she lifted her arms up to embrace the wind

As she tried to laugh her pain off

I thrusted my palm against her, and said ‘I love you, very much’

How Atheistic Are We?

[shreyasankar57]

 When we are in the park with our family, or in a bar with our friends, or in a restaurant with our date; how much do we think about God?

Merely considering this fact, most of us would jump at the conclusion that we are atheists. It also sounds cooler, you become the modern radical. Then again, when we are in times of despair, we just need to pray. Even when we listen to something nice or absurd, we say “Oh God”. This poses a threat to the foundation of our disbelief. From what I see in general, most of the atheists are just very confused God-fearing people. If you consider yourself a part of this community, fear not, friend – it’s very normal to be confused about this gigantic concept of an existence of a source that controls the universe in a way that unites all every aspect and entity that exists. We have so much going on in our lives that such concepts become too overwhelming to inculcate.

According to me, though humans might be one of the most complex species which exist that is capable of such sophisticated functioning, WE make our lives easier. Just because we have more knowledge of the rest of the species, how sure can we get of how easy their lives are?

Our concepts have been so anthropomorphic that we are all that we care about. This idea might have existed a while earlier – so some genius might have come up with the concept of bringing an imaginary existence of a source, which can be or any from or order, according to various perspectives which should be considered “above all”. THE ALL MIGHTY. In this way the possibility of us to be too proud about our existence would lessen. Living in the fear that you are being examined throughout the course of your day, freaks you out. For this sake, you end up being a better and civilized person, somehow.

People also have been extremely innovative and creative from stone age, that they could bring about this concept in such a manner that the people then could relate to it, articulate and respect it.

This being a very random idea which came across my mind can just be included in one of the trillion theories that have been brought up that people don’t really care. So I sincerely apologize to the readers for adding up this mess, in your already messed up life.

Even though I can sarcastically point out that the biggest miracle Jesus has done was being a white guy in the middle East, I would not. Mainly because I respect people’s beliefs (and because I could be killed). In the end of the day, living in a symbiotic relationship with every organism is all that matters, because you will be punished if you don’t.

The Age of Reason by Jean-Paul Sartre- 2

[sd98]

A few chapters into the book, Sartre brings the first proper reference to the political background of the times. In the previous post I wrote about the personalities and private lives of the characters. With the introduction of Sarah and Brunet, Mathieu’s friends, the novel expands beyond the personal sphere into that of 1938 France. Sarah takes in a Jewish refugee as one of the pensioners in her house, which infuriates Brunet. Brunet receives information that this man might have been a spy earlier and hence cannot be trusted, but Sarah refuses to let him go. Perhaps they portray the two ways in which the French comprehended the conditions of a country that was at the edge of war.
As the discussion takes place, Sartre develops the characters of Sarah and Brunet for us, through Mathieu’s point of view. Brunet, especially, is described in great detail, because he is someone who affects Mathieu with his presence. He seems to find Brunet intimidating, he is terrified of being judged by Brunet. Brunet also depicts all the things Mathieu wants to be, but cannot. He says Brunet had an air about him, a worldly, revolutionary aura. In contrast, Mathieu sees himself, a philosophy teacher, as someone less important, with problems that seemed insignificant compared to those Brunet faced as a member of the Party. Brunet and Mathieu used to be good friends but drifted apart and through this encounter there is somehow more depth added to Mathieu’s character, as a person who clearly thinks a lot about everything, not necessarily expressing it always, a person who feels restricted.
The essence of Existentialism is freedom, according to Sartre, and Brunet enjoys a kind of freedom and agency that Mathieu is unable to get a hold of. Sartre depicts this very clearly by putting both of them in a scene together, where one is sure and decisive about his political opinions (Brunet) and the other is unsure and reluctant to share his thoughts due to the fear of being judged (Mathieu). Brunet exercises freedom through his confidence, while Mathieu is constantly holding himself back. I find it amazing that Sartre gives us an insight into both the personal and public life in the story, both at once, so naturally.

The Comedy Capsule..

[vedanshi_mishra]

We can rightly call it a mirror of reflection that delineates the dark ugly truths, brings to light the beauty of this world, allowing the spectators to gaze into a world of dreams and reality. Last night was certainly indelible because I saw my first ever play. It was my first time visiting a theatre, witnessing the immense talent out there in the sodality, new young actors performing on the stage, first time is indeed special.

The play was named the Comedy Capsule, directed by Mr. Hardik Sha and was performed at the Rangoli Theatre. It was a compilation of six comedy plays, and each act had a different script. The concept was highly disparate yet hilarious with each act portraying different episodes of human life in a satirical manner. Though there were a few acts that turned out to be a little monotonous, but nothing in this world is black or white, there are some shades of grey too. Also, the acts exhibited no linkage among them, but overall the show was side-splitting, with satire being at its best.

The ravishing Newbies..

[vedanshi_mishra]

We descend on earth, whisk the wands bestowed to us by the almighty, decipher the various meanings of this enigmatic entity that we call life, where agony metamorphose into bliss, where humans are puzzled with the questions of bane and boon, where success is as transient as ice, but memories are as perpetual as the wind. But as colors fade away with time, this capricious journey also starts withering away, bidding farewell to the other characters we wade to our heavenly abode. Not all characters of a tale are cherished by the readers, though each has a significant part. They are the ones who bring life to a story.
The actors of Comedy Capsule also gave a spectacular performance, keeping the fact in mind that they were on the stage for the first time, their parts were indeed applaudable. With each act coming on stage, a different character was portrayed. The director Mr. Hardik Sha certainly was able to bring out the best in every character.

Mister God, This is Anna!

[vrinda_24]

Mister God, This is Anna is a non – fiction novel written by the author Fynn or Sydney George Hopkins and was published in 1974. The book revolves around the story of a 4 year old runaway orphan girl child – Anna who is found on the streets by 19 year old Fynn. Anna starts a new life at Fynn’s house where she is given shelter and treated like family. Fynn is the closest to Anna and treats her like a younger sister and their times together are filled with delight and discovery. Anna has an astonishing ability to ask--and to answer--life's largest questions. Her total openness and honesty amazes all who know her. She seems to understand with uncanny certainty the purpose of being, the essence of feeling, and the beauty of love. He teaches her everything he knows and he can and though Anna takes time to grasp and develop an understanding of things, once she does understand, she comes up with observations which are exceptionally brilliant and surprising for her age. Even though she has been through so much in life at such a tender age, she does not stop believing in God or ‘Mister God’ as she refers to him. Though she believes church is for babies, she shares a bond and connection with God which is extremely deep and more of friendship and companionship. The book talks about Anna’s simple yet amazing perspective of religion, God, love, life and friendship. Even though she dies at a young age of 7, she leaves a deep impression on Fynn who after a long time of mourning, decides to write a book and tell the world an amazing story of a young girl and her best friend, Mister God.

“Anna had bypassed all the non essentials and distilled centuries of learning into one sentence: "And God said love me, love them, and love it, and don't forget to love yourself." The whole business of adults going to church filled Anna with suspicion. The idea of collective worship went against her sense of private conversations with Mister God. As for going to church to meet Mister God, that was preposterous. After all, if Mister God wasn't everywhere, he wasn't anywhere. For her, churchgoing and "Mister God" talks had no necessary connection. For her, the whole thing was transparently simple. You went to church to get the message when you were very little. Once you had got it, you went out and did something about it. Keeping on going to church was because you hadn't got the message or didn't understand it or it was "just for swank".”
_______________________________________________Mister God, This is Anna – Fynn

The book takes one through a beautifully written and well expressed journey of emotions, love, friendship and belief. It is engrossing and provides an altogether different perspective of God and life. The book is an emotional roller coaster ride and is deeply moving. The book talks about God and religion from a very different perspective and talks about forming a deep connection with God which is beyond all the rituals, idol worship, and also that one does not need a mediator to connect with God. We are generally taught that God is a fatherly figure and that does creates a sense of fear among people and more than loving Him, they start fearing Him, but Anna’s relationship with God is of friendship and companionship and she never fears Him but loves Him. Also the book proves that to gain wisdom and to be wise, age is never a factor but just a number and this is shown when little Anna teaches Fynn so much about life, belief, faith and relationships.

Garb and more...

[vedanshi_mishra]

There are umpteen ingredients that make a dish a luscious delight, similarly costumes, stage occupancy and props are certainly the crucial elements that determine the success of any play. Costumes are indeed salient to any act. They bring out the best on stage, helps in developing a connection with the audience. An actor’s mere presence on stage in proper attire helps the onlookers to decipher the very role he is to play. With simple plot lines the costumes went well with the same. However in a particular scene where a cold chilly night was depicted the protagonist was not in winter attire that looked a little absurd. Apart from this as the play was a satire of everyday life of humans the costumes didn’t demanded much of a work.
On the other hand, the actors however lacked the art of properly covering the stage and at various occasions the stage felt pretty empty. Another reason for this could be the lack of props, because of which the settings where not very effective. However excluding that, the title The Comedy Capsule complemented the theme, and that play was high on comedy that allowed me to add another cherishing night to my memory store.

Food for thought.

[ranjabatibasu]

Ranjabati Basu
1633147
1EngH

Sometimes I feel like what unites all Bengalis without exception is their family quota of gastric disorders. It is absolutely impossible to ignore and separate a Bengali human being from their obsession with food. We will calmly gulp down two spoonfuls of the baby pink Gelusil and proceed with our (rather unhealthy, I must say) ingestion routine. It seems rather hilarious to me, that 80% of a Bengali’s income, and time, is washed away behind the perfect cut of the gorgeous Hilsa.
The same reason has led to the birth of an impossibly large range and variety of gastronomic delights inside of the Bengali cuisine. Our cravings range from the extremely pocket friendly variants like luchi-aloo’r dum-ghoogni, aloo’r chop, jhaal muri, phuchka to the extravagant preparations of mocha’r ghonto, aloo posto, daab chingri, rohu kalia and ending with the famous rosogolla, mishti doi, paayesh, among an endless list of items.
The Bengali recipes of each individual family (with a clear and strong rivalry between the Ghotis and Bangals, each represented by the chingri and ilish respectively) for a dish of a single name are much more fiercely guarded than the 11 secret herbs and spices used in the popular KFC franchise, you could say.
In the recent past, due to fast moving lives, lack of available time and energy certain dishes are increasingly becoming extinct from the everyday Bengali household. It is certainly very alarming, but this as a consequence has opened up the avenue for authentic Bengali food joints, such as Bhojohori Manna, Tero Parbon to flourish among Bengalis from the state itself.

It is apparent that a Bengali's love affair with food is eternal, and this art shall travel through the generations to come.

The Age of Reason by Jean Paul Sartre- 3

[sd98]

Jean-Paul Sartre is considered a literary giant, aside from the philosopher he is. More often than not, however, he used his literature as a vehicle for his philosophies. The Age of Reason deals with a lot of philosophy. Perhaps that is the reason it is taking me a really long time to read it properly. A major part of the narrative deals with Mathieu’s reflection on everything that is happening, more than what is actually happening. In a normal descriptive narrative, there is not much the reader has to consciously think about, we’re taken on a journey. While reading this book, I felt like there were several occasions where I had to pause reading and process in order to wrap my head around some of the things Sartre talks about.
I had mentioned in the first post that I felt like a spectator, I just sat back and saw it unfold. By now I’ve realised that that is not going to work, because I forgot everything I read as soon as I read it. Even if the ideas he is talking about are not exactly relatable or tangible to me, I need to try and picture it from a personal viewpoint. The setting is alien to me- the experience of an impending war, the dilemmas on marriage and partnership, the urgent need for money- I have never personally dealt with any of these issues. But the relatable aspect actually lies at the core. The introspection that humans take up, the micro-analysis of every event that we all do when we attach importance to them, the multiple filters our minds have, the conscious thoughts that flit around in our brain constantly, all of that is universal.
After finishing the novel I’d probably want to talk about other aspects, maybe even change some of the opinions I have now. There are so many avenues that a subject like philosophy opens up, and this book is the first of its kind that I’m reading. Though I am finding it slightly slow-paced and very layered, I love the way the story and the character become one, how Mathieu becomes the story and everything else that happens, everyone else who we come across complement and add to Mathieu, because through his perception of them we see who he is. This brings it all back to the belief that every opinion we hold tells more about us than the object of our discussion, and four months into studying literature, I’ve come to strongly believe in that notion.

Peace.

[naina_23]

 Light embraced me as I stepped out onto the road. The last thing I heard was the screech of brakes as tires came to a halt on the now warm, sticky asphalt. 

Moon Rise (1)

[naina_23]

 Falling asleep has never been so difficult for me. I'm always so tired, that dreams come to me with the closing of my eyelids, but not tonight. Something is different, off, wrong. I can't explain the feeling. It's like that ominous feeling that begins in the pit of your stomach, and then works it's way up into your throat, forming a knot. The feeling in my gut tells me to run off at top speed, but I'm frozen in place. I face the closes door of my room, shaking in fright. *tap*     *tap*     *tap* 

The noise made me jump in fright. It came from the door. Oh, God, I thought, what kind of creature might be out there at this hour? I looked at the little clock on my bedside table.  It was 2 AM. I had school the next day, and couldn't afford to lose my sleep on a possible hallucination. Mustering up the courage to speak, I tried to ask, in my most commanding voice, "Who's there?" Although what came out was nothing more than a squeaky,  "Wh-wh-who's  th-th there?" 
The answering growl sent shivers down my spine. You see, the thing is, my family doesn't own a dog...... 

Chokher Bali or Sand in the Eye

[shreyashi_sarkar]

Chokher bali is a Bengali film (with subtitles) adapted from Rabindranath Tagore’s novel Chokher Bali or “A Grain of Sand”, translated by Sukhendu Ray. It was directed by Rituporno Ghosh, and was released in the year 2003. It won several awards including National Film Award for Best Feature Film in Bengali. Chokher Bali actually means “sand in the eye”, which perfectly makes sense as we go through the film or read the book.
The protagonist is Binodini, a young, well educated, widowed girl who lost her husband soon after their marriage. She is visited by a relative, Rajlaxmi, who is upset with her son post his marriage, as she feels she is no more getting the attention she was showered with. Rajlaxmi decides to take Binodini to her house, to which her son, Mahendra, also agrees. Seeing Mahendra, Binodini is reminded of time when she was unwed and Mahendra and his friend, Behari, were approached, but they refused her claiming that they were not ready for marriage. Binodini befriends Mahendra’s teenage wife, Ashalata, and they give a nickname with which they called each other, which was Chokher Bali or just Bali. Binodini becomes extremely jealous of Mahendra and Ashalata’s relation and her desire to be loved is provoked. Meanwhile, Mahendra starts losing interest in Ashalata and finds Binodini attractive. Soon they start having an affair and when Ashalata comes to know about it, she leaves for Kashi. But after sometime, Mahendra’s manipulative nature is revealed to Binodini and she is attracted to Behari, who is a compassionate man devoted to his country. When Behari refuses to marry her, she leaves for her village stating that she would wait for him in Kashi. As Binodini leaves for Kashi, Mahendra comes to her and confesses his love, but Binodini tells him about her feelings for Behari makes him promise her that he would safely take her to Kashi. Binodini finds Behari in Kashi, who wants to marry her. She also finds out that Ashalata is pregnant. The next morning, when Behari goes to Binodini to get married, all he finds is a letter addressed to Ashalata.
The film deals with very sensitive issues. Firstly, girls receiving education wasn’t a very common practice then and it was also believed that her husband would die if she is educated. Secondly, it clearly portrays the desires of a widow. Some of them were as simple as drinking tea, and some were as “daring” (supposedly) as lust and sexual desires. Binodini is a bold character, who longs to be loved and refuses to give into the patriarchal society. She takes decisions for herself and isn’t at all bothered about what the society thinks. Interestingly, Binodini itself signifies the one who seeks pleasure. The story revolves around love, lust and infidelity. It was lust when Binodini didn’t care for Ashalata and had an affair with her friend’s husband, it was love when Ashalata left for Kashi just because she wanted her husband and her friend to be happy, it was infidelity when Mahendra didn’t was selfish. It shows the extremes of human emotions.
Though I am still not sure why Behari agreed to marry Binodini when he was so true to his morals. One possible reason I could deduct was that he was in love with Ashalata, which were evident from a few instances, so he thought that marrying Binodini would mean Ashalata can have her husband Mahendra again, which would make her happy. Another idea to ponder upon is that, why did Binodini left on the day she was supposed to get married to Behari. Probably she had realised that Behari was in love with Ashalata, so Binodini could never get the love she desired for. Also she might have regretted betraying her friend, so the only person she explained her actions to was Ashalata. The title absolutely makes sense hence forth as when we have sand in the eye, it causes us constant annoyance, Binodini was displeasure and frustration to everyone’s life.
I would want people to watch this film, though it is a Bengali film, it is available on www.youtube.com with subtitles. The book is awesome too, but the English translation of Chokher Bali, which is “A Grain of Sand”, translated by Sukhendu Ray, couldn’t catch the tone and is a disappointment.
[ Reference: www.googlescholar.com ]

THE START OF SOMETHING NEW

[anjali_vij]

 'In a place like that, I could use a man who knows how to get things.' - The Shawshank Redemption

No man in a prison ever has a fairy - tale life. But, you got to survive. For that every prisoner needs to know the man who will get them things to keep them busy; keep them going; keep them busy living so we aren't busy dying. Ellis Boyd Redding, commonly known in the prison as Red, is the person who can always ensure you get what you want but within reasons, ofcourse. Red, also the narrator of the movie, is the first person that Andy approaches in the prison. And why? Obviously, to get something. Not much surprise there.

Prison life can be a much difficult life. So difficult, that it made Red lose a bet on which new comer would give away under the tension and pressure, and get killed. Andy made no sound that night. This is the very reason why Red takes a liking to him, because he is different and also, is a breath of change in all of their difficult lives. But, one constant need of every prisoner is some entertainment. For this, apart from watching the same movie for god only knows how many years, the prisoners throw balls, make silly bets, bully newcomers (Bogs and his group), sit together for dinner and so on. All of such interactions bring to life friendships and companionship in the Shawshank State Penitentiary that is so rare and heart-warming. 

The second scene in the prison, shows Red and his friends - Skeet, Jigger, Ernie -  making fun of their rejection - for parole - over and over again. Another such encouraging scene is where Red and his group bet on the new comers. These friendships are the light in the tunnel of darkness confirmed by prison - life and corruption.

One such friendship that we see develop over the course of the movie is between Red and Andy. The amusement sparked within Red by Andy's silly demands like of rock hammer, poster of Rita Hayworth, etc. make him a very interesting person to Red. But, what really makes them bring together is the scene where Andy wins free alcohol for his co-workers by signing his first banker deal in the prison. The growth of Andy and Red as friends, after this incidence is almost inevitable. Red, curious about and interested in Andy, approaches him about his conviction. Later, Red and his group collect rocks for Andy - for his chess project - while he is in infirmary after the Bogs incident. They give him the rocks and the poster as a welcome back present. 

It is very important to note that all episodes of such friendship invoke a sense of pleasant calmness and normalcy. It takes away the pall of everything negative be it the depressing prison life or evils such as corruption, bullying, etc. 

The last scene of the movie is an overwhelming one where Red finally finds Andy in the place they were supposed to find each other, once Red got free. It symbolizes how good things happen only to people who believe in themselves and in here, both the heroes believed that they deserved better then the drudgery of a corrupted prison life. 

And tell me, what can be a better thing than finding a friend who knows how to get you things? 

Decadence

[yashas]

The more I think of it, I unravel the clenched corners of my unusual mind and in my very own fanatic world I am alone. I look around to see the daunting eyes staring at me. Entrapping my soul. I’m incarcerated in the darkest prison of isolation. Drunk with pride and concealed with ignorance. It can encompass the decree of my ominous thoughts and trodden path of dejection. It pushes me into the inescapable well of insidious anguish and much deeper into the abyss of despair. It knows my wildest fantasies, my lascivious desires but it watches me with its lustful eyes. I shall favour the ones I desire. I’m bound by circumstance and pursued by prejudice. My thoughts become mere puppets and its strings furiously pulled. I buried my frail and ventured to seek Truth but it watches me through its doubtful eyes. I disappeared into the darkest corners of the universe, yet it found me and brought me back to the loneliest planet.

SINNER OR THE HERO?

[anjali_vij]

 'And for the briefest of moments every last man at Shawshank felt free.' - The Shawshank Redemption

All of the prison stories are always somehow about prison breaks. But, what makes Shawshank Redemption such a great movie is that its hardly a narration of a prison - break. Then the first question should be - Is there a prison break? Yes. Absolutely. There is a prison - break. But, instead of providing the entire build - up and the execution of prison - break, the movie provides a narration with small snippets of how it took place. Through such a telling of the actions, the movie brings forth the idea that this movie is definitely not about a prison - break rather it focuses on the character who broke away from the prison - Andy Dufresne. 

Andy Dufresne, played by Tim Robbins, is a phenomenal character portrayed with fabulous acting. He comes to the Shawshank State Penitentiary in the year 1947 under the fault of murdering his wife and the other guy, she was going out with. But, being a smart banker, he smuggles his way into the authorities' most important contacts and earns favours be it in the forms of free alcohol, getting the bully into the hole, building up the library, or getting in endorsements from the Warden himself.

But, what really does sets Andy apart from other inmates is his sense of aloofness in the beginning and how, he truly believes that he did not kill his wife even after being intoxicated and the district attorney giving him not only one life sentence but, two. It is the absolute certainty of his innocence, that attracts one person to him. It feels, as Red says, that he is literally protected by some invisible cloak from the brutal realities of a prison - life. 

Though a convicted murderer, Andy is the protagonist of the movie. He is the one who wins his co-workers free alcohol and helps them to feel like free men. Apart from this, Andy does a part - time banker gig where he provides financial as well as legal advice to the warden, the guards and then the guards of other prisons too. Also, he helps Brooks in building up a library by sending mails to the State to provide the Prison with extra books and funds to improve the library. Not only this, Andy also helps many of the inmates get their high - school diploma. One more incident where Andy makes all the men in Shawshank feel free is by playing an Italian song by two ladies on the speakers. 

All of this, really makes one wonder who the real sinner is. 

After coming to know about the true murderer of his wife and the other guy, Andy tries to talk to the warden but he is instead put into the hole. Unable to take the harsh and cruel reality of the prison after Tommy's death - which functions like a trigger - Andy escapes free from the prison, though he was planning for it way long back. 

But what Andy really leaves as a gift for all the prisoners of Shawshank, is the death of the warden and Bradley, the guard's imprisonment. He serves them the taste of their own medicine and shows them their true place in the face of their corruption. Hence, it is rightly said that some birds can not be caged because their wings shine too brightly.

One such bird was Andy Dufresne.

'Andy Dufresne, who crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side.' - The Shawkshank Redemption



 

Porphyria's Lover

[lisha123]

Porphyria's Lover is a popular poem by Robert Browning. It is a dramatic monologue about the relationship of two lovers which wants to convey the hypocrisy of religion and society through them. It is due to the gradual decrease of morals and human interests due to which a relationship is destroyed .
In the poem, it is very interesting to see how the lover waits outside the cottage for his mistress to come and not the lady waiting for him. This is an indication of their relation where the mistress has the upper hand. The lady can either have more social status than the man or she may be the richer party of the two.
In the following lines, Browning indicates about the arrival of Porphyria. She acts very casual with no sign of fear or tension in her face which makes us believe that she is used to such meetings. Even though there is a storm outside the cottage, Porphyria tries to keep the cottage warm and cheerful by lighting a fire. She herself acts as the comfort blanket for her lover.
Again, the characteristics of a typical woman of being nurturing, warm, comforting and home making is portrayed with the help of Porphyria's character. As she undresses, she sheds down the parts of the mask that society dictates. She opens the golden hair, thus letting down her guard.
"And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,…"
In these lines, one can sense the disturbance in the lover's mind. But this query is not immediately resolved in the poem. The mistress bares her shoulder for the lover to rest his head. She keeps on murmuring something. It is the confession of her love. Although initially, she was portrayed as a typical lady, but now the confession was quite ironical. In the Victorian society, such an act was considered to be very brave, breaking all the obstacles of the society yet to a lover's eye, she was weak! It was because he believed that his lady can't give away her social status. He wanted her to leave behind her pride before coming to him. But the truth was actually the other round around. She had swallowed all her pride before coming to him, the confession being the evidence.
The following lines comprises of many contradictions as the entire picture is viewed through the man's eyes. The lover is very happy seeing the lover in her eyes. He is proud that he can excite an emotion of love in her. It symbolizes he hidden inferiority complex in him and male dominance here. Time plays a key role here. Although she is his in the present moment but he wants her to be his eternally. He wants her to be a part of him. Thus, he arrives at the perfect solution of killing her by winding her hair around her throat. The Rapunzel fairytale is shattered here. According to her lover, she felt no pain and died a happy death. Both are eternally connected now. Interestingly, there is no 'we' in the entire poem. There is only 'I'. Despite whatever that happened between them, there was no one to cry!

The great Bengali adda.

[ranjabatibasu]

A very formal definition of the word ‘adda’ can be given as an exchange of ideas, analysis of events involving multiple perceptions to reach a certain conclusion by an individual or the entire group. This, however, fails to live up to the actual essence of the same.
Adda is a practice undertaken by Bengalis very passionately, since time immemorial. It is often said that one’s food remains undigested unless he actively takes part in an adda session.
So, what basically is an adda?
It is a gathering of people discussing topics which range from the local weather to Barack Obama’s policy on Syria. Anything under the sun can turn into a topic of discussion, leading to debates, arguments, groupism, logics and counter-logics, and personal solutions to global problems. An adda, it seems, unlocks the highest intellectual potential of the Bengali.

There are certain spots in each locality which serve as the adda ground for the interested, often being a tea stall, or a club. The same group of people are usually seen to religiously fall back to these spots on a regular basis.
However, the scope of adda is not limited to such places only and may be born inside the 4 walls of a living room, or a train compartment.
A very common component of casual adda is the PNPC(poro ninda, poro chorcha) which basically translates to gossip. All the trivial scandals and controversies are discussed, as the limits of being judgemental are reached.

The Indian Coffee House, College Street is the most famous adda joint in Kolkata which has even housed serious debates among revolutionaries during the pre-Independence era, top intellectuals such as Satyajit Ray, Ritwik Ghatak, Sunil Gangopadhyay, Taslima Nasreen and the tradition still continues through the current generations.

Some people argue that this practice is a waste of time, but besides being a mere cultural aspect it is actually the birthplace of ideas, thoughts, movements which more often than not direct us towards progressive futures.

'Terribly' Tiny Tale

[shreyasankar57]

 Entering her room, Gouri became anxious seeing her mama’s Lungi.

It was kept exactly the way he kept it yesterday, after removing it in her room.

While she laid on the bed naked.

Bukowski: characters and plots

[yashwant_panwar]

When we talk about contemporary authors in English literature, Bukowski is one which can’t be ignored. In his collection of short stories one can always find the contemporary can always find the contemporary issues but not necessarily written in ”good language” . Bukowski write about tragedies, harassments and vulnerabilities and the negative attributions of life. Like I mentioned in my previous post about how I relate with the author and not the plot however in Bukowski’s Hot Water Music one will obviously relate to the swear words and slangs used but what strikes you the most is the plot, the stories which tell you about this world negatively, in a way in which no one would be able to like or a feeling of disgust may rise still you are forced to accept Bukowski’s and somewhere down the line you relate to it. Bukowski dedicated his book pulp fiction to “bad writing”. the contemporariness of this book’s character so relatable that one goes on thinking about their failed relationships, incidents and domestic violence or sexual abuse that they have heard or experienced but you cannot sympathize with these characters, maybe that’s what he wanted when he wrote these stories, that we don’t evolve a feeling of sympathy but just accept them as the way they are and maybe hope that they help themselves
I am not revealing the plot of any of the stories from this book . I want you all to read this book and find your own Bukowski

Dark and Lovely.

[ranjabatibasu]

One of the most frequently aired advertisements on Indian television are those of fairness creams. I've lost count of the number of times I have changed the channel out of irritation from these demeaning and pathetic ideas of beauty. I realise that media is a reflection of society and this by default brings out the negative ideas associated with the darker skin among our people. It is ironical to note, that tanning is a popular practice among the lighter skinned as if to completely validate the age old statement of the grass being greener on the other side.
A huge gender bias also adds on to the scene, where darker women are not preferred as examples of attractiveness or beauty. The nature of the person as such stands completely irrelevant and the entire judgement is based on the skin tone.

People naturally have succumbed to these societal pressures which has directly elevated the sale of these products. It is important to mention that the creams, do not actually work. They simply lure the population (especially of the semi urban and rural background) by involving famous celebrity icons to exploit their so called weakness.
It is necessary to remove these misleading ideas and propagandas and to introduce non-racial ideas into the society. It is also important to celebrate darker skinned icons of all fields as this is again the easiest way of influencing a society.