tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19017012523960789092024-03-13T21:50:41.995+05:30Nascent Emissions"Her sins were scarlet, but her words were read."Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.comBlogger297125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-55492745932898542072017-02-15T17:00:00.000+05:302017-02-15T17:00:37.160+05:30Mull Foon Chronicles<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I don't travel much, generally, in life. The last month, however, was one in which I hardly stuck around in Delhi. I touched the beaches of Kerala, the locals of Mumbai, the dunes of Jaisalmer, and finally, the hills of Kumaon. All in a month - different terrains, different people, different motivations and different takeaways.<br />
<br />
Each time I am back in Delhi, I have a standard homecoming ritual. Proud as I might be of my eccentric nomadic nerves, coming back home always brings with it an air of relief. The body eases off, the mind gets reflective and heart prepares itself to get wrapped in the comfort of that familiar blanket. But I was talking of my homecoming ritual, which includes two things. First, eating a 12-inch Subway sandwich. I've never been able to understand why, but I HAVE to do this. Must have something to do with subs being my original comfort food through college life. And the second is gathering at CP with a few familiar faces to hog in McDonald's and digest later with a roadside <i>chai</i> at Barakhamba.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3KAt1bDReWJ3TXuY_A9CqEQk5VecVhjkwfTZZyazOPLFQnAVQ30RtlmWBrJ8GzvCKBYc6FTFQvFOj8IZCVsohiLIqWU1PrTBYiwy4Wac_N0D7uT3WWpADg1FnRorwQc3b99u2fiPhx58/s1600/16711805_10154365948102473_5423728988289272499_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3KAt1bDReWJ3TXuY_A9CqEQk5VecVhjkwfTZZyazOPLFQnAVQ30RtlmWBrJ8GzvCKBYc6FTFQvFOj8IZCVsohiLIqWU1PrTBYiwy4Wac_N0D7uT3WWpADg1FnRorwQc3b99u2fiPhx58/s640/16711805_10154365948102473_5423728988289272499_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Only this time, I felt compelled for neither of these. Homecoming did not happen because I never felt I left my dwelling in the first place. And this has to do a lot with both, the people and the place I went over to.<br />
<br />
<b>Faraway Renz</b>, a resort close to the remote village of Falsaun, up in the Kumaon Hills, is idyllic. Secluded, calm and aglow with comfort, I have come to love this place post my first visit there last September, upon the invitation of <b>Dipankar Mukherjee</b>, a dear friend and the co-owner of the Renz. At that time, we had gathered to share and discuss poetry. This time, we gathered to share and discuss some bit of life. And the experience was, strangely enough, calming and overwhelming at the same time.<br />
<br />
Among the most magical moments these hills present to you are the surreal spectacles of sunrise and moonrise. Since rising early is a chronic inability, gazing at the emerging moon is what I had to make peace with. From deep darkness, the sky turns the mildest shade of orange from the place the moon is planning to surface. It then peeks out, first looking like a distant glowing bulb with orange filament, till it captivates you with its steady ascent and enlarging beauty. It devours the stars in its vicinity as it announces it proud arrival. And for the two minutes it takes to become a whole, it keeps you intensely hypnotised. There, up in the hills, we become quiet, still, to breathe in this surreal sight, even as intensely cold winds tickle.<br />
<br />
And then, as a post-ode to the lunar delight, we display our lunacy by singing all moon-songs we can think of! Old, new and innovated/improvised, our repertoire of music is fascinating. Throughout such moments of togetherness, I've been glad to notice and absorb, what a wonderful role music plays in cementing moments and memories. Be it impromptu singing around the bonfire, or a planned and curated <i>cheap-gaanon-ki-list</i> in the car - memories tend to have background music in my head. Do they, in yours?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-l9ufC6Z5EOUxnCSmZTb1tdzFoK-6UDKxRDCaz_2Q1chdrVCS1aER-DU5Sjs7V5KbgyzLqZWiEckn3bQPqDQbPvEM612PgxrGIqim6JyZkc-MtdZx348itYi5WsazeA2RNqVLum2Ngxg/s1600/20170211_224908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-l9ufC6Z5EOUxnCSmZTb1tdzFoK-6UDKxRDCaz_2Q1chdrVCS1aER-DU5Sjs7V5KbgyzLqZWiEckn3bQPqDQbPvEM612PgxrGIqim6JyZkc-MtdZx348itYi5WsazeA2RNqVLum2Ngxg/s640/20170211_224908.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Drives on semi-dangerous roads to playing cricket in the room; foolishly exposing yourself to the cold winds to getting lost in eskimo jackets; devouring plates-full of pakoras to swooning over local momos; and finding courageous moments to share intensely personal thoughts to crossing over into night-time shenanigans which are best left up there, in the hills - I had the most perfect time, which the most loving bunch of people I have met in life.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW-UAEL4Ck47OfGayWcI3_VLxEtKHlxeKB83lSIsxww5Ch9X17eZhx5OdBrIS34rLOpk3g-iR5JS3whzovjZ8q_2DmtB6ZSzOGOKnmLf2PAWwQJds5KCxD3nZdX3mQ0d3TbtKFT9xstTU/s1600/16684245_10154368652847473_920858161767694816_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW-UAEL4Ck47OfGayWcI3_VLxEtKHlxeKB83lSIsxww5Ch9X17eZhx5OdBrIS34rLOpk3g-iR5JS3whzovjZ8q_2DmtB6ZSzOGOKnmLf2PAWwQJds5KCxD3nZdX3mQ0d3TbtKFT9xstTU/s640/16684245_10154368652847473_920858161767694816_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I do not know what stroke of fortune had perched itself on my shoulder when I decided to call the first poetry gathering, but two years later, I know how rich poetry has made my life not just the with magic of literature, but also with the glow of genuinely good people.<br />
<br />
Each of my four trips had specific crescendos I will remember them by. This last one, however, was a continuous hum of relaxed happiness; and so that it doesn't fade away into some complacent corner of the brain, I thought it best to write it down.<br />
<br />
Nimisha, Smriti, Utkarsh, Sakshi, Aniket, Prateek and Solanki - thanks a bunch!<br />
<br />
PS - Let's do this again, soon!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoNggZnfh-5M6QO0z2ybBfVl2IxbC3lkGB5KytEkq2P2fHWOZTmtY2adV6DwNTeupwSV_3rXUyZE9rF1ey0s_9voL9Ivz8WwXK7EKETND1xECHJ4JGifaHjXOVnpdYf1a8GbpxSODyfSw/s1600/16684296_10154369102267473_5069960576636019935_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoNggZnfh-5M6QO0z2ybBfVl2IxbC3lkGB5KytEkq2P2fHWOZTmtY2adV6DwNTeupwSV_3rXUyZE9rF1ey0s_9voL9Ivz8WwXK7EKETND1xECHJ4JGifaHjXOVnpdYf1a8GbpxSODyfSw/s640/16684296_10154369102267473_5069960576636019935_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-56523007002269361102017-01-17T00:31:00.002+05:302017-01-17T00:34:11.501+05:30Cohabitation <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We're both<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
You and I<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Packets of
conflict<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Which we've
somehow learnt<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
To package
within<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The warm
comfort<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of chaos<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And cohabitation.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We're both<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
You and I<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Starved <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Within our
respective set ups<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of repute
and fulfilment<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The flakes
of which erode <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
As we dunk<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Head first<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
In our
tentative hooks of attachment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We're both<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
You and I<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Seeing
through this shallow<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Merciless<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Groping
world<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Together<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And within
the counted hours<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of agitated
murmurs<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Do we find the
sanity<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of shared
dissent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We're both<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
You and I<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ready to fly<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Unto the
horizons<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of risings
dawns<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And calming
twilight<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
For too much
light<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Was never
our turf<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
To play out
the game of life<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Within.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We're both<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Getting by<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
On truth and
a lie<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Unhinged
from our reality<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But
necessary for theirs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Our
existence only counts them<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
As
expressions<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Potent<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
If well
uttered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Our truth
encompasses<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The need to
lie<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
To keep
palaces of love <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And lustre<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Afloat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We're both<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sitting
aloof<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Under a
common roof<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of practiced
codes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We're
drilling <br />
Endless skies of imagination <br />
Within these roofs of convention.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Our
belonging is in pristine secrecy<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Unhindered
by mores<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Undefined by
the knowns. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We're both,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Both brave
and naive<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And hence
lethal <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
To
conditioning<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And
evolution<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of mimetic
contours and edges.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We're
tracing our own<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Eclectic filigree
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of
infrequent passion<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Subsumed by
over-awing need<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
To be
different people<br />
Within the same<br />
Ancient<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Conventions
of chivalry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We're both<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Breaking
conventions<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
By upholding
chivalry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Our
rebellion is quiet <br />
Lit by clandestine glee<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
In the warm
glow of which<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We carve a
sub-realm<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of demands
and unrealistic dreams. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Realism was
never our cup<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Or perhaps
it was<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Not that china held in dainty hands<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But one
gurgling on wobbly beams. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We’re both<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Evolution’s
pride<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And each
other’s private nightmares<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Full to
breaking with intensity<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We know our
lust for creativity<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Can subsume.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We’re yellow
today<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And red
tomorrow<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And blue in
distance<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And golden
each rise of morrow. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We are<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Our private
griefs <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Shared from
a distance<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
For the
insistence<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
On owning
our misery<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Is absolute.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Our misery
makes us whole<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Our love
breaks us<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Into miserable
quarters <br />
Of timepieces set wrong. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We’re both<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Accepted by
the obtuse<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And scorned
by the obvious. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We’re both<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Silenced by
conversations<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And stirred
by observations.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We’re both<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Traced by
the confused<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And rejected
by definitions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwL1uxR_FCj36d87jcUKfYg2vaeHWYRq52B6sR0RLSveG4jSpsxIfq0x8B-__HCsC81qIWyYIHxmbAXBbDonG6lG56SbacPurfO3v4REIAPsvfXdAxKP4gszJ0SA9wmbbLgaEvk9yqTOQ/s1600/coffee_cups_ribbon_mood_romance_99281_602x339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwL1uxR_FCj36d87jcUKfYg2vaeHWYRq52B6sR0RLSveG4jSpsxIfq0x8B-__HCsC81qIWyYIHxmbAXBbDonG6lG56SbacPurfO3v4REIAPsvfXdAxKP4gszJ0SA9wmbbLgaEvk9yqTOQ/s640/coffee_cups_ribbon_mood_romance_99281_602x339.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - Wallpaper Craft</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-4089251253129328402017-01-03T14:57:00.000+05:302017-01-03T15:08:32.418+05:30All of the 97 that I Read - Nano Reviews <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
While others do, I never like calling myself a manic reader. I am, if anything, a consistent reader. However little, I read each day. Long metro rides help. A marginally fast reading ability helps too. The need to savour words before I retire for the day definitely helps a lot. My world comprises others who read, inquire about and engage with the written word. All that I read, hence, finds convenient zones of sharing and reflection, which makes time spent with a book all the more special. A combination of all such favourable factors and my own undeterred commitment to the written word led me to reading 58 books last year (2015), and 97 this time around!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg438_19liglXMnllBG6JBecTSBUlgi_Zm8MzC_bBQFQI94H2d-Q1jmelua7kIyhpwSHg5j0jSjIoe9UDukgd6YySxe-KICKCGA4HnpkfKvCbIZXraF0RN8eZ-zLis6vatV4GKWpsmWh7Q/s1600/_MG_6823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg438_19liglXMnllBG6JBecTSBUlgi_Zm8MzC_bBQFQI94H2d-Q1jmelua7kIyhpwSHg5j0jSjIoe9UDukgd6YySxe-KICKCGA4HnpkfKvCbIZXraF0RN8eZ-zLis6vatV4GKWpsmWh7Q/s640/_MG_6823.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
In a rare act of bravery, I am chronicling each book I read here in this post. If your views differ or converge, or if you'd like to lead me onto another track from these pages, do make use of the comment box!<br />
<br />
(Caveat - I read very few current books. You'll find old, random, musty titles here.)<br />
<br />
1. <b><i>For One More Day</i></b> by <b>Mitch Albom</b><br />
<br />
The last gift of 2015 became my first read of 2016, and it was a pretty tale themed on love, emotions, mortality, and perhaps redemption. However, I would not label this Albom's best - <i>Tuesdays with Morrie</i> and <i>Five People You Meet in Heaven</i> are far better reads. Average, not something I would shove into your hands.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU34BPbz663JUmkXrelRndg81aQ7UA8rNunrcDFeDeREEKPuBM_D6SnrE-VVeNdsJvl2__BZUqZi8Kumir63azG7aUUh9W_ZhnTVUM27u3gdrN2zyFaDfcSlBh8mEDbIJSAcZFMOryu5U/s1600/1_Mitch+Albom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU34BPbz663JUmkXrelRndg81aQ7UA8rNunrcDFeDeREEKPuBM_D6SnrE-VVeNdsJvl2__BZUqZi8Kumir63azG7aUUh9W_ZhnTVUM27u3gdrN2zyFaDfcSlBh8mEDbIJSAcZFMOryu5U/s400/1_Mitch+Albom.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
2. <b><i>The Broken Boat</i></b> by <b>Nitin Soni</b><br />
<br />
Bias Alert - This is the debut book of a dear friend, Nitin, so I approached it with tinted eyes. And guess what, no surprises, I really liked what this boy had pulled off! I would make recommendations here, but, at the very least, his work deserves a look, for sure. And loads of good wishes given that his novel is around the corner.<br />
<br />
3. <b><i>इश्क़ में माटी सोना</i> - गिरीन्द्र नाथ झा</b><br />
<br />
<b>रवीश कुमार</b> का लप्रेक पढ़ने के बाद, मुझे इस किताब काफ़ी उम्मीद थी , पर '<i>इश्क़ में शहर होना'</i> के मुकाबले बहुत कमज़ोर लगी। कहानियां सादा थीं, और ऐसे पल जो मन में घर कर जाएँ , उनका निर्माण करने में असक्षम रहीं। ठीक ही थी। <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQg4K-9WlsT6ggoLmExoEcy55-310ECsGdKxyNbq8OHzNPuKNbZR6a6bFaHGC76VSUEOC1HY9Rsyx3zS6lYyOGu7tS93tlKbs3tsurXBgZwbp5qz9Dbr-huRR_GXIEx44AmQeZLpjl7Ek/s1600/3_Girindranath+Jha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQg4K-9WlsT6ggoLmExoEcy55-310ECsGdKxyNbq8OHzNPuKNbZR6a6bFaHGC76VSUEOC1HY9Rsyx3zS6lYyOGu7tS93tlKbs3tsurXBgZwbp5qz9Dbr-huRR_GXIEx44AmQeZLpjl7Ek/s400/3_Girindranath+Jha.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
4. <b><i>The Japanese Wife</i></b> by<b> Kunal Basu</b><br />
<br />
This is surreal prose. Slow, simple, nonchalant, but with strands of emotions and drama with easily envelops you. Each story of the book is an intense journey within human hearts, but the titular story takes the cake. There is also a movie starring <b>Rahul Bose</b> which has been made on the titular story - as beautiful as the story itself. Highly recommended. Here is your chance to dig and bury yourself in beautiful human sentiments.<br />
<br />
5. <b><i>Leela</i></b> by <b>Leela Naidu (with Jerry Pinto)</b><br />
<br />
It is a book high on literary merit and very beautifully written, but where I lost myself a little was on the context. Or rather, the lack of it. Had I known Leela Naidu and her work, I am sure I would've enjoyed the narrative manifolds more. Still, however, I ended up with so much respect and admiration for the lady. It does make one curious about why I picked the book in the first place - the name of the co-author explains it. Jerry Pinto is easily a writer I can pick and devour blindly.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0_7Z1ydug7R-SNs3qcZ5HzezvtJYk5OkQVIPUu4sygqOLDONsP7DhmnphiKDGznhjmEQLr0bSfxJJa8Li5-MJhfdeZSk-cgM50QKnyF-9GlWy7TrcyVcoNGYK9eBoD3oZdmA4XpvaRw/s1600/5_Leela+Naidu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0_7Z1ydug7R-SNs3qcZ5HzezvtJYk5OkQVIPUu4sygqOLDONsP7DhmnphiKDGznhjmEQLr0bSfxJJa8Li5-MJhfdeZSk-cgM50QKnyF-9GlWy7TrcyVcoNGYK9eBoD3oZdmA4XpvaRw/s400/5_Leela+Naidu.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
6. <b><i>साये में धूप </i>- दुष्यन्त कुमार</b><br />
<br />
दुष्यंत कुमार के बारे में काफ़ी सुना था, पर यह इस ग़ज़लकार की पहली किताब है जो मैंने पूरी पढ़ने का साहस किया। कुछ कृतियाँ बहुत सुन्दर थीं, पर मोटे-तौर पर यह किताब मुझे निराशाजनक लगी। मुझे ग़ज़ल पढ़ने से ज़्यादा भूमिका पढ़ने में आनंद आया।<br />
<br />
7.<b><i> The Woman in Black</i></b> by <b>Susan Hill</b><br />
<br />
This is a horror novella by the author, which I had to read because of a theatre related project. A classic Gothic tale, it contains death and macabre aplenty, and since the genre is detached from what I naturally like reading, I had to drag myself through it. Having said that, I know the literary merit of the book is high, because of the way the plot leads the reader on - almost flawlessly constructing that macabre atmosphere in the reader's head.<br />
<br />
8. <b><i>A Twist in the Tale </i></b>by <b>Jeffrey Archer</b><br />
<br />
Very disappointing - could guess the ends of most of the tales, thus rendering the 'twist' useless. My year began with rather disappointing reads.<br />
<br />
9. <b><i>उपसंहार</i> - काशीनाथ सिंह</b><br />
<br />
(Giving up the pretence that I can write in Hindi rather early) This was a great read, both, given to the imagination in its narrative, as well as my proclivity for stories constructed out of the <i>Mahabharata. </i>Here, Kashinath Singh tells the story of an ageing <b>Krishna</b>, who returned to Dwarka after winning the Kurukshetra war, but was rather defeated in the eyes of his own people and the city. From his return, to his dismal last days - a beautiful reconstruction of what might have been. Recommended!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAM1slmnonquMEqBRDAz5ERDm7TIgF3AcBnAS5ixsiP9iTmQa9Z7HRCjX4LgqF32s4D9SzUUHe6cntU0IvPHWWeWKnRExc_3Umizmtq5AAaRt-peE-BVKqgt8Ym7MJLoMzB4u-J2wlHc0/s1600/8_Kashinath+Singh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAM1slmnonquMEqBRDAz5ERDm7TIgF3AcBnAS5ixsiP9iTmQa9Z7HRCjX4LgqF32s4D9SzUUHe6cntU0IvPHWWeWKnRExc_3Umizmtq5AAaRt-peE-BVKqgt8Ym7MJLoMzB4u-J2wlHc0/s400/8_Kashinath+Singh.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
10. <b><i>Pulp</i></b> by <b>Charles Bukowski</b><br />
<br />
Useless. I never thought I would say this, but toilet paper worthy.<br />
<br />
11.<b><i> Tales and Legends from India </i></b>by <b>Ruskin Bond</b><br />
<br />
A pretty book for the young readers. I pick up and read a lot of children's books, because part of my work mandates interaction with students of all ages. India's treasure chest of folk stories is inexhaustible, and a few gems have been picked up and compiled here. An okay read.<br />
<br />
12. <b><i>Inferno</i></b> by <b>Dan Brown</b><br />
<br />
Despite the high pitch of naysayers, I LOVED this book. Classic Dan Brown, he takes you on yet another quest, this time mixing some population sociology and economics along with his flair for conspiracies, myth, art and architecture. And the brilliant notebook this turned out to be on <b>Dante Alighieri </b>was a bonus! Absolutely recommended.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirhAzASeYJb7ekjdwmLGP4x39rz8Nm_397E683BbSUH4UaoEySldp6s0qnT5iABWDNNDRul5YQnNtPWQN5Gpm3LsvOr9KrwjOXRb3VQdsj2PAUgjAuDuaFw4tAEOrJ0LgbanaLe-8Rndk/s1600/12_Dan+Brown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirhAzASeYJb7ekjdwmLGP4x39rz8Nm_397E683BbSUH4UaoEySldp6s0qnT5iABWDNNDRul5YQnNtPWQN5Gpm3LsvOr9KrwjOXRb3VQdsj2PAUgjAuDuaFw4tAEOrJ0LgbanaLe-8Rndk/s400/12_Dan+Brown.jpg" title="Inferno by Dan Brown" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
13. <b><i>Confronting Love</i></b> - edited by <b>Arundhati Subramaniam</b> and <b>Jerry Pinto</b><br />
<br />
The MOST beautiful poetry compendium I read the entire year. Here are some contemporary poems on love, the way you and I will recognise and cherish them. Do pick it up without a second thought if spotted.<br />
<br />
14. <b><i>Kaifi Azmi : Selected Poems</i></b> (translated by <b>Pavan K. Varma</b>)<br />
<br />
Kaifi Azmi's poems do not need me to endorse them; they only need time to be understood and absorbed. I am guilty of skipping most English translations, but that's because the language they were written in is so enamouring. Having said that, I have to mention that Pavan Varma is one of the better translators you'll read, basing my experience on the numerous Gulzar translations I have read.<br />
<br />
15. <b><i>The Night Train at Deoli and Other Stories </i></b>by <b>Ruskin Bond</b><br />
<br />
Bias Alert - I think this, along with <i>Time Stops at Shamli </i>and <i>Our Trees Still Grow at Dehra</i> is absolutely the best work by Ruskin Bond. He writes like the dream I want to be the calligrapher of. How can anyone not love him!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zoHkkFf0FfIgCY1XQd021MaDMHopPwgLJEvrW0We0jXpfyO7kHXGbdCUVVXXYEvJwivPAgSE5wxzP4jS3kAUxm6z6mr6du72gtc2Pp_k_aJIq66usNkaA0eSixtBwM5GErrbi_FRRPs/s1600/15_Ruskin+Bond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zoHkkFf0FfIgCY1XQd021MaDMHopPwgLJEvrW0We0jXpfyO7kHXGbdCUVVXXYEvJwivPAgSE5wxzP4jS3kAUxm6z6mr6du72gtc2Pp_k_aJIq66usNkaA0eSixtBwM5GErrbi_FRRPs/s400/15_Ruskin+Bond.jpg" title="Night Train at Deoli by Ruskin Bond" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
16. <b><i>Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix</i></b> by <b>J. K. Rowling</b><br />
<br />
You've not read the whole series yet? Are you kidding me? Stop reading this post and order the entire set NOW!<br />
<br />
17. <b><i>Bosky's Panchatantra</i></b> by <b>Gulzar</b><br />
<br />
The sentiment behind the book is, admittedly, better than the book itself. My fingers sift through many such gems because once a week, I work out of a library. This book was written by Gulzar as a versified rendition of the <i>Panchatantra</i> for his daughter Meghna Gulzar, adoringly called Bosky. The name comes from Russian Silk, if I am not mistaken. It makes for an average read, the stories easily digestible and rememberable in this form.<br />
<br />
18. <b><i>Do You Know Any Good Boys</i></b> by <b>Meeti Shroff Shah</b><br />
<br />
A single girl's tails and travails while on the journey of searching for a groom the arranged marriage way - this is a great take on what we call the marriage mart of India. Dipped in humour, I would often catch myself guffawing in the metro while reading this one. The humour, however, does not distract from how real this book is. A nice read.<br />
<br />
19. <b><i>मुक्तिबोध - प्रतिनिधि कविताएं</i></b><br />
<br />
If poems which reflect the society, its hidden layers and stigma are your thing, pick this book up without a second thought. Take time to turn pages, read the poems aloud and in the hard hitting words of Muktibodh, you might be able to locate the song of your heart.<br />
<br />
20. <b><i>The Lost Flamingos of Bombay</i></b> by <b>Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi</b><br />
<br />
Bias Alert - I think Shanghvi is the best Indian English novelist as of today, and I base my conclusion on his debut book called '<i>The Last Song of Dusk'</i>. This one, arguably, is much less spectacular than his first, but I still remember so many episodes in all their vivid details from the book, clasping my heart in their spell forever. The undercurrent of love and longing, and the fateful incompleteness of relationships is all too real to ever be able to ignore. Pick his first book first to know the genius of his writing, and then pick this one to remain attached to what his pen manages to accomplish.<br />
<br />
21. <b><i>The Ramayana in Pictures</i></b> by <b>Maya Dayal</b><br />
<br />
This was a children's book, so it is improper that I judge it - but I am just a little disappointed with how simple we leave things for our children. Perhaps we should tell them simpler stories, not simplified versions of highly complex tales.<br />
<br />
22. <b><i>The Forbidden Daughter</i></b> by <b>Shobhan Bantwal</b><br />
<br />
I have read 4 of her books till date, and my favourite remains a title called <i>'The Sari Shop Widow'.</i> This one makes for a decent romance-drama. Readable, not extraordinarily so.<br />
<br />
23. <b><i>Gulzar : Selected Poems</i></b> (translated by <b>Pavan K. Varma</b>)<br />
<br />
Lovely selection, well translated.<br />
<br />
24. <b><i>The Sour Faced Moon</i></b> by <b>Rohini Lall</b><br />
<br />
Either I did not get the book at all, or it was a genuinely dull, fragmented read. Skip it.<br />
<br />
25. <b><i>The Book of Ram</i></b> by <b>Devdutt Pattanaik</b><br />
<br />
The most disappointing Pattanaik book I have read. Read <i>Sita</i> if you're looking for understanding the same subject, but you can skip this conveniently.<br />
<br />
26. <b><i>Historicity of the Mahabharata </i></b>by <b>B. B. Lal</b><br />
<br />
A wonderful, wonderful book to understand archaeological procedures for determining the historicity of the <i>Mahabharata</i> (and other ancient texts). The book is very academic, does not make for an easy or engaging read, but for those who like the subject - this is gold. One must, however, bear the caveat in mind that many of B. B. Lal's arguments and postulates have been widely refuted too - but that does not take away from the rich mine of knowledge this one is on three counts - ancient literary texts, art and archaeology.<br />
<br />
27. <b><i>Birthday Stories</i></b> - selected and introduced by <b>Murakami</b><br />
<br />
Did not like it at all. Murakami's name sold the book to me, but not many stories in there which I would carry with myself.<br />
<br />
28. <i><b>Pashu : Animal Tales from Indian Mythology</b></i> by <b>Devdutt Pattanaik</b><br />
<br />
Highly recommended! Such a well structured and narrated book. You will not know what all to expect till you actually read about the diversity of animal tales and the symbols you can deconstruct therein. One of Pattanaik's best.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZvCB_CuvI-Qjq7d7aKKVLuKVytYysCjqHAaEl78Kc0bUCR7r8PVRMrv4sujz-b_9jhAv3OI4ACfWGXK1NUEP-Q0fPKUIxPWTBCSmJAsQUMzVJSKpWaDnuV7ZSUSow8oNW0GW9tQ9QjfQ/s1600/28_Devdutt+Pattanaik.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZvCB_CuvI-Qjq7d7aKKVLuKVytYysCjqHAaEl78Kc0bUCR7r8PVRMrv4sujz-b_9jhAv3OI4ACfWGXK1NUEP-Q0fPKUIxPWTBCSmJAsQUMzVJSKpWaDnuV7ZSUSow8oNW0GW9tQ9QjfQ/s400/28_Devdutt+Pattanaik.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
29. <b><i>Hindu Rites and Rituals</i></b> by <b>K. V. Singh</b><br />
<br />
Absolutely disappointing. It is a children's book, but does not even do justice to that age group. Over simplification and repetition mar the subject the book attempts to deal with completely.<br />
<br />
30. <b><i>Land of the Seven Rivers </i></b>by <b>Sanjeev Sanyal</b><br />
<br />
My BEST read of the year. Or at least in my top 5. This book attempts to take you first on a geological journey to understanding how did the Indian landmass come into being, and then slowly unfolds India's story via its geography. In simple terms, the text of this book was a revelation!<br />
<br />
31. <b><i>Letters to a Young Poet</i></b> by <b>R. M. Rilke</b><br />
<br />
So good that I have already gifted a couple of copies to friends. Rilke is a profound genius, and so is this book in which he delivers valuable advice to a poet for writing great poetry. A text-book for poetry lovers, let me put it that way. Highly recommended!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiek7QbUAeOnRjBS9zngk46AzZH5BofipabwTfAGz62SvVw_vmGbXarkVy6-UWo9P1y0iQGDM__b0epK53DOGjWdIYWBVNP6hl_-xa_Gsvm0aXMmgpCvjUHeoP2-HoBlLvMgGKDafW4dEU/s1600/31_Rilke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiek7QbUAeOnRjBS9zngk46AzZH5BofipabwTfAGz62SvVw_vmGbXarkVy6-UWo9P1y0iQGDM__b0epK53DOGjWdIYWBVNP6hl_-xa_Gsvm0aXMmgpCvjUHeoP2-HoBlLvMgGKDafW4dEU/s400/31_Rilke.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
32.<b><i> Meena Kumari, The Poet : A Life Beyond Cinema</i></b> (translated by <b>Noorul Hasan</b>)<br />
<br />
Her poems are simple, very basic, but so touching! The bonus is short biographies of the great actor both, at the beginning and at the end. Other than being an enjoyable read, the book is beautifully designed - a factor that matters greatly to me!<br />
<br />
33. <b><i>Delhi : Historical Glimpses</i></b> by <b>R. V. Smith</b><br />
<br />
R. V. Smith's tales about Delhi are legendary! I've been attached to his writings through his weekly column in <i>The Hindu,</i> and the book only does well to enhance the flavour of his Delhi on my mind. Should read, if you're looking to discover a little more of the undiscovered city it continues to be.<br />
<br />
34. <b><i>Why I Write</i></b> by <b>Sa'adat Hasan Manto</b> (translated by <b>Aakar Patel</b>)<br />
<br />
Excellent read. The book contains essays which Manto had written about himself and his writings. As someone who has only very basic knowledge on the genius writer, this provided a good first glimpse into his world.<br />
<br />
35. <i><b>The Nightingales are Drunk </b></i>by <b>Hafez</b><br />
<br />
Contrary to expectations, nothing profound in here. I invested a lot of time in these poems, but was left very disappointed.<br />
<br />
36. <b><i>The Mother I Never Knew</i></b> by <b>Sudha Murty</b><br />
<br />
She's a weaver of simple tales, and that is what works for Sudha Murty. I open her books expecting to read some very simply worded stories and uncomplicated human emotions and I am always rewarded. This particular book has two stories about the search for an unknown mother, and both the stories left me warm. Should sample her writings at least once.<br />
<br />
37. <b><i>Gita Press and the Making of Hindu India </i></b>by <b>Akshaya Mukul</b><br />
<br />
Oh my god what a book! Perhaps the most time consuming read of the year, but the way it opens your eyes to so much about the way the world around you gets constructed and influenced by a handful few. Other than that, a very well researched book. A must read if you want to understand how history religion and politics get intertwined.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHpFXDJrNOztJEPDLkY1oN5AmndECzTv0vr39ZAAj0miBWOiWVfvDN7A7ww8EOiHOO2pajvUZCeSQotDl91NfdxZjA5LiO4ROjWysfCw910DvdEXaL0OqtU2-2EWZDe9MgMDy8lA8ijE/s1600/37_Akshaya+Mukul.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHpFXDJrNOztJEPDLkY1oN5AmndECzTv0vr39ZAAj0miBWOiWVfvDN7A7ww8EOiHOO2pajvUZCeSQotDl91NfdxZjA5LiO4ROjWysfCw910DvdEXaL0OqtU2-2EWZDe9MgMDy8lA8ijE/s400/37_Akshaya+Mukul.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
38. <b><i>Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince</i></b> by <b>J. K. Rowling</b><br />
<br />
Like I said, read Harry Potter on priority.<br />
<br />
39. <b><i>उर्दू की आख़िरी किताब </i>- इब्ने इंशा</b><br />
<br />
Among the best things you will read in life. It is a satire on our education system, the coloured knowledge we receive, on our understanding of history, of language, of learning, of living. It will make you laugh loud, but will give so much to think and deconstruct in your head. The only limitation is very chaste Urdu - translations of certain words helps, but needs focus along with all that laughter.<br />
<br />
40. <b><i>प्लूटो</i> - गुलज़ार</b><br />
<br />
Not the most satisfying Gulzar. Not much I could simmer in my heart to make a part of myself.<br />
<br />
41. <b><i>Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows</i></b> by <b>J. K. Rowling</b><br />
<br />
Arre. Read it. Whoever you are. Wherever you are.<br />
<br />
42.<b><i> Civil Lines : New Writing from India</i></b><br />
<br />
I do not clearly remember many stories from this compilation, but I do remember this as a dcent read. Short non-fiction prose pieces on many facets of contemporary India - written by well-established writers. Not great, but not bad either.<br />
<br />
43. <b><i>Friends in Small Places </i></b>by <b>Ruskin Bond</b><br />
<br />
Warm. Pretty. Simple. Classic Ruskin Bond describing people he's met in life. Only the way he can,<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6yEaKVyQLveIw2i8Xk0v2xapieFeZa2uOCcoWSnOnX0vPoU8v0ZZXgpS8hc6TR7K6A_cO1Ak24zZQNon4kFDHTQaO5fZ9b5zjs1IzCDhkiSlwXcA8bp928jDJ4GM3yDlbh0IlvnDMgv0/s1600/43_Ruskin+Bond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6yEaKVyQLveIw2i8Xk0v2xapieFeZa2uOCcoWSnOnX0vPoU8v0ZZXgpS8hc6TR7K6A_cO1Ak24zZQNon4kFDHTQaO5fZ9b5zjs1IzCDhkiSlwXcA8bp928jDJ4GM3yDlbh0IlvnDMgv0/s400/43_Ruskin+Bond.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
44. <b><i>I Hate and I Love</i></b> by <b>Catullus</b><br />
<br />
A poet of the neoteric tradition from Ancient Greece, this one takes you quite by surprise. Half-read people like me, at least, confine Greek literature (and for good reason) to epic dramas and themes of grandeur and nobility. Common emotions like love and infatuation are not thought to be concerns of their society, till you stumble upon someone like Catullus. He writes for his beloved like anyone of us would, though that might also be a result of some very ordinary translations. Had fun reading this one.<br />
<br />
45. <b><i>Who Wrote the Bhagavad Gita </i></b>by <b>Meghnad Desai</b><br />
<br />
This book scores in the way it problematizes the premise of the Bhagavad Gita, which is a topic I have been obsessed with since a while now. However, it quotes so heavily from a few other sources, that you want to leave this book midway and pick those other ones up. I'd still recommend this to those who like questioning the text itself, not just the contents of it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk0gEDF0BXjU3LoH7oMpgBzweEKZ7JD-6EfWFZynBq0cUsIznvXdNQzxl6zpY3XR-6Q6sWSwR-FFdmgAdfyy-2IuVaQVEjurXmmCaYsqbY5mVCzzxOxRgqhK1cXlBJ1LCmzHqDVXmwuJs/s1600/45_Meghnad+Desai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk0gEDF0BXjU3LoH7oMpgBzweEKZ7JD-6EfWFZynBq0cUsIznvXdNQzxl6zpY3XR-6Q6sWSwR-FFdmgAdfyy-2IuVaQVEjurXmmCaYsqbY5mVCzzxOxRgqhK1cXlBJ1LCmzHqDVXmwuJs/s400/45_Meghnad+Desai.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
46. <b><i>How We Weep and Laugh at the Same Thing </i></b>by <b>Michel de Montaigne</b><br />
<br />
Ordinary. The essays postulate interesting concepts, but the arguments behind them are loose and inept.<br />
<br />
47. <b><i>Poetry Please</i></b> (100 Popular Poems from the BBC Radio 4 Programme)<br />
<br />
Fabulous book! Randomly open it and read from whichever page you stumble upon. The fact that it is illustrated makes it that much more fun to read. (Advice - Read poems aloud. Always read poems aloud.)<br />
<br />
48. <b><i>The Reader </i></b>by <b>Bernhard Schlink</b><br />
<br />
Aah. Can the painful beauty of this book ever be surmised in words? Other than <i>'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas</i>', this constitutes my favourite piece of literature on Holocaust. A sizeable number of books have been inspired by this ghastly phase of history; yet very few communicate the deep gashes on ordinary psyche that such an event has the potential of leaving. The narrative is perhaps also unique because it goes beyond empathising for the Jews, and opens the prism of humanity a little more. Please read it! (and later, see it)<br />
<br />
49. <b><i>I Am An Emotional Creature</i></b> by <b>Eve Ensler</b><br />
<br />
This is a book to be cherished and read and re-read. Eve Ensler is the master of monologues, and she continues the tradition as she takes a few steps into the lives of women from different cultural backgrounds and creates fictional monologues on their life. Written mostly as blank verses, and even rants at places, these poems ring in your mind till long later as sentiments you're at times afraid of, and at other times, unaware of.<br />
<br />
50. <b><i>Fairy Tales at Fifty</i></b> by <b>Upamanyu Chatterjee</b><br />
<br />
A lot of this book went above my head. I have no idea why I lived through it. (Another chance, and I would skip it.)<br />
<br />
51. <b><i>Sufiana : Poems</i></b> by <b>Hoshang Merchant</b><br />
<br />
A collection of some really beautiful poems, of the postcolonial strand. You'll find verses wrapped in history; from which subtly emerges the aroma of memory and personal experiences. My favourite from the collection is a short poem where Hoshang Merchant has used the devnaagri letter 'क' to convey a way of being. Good stuff in here.<br />
<br />
52. <b><i>Lectures on the Ancient History of India </i></b>by <b>D. R. Bhandarkar</b><br />
<br />
For those of you with a research bent of mind, well documented and packaged book. My only conflict remains with seeing academic writing so exhaustively unimaginative.<br />
<br />
53. <b><i>The Snowman</i></b> by<b> Jo Nesbo</b><br />
<br />
If you like thrillers, Jo Nesbo should be your God. And this is his best work. You can put the two and two together.<br />
<br />
54. <b><i>Ambai : Two Novellas and a Story</i></b><br />
<br />
She is beautiful for who she is and what she writes. Commonplace stories told from within the domestic sphere of sensitivity. Strong women laid wondrously well within stronger narratives. I'm so glad to have discovered her this year.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXV8YnJGvtpGxavJDCoOYmfSSr6s95L6Rr3ccheWUDb3Ccc1CcBjenWrynoA2YQez23pNocMoEEdNmI2ILX7FHdvMIkD30k5RX_ZTeM8o-vIMhfDXJYRaNzKP-DH2uwnajhoRmXpJo6Xo/s1600/54_Ambai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXV8YnJGvtpGxavJDCoOYmfSSr6s95L6Rr3ccheWUDb3Ccc1CcBjenWrynoA2YQez23pNocMoEEdNmI2ILX7FHdvMIkD30k5RX_ZTeM8o-vIMhfDXJYRaNzKP-DH2uwnajhoRmXpJo6Xo/s400/54_Ambai.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
55. <b><i>Harry Potter and the Cursed Child </i></b>by <b>J. K. Rowling </b>(and <b>Jack Thorne </b>and <b>John Tiffany</b>)<br />
<br />
This book disappointed a lot of people, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I reckon, what helped me was to read it bearing the limitations of the stage script in mind. Once the hassles of the format got out of way, I could appreciate the storyline too - imaginative and fantastical; classic J. K. Rowling all the way!<br />
<br />
56. <b><i>Hindu Myths </i></b>by <b>Wendy Doniger</b><br />
<br />
Requires effort to read, but this is the best and most comprehensive author on mythology I have ever stumbled upon. In this book, she takes you within the roots, the origins and the enduring philosophical foundations, patterns and symbols our mythological system is based upon. Worth every brain-cell which popped while I tried to understand the patterns in our entire corpus of mythological texts.<br />
<br />
57. <b><i>Palace of Illusions</i></b> by <b>Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni</b><br />
<br />
Contrary to popular opinion, I did not enjoy it. That, however, could easily be a side-effect of reading Wendy Doniger, Sukthankar and Irawati Karve in quick succession, alongside a consistent dose of Devdutt Pattanaik. This was an MnB take on the epic; and since I reek of literary elitism to myself, I'll just run away and hide in a corner.<br />
<br />
58. <b><i>The Incredible History of India's Geography</i></b> by <b>Sanjeev Sanyal</b><br />
<br />
Brilliant book! This is the kid-version of Sanjeev Sanyal's Land of the Seven Rivers, but still took me same if not more time to finish. I'd say about this what I said about the earlier book. Place it on top of your priority list of books to read.<br />
<br />
59. <b><i>तीन सौ रामायणें एवं अन्य निबंध</i> - ए. के. रामानुजन</b><br />
<br />
Because of the controversy surrounding the essay, I had been looking forward to read this since long. When I finally did, I was disappointed by the the level to which we allow our brains to degrade. There is nothing scandalous/blasphemous in the essay(s). They're textual, analytical and literary. Your blind beliefs do not affect the word that has already been written! Let some keep their faith, let others keep these words - as well as the autonomy to read and construct their own meanings.<br />
<br />
60.<b><i> The Storytellers Tale </i></b>by <b>Omair Ahmad</b><br />
<br />
A quick read which is as much the storyteller's tale, as it is storytelling's tale. Try it for a breezy walk into British era royalty of India.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTRBak_hCTzpSnxxE3UTEIBqM6leguf2nhmf4YlM_52eTlx-nx_uB8qMoW0Uvd0YDciXroOxavhlT5UOm4hioIofk063d_umWjNHizo2T1MpQi0bn6Cqcx0xgFAqGZ389ciPT0X6WliRI/s1600/60_Omair+Ahmed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTRBak_hCTzpSnxxE3UTEIBqM6leguf2nhmf4YlM_52eTlx-nx_uB8qMoW0Uvd0YDciXroOxavhlT5UOm4hioIofk063d_umWjNHizo2T1MpQi0bn6Cqcx0xgFAqGZ389ciPT0X6WliRI/s400/60_Omair+Ahmed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
61. <b><i>Quakes and Flames </i></b>by <b>Ruskin Bond</b><br />
<br />
Not the best Ruskin Bond, but what is astonishing is how he manages to warm the readers' hearts while telling tales based on earthquakes and forest fires. I was smiling the familiar Bond smile at the end of each story. (I think that is because he takes these events to be what they are - natural phenomena, and not disasters, which is what unscrupulous human interference makes them.)<br />
<br />
62. <b><i>The Right Kind of Dog</i></b> by <b>Adil Jussawalla</b><br />
<br />
The poet is, and correctly so, among the best contemporary ones we have. He weaves into humour and satire everyday struggles and ordinary situations - some meaning within layers of hilarity. Worth reading, especially with the illustrations embellishing ample pages.<br />
<br />
63. <b><i>Krishna's Forgotten Poets</i></b> by <b>Harsha V. Dehejia </b>and <b>Ramanand Sharma</b><br />
<br />
A repository of some great poems and artwork - this text reads like a literary history of all ever devotionally documented about Krishna. In verse and in paint. A huge book, edited and designed painstakingly, it makes you meditate on the approachable divinity which Krishna was - owned by women as one of the kinsfolk. A naughty son, a mischievous <i>gwala</i>, a hypnotic flute player and the secret love of so many - Krishna finds manifestation by what devotees and lovers made of him. The corpus is huge, and I think I am lucky that this book found me. I spent the entire Janmashtami reading this, and I plan on making it an annual ritual. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtIPmYWRjDU6292hnlGpqzZJcf5sXfb1Ywm9yp4j_B6QFKqZS1qqor5Gv3ZuCb-8eZ3bNIJxewtNL-m7skWWhG13ocPF4rSwISZiE8qu53Xe_YkI4yrlwysL4fnDBz7vGVosloXIm-fD8/s1600/63_Krishna+Poems.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtIPmYWRjDU6292hnlGpqzZJcf5sXfb1Ywm9yp4j_B6QFKqZS1qqor5Gv3ZuCb-8eZ3bNIJxewtNL-m7skWWhG13ocPF4rSwISZiE8qu53Xe_YkI4yrlwysL4fnDBz7vGVosloXIm-fD8/s400/63_Krishna+Poems.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
64.<b><i> Why I Am An Athiest</i></b> by <b>Bhagat Singh</b><br />
<br />
It is hailed as a historically important text, and it definitely is one. To read a young Bhagat Singh's thoughts, when he was younger than most of us, is eye-opening for the kind of depth and sombreness depicted in them. I still struggle to identify beliefs, but the greatest point of inspiration in this little book is the firmness and ease with which the beliefs of the revolutionary are articulated. And this makes you understand the persona was not as simple as the one who occupies our imagination.<br />
<br />
65. <b><i>Nawabs, Nudes and Noodles</i></b> by <b>Ambi Parmeswaran</b><br />
<br />
Again, among the best reads of the year. It is simply a compilation of advertising trends in the Indian industry since the earliest days. At once, the book is insightful and nostalgic. I was particularly prone to googling alongside the advertisements mentioned in the text, and this used to last, on occasions as an unending string of ad after ad. There is much understanding of trends and issues in the Indian advertising industry which this book will help you build.<br />
<br />
66. W<b><i>alking Erect with an Unfaltering Gaze</i></b> by <b>Ambai</b><br />
<br />
Because the stories of Ambai fascinated me so much (like mentioned in point 54), I wanted to know more about this author, hence this monologic-biographical piece by the author was picked up. And while it was rather concise, it still gave me enough to form great levels of respect and admiration for her. Her brand of feminism is subtle but firm, and her work in the domain of gender studies inspiring. Worth a read, anyday!<br />
<br />
67. <b><i>Munnu, A Boy from Kashmir</i></b> by <b>Malik Sajad</b><br />
<br />
First graphic novel read in life and WHAT A GREAT EXPERIENCE. It is a satire, allegory, subaltern retelling - all together - of the Kashmiri people. Don't denounce this as just a perspective or a one-sided view - the thread of personal in perspectives is what makes literature far reaching and human. This is a treatise on the contemporary Kashmir and the roots of its contemporary issues. All of us as must try and, at least, once, understand Sajad's story and the brilliance of the symbols he uses to make it impactful.<br />
<br />
68. <b><i>My Favourite Nature Stories </i></b>by<b> Ruskin Bond</b><br />
<br />
Ruskin Bond is always beautiful. Simple, nice. (but not among my favourites by him.)<br />
<br />
69. <b><i>What is Not Yours is Not Yours</i></b> by <b>Helen Oyeyemi</b><br />
<br />
Couldn't keep up with the book.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5pbI24KjysjCZ1UtDECEPiKDPPGejZB5KqkrkAMC6vxDn7CmHRt5DHMlg_aqbZFscvtvArFTZwvx4jEvzRyCBPMUXO1An4e3tNTK46ZkHYRyNufadXgASyS_YK2pDjegHA3RXT3DWk0/s1600/69_Helen+Oyeyemi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5pbI24KjysjCZ1UtDECEPiKDPPGejZB5KqkrkAMC6vxDn7CmHRt5DHMlg_aqbZFscvtvArFTZwvx4jEvzRyCBPMUXO1An4e3tNTK46ZkHYRyNufadXgASyS_YK2pDjegHA3RXT3DWk0/s400/69_Helen+Oyeyemi.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
70. <b><i>दो खिड़कियाँ</i> - अमृता प्रीतम</b><br />
<br />
The first ever foray into Amrita Pritam's (translated) prose and I understood well the source of criticism on how audacious her stories are. Because they are. Strong female characters with wounds as large as entire universes. Fierce romantics, and individual thinkers, the women of these stories are so real that you'd end up admiring them. Not the melodrama you'd associate when stories smell of villages; quite the opposite. These stories wound your heart, so they can make a place there.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji6Txrw-yCWtFrDN-bh00-DYOGCpEnx0KXTDz-VITCTVTPN_aPBDa3uGvDZ_cWja9A63UDAWbAoQGJ60YL38JcfkO0Ge0VqojTBgNKMa08fvUn34ah1AeFKe9j_39Txo8sHULefqW67aI/s1600/70_Amrita+Pritam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji6Txrw-yCWtFrDN-bh00-DYOGCpEnx0KXTDz-VITCTVTPN_aPBDa3uGvDZ_cWja9A63UDAWbAoQGJ60YL38JcfkO0Ge0VqojTBgNKMa08fvUn34ah1AeFKe9j_39Txo8sHULefqW67aI/s400/70_Amrita+Pritam.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
71. <b><i>इश्क़ कोई न्यूज़ नहीं</i> - विनीत कुमार</b><br />
<br />
I'd suggest skipping this.<br />
<br />
72. <b><i>Goblin Market </i></b>by <b>Christina Rossetti</b><br />
<br />
Beautiful! Rossetti's verses were a part of my subconscious when I was growing up for the elegance of nature and romance in them. A convergence of them all made for a pleasing journey.<br />
<br />
73. <b><i>A Thousand Unspoken Words </i></b>by <b>Paulami Duttagupta</b><br />
<br />
It was a love story which surprised me for the calm intensity it maintained. A tale set in Bengal of tumultuous times, it not only speaks of romance and admiration, but also tries to bridge the gap between ideals and reality. A quick, satisfying read.<br />
<br />
74. <b><i>Rekha, the Untold Story</i></b> by <b>Yasser Usman</b><br />
<br />
Bias alert! Since I had a tiny association with the book when it was being brought together, I do honestly think that it is the best Bollywood biography ever written! The fact that many writers, readers, tabloids, and journals think the same is such a 'yay' factor for 2016. On a personal note, you MUST read this book for the breezy style of writing and the honest attempt it makes at humanising a star whose only existed between extremes of controversies and glories. Put it on your reading list now!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzU8HE4NATLAO9GSAm_s-rvcGsHwyl6528MN8kdjLKjN0f5fWpvL8AdpEhvV5V_GtUZCBTiXvfH-pRGOvPmq1TUIJobjkW8HYdq2-G8NFGqbYk4C0Yymj1b8pnCrYXAXNovLEBXylxAHY/s1600/74_Yasser+Usman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzU8HE4NATLAO9GSAm_s-rvcGsHwyl6528MN8kdjLKjN0f5fWpvL8AdpEhvV5V_GtUZCBTiXvfH-pRGOvPmq1TUIJobjkW8HYdq2-G8NFGqbYk4C0Yymj1b8pnCrYXAXNovLEBXylxAHY/s400/74_Yasser+Usman.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
75. <b><i>Devlok </i></b>by <b>Devdutt Pattanaik</b><br />
<br />
A good compilation, especially for those who like the TV avatar of the mythologist. I love the depth in Devdutt's arguments though, which the book glaringly lacks.<br />
<br />
76. <b><i>My Life had Stood a Loaded Gun </i></b>by <b>Emily Dickinson</b><br />
<br />
It is Dickinson. She does not need validation. Go read!<br />
<br />
77. <b><i>Poems that Make Grown Women Cry</i></b> by <b>Anthony</b> and<b> Ben Holden</b><br />
<br />
Oh. So. Beautiful. The editors go out asking a 100 women which poems make them cry and why. So here is a compilation, not only of 100 very evocative poems, but also personal anecdotes of why these poems matter in the lives of the respective readers. Added icing is the cultural and lingual diversity the poems are drawn from. The copy I read was borrowed from the library, so I'm definitely going out to buy one to include in my personal collection.<br />
<br />
78. <b><i>Amir Khusrau, the Man in Riddles</i></b> by <b>Ankit Chadha</b><br />
<br />
This is a beautiful compilation of the fabled riddles of Hazrat Amir Khusrau, along with philosophical explanations of the answers and the symbolism in those answers. Why I call the book beautiful is not merely because of the textual content, but for the vivid illustrations the book is drenched in. You've got to see it to believe it!<br />
<br />
79. <b><i>The Tenth Rasa, an Anthology of Indian Nonsense</i></b> (edited by <b>Michael Heyman</b>)<br />
<br />
For the academically inclined, this book is a gold mine. It compiles nonsense literature - an oft ignored genre - from across languages, in different literary forms. Adequate attempt for cultural contextualisation has been made, lest meaning be entirely lost in translating nonsense - which, by the way, is among the most difficult tasks in translation practice and studies.<br />
<br />
80. <b><i>परवीन शाकिर - प्रतिनिधि कविताएं</i></b><br />
<br />
I'm head over heels in love with her poetry. What else do I say. <i>(Woh toh khushbu hai hawaaon mein bikhar jaaega / masla toh phool ka hai, phool kidhar jaaega)</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic9dCJlLWWUggJ3cS57OeGBa9zbsxRplbDxAiGzkXRng8XHLRmEAGhmoSJdoannDw6-9tJmsdw_DzOBCkvlJfcEbFcwp_5PHGzobM5mRBvWNRUmHS_CVYczk6m6CY7Kw-nh0lYSoPPFW0/s1600/80_Parveen+Shakir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic9dCJlLWWUggJ3cS57OeGBa9zbsxRplbDxAiGzkXRng8XHLRmEAGhmoSJdoannDw6-9tJmsdw_DzOBCkvlJfcEbFcwp_5PHGzobM5mRBvWNRUmHS_CVYczk6m6CY7Kw-nh0lYSoPPFW0/s400/80_Parveen+Shakir.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
81. <b><i>Red Kite Adventure</i></b> by <b>Leela Gour Broome</b><br />
<br />
Children's adventure story. Nicely written. Was a super-quick read for me, and while I deluded myself with predictions on the way the plot would unfold, the story took some intelligent turns to keep me hooked. At the end, it was about childhood friendship. All of us must read about those pure relationships once in a while.<br />
<br />
82. <b><i>Pandeymonium</i></b> by <b>Piyush Pandey</b><br />
<br />
I have mixed feelings about this one. I immensely enjoyed going through it, but not because of the content. It was rather because of the national infatuation that our generation possesses towards this giant, legendary ad-filmmaker. Piyush Pandey is a cult in his own self. So, while it was nice to discover him and his beliefs, I wish the book was less Ogilvy and more advertising. I wish instances had been built into case studies before getting lost in personal triumphs and learnings. (Having said that, I will still go ahead and gift this one to a couple)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzgLXAovg9K5da6A_F9TIAMGpMcKUj0V5gHWT7GlJ7sAz1GRjNuJoYnsVeEe-Pbq6SV5Y3eItTI3tVbKsBL_O5EazpDnDxBLiuFzxLlGbxMmbhMfeSBAycMvUF8_oYjqCTZx_y26uPQI/s1600/82_Piyush+Pandey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzgLXAovg9K5da6A_F9TIAMGpMcKUj0V5gHWT7GlJ7sAz1GRjNuJoYnsVeEe-Pbq6SV5Y3eItTI3tVbKsBL_O5EazpDnDxBLiuFzxLlGbxMmbhMfeSBAycMvUF8_oYjqCTZx_y26uPQI/s400/82_Piyush+Pandey.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
83. <b><i>The Mahabharata, A Child's View</i></b> by<b> Samhita Arni</b><br />
<br />
Mindblowing. You'd think because a 13 year old has written (and illustrated!) it, this will be a simple retelling of the Mahabharata. You'd be mistaken. It is as complex as the basic narrative demands, and it comes with a introduction where the prodigious author shares informed opinions on why she prefers Duryodhan's character over Yudhishthir's. She almost convinced me, which is difficult, since I stand on the threshold opposite to blind-worshipping the defeated, because we believe they were wronged. But this girl, she has lent us a wondrous version of the grandest epic of the world.<br />
<br />
84. <b><i>How Did the Harappans Say Hello (and 16 other Mysteries of History) </i></b>by <b>Anu Kumar</b><br />
85. <b><i>The World's Funniest Folk Tales </i></b>by <b>Rajee Raman</b><br />
<br />
Chill books. Random facts in first and some nice stories in the second. Won't ask you to read them. Won't tell you not to.<br />
<br />
86.<b><i> On the Meaning of Mahabharata </i></b>by <b>V. S. Sukthankar</b><br />
<br />
If there is one scholar I prostrate myself in front of insofar as Mahabharata studies are concerned, it is Sukthankar. This one requires a detailed analysis, for a later day. Superbook!<br />
<br />
87. (A miss on the list. I know I have read something, but failed/forgot to document it.)<br />
<br />
88. <b><i>The Thorn Birds </i></b>by <b>Colleen McCollough</b><br />
<br />
Some books make me sad for not having discovered them sooner. This is one such. Read in detail about my fascination with this one <a href="http://www.nascentemissions.com/2016/11/the-perfect-winter-read.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj84SNpzMZrZcn31z6T8TV1uBKSN4_sBsSj-wdZlBHpxyD7jxtvLwjBL0YdESH_EgmcHjQeSbHPqYtm0OzX7J8lZiXkkv3_c-QCuZKY3hSHPrdzf6elm888ARoph1BiEQBS-nfLx_PrW6M/s1600/88_Colleen+McCollough.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj84SNpzMZrZcn31z6T8TV1uBKSN4_sBsSj-wdZlBHpxyD7jxtvLwjBL0YdESH_EgmcHjQeSbHPqYtm0OzX7J8lZiXkkv3_c-QCuZKY3hSHPrdzf6elm888ARoph1BiEQBS-nfLx_PrW6M/s400/88_Colleen+McCollough.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
89. <b><i>Gulbadan</i></b> by <b>Rumer Godden</b><br />
<br />
Strangely enough, very disappointing.<br />
<br />
90. <b><i>The Little Prince </i></b>by <b>Antoine de Saint-Exupery</b><br />
<br />
This book is a MANDATORY reading for all humans alive. Please read, and we may later discuss.<br />
<br />
91. <b><i>By The River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept</i></b> by <b>Paulo Coelho</b><br />
<br />
Overrated, but beautiful nevertheless. Loving demands much of us, craze and submission at the least. Renunciation and tolerance, too. Combined with a doze of spiritually uplifting content, the romance of Coelho is unique and worth engaging with.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWamGw9L7LvMVPrxfL_NbqzC1LAI4riSNrFG589U54WRPZW924vWLgVoIKV2BVWMJOC0OCeCf4xo18ixiM8TEwsUf9bLzwVE0eobtHp82_Yj9v6xbjLCryhKJkc5o0QzDKbSn_oozUaU/s1600/91_Paulo+Coelho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWamGw9L7LvMVPrxfL_NbqzC1LAI4riSNrFG589U54WRPZW924vWLgVoIKV2BVWMJOC0OCeCf4xo18ixiM8TEwsUf9bLzwVE0eobtHp82_Yj9v6xbjLCryhKJkc5o0QzDKbSn_oozUaU/s400/91_Paulo+Coelho.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
92. <b><i>Death Under the Deodars : The Adventures of Miss Ripley Bean</i></b> by <b>Ruskin Bond</b><br />
<br />
The best Rusking Bond I read the entire year.<br />
<br />
93. <b><i>When You Reach Me </i></b>by <b>Rebecca Stead</b><br />
<br />
No opinion.<br />
<br />
94. <b><i>In Other Words </i></b>by<b> Jhumpa Lahiri</b><br />
<br />
A wonderful book, the second half of it is pure gold. It is non-fiction based on Jhumpa Lahiri's journey from one language to another - the latter her diglossia not aiding her in. What is interesting is that you would never have thought you'll read this English author in English translation. Her romance with Italian, arguably the most romantic language in the world is engaging, endearing and even frustrating at places. 'Language is the principle metaphor' - remains the most profound line from the book for me.<br />
<br />
95. <b><i>Our Moon Has Blood Clots</i></b> by <b>Rahul Pandita</b><br />
<br />
Again, one of those books all of us must read - first with empathy, and later, perhaps with objectivity. This was the year's second book on Kashmir, now dwelling on the plight of the Pandits from the valley. Sensitive, yet sensible all at once, the book has done well to maintain this balance of storytelling, while remaining fiercely personal. I did not cry at any of the tragedies mentioned in the book, except at the oscillations between persistence and denial of memory. It is a beautiful book, for the way it chronicles, with different voices, the painful period of Kashmiri history.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgppmdPsuUnIgdC5HpeycPv3zMghyTmTNKeYFK4UmUn_t5lNjLUlgDX66c2dIMSXoM79CEXFKu9tKRuxFasEWitvuRCnvjwMuorY4jKEAIZf_b7PsJG-jyIx5fLIe3vwtj8EXpT-Y6qJyk/s1600/95_Rahul+Pandita.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgppmdPsuUnIgdC5HpeycPv3zMghyTmTNKeYFK4UmUn_t5lNjLUlgDX66c2dIMSXoM79CEXFKu9tKRuxFasEWitvuRCnvjwMuorY4jKEAIZf_b7PsJG-jyIx5fLIe3vwtj8EXpT-Y6qJyk/s400/95_Rahul+Pandita.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
96.<b><i> एक चुप्पे शख्स की डायरी</i></b><br />
<br />
Little yellow diary, zero expectations, but some relatable, preciously worded sentiments in here. Loved reading it, again and again! This has vignettes from the life of an unknown, silent man.<br />
<br />
97. <b><i>Amrita-Imroz</i></b> by <b>Uma Trilok</b><br />
<br />
It is not a very well written book, but I would still go ahead and recommend it to all, because the basic story is so strong. Amrita was an unconventional lady, as I discovered through her stories; and her love/companionship/relationship is more unconventional than any I have known. Her bond with Imroz is the kind which makes you want to believe in the ease and surrealism of love. In the inherent nurturing characteristic of love. In the innocence and fulfilment of love. The perfect end to my 2016, on the morning of the last day, as I wept reciting '<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hL9eaEDKSBQ" target="_blank">main tainu phir milaangi</a>'.<br />
<br />
Phew!<br />
<br />
Now I can get on to 2017's reading. Have a wonderful new year :)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fHFea_5pe3-YnyoZWNDMXTvvCGt5iUR6vQtAJoqEBuggfzCmvrQ5hmomWtTxLZ7WCgGIKZgTUrovqPFegaj3UdQ2DjJNp7BXw53FmWyhvR4iHEHcV2tbdJPJQGyOPYGUTcZLHohS6Sk/s1600/14183844_10153895363742473_2327466122205952383_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fHFea_5pe3-YnyoZWNDMXTvvCGt5iUR6vQtAJoqEBuggfzCmvrQ5hmomWtTxLZ7WCgGIKZgTUrovqPFegaj3UdQ2DjJNp7BXw53FmWyhvR4iHEHcV2tbdJPJQGyOPYGUTcZLHohS6Sk/s640/14183844_10153895363742473_2327466122205952383_n.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-70609484957550731472016-11-28T00:22:00.000+05:302016-11-28T00:30:17.015+05:30The Perfect Winter Read <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><i>"There is a legend about a bird which
sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face
of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree,
and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage
branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And, dying, it
rises above its own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale. One
superlative song, existence the price."</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">- Colleen McCullough<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">(The Thord Birds, Page 422, 30th Anniversary Edition)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">What are your expectations from winters? Mine are rather simple. Warmth. Whether it comes via a fond conversation over drinks, or through mid-morning strolls in the beautiful monuments of Delhi. Or through a book which makes you forget all else as you plunge nose-deep into it's world of romance. Along with a steaming cup of Earl Grey as you lie limp wrapped in a blanket. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGVeM4pz1oqR6ovJ59nbXxVf63v_jQ8cC1mF6rnHsbgKoqaPok9FT6D6EIjf-r4d54axOSg7HvoqvyhNzzg6nXTvYG5TjvEn-GPZuKzzw0iylmc2KtCBZ7hkyp7Kkov4DK_mfbUNySuY/s1600/15181605_10154128372262473_8130377640893176974_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGVeM4pz1oqR6ovJ59nbXxVf63v_jQ8cC1mF6rnHsbgKoqaPok9FT6D6EIjf-r4d54axOSg7HvoqvyhNzzg6nXTvYG5TjvEn-GPZuKzzw0iylmc2KtCBZ7hkyp7Kkov4DK_mfbUNySuY/s640/15181605_10154128372262473_8130377640893176974_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">While the first two expectations I am still working on, the last got fulfilled through the most gorgeous read which was literally thrust into my hands by the very sweet librarian at Shiv Nadar School, Gurgaon. Titled <i><b>'The Thorn Birds'</b></i>, I had no idea it was every bit the literary classic I had wanted to lay my hands on since long. It just looked thick, and good enough to hide behind the pages off for a while. And so, I grabbed it and began turning pages at the solemn pace the story demands out of a reader. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It is not a page turner - a book like this never can be. It is a tale which makes you shut the covers once in a while to reflect, not necessarily on the contents of the story, but perhaps on the universal condition and experience of humans and humanity. It doesn't make you feel wretched; but it makes you realise how equal a participant you are in the inescapable suffering and pain which comes packaged with life. It makes you belong to this world, in its tribulations, if not the triumphs. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But this is not all why I enjoyed reading the book. I loved it because it churned the ordinary into grand. To call it a love-story between Meggie Cleary and Ralph de Bricassart would be too less. It is a life story extending to three generations, taking the reader painstakingly through every detail, every season, every loss, and every minute of maturing which the characters undergo. It contains characters who are not shy of evolving or altering. These characters - people - respond not to their impulsive vows bound in time and situations, but to life itself. They respond to fears, tragedies, prospects and desires just like we would. It is fabulous to see how at the end, you can actually pin-point all incidents which led to the complex layers that have evolved within each character. That, dear friends, is very, very fine writing. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A tall, imposing presence in the text is that of Drogheda - the land on which most of the story is based. Even when the tale ventures beyond the land and sea, Drogheda remains conspicuous by its absence. What is profound about this spatial dimension is that just when you are led into believing that there is a permanence which we all must return to, you're made to realise that such permanence can never be earthly. It has to be divine. It has to be of the realm beyond. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaXB_sOpBKQHfeIK6uvwRYd7ETwG441-k0uoplXcNPU4fTiO84X9H4-TGr4yEQXC2mwMy6zxLeC9Psp6aK4HOULwQy2qWVTbxy9RR2Lc5nXrNpWv8pUVAbYK7tV67PQAtWriof_IqDntk/s1600/Colleeen-McCullough.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaXB_sOpBKQHfeIK6uvwRYd7ETwG441-k0uoplXcNPU4fTiO84X9H4-TGr4yEQXC2mwMy6zxLeC9Psp6aK4HOULwQy2qWVTbxy9RR2Lc5nXrNpWv8pUVAbYK7tV67PQAtWriof_IqDntk/s400/Colleeen-McCullough.jpg" width="287" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The author - Collen McCullough - who died aged 77 last year.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And finally, the one reason the book will stay with me is because it taught me to see fulfilment in tragedies. It makes you believe that you may begin with a love story, and end up with another. It showed me how answers come to those who believe, not to those who doubt. And also because it, unerringly, and non-judgmentally, brought up the beautiful discrepancies as they exist between genders - through the upbringing, conditioning and also, intuitively perceiving the world. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like I said, calling this a love story would be too less. It is a story of lives - many lives, lived and lost. Most certainly recommended to all looking for something replete with grand ordinariness, and ordinary grandeur. </div>
</div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-38750564012909928442016-11-07T00:57:00.001+05:302016-11-07T00:57:46.427+05:30Moments of Epiphany<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have not written since a long time. I have made plans. Elaborate lists with themes. I have created full length stories in my head. I have saved pictures to write poems on. I have clicked images of people and their characters in my head. All for the sake of someday returning to <i>Nascent Emissions </i>and penning them all down, but each week presented a new picture of my own failure to my head. The amount of stories I have now hoarded inside me is nothing short of criminal. And the curious part is, it is not a crime against humanity, so much as it is a sin against my own heart which has now grown heavy, very heavy with the weight of all that is untold, and unshared.<br />
<br />
Today, however, something triggered a change, forcing me to open my laptop, even though the hours are late and office time near. I had planned on sleeping the entire day - thanks to the constant dizziness caused by the Delhi smog, till I remembered a commitment. Two very sweet girls -<b> Ditsa </b>and <b>Pushpangana</b> had invited me over to give a short talk at their monthly get-togethers to encourage prose writers. They call their endeavour - <b><i>Euphoric Epiphanies</i></b> - a complex name signifying a very basic human urge, that to write and then to share what has been written with so much heart and labour. Of course, in the presence of a warm and receptive audience.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi170b5sDtqYkJI4MPTMuRRXu2PShm07NWj4QGxByNa5wORI2QNy3ExQ1Y7riY-VPIOYwjkObokW53T1_w6WX9iiD_OzbI0F1TGRwMrGaZ_NOl8T_sIiPkLAdFTJPQnd45aECNjcjiqfb4/s1600/IMG_20161106_211918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi170b5sDtqYkJI4MPTMuRRXu2PShm07NWj4QGxByNa5wORI2QNy3ExQ1Y7riY-VPIOYwjkObokW53T1_w6WX9iiD_OzbI0F1TGRwMrGaZ_NOl8T_sIiPkLAdFTJPQnd45aECNjcjiqfb4/s640/IMG_20161106_211918.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So I dragged myself out, reached the meet-up an hour late with an itchy throat and itchier head (thanks, again, to the Delhi smog), and was given a fabulous welcome note (most of which I missed), post which I shared a little something on prose-and-poetry writing. The writers who had collected at the spot, the beautiful Hauz Khas Monument Complex, gave me more than their ears, when they engaged in a discussion about what they find more solace in - prose or poetry. Surprisingly, most of them found poetry to be their calling, since prose demanded more 'effort', or did not come as naturally to them. While for the latter reason, I feel convinced, I am nowhere as satisfied with writers taking to a form of writing because it is easier. Poetry demands as much, if not more effort, because of the gravitas of thoughts and the unity of meaning which a poet constantly aspires towards while churning out lyrics in the most apt words, with music, and with metaphors yet to be unravelled and understood by the world.<br />
<br />
I also read aloud my favourite prose passage from a book titled <b><i>Ammi - Letters to a Democratic Mother</i></b>, authored by <b>Saeed Akhtar Mirza</b>. The excerpt dwelt upon the simple, yet profound love story of the author's parents - Nusrat Beg and Jahanara Begum. In the simplicity of that tale, I know many hearts felt the weight of their own heaviness lift off.<br />
<br />
It was already a very fulfilling day, but became grand when I received a special handmade gift from the organisers (I love gifts - always remember that!). Ditsa and Pushpangana (and Tavishi) put together a little box crafted like a book for me. This box/book was titled 'Nascent Emissions', and this is when I realised how others still remember what I have conveniently forgotten. With over 230 posts, this blog has chronicled most of me, through the best and worst of times. And thanks to the kindness shown by the girls, I had to get back here and pen a little of whatever I could. Truth be told, a lot came to me in life because of this virtual collection of very personal writings - my first writing assignments, as well as a little recognition in the world of bloggers. This blog, in fact, also served as the live portfolio for my first job!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNL69uhPnlJ2NUs3bqK5oyPj-CAzXp58fkFtv1dHsfQ46ouErZe6u8rhJhoEtYGNPHCzxPeOG7kNOBGz4JNMuNmTWrv7-mYJJVMgTarV4toZY_uC1YbBECD_LDQGK3nttxRjeUV6AHNsk/s1600/BeautyPlusMe_20161106230010_fast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNL69uhPnlJ2NUs3bqK5oyPj-CAzXp58fkFtv1dHsfQ46ouErZe6u8rhJhoEtYGNPHCzxPeOG7kNOBGz4JNMuNmTWrv7-mYJJVMgTarV4toZY_uC1YbBECD_LDQGK3nttxRjeUV6AHNsk/s400/BeautyPlusMe_20161106230010_fast.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So, thank you Ditsa, Pushpangana and Tavishi, for putting together this heartwarming labour of love. I would keep it very close to my heart. Thank you also for the pretty bookmarks with prettier quotes on them - all of which, by the way, are my favourites! How do you people know me so well? Cyber stalking, eh? And those notes on coffee smeared pages - sigh! How do I even begin to say how loved they made me feel?<br />
<br />
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Continue doing pretty things to make our smog-ridden world a more tolerable place to live in. And thank you, yet again, for shoving the words 'Nascent Emissions' in my face, and having me land up back here, happily!<br />
<br />
I hope the associations forged today continue a tad longer :) </div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-62066960622574445662016-09-12T00:12:00.003+05:302016-09-12T00:17:38.683+05:30100 Days of Poetry - Part II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So, on 18th July, 2016, I began this series called #100DaysOfPoetry, and decided that I am going to collate the individual poems here in sets of 10.<br />
<br />
The first 10 can be read here - <b><a href="http://www.nascentemissions.com/2016/07/100-days-of-poetry-part-1.html" target="_blank">Part 1</a></b><br />
<br />
The next 10 are -<br />
<br />
11. <b>John Donne - <i>The Good Morrow</i></b><br />
<br />
<i>Context </i>- I studied this during my Masters in Jamia, and instantly fell in love with this love which is beyond cartographic definitions.<br />
<br />
<i>Poet</i> - Among the greatest of metaphysical poets, John Donne is also remembered for his profound prose. He was the master of 'conceits', which are a category of metaphors where the comparison is rather abstract. In fact, Helen Gardner has famously commented on conceits by calling them a 'comparison whose ingenuity is more striking than their justness.'<br />
<br />
<i>Takeaway</i> - The beautiful notion that when you are with your lover, your world converges in the little space you inhabit.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0WKrdiXuQnFetReI3eVHPgMc4SZt4079J29-n1CYyVbfVdQmvCkc5rYUmD0MUUuoSlyQXq3-uFRGH0HXLIxCPJXSpkP96n44mPr6j5w1FhurqNWFGMehzCkvqv3APOgLNS4bheezhns/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0WKrdiXuQnFetReI3eVHPgMc4SZt4079J29-n1CYyVbfVdQmvCkc5rYUmD0MUUuoSlyQXq3-uFRGH0HXLIxCPJXSpkP96n44mPr6j5w1FhurqNWFGMehzCkvqv3APOgLNS4bheezhns/s640/11.jpg" width="514" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
12. <b>C. Day Lewis - <i>Walking Away</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context</i> - I found this hidden away in this amazing book called <b><i>'Poetry Please'</i></b>, which is a collection of the 100 popular poems from BBC Radio 4 programme. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet</i> - Cecil Day Lewis has held the distinction of being the Poet Laureate of UK. A 20th century poet, he is of Anglo-Irish origins. If you have ever heard the name Nicholas Blake - the author of detective novels, he is the same guy. Till date, he is remembered as a voice of revolution in poetry and politics. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway </i>- The last line - "And love is proved in the letting go."</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0unebwmJvXSWKi-ccpGm5fe9-AqvM1111rR8Jnd8Zns9JMVuyScaXPSbfYVhz6szghDh2aCbHTXB99cvP-fOymSL7ODxy_hqdm_S7trwpGMQ_188sWGoGD6JXojgklVZa5BxKRL0HgT4/s1600/12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0unebwmJvXSWKi-ccpGm5fe9-AqvM1111rR8Jnd8Zns9JMVuyScaXPSbfYVhz6szghDh2aCbHTXB99cvP-fOymSL7ODxy_hqdm_S7trwpGMQ_188sWGoGD6JXojgklVZa5BxKRL0HgT4/s640/12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
13. <b>Agha Shahid Ali - <i>Tonight</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context </i>- FAVOURITE poem. By far. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet </i>- A Kashmiri poet, Agha Shahid Ali is a dear, favourite voice from the postcolonial corpus. His poems smell of nostalgia, of a lost land, of lost culture, of despair, of identity, of conflict and seamlessly blend traditional notions with modern connotations. He is credited with giving ghazals their just place in English language. And I can go on about him, </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway </i>- Each couplet in this poem is a discourse in itself. The poem in the attached image is incomplete - find a version which has the epigraph. This is a ghazal in English, following each rule by the book of the Persian poetic form. And it is beautiful. So beautiful. By the way, can you figure out who is the narrator in this poem?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIir5dWYZh6qFJPa9gZeN8zUXHcvlk2dBAem2xQs_DNsyecQOmL4_ahBy33NvgZCa8QmWCSd17sioZapDPfs3uH2GATD-5lm3-UvUmzRrpsQxBjK2J5mzTMj_dwOcMxDV7R73lw5SPR2c/s1600/13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIir5dWYZh6qFJPa9gZeN8zUXHcvlk2dBAem2xQs_DNsyecQOmL4_ahBy33NvgZCa8QmWCSd17sioZapDPfs3uH2GATD-5lm3-UvUmzRrpsQxBjK2J5mzTMj_dwOcMxDV7R73lw5SPR2c/s640/13.jpg" width="504" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
14. <b>Judith Wright - <i>Failure of Communion</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context</i> - Judith Wright lay on the unexplored terrain of poets for me, especially since the first poem I read of hers was supposedly a 'ghazal', and it just did not seem to be one. That put me off. Rediscovery began with this poem.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet</i> - Wright is an Australian poet and environmentalist. Among her poems, '<i>Woman to Man' </i>has the most hallowed status. And rest, I am still exploring. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway</i> - The subtle sensitivities of relationships encased in-between the words. Oh so nice! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__Uw1ALzz55TMN4kqaUv5ZWzS1qFN2nysaKVGY4A8OB_ODkq95hdeeJtWXwdkk19WczJs854QzGr0imaHpUdI17Wv7gdh1NtpkpMvmFTqs29QqWpeSFFVcu-R7m4tN7xKLGgGrkehkaE/s1600/14.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__Uw1ALzz55TMN4kqaUv5ZWzS1qFN2nysaKVGY4A8OB_ODkq95hdeeJtWXwdkk19WczJs854QzGr0imaHpUdI17Wv7gdh1NtpkpMvmFTqs29QqWpeSFFVcu-R7m4tN7xKLGgGrkehkaE/s400/14.jpg" width="375" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
15. <b>Margaret Atwood - <i>The Moment</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context </i>- Stumbled upon it while randomly googling Margaret Atwood poems. (Yes, I do that.)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet </i>- Atwood is a contemporary legend. On her recent visit to Delhi, she has been known to cause a stampede. Of Canadian origins, she dons many hats - poet, environmentalist, novelist, critic etc. <i>Handmaid's Tale</i> is perhaps her most read work. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway</i> - Stoicism. That is my takeaway. What is yours?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWQV772g0x2h0hOArOT4aFD1Sc0xn4ThCYUYaUoCbdQbfkd9G_3XUsh4QVBvE2jpmT9ALfsFVDe8F1GBxtm1cLOSNmIkbfmoOIpxzg8SeaJA3SCgKEybsSsgcOUPq8X88Yq89Lvd8lNAs/s1600/15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWQV772g0x2h0hOArOT4aFD1Sc0xn4ThCYUYaUoCbdQbfkd9G_3XUsh4QVBvE2jpmT9ALfsFVDe8F1GBxtm1cLOSNmIkbfmoOIpxzg8SeaJA3SCgKEybsSsgcOUPq8X88Yq89Lvd8lNAs/s640/15.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
16.<b> Lord Byron - <i>She Walks in Beauty</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context </i>- Among love lyric, this has been in my imagination since much before I can recall. Many writing exercises have begun with these oft-quoted words. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet -</i> Byron is a Romantic poet, and also the genesis point of the term 'Byronic Hero' - the charming recluse, or the tortured charmer. Byron himself, being a Romantic poet, dwelt extensively on the theme of 'nature' and its dichotomy with civilization and urban living. Nature, while being used to evoke metaphors, was also the all powerful entity, and an apt companion for humanity. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway</i> - Beauty, and a companion for lovelorn nocturnal readings. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqELCbiKWa4PHDVVpLF4EaYpDR0gM1uJn19glxRbStnfrfsc83OwEuzf8rUdN6lYqOQAkeuBovwxvpuZS3PvU18L94Xbe4YIyxlZrLNMotE-aN4cmh41gisN_kYyTaZEYhDJO1XyAeZtM/s1600/16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqELCbiKWa4PHDVVpLF4EaYpDR0gM1uJn19glxRbStnfrfsc83OwEuzf8rUdN6lYqOQAkeuBovwxvpuZS3PvU18L94Xbe4YIyxlZrLNMotE-aN4cmh41gisN_kYyTaZEYhDJO1XyAeZtM/s640/16.jpg" width="506" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
17. <b>P. B. Shelley - <i>Good Night</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context</i> - I just needed a nice 'good night' wish to send across to a friend and was reminded of this. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet</i> - Another Romantic poet. Like fellow Romantics, he too dwelt deeply on the power of nature, and in addition, the power of human intellect. He saw the poet as a seer, a commentator and a visionary. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway</i> - Thinking what is a 'good night' for me. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6yorZ896Ow9waGKWYzbQy0tSG4yQlfUyD_7fh3PY9vQrVGp6pkcWfhOyWji0e1fjNvzp0IHELSk0cavKXaxSEoREpEklaYDW3fZ7eUXoZ-jLjVyVzk2978-NxI7wNjV45R1JjsxWKaI/s1600/17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6yorZ896Ow9waGKWYzbQy0tSG4yQlfUyD_7fh3PY9vQrVGp6pkcWfhOyWji0e1fjNvzp0IHELSk0cavKXaxSEoREpEklaYDW3fZ7eUXoZ-jLjVyVzk2978-NxI7wNjV45R1JjsxWKaI/s640/17.jpg" width="568" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
18. <b>e e cummings - <i>i carry your heart with me</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context </i>- This has been a poem which is close to my heart for its simplicity and for being a literal specimen of meaning lying 'between the lines' and hidden along punctuations. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet </i>- cummings is remembered for his eccentric usage of punctuations - you'll find no use of capitals, abrupt parentheses, lines beginning after gaps - and this was not all random. Meanings, gaps, emotions could be located in the way the words were arranged. Though inspired by the<i> avant-garde</i> style, much of the content of his poems is traditional. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway</i> - Simplicity and universal assertions on love. Carrying your beloved's heart in yours, firmly, carefully. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAmR7NKI0KmpYtV_KdTLlTYQ1bQQU_wF8AYS0Wt7l5D0HvrcRjU1JDjAGUtcEAn4D238mxsJj2bQV477oC_GPCqvf34bZtINfMUmF1_taAZBgCxwYwK2NABAB2E0lmfHdEHvnIaSxDWIg/s1600/17_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAmR7NKI0KmpYtV_KdTLlTYQ1bQQU_wF8AYS0Wt7l5D0HvrcRjU1JDjAGUtcEAn4D238mxsJj2bQV477oC_GPCqvf34bZtINfMUmF1_taAZBgCxwYwK2NABAB2E0lmfHdEHvnIaSxDWIg/s640/17_1.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
19. <b>Frank O'Hara - <i>To John Ashbery</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context</i> - Friendship Day</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet </i>- Frank O'Hara is an American critic, writer and poet. Interestingly, his work is inspired by Jazz, surrealism and abstract art. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway</i> - O'Hara wrote many poems to Ashbery, his friend of 20 years, whom he affectionately called 'Ashes'. This one was penned in 1954, and here he imagines them both reading this together like a pair of ancient Chinese poets. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigcqBkk8u0Ncc2tY-UXCb-JrN24AVHN29sV00fbalNaDTSoo2MnTixDlvUWw0PV45dxSfsSr-L-H7A5jyQBF0zFmVMq6xA3Fu9v739vGRHKCMKk0OJtt2uIxQRDIt9dtlYzx5SlMC4thQ/s1600/18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigcqBkk8u0Ncc2tY-UXCb-JrN24AVHN29sV00fbalNaDTSoo2MnTixDlvUWw0PV45dxSfsSr-L-H7A5jyQBF0zFmVMq6xA3Fu9v739vGRHKCMKk0OJtt2uIxQRDIt9dtlYzx5SlMC4thQ/s640/18.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
20. <b>Keats - quote on Poetry</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context</i> - I cannot stop being inspired by the Romantics, can I? Late night Twitter scrolling led me here. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet</i> - Keats is, again, Romantic. And he propounded the 'negative capability' theory of poets, of which I am such a fan. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway</i> - He calls 'imagination' truthful. Can you see how subversive and beautiful is it at the same time?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsHfn8kKKuWijAA7l8cK6izINBRdheolJTin-xLb0dCMzV08wEsdNM8f2ejovvVAIFJqYfKTqkptnMuTwuSft_Bh81Uhas8N6Wu7PsogqOGX9LtNrpXazmdcOzWpq88F6QRVGAwAadNWE/s1600/20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsHfn8kKKuWijAA7l8cK6izINBRdheolJTin-xLb0dCMzV08wEsdNM8f2ejovvVAIFJqYfKTqkptnMuTwuSft_Bh81Uhas8N6Wu7PsogqOGX9LtNrpXazmdcOzWpq88F6QRVGAwAadNWE/s640/20.jpg" width="498" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The next 10 will come up soon :) </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-82065787069397746212016-08-25T00:53:00.000+05:302016-08-25T00:53:14.933+05:30Why PC Scares Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
All this is a little scary, really. And that is because I believe in balance. I believe in binaries. I believe in the net being zero, always. I believe in good being neutralised by bad, smile with sorrows, and heaven with hell.<br />
<br />
The fear stems from the fact that perhaps the Almighty has reserved hell for me post mortal departure, because what I am living in at present is, definitely, closest to what heaven would seem like.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNucrGRXt3YYIDOzy_bMRZo8NBEaZ_O1Iqet-k1fjj-2Up2FYunGLjfQD_4pRe9nwfafc_eAAW_Wh6P2xwq7BmPr0X6EbuRD90mYBQkT3mdMh7ovGAgnj8u1wiq8frZB6omjW-muCkSKY/s1600/14053967_10153607219871082_4014510553228461408_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNucrGRXt3YYIDOzy_bMRZo8NBEaZ_O1Iqet-k1fjj-2Up2FYunGLjfQD_4pRe9nwfafc_eAAW_Wh6P2xwq7BmPr0X6EbuRD90mYBQkT3mdMh7ovGAgnj8u1wiq8frZB6omjW-muCkSKY/s640/14053967_10153607219871082_4014510553228461408_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Would you believe it, that exists a place on the planet, in the heart of our very own city, where -<br />
- people listen more than they talk<br />
- people are unafraid of expressing all good thoughts<br />
- negative thoughts are as good as non-existent, not just on the surface, but deep down below<br />
- books are shared and hoarded like the greatest treasure<br />
- smiles are the currency to buy and invest in invaluable human emotions<br />
- humility is indispensable, but so is show-off with a casual shrug<br />
- you are allowed to be you, just you, but you have no option but to be the best version of yourself.<br />
<br />
I am, of course, referring to PC, which as become more than a mere poetry sharing forum now. If it was just that, it wouldn't have come so far. It is a place where we all are nourishing thoughts, cradling words and bringing up such verses which attract our collective emotions, while being distinctly unique. It is a zone for us to connect not just with each other, but also with our common heritage - because acquiring knowledge is non-negotiable focus. It is a haven for kindred spirits to gain touch with themselves, while they go about shaking hands and hugging each other.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCeHxBNF7qM5tml2vvQTTvNqt6nTMUztjOd_Bdicu2ON0F_BG-ca1V86OmiR6Nr2abmM5JFyA0Y6mp-Dew5zOj5T-utVlsqbIOs-UD6P6mRuCa09LAPeU8llUA8DkogGXU1NnhQB4oJFQ/s1600/14022247_957706354352927_4544395667873274282_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCeHxBNF7qM5tml2vvQTTvNqt6nTMUztjOd_Bdicu2ON0F_BG-ca1V86OmiR6Nr2abmM5JFyA0Y6mp-Dew5zOj5T-utVlsqbIOs-UD6P6mRuCa09LAPeU8llUA8DkogGXU1NnhQB4oJFQ/s640/14022247_957706354352927_4544395667873274282_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
If there was ever a live example for you to understand how hugs heal, this is it.<br />
<br />
Poets' Collective is going to be 2 years old soon, but I have already lived a lifetime ensconced within its secure embrace and caring warmth.<br />
<br />
Last meet up was a revelation for me to understand and witness the scale we've achieved - in terms of numbers and goodwill. And I will go back where I began - it is scary. Sustaining scale, perhaps, is easy; but sustaining beliefs is not.<br />
<br />
Couple of us, at this end, will always try and keep our hearts in the right place as we try and give solace to yours. If I was to talk as PC, I would thank you all, who come and spend time with us, love us, tickle us and then overwhelm us.<br />
<br />
And then, as Adhiraj bhai says, #GadarKaayamRahe.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcXbrh97FiglkjcWjyIDzXcLWXXdk_QApv1abvkden5qE5ICcEy_hGS5NabFrwKpmKS6zxP6cRpav-p22Pz71tpc9W-8rgaiQz9iInk2treZVxHz0pOBzb-Hhh8j4y2_K7Q1Q5WM0jq8/s1600/14034860_957200481070181_2836004621954444152_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcXbrh97FiglkjcWjyIDzXcLWXXdk_QApv1abvkden5qE5ICcEy_hGS5NabFrwKpmKS6zxP6cRpav-p22Pz71tpc9W-8rgaiQz9iInk2treZVxHz0pOBzb-Hhh8j4y2_K7Q1Q5WM0jq8/s640/14034860_957200481070181_2836004621954444152_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-82797462302294412732016-08-02T02:13:00.001+05:302016-08-02T02:14:51.238+05:30Mythical <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>I</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We make myths out of the unrealized. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>II</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Love untouched<br />
Is love curled <br />
Into a scared ball<br />
Pushed against the wall<br />
Of the darkest passages<br />
Of your most familiar, <br />
Personal dungeon. <br />
Love untouched, <br />
Is not love undone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>III</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He crept with feline grace<br />
Shimmering, into that glass filled<br />
With the only true liquid love. <br />
He reflected, contorted, <br />
Changing forms. <br />
Elegant now. <br />
Grotesque later. <br />
Caught in a glass.<br />
Tightened in a bottle. <br />
Corked in a vision. <br />
Free in the world. <br />
Invisible in the Universe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>IV</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Things fall apart<br />
But the centre holds. <br />
Silly centre. <br />
Caught into its own<br />
Twists<br />
And twirls<br />
And folds. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>V</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Love unrequited<br />
Has its colours. <br />
Break it through a sheet of liquid. <br />
Sparkling clear?<br />
Blurred, dear?<br />
Buried, fear?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>VI</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">While walking through a desert<br />
I conjured a water in my mind<br />
I conjured mirage in my mind<br />
An illusion of an illusion later<br />
I conjured comfort in my mind<br />
(Illusory, from the disillusioned)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>VII</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Liquid love, is not life force. <br />
Liquid love, is love, and liquid. <br />
It is love, which is liquid. <br />
Hence it flows,<br />
Like fluids, it grows, <br />
To take shapes of visions, <br />
You were scared to profess. <br />
Dreams are comfortable, <br />
Risk-free.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Or, are they, really?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>VIII</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Myths were created for truth. <br />
Layered with dust of a millennia<br />
Shrouded within tongues infinite<br />
They gain magic, lose truth. <br />
What is our truth, my dear?<br />
Our love is magic, or a myth, mere?<br />
Was our story made by us?<br />
Or kindled under a curtained hush?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>IX</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">She talks for both, when he talks for none.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>X</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Love untouched, <br />
Is not love undone. <br />
Love unloved, <br />
Is love left pure<br />
A gentle cure<br />
To heart’s busiest hum. <br />
The din of dreams, <br />
Conflicted streams. <br />
Pain is but a figure of speech. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b><o:p></o:p></b></span><span lang="EN-US"><b>XI</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Loving is so short. <br />
Forgetting is so long. <br />
And myths are eternal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWoeSrEZAPenkoTfOjlgOVHBLYnu9xd4YNpuwPG4JlIboU0aI0RSAW3bkz4rc4IoGlTlj6Ki3wZiaS26SSreEF4j-DY4iCIBPSnGhQ4ewWU4OXRMccHYRyuIhdXRZixbLZjaF9kz5IPlE/s1600/heart-700141_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWoeSrEZAPenkoTfOjlgOVHBLYnu9xd4YNpuwPG4JlIboU0aI0RSAW3bkz4rc4IoGlTlj6Ki3wZiaS26SSreEF4j-DY4iCIBPSnGhQ4ewWU4OXRMccHYRyuIhdXRZixbLZjaF9kz5IPlE/s640/heart-700141_1920.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">PS – Thanks for Yeats, Neruda and Bachchan.
<br />
<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-28192757269046038832016-07-28T17:29:00.003+05:302016-07-28T22:07:33.708+05:30100 Days of Poetry - Part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I started putting out my favourite poems across social platforms about 10 days ago, in a series called #100DaysOfPoetry. The reason was simple - the innate need to share which impacts you deeply, with a hope that it manages to impact and connect with a few more humans in the same manner. I was pleasantly surprised with the response this little daily initiative generated. On last count, four other friends had started sharing their favourite poems in a similar series.<br />
<br />
This seemingly small number also feels grand, because it comes as a good answer for all those who consider poetry esoteric, elite and unreachable. It helps us know what people like us are connecting with. It helps us read great, time-tested poetry, in a period where all of us are just spewing out words under the delusion of being great writers ourselves. Don't get me wrong - I have no problem with people believing they can be great writers. My only problem is with poor reading, and lack of a desire to learn and know from where emerges our heritage of poetry.<br />
<br />
So, while the series goes on, I also want to catalogue and chronicle the poems somewhere, lest I forget all the great words and great artists I came in touch with. Here are the first 10 of the poems I shared, compiled for a heart-warming reading rendezvous.<br />
<br />
<b>1. Dylan Thomas - <i>'Do not go gentle into that good night'</i></b><br />
<br />
<i>Context </i>- I had watched the movie Interstellar. And how can anyone who has watched the movie miss out on this beauty!<br />
<br />
<i>Poet </i>- Dylan Thomas was a Welsh poet, and also an extraordinary orator. He died prematurely, at the young age of 39. In this short life, he had acquired fame for poetry, and ignominy for his extreme drinking habits. Popular opinion remembered him as 'roistering, drunken and doomed poet', and while critics remain divided on how brilliant or abysmal his poetry is - I remain in love with two of his works. The one pasted below, and another titled, 'And death shall have no dominion'.<br />
<br />
<i>Takeaway</i> - Don't accept doom. Don't accept darkness. Don't accept what others might call a definite down or a certain calamity. Stay alive. Behave alive.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSYL1PZGoJwHnCyxPg27Ga4keyWGJLcP3WRddxRU2p72Ld1a5WXDFOr-vmbkwFzSyWU_f14x7ebDmrtPlzOrg0LOltq7M53v_RxLg41pID_tyvmz8TkbNuHkKxkykIZrfza9zgjDF9ZI/s1600/1_Dylan+Thomas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSYL1PZGoJwHnCyxPg27Ga4keyWGJLcP3WRddxRU2p72Ld1a5WXDFOr-vmbkwFzSyWU_f14x7ebDmrtPlzOrg0LOltq7M53v_RxLg41pID_tyvmz8TkbNuHkKxkykIZrfza9zgjDF9ZI/s640/1_Dylan+Thomas.jpg" width="518" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>2. Pablo Neruda -<i> 'We have lost even this twilight'</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context</i> - When I am even slightly mushy, and I want to read something which I know for sure will hit my heart, I randomly pick up Neruda. He never disappoints. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet </i>- Neruda was a Chilean poet, politician and diplomat. Interestingly, Pablo Neruda was only his pen name, but he later legalised this into his official name. His most beautiful collection of poems is in a book called 'Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair', and I cannot thank Dr. Saif Mahmood (Saif bhaiya to me), for gifting it to me last Diwali. Melancholy, love and eroticism effortlessly combine into his poetry, and dissolve into the soul of the reader. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway</i> - Vivid images and this warm, but sad feeling of love inside my heart. I draw no meanings from Neruda's poetry. I draw only love. And a calming despair. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw9SH4wFhoWi_lbAw6Z6jNhryuQjGikR3cnR_RyPMfCNSXZP0hmkKsn4AVHXega8omlQxIoLgwwRPxu7f4TB6TR9cigOWD5hiq93jmty3fD0tPBCT-dqpVw3bcMg_Y_gRjme5_euJcAqY/s1600/2_Pably+Neruda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw9SH4wFhoWi_lbAw6Z6jNhryuQjGikR3cnR_RyPMfCNSXZP0hmkKsn4AVHXega8omlQxIoLgwwRPxu7f4TB6TR9cigOWD5hiq93jmty3fD0tPBCT-dqpVw3bcMg_Y_gRjme5_euJcAqY/s640/2_Pably+Neruda.jpg" width="484" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>3. Akif Kichloo - <i>'Let us ignore the stars tonight'</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context</i> - Chanced upon it some months ago. Kept it close to myself. Stumbled upon it just in time for sharing. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet</i> - I do not know much about him, except I know he is a contemporary poet and a product of digital postmodernism. He posts his poems on Instagram and has a steady following. Also, I discovered I have a common contact with him, and hence, I am dying to invite him to a future edition of a PC meet up!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway</i> - The precision in the thought that 'lonely will always love you more'.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgohYp321y2KUtu7QwIfF36pZSSxSaGBEft38FVt0kxYaiAUpeq6TlSwArlHNEazsUJnVf0nO5hz2iFy8-7aIYD_TQlYxHvbZJDPe4pumoeQye6QU4KOrfmfhx8Fminr7jxNnjITMeASvM/s1600/3_Akif+Kichloo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgohYp321y2KUtu7QwIfF36pZSSxSaGBEft38FVt0kxYaiAUpeq6TlSwArlHNEazsUJnVf0nO5hz2iFy8-7aIYD_TQlYxHvbZJDPe4pumoeQye6QU4KOrfmfhx8Fminr7jxNnjITMeASvM/s640/3_Akif+Kichloo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>4. Strickland Gillilan </b><i><b>- 'Watch Yourself Go By'</b></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context </i>- I have no idea where and when I learnt this poem, but it has been a part of my childhood. For the longest time, I did not even know the name of the poet, but this was a good way of discovering. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet</i> - Gillilan is an American poet. Other than that, I have zero knowledge of him!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway</i> - It helps sometimes to step out of your skin and see yourself as others would. Not to create pressure, but just to gain perspective to oneself. Try it. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzejr_l67zFXFfmNUFtFiD0abYFtJO_tuQZ8zbK2MdGa3mSXBX3e_mswuN23v5Xn6vspD-Cf5dwI2iFdmqiuJCsvkRBn_hHdSwfWX9qk7DGkKETT3wIKN_htjkesoXfiAOFjq32QEBV04/s1600/4_Strickland+Gillilan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzejr_l67zFXFfmNUFtFiD0abYFtJO_tuQZ8zbK2MdGa3mSXBX3e_mswuN23v5Xn6vspD-Cf5dwI2iFdmqiuJCsvkRBn_hHdSwfWX9qk7DGkKETT3wIKN_htjkesoXfiAOFjq32QEBV04/s640/4_Strickland+Gillilan.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>5. Walt Whitman</b> <i><b>- 'O Captain! My Captain!'</b></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context -</i> 'Dead Poets' Society', what else? Duh! Immortal lines from a poet made immortal by an immortal movie. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet</i> - One of America's all time greatest poets, and a trailblazer himself. Sample his poems, any. If you're lost, pick up a copy of 'Leaves of Grass' and lose yourself to the 'power' of his words. His words are literally powerful, and that is why he ruled over 19th century poetry. Most importantly, he understood and advocated for a relationship between poetry and society, both potent of affecting each other positively. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway </i>- Reliving that last scene and feeling vigour run in my veins as I read it aloud to myself. Poetry is meant to be read aloud. Inspiring generations to action. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0R6gBOwdtAD6KlZKY3aXYSfMV1DQSMyJQn1K1hUgmGASPcPzkj8IRuHwzY0JFx1nnrMebailJ5Bk9Ie52Mynhebbx2gB15LLxhvN9l_AF7wPECcEoPP-3V03EJpbzWhHUEpbjMa5iYqg/s1600/5_Walt+Whitman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0R6gBOwdtAD6KlZKY3aXYSfMV1DQSMyJQn1K1hUgmGASPcPzkj8IRuHwzY0JFx1nnrMebailJ5Bk9Ie52Mynhebbx2gB15LLxhvN9l_AF7wPECcEoPP-3V03EJpbzWhHUEpbjMa5iYqg/s640/5_Walt+Whitman.jpg" width="418" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>6. Hoshang Merchant -</b><i><b> 'Poem'</b></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context </i>- I had picked up Merchant's anthology, called 'Sufiana', which compiled his poems written at different times in life. This poem, titled 'Poem', comes from there. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet - </i>Hoshang Merchant is an Indian English language poet, born, curiously, in the year 1947. About a year or more ago, I had heard him recite in the India International Centre, and I remember being serenaded by both, his presence and his recitation. I later learnt he is gay, and has edited India's first anthology of gay writings. Reading him left on me the impression of a poet rather well read himself, functioning within the strains of memory, identity and history - the rubric of postcolonial writings. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway -</i> Look at the imagery. Look at how the physical transcends to emotional, and leaves a sort of spiritual satisfaction in completing that journey to the earth. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNb6FgmKGrN39phSITqnzXXkQLVKTTykRwlEk5CU1yuNsp2wNyCvKAgmDrZNOkZKn4QVSBF9iCSauK6GE7PHj03x6RHi0RgjTvq56GUo65OvUfM7FTRA2lPJTnCZ0YOm1t4lwgOuTAYB0/s1600/6_Hoshang+Merchant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNb6FgmKGrN39phSITqnzXXkQLVKTTykRwlEk5CU1yuNsp2wNyCvKAgmDrZNOkZKn4QVSBF9iCSauK6GE7PHj03x6RHi0RgjTvq56GUo65OvUfM7FTRA2lPJTnCZ0YOm1t4lwgOuTAYB0/s400/6_Hoshang+Merchant.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>7. Thomas Hardy <i>- 'A Confession to a Friend in Trouble'</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context</i> - Found this on Twitter, shared by @Syddie. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet </i>- I could never cope with Hardy as a novelist, and had no inkling he wrote such wonderful poetry! Hardy the poet proved to be better than Hardy the novelist. His Victorian realism remains a struggle, but his poetry found a smooth way to my heart. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway -</i> I am analysing that still, but even at first reading, the poem left on me an impact of strength and hope. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUyxRsf-FVwCKG0UcmDqxKfbEKMPVophlXYM9qx_cjZHfdMmtmXfennKEC-RA7gmrDwkPjJw5ue53eQfRyfbDqljIUisV0rxHd_MfODn1_YWkwPWzNRZBPsNnZrc0UYrCGkF9zZlxqiWU/s1600/7_Thomas+Hardy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUyxRsf-FVwCKG0UcmDqxKfbEKMPVophlXYM9qx_cjZHfdMmtmXfennKEC-RA7gmrDwkPjJw5ue53eQfRyfbDqljIUisV0rxHd_MfODn1_YWkwPWzNRZBPsNnZrc0UYrCGkF9zZlxqiWU/s640/7_Thomas+Hardy.jpg" width="624" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>8. William Wordsworth -</b> <b><i>'She dwelt among the untrodden ways'</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context </i>- The Lucy poems are among my all time favourite and I often catch myself reciting them. Unaware. Like an old childhood melody. This poem just popped in mind. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet </i>- Wordsworth is, of course, the great Romantic poet. He is my favourite among all the Romantics, a view not favoured by the well-read and well-informed literary enthusiasts, but I cannot help falling for his simplicity time and time again. Nature, love, emotions find easy expressions in his poetry, and what I connect with is the nurturing solitude which recurs in his poems - as if worldly engagements are a contamination poets must necessarily keep away from. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway</i> - Beauty. Despair. Simplicity.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHfz5wAw7iLZu7AD9mnmtfa1oad9cYj9bORkXxo1ucqnt7K66Z9I_yexW7oy7UjS8HA8zRzI0wKS5Bgqegm-t9E3fZpvZ1eDLTpB92CnC8P621e6BYDxuRA2OZmoEwCpK_jNfzpA5v3AA/s1600/8_William+Wordsworth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHfz5wAw7iLZu7AD9mnmtfa1oad9cYj9bORkXxo1ucqnt7K66Z9I_yexW7oy7UjS8HA8zRzI0wKS5Bgqegm-t9E3fZpvZ1eDLTpB92CnC8P621e6BYDxuRA2OZmoEwCpK_jNfzpA5v3AA/s640/8_William+Wordsworth.jpg" width="576" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>9. Elizabeth Bishop</b> <b><i>- 'The art of losing'</i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context </i>- Shared by Supriya Kaur Dhaliwal, a wonderful poetess herself, who began her #100DaysOfPoetry series with this!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet</i> - Literally zero idea!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway </i>- I once read that you are not made by the things you have, but the things you missed. This poem reminded me of that, and the depths to which art makes you go and investigate, even at the cost of generating chaos. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrY8WgBCSbp9s72JxpTVayJEdYp0g05VbixssMb9pO9u5izOv7Hhr7qgn9IQ-RStfDSx4azsXg2GmOGRWew0CBHF3LF_WKdzRSZGEA63nyBUQU6EplhQX_4Nj0tPACpnE2C_9De89e1nA/s1600/9_Elizabeth+Bishop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrY8WgBCSbp9s72JxpTVayJEdYp0g05VbixssMb9pO9u5izOv7Hhr7qgn9IQ-RStfDSx4azsXg2GmOGRWew0CBHF3LF_WKdzRSZGEA63nyBUQU6EplhQX_4Nj0tPACpnE2C_9De89e1nA/s640/9_Elizabeth+Bishop.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>10. Walt Whitman</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Context -</i> Rains! Random reading up on poetry on the rains led me to this beauty. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Poet</i> - Not even 10 days and Whitman is back on my list! Read up on him in poet number 5. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Takeaway</i> - An enhanced beauty of rains :)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0kfY77u6InvkflECamdkBGKaW5MIXHs2qyIs0zn7ow0k938aOvgLXqJVOXNzDmvJSni5GNKf7TVE0ARLdmL7YABIMdXBwM5h7ibEq3a82bA4RuZzfU-Ga3pI9u1-cmW9xVB_SjqKacSs/s1600/10_Walt+Whitman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0kfY77u6InvkflECamdkBGKaW5MIXHs2qyIs0zn7ow0k938aOvgLXqJVOXNzDmvJSni5GNKf7TVE0ARLdmL7YABIMdXBwM5h7ibEq3a82bA4RuZzfU-Ga3pI9u1-cmW9xVB_SjqKacSs/s640/10_Walt+Whitman.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-47471673621545429022016-07-25T01:26:00.000+05:302016-07-25T01:26:32.965+05:30The Liberalization Generation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was one among the 4 individuals who features in the Sunday Magazine of the Indian Express, which talks about the liberalization generation and their choices, pressures and aspirations. In a conversation which stretched over a couple of days, many things became apparent to me as I spoke to Ankita, who asked incisive questions to put her story together. Titled, 'The Winner Takes It All', the page long story brings out the concerns and comforts of our generation, which evolved alongside the Economic Reforms to which our country owes much of its present shape. You can read the whole story here - http://indianexpress.com/article/lifestyle/life-style/the-winner-takes-it-all-2931791/ - and it was a privilege to be featured alongside my friend - Akshat Mittal, whose comment on how our generation has the ability to convert passions into professions was my pick of the lot.<br />
<br />
While talking to Ankita, I realised, how fortunate are we to belong to our times. We do have our share of pressures, but the opportunity to exist as unique individuals is overwhelming, and available to all. The internet and social spaces have eliminated any filtering interface, which makes it that much easier to build ourselves into a version of our Visions. The opportunity is democratic - the skill and perseverance is the differentiator. Our aspirations are set high, and hence our focus must be set higher. The perils are there - too much interactivity, too many choices, too much distraction, too much pressure (active and passive both) - but the deterrents (and deterring addictions) have existed in all ages, and so shall they continue to. The point I am trying to make is, anytime someone tries to talk to me about social media as taking away from reality - I have scores of examples to quote where digital has been used (exploited) to create, curate and inspire real experiences. Secondly, it is time we understood virtual experiences as a part of our reality - enriching, informing, integrating and entertaining. And thirdly, if there are individuals who prefer a virtual existence to real - I'd like them to have it. Digital-social spaces have been empowering for people whose physical participation was often unconsciously discriminatory. Persons with Disabilities are a case in point.<br />
<br />
The space to exist is huge. The chance to construct our dreams is tremendous. The power to bring people together is unprecedented. And the opportunity to just be ourselves, assertively firm and fluidly evolving, is overwhelming. Your struggle - to find who you are, what drives you, what lends you happiness, and what do your doggedly dream of.<br />
<br />
There. For more perspectives, hop onto the <a href="http://indianexpress.com/article/lifestyle/life-style/the-winner-takes-it-all-2931791/" target="_blank">Indian Express</a> link and read on!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrLnHLwrg0JH-3LNwZTOIFBQb7UvjUNOzaVpOREf3ho0BmuDge93XLd10picB23QKVVlbKNoJY79NhEc0j1bkNzn-cYWUVyk2AL1xXhVmm4JSMkOMP8iRP3oaO-WZteKduZxUiVktMV4/s1600/4eff5357-365e-4a77-8cf7-0db04920dd5d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrLnHLwrg0JH-3LNwZTOIFBQb7UvjUNOzaVpOREf3ho0BmuDge93XLd10picB23QKVVlbKNoJY79NhEc0j1bkNzn-cYWUVyk2AL1xXhVmm4JSMkOMP8iRP3oaO-WZteKduZxUiVktMV4/s640/4eff5357-365e-4a77-8cf7-0db04920dd5d.jpg" title="" width="473" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Read here - http://indianexpress.com/article/lifestyle/life-style/the-winner-takes-it-all-2931791/</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-80791618420958441822016-07-02T00:49:00.000+05:302016-07-02T00:49:48.460+05:30Love, Language, Literature<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Her words<br />
The ones she had borrowed<br />
From love<br />
Life<br />
And literature<br />
Left my palms aglow<br />
As I rubbed them softly<br />
Between my hands<br />
Firmly pressing them into<br />
The meandering lines of destiny<br />
Filling up the cracks<br />
Caused by an undone future.<br />
<br />
The haste of chronicling<br />
Her unbridled, scattered utterances<br />
Dried up all ink I carried<br />
But the nib continued scratching<br />
Invisible letters<br />
I later caressed<br />
And comforted with my fingers<br />
Sans comprehension.<br />
<br />
Am I supposed to get meanings,<br />
Or intents?<br />
Am I to follow language,<br />
Or expression?<br />
Am I to catch words,<br />
Or flow with the flow?<br />
Am I to find myself whole,<br />
Or scattered in fragments of her story?<br />
<br />
The language of love<br />
And of literature<br />
Often leaves a true student illiterate.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_JeokunmNYsGi4pH3H_QBBAkQj2vQ14uhZo_ukbEfBNlH9Y4HJCZZFNOwfQHT4RqZcvUnpDQkqKc_HE353hZ_O0uqHvGncWvnX0520r-55MZF9A_tuHbBt4X_hERWyhAPXomeKV5A0V8/s1600/7830744_orig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_JeokunmNYsGi4pH3H_QBBAkQj2vQ14uhZo_ukbEfBNlH9Y4HJCZZFNOwfQHT4RqZcvUnpDQkqKc_HE353hZ_O0uqHvGncWvnX0520r-55MZF9A_tuHbBt4X_hERWyhAPXomeKV5A0V8/s640/7830744_orig.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image Source - http://gihsphoto2.weebly.com/assignment-9-book-photography.html</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br /></div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-53307350269357529522016-05-12T17:23:00.002+05:302016-05-12T17:33:00.647+05:30Communicating on Communication <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I begin wondering, I wonder till the beginning. Even if that sentence sounded syntactically wrong, that is the best way I can put it. I wonder a lot, about a lot of things. Somehow, I am always keen to know where it started, how it started, who started it, how did it catch on. The search which thus ensues leads me on to very interesting vistas of knowledge, interpretation and analysis.<br />
<br />
The thing I have been wondering about most, of late, is 'Communication'. This happened as a result of a work-place assignment, which needed me to build a programme on communications for students, including aspects of verbal, written, visual and digital communication. We named it <b>'creative communications'</b>, because we thought of firmly instilling the '<b>creative process</b>' in the minds of our students (at <b>Shiv Nadar School</b> - for those who did not know where I worked), while giving them exposure to and insight into relevant skills and the practice thereof.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqwv-oW0_FyvrWDs2nMKSfePS98nv11aNXVVIxPKcfLWsrwUJ3DGNHXPI-kzFmhdP8gbNkfgk8108L2PCKJ0F9eLjxRd24uOZ4vV7vE31kNDwyzDGl7ZFu-bUOXOkK6ndI71WVfAGyVYg/s1600/101721615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqwv-oW0_FyvrWDs2nMKSfePS98nv11aNXVVIxPKcfLWsrwUJ3DGNHXPI-kzFmhdP8gbNkfgk8108L2PCKJ0F9eLjxRd24uOZ4vV7vE31kNDwyzDGl7ZFu-bUOXOkK6ndI71WVfAGyVYg/s640/101721615.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
While I had an entire module ready on the nuances to touch while dealing with distinct aspects of communication, what intrigued me, again, was where did it all start? How did humans start talking? When did they realise they could produce sounds? Forget sounds, how did they realise that they could use gestures and organise actions and elicit reaction? Since language (and gestures) pre-date writing by aeons, there, obviously, exists no written record of the same.<br />
<br />
A good way of understanding things which predate organised system of recording knowledge is to delve into myths and oral traditions. Man has the tremendous ability of crafting narratives around most happenings in the world, which have been passed down through generations. These passed down oral narratives hold the key to understanding many things which form the ancient history of mankind.<br />
<br />
Now, even in myths, I have not been able to find many tales which relate specifically to the origin of speech (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tower_of_Babel" target="_blank"><b>Tower of Babel</b> </a>story is an exception, but it helps one understand distortions, expansion and diversity, rather than origins). In most places, language or speech has been presented as a 'gift from God'. Anything inexplicable is conveniently bracketed here.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2NGqsAmATvPmRAgX8x0m3XNOl3gNof3CjmomUX2YglQdK7CvjM7hBIjVC0AA76GLMWe8du04h5Jz_QNhfFmZkD9TQJQGeikoOR0HBIWBv54jSThlxfQ3YYbMbY7GccPxyGaUih_k7HpU/s1600/Pieter_Bruegel_the_Elder_-_The_Tower_of_Babel_%2528Vienna%2529_-_Google_Art_Project_-_edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2NGqsAmATvPmRAgX8x0m3XNOl3gNof3CjmomUX2YglQdK7CvjM7hBIjVC0AA76GLMWe8du04h5Jz_QNhfFmZkD9TQJQGeikoOR0HBIWBv54jSThlxfQ3YYbMbY7GccPxyGaUih_k7HpU/s640/Pieter_Bruegel_the_Elder_-_The_Tower_of_Babel_%2528Vienna%2529_-_Google_Art_Project_-_edited.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mythical Tower of Babel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Some interesting answers can be found on <a href="https://www.quora.com/How-did-humans-start-speaking" target="_blank">Quora</a> in this regard, but my understanding after conducting some decent secondary research is that there is no conclusive word on it. There are biological (evolutionary) roads to understanding speech, and there are sociological routes to doing this. Linguistics based on sociology, of course, interested me more, since Biology <i>bas ki nahi hai</i>. So, I found the following really cutely named (nicknamed) theories on how humans started talking, attributable to various people -<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>1. Bow Wow Theory</b><br />
Man probably started talking as an imitation of sounds around him. Humans have learnt much via mimesis, ape-trait, I guess, and language could be claimed under the same. So we'd hear the birds and chirp, hear the wolves and howl, hear the brook and gurgle - aah, the pleasures of the early man days!<br />
<br />
<b>2. Pooh-Pooh Theory</b><br />
According to this theory, sounds were not generated as an imitation of something external, but emerged intuitively from deep within when man experienced extremes of emotions. So you step on a thorn and scream in response - that is the kind of sounds this theory is talking about. Only, these sounds are not unique to humans - they are possessed by most animals who did not end up having a language system as elaborate and nuanced as ours.<br />
<br />
<b>3. Ding Dong Theory</b><br />
This theory is based on the idea that man started referring to objects by the virtue of the sounds they made. It would be like calling a door 'knock-knock'. In fact, a more realistic example can be drawn from the Chinook language, where heart is called 'tum-tum', probably the interpretation of the sounds the beats make. The same 'tum-tum' is used to referred to 'feelings'. So pretty!<br />
<br />
<b>4. Yo-He-Ho Theory</b><br />
This is the sound of effort. Rhythmic chants on grunt noises which people made during organised effort is supposed as a possible source of speech origin. Consider our own '<i>zor laga ke,, hayeesha!' </i>While <i>hayeesha </i>doesn't mean anything in particular, it is what helps organise action while rowing huge boats.<br />
<br />
By now, my students in the class were convinced I had made these up, so I thought it best to not introduce them to the 'Ta-Ta' and 'La La' theories. Truth be told, I do not understand them that well myself.<br />
<br />
The question of origin of speech was abandoned for quite sometime, but it gained traction again sometime back. Now, the answers are being searched for in the domain of evolution, using the tool of palaeontology. Some people out there are actually doing really creative work, and this is one field I would love to stay abreast with.<br />
<br />
Leave me nuggets of knowledge if you happen to know something on these lines. I'll tell you more about classroom escapades in my future blogs, because these 'Creative Communication' lectures are really teaching me so much! Till then, ta-ta! And la-la-la!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaT6C7vaoUkNXLJ6H5BX15fuboc5tjiKwh66GYK4zViNcqil4p27Q9jd5zfC2XSjYqv13fDDMBY3JZUP1eUMTY3JPNdFLXytECUJCmZKFNIMB8uEcEpcaCT8uti_Fc-O43VdKJamTzY7U/s1600/abstract-painting-no-62a-titled-two-women-talking-acrylic-on-canvas-55cmsx55cmsx3cms-by-abstract-artist-karen-robinson-aug-2015-images-copyright.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaT6C7vaoUkNXLJ6H5BX15fuboc5tjiKwh66GYK4zViNcqil4p27Q9jd5zfC2XSjYqv13fDDMBY3JZUP1eUMTY3JPNdFLXytECUJCmZKFNIMB8uEcEpcaCT8uti_Fc-O43VdKJamTzY7U/s400/abstract-painting-no-62a-titled-two-women-talking-acrylic-on-canvas-55cmsx55cmsx3cms-by-abstract-artist-karen-robinson-aug-2015-images-copyright.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - <span class="_r3" style="background-color: #f1f1f1; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><a class="_ZR irc_hol i3724" data-noload="" data-ved="0ahUKEwiBmtDdvNTMAhWGOY8KHWNODSgQjB0IBg" href="https://idoartkarenrobinson.com/my-art/2015-abstract-paintingsstories/" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk" style="color: #7d7d7d; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" tabindex="0" target="_blank"><span class="irc_ho" dir="ltr" style="margin-right: -2px; overflow: hidden; padding-right: 2px; text-overflow: ellipsis; unicode-bidi: isolate;">idoartkarenrobinson.com</span></a></span><span class="_r3 irc_msc" style="background-color: #f1f1f1; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><a class="_ZR irc_msl i3591" data-i="1" data-noload="" data-ved="0ahUKEwiBmtDdvNTMAhWGOY8KHWNODSgQhxwICA" href="https://www.google.co.in/search?tbs=simg%3Am00&tbnid=vc955SEHGND8_M%3A&docid=ldoykujG45utFM&bih=623&biw=1366&tbm=isch" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk" style="color: #7d7d7d; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" tabindex="0"><span class="irc_idim">4</span></a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-54516459413120060112016-04-28T21:25:00.000+05:302016-04-28T21:25:25.717+05:30Historicity of the Mahabharata by B. B. Lal - A Glimpse <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
धर्मे च अर्थे च कामे च मोक्षे च भरतर्षभ<br />
यदिहास्ति तदन्यत्र यन्नेहास्ति न तत्क्वचित् ।<br />
<br />
Mahabharata has been a subject of limitless fascination for me, now since two years. It is amazing what interest can make you do. In two years, I have read more texts on Indian history, myths and mythology than anything else, as a result of which, I have grown a lot more thirsty for knowledge than ever before. The desire to know more and more about these historical epics is unquenchable, and it is motivated by this steady desire to understand the origins.<br />
<br />
I have this strange belief that if I could understand where I come from, where we come from, where are stories come from, and where our languages come from, I will have a clear vision of where I am and where I am headed.<br />
<br />
When I noticed this amazing book titled 'Historicity of the Mahabharata' is the library of Shiv Nadar School, Gurgaon, I know my heart thumped at insane decibels. While we were still debating in the realm of imaginative discourses if Mahabharata is a historical text, or an imaginative narrative conjured by an ancient bard, here comes in front of me a research laying down ample, convincing evidences to show how a great war did actually take place at Kurukshetra.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz460CtANAjsGzk1QNlme9uXc3A0l6iG4NNyWX01A03cb9i36ZOXEtnyXS2tDuV_-oy8tfTdzbuNp1Hi5skFZTGgDNXFfEsAzn1OiyT_twk941MlsMuRS7igmS4A2obCapijarbrUuXoA/s1600/Historicity+of+the+Mahabharata.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz460CtANAjsGzk1QNlme9uXc3A0l6iG4NNyWX01A03cb9i36ZOXEtnyXS2tDuV_-oy8tfTdzbuNp1Hi5skFZTGgDNXFfEsAzn1OiyT_twk941MlsMuRS7igmS4A2obCapijarbrUuXoA/s640/Historicity+of+the+Mahabharata.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Since it a work of pure research, I can provide a plotline of the book. What I can tell you is that to test the veracity of claims of the MB narrative, researcher B. B. Lal undertook many routes - through internal extracts, through excavations, through architecture and through contemporary and later secular texts.<br />
<br />
While building an understanding of historicity, the text also serves well to educate a reader about the various topographies to traverse while trying to build an archaeological-historical argument. Not just that, it also delves deeper into relevant sections of the Mahabharat to throw light on the politics of certain instances. For examples, were the Pandavs really being humble in their demand for the <i>paanch graam </i>from Duryodhan, or was they a larger game at play? Think geography and you will have your answer.<br />
<br />
While I admit it is an unimaginatively written text, it serves its purpose well - that of piquing interest and setting a seeker on course to find more instances of truth a literary body shrouded in myths, not acquiring religious colours.<br />
<br />
Must read for MB lovers!<br />
<br />
PS - The next Maha Varta session, whenever that happens, shall revolve around the myth v/s mythology v/s history discussion. </div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-21044130562072047192016-04-27T12:54:00.000+05:302016-04-27T12:54:57.799+05:30Dear Anonymous Letter Writer - Birthday Chronicles<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I make a big fuss of birthdays, each time. Especially if it is mine. Of course.<br />
<br />
And you know what counts as luck? When you find others who make a bigger fuss of birthdays than you. And I'm the lucky one, who has not one, but about a dozen crazies around her, who've been investing time and mind into creating little gestures of warmth, leaving a wide, uncontrollable smile on my face.<br />
<br />
A recent pretty phenomenon is a red coloured note, which I find stuck to my almirah with the help of magnets, each day when I get back home. These notes/letters contained words of love, which, as hard as I might try, I cannot identify the source of. I thought of cheating, because, it is easy to (all I need to do is steal my sister's phone - I already know the password). But then, I thought of living the experience through. I have analysed the handwriting, the tone, the language, the emotions - and honest admission - I have zero idea of who he or she is. I think the writer is a 'he'. Just, instinct.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVibVrTCVENYq27jmavPLmvzgyNEab9iuDFxhmrNZCp5GkhVjZXQf6AqeTnt-sJQID07GtC2uEOQzun705Tll506ppFmfN4bxMMyU143eWFDY2rEpWtWY4Tzqn5L62SQTY8B_DlE3s0Ec/s1600/NE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVibVrTCVENYq27jmavPLmvzgyNEab9iuDFxhmrNZCp5GkhVjZXQf6AqeTnt-sJQID07GtC2uEOQzun705Tll506ppFmfN4bxMMyU143eWFDY2rEpWtWY4Tzqn5L62SQTY8B_DlE3s0Ec/s640/NE.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So, while I have given up trying to establish the identity of my anonymous pen-friend, let me write him (assuming 'he') a letter of my own. I am doing this, because unresponsiveness is among the things which irks me most in life. Even though I do not know who I am responding to, I will still go ahead and do it, because words deserve words, love deserves love, emotions deserve emotions, and letters deserve letters.<br />
<br />
Here goes, a short one, for the person counting down 26 days to my 26th birthday.<br />
<br />
<i>Dear anonymous letter writer</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I want to thank you. Not for writing to me, but for writing in general. People have quite forgotten the genuineness and touch which ink and paper hold. People have also forgotten that at times, all it takes is one little gesture to completely light up someone's life. Like you are lighting up mine. I look forward to your notes each day. It is a habit I could fondly cultivate. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Thanks for making me realise how old am I going to be. No sarcasm. I am happy to know how far I have come in life, and also to get a glimpse of how others have journeyed along with me. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>A little word of caution though. When I finally get to know who you are, we'll work a little on your handwriting. No offences, just, my way of saying I think I like you enough to want to work with you. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Looking forward to note number six. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Thanks. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Love, </i><br />
<i>Saumya. </i></div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-30876694594370906042016-04-09T10:15:00.001+05:302016-04-09T10:17:27.879+05:30#FolkInVogue - Revisiting Roots<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>It’s in the click of my heels, <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>The bend of my hair, <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>the palm of my hand, <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>The need for my care. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>’Cause I’m a woman<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Phenomenally.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Phenomenal woman,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<i>That’s me.</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
- Maya Angelou</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The evening of 30th March, 2016, was beautiful for many reasons. These reasons, primarily, would fall under three categories - the Place, the People and the Cause. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Place </b>- We were gathered inside the Asian Paints Color Store, a place I love calling my personal wonderland, for the amount of ideas, expressions and creativity it inspires. A store which gives you live experiences of how wall colours alter and enhance the look your spaces, it has given me many a cool ideas to implement back at home and feel thoroughly satisfied about. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSLR85ftawqM_hIbYhe6d2pvD6FjBxHHjo2geZ4G2bKP8TlvYa7vKfdmmAPindmBSVFs4pny6mKzGdFgsSUyQLER59lQ532_fOIZuIYBvGUMtLhucTtL8W6R7Ov__nDG8LH3kLwVJ5JXk/s1600/c2cc7395-934a-47e2-a754-eebf1dd3f909.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSLR85ftawqM_hIbYhe6d2pvD6FjBxHHjo2geZ4G2bKP8TlvYa7vKfdmmAPindmBSVFs4pny6mKzGdFgsSUyQLER59lQ532_fOIZuIYBvGUMtLhucTtL8W6R7Ov__nDG8LH3kLwVJ5JXk/s640/c2cc7395-934a-47e2-a754-eebf1dd3f909.jpe" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>People</b> - Gathered in the store were some women, who had succeeded in creating an impact by following the call of their passion. They belonged to diverse fields, but were united by the conviction they carried on their faces aglow with the happiness of being together. Each had a story worthy of sharing, and each shared personal narratives worthy of putting into wisdom capsules. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq6Y8oG0aJW5m80Y_Waw5n7fjjOhyfdme0LDcZ19HBbhwLtcAiNagGKhG4Qrocn6Hv8_g4I7jiChN-oOE5Rx7TKyOLGXY6qnWgF7yo6ODQDZW8Lvj8QZK320eHfIkSAR6XBD5V2_KzMCE/s1600/U79A3459-768x434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq6Y8oG0aJW5m80Y_Waw5n7fjjOhyfdme0LDcZ19HBbhwLtcAiNagGKhG4Qrocn6Hv8_g4I7jiChN-oOE5Rx7TKyOLGXY6qnWgF7yo6ODQDZW8Lvj8QZK320eHfIkSAR6XBD5V2_KzMCE/s640/U79A3459-768x434.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Cause </b>- A unique concept which blended the tradition with fashion, Asian Paints conceptualised #FolkInVogue to grant greater contemporary relevance to our many dying folk art forms.<i> Gond, Pattachitra, Madhubani</i> and <i>Warli </i>art forms found manifestation on dreamcatchers, scarves, vases and mugs. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHluiVLoFLXeuLvv9R0anumbv2RnWWajAmbKw94uIvMLXnuv_CiV6pSQ1u_iNkjrjVGkbMF_t4zzzDSnxxs05siH1TVkbloKEN_p2kV_6eulqBPwiFbny-FD25CFG6VpAJEOBbGgQhu6U/s1600/Cover-Photo-with-logo-768x285.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHluiVLoFLXeuLvv9R0anumbv2RnWWajAmbKw94uIvMLXnuv_CiV6pSQ1u_iNkjrjVGkbMF_t4zzzDSnxxs05siH1TVkbloKEN_p2kV_6eulqBPwiFbny-FD25CFG6VpAJEOBbGgQhu6U/s640/Cover-Photo-with-logo-768x285.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
What's even better is that one could witness all these art forms in action - artists practising these many styles of painting were invited to the store to give all the gathered ladies a first hand experience, and even a brief tutelage into practising the art. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A simple gathering of some stunning ladies, by the end of the evening, turned out to be an experience worth being remembered for a lifetime. Asian Paints surmised the life story of all these ladies in flawless videos, the screening of which evoked pretty emotions in everyone's eyes. In the past too, I have witnessed Asian Paints curate experiences which give voice to diverse shades of art - my own association with them began through poetry. As they celebrate the modern woman, carrying ahead her roots with elegance, why don't you also attempt to revisit traditions and see how they may apply to your contemporary living spaces? Hop into their Color Store today! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKUAgxBhiTAvRbW-IrjWjWkfyPDC9X1GUz7tv2XPIARE7heEfhMLIu9VucCtDnRpsOQXn3G8OZMb45qm_9HDfRcefmU-EziB5WeleIUF6ksrvUHkFojQ27ziPbpccHLC6nobZK3xPbe_g/s1600/12472310_10154742305299148_7871730812587972258_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKUAgxBhiTAvRbW-IrjWjWkfyPDC9X1GUz7tv2XPIARE7heEfhMLIu9VucCtDnRpsOQXn3G8OZMb45qm_9HDfRcefmU-EziB5WeleIUF6ksrvUHkFojQ27ziPbpccHLC6nobZK3xPbe_g/s640/12472310_10154742305299148_7871730812587972258_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-4678636954700941692016-03-27T02:16:00.000+05:302016-04-08T00:36:53.964+05:30Bibliophilia Revisited - Part II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thanks for reading the earlier post and feeding me some brilliant new titles. Here is the second set of 9 books. Tell me which ones you adore and abhor - and why!<br />
(Also, it took me a while to complete this post - I am finally at the point in life where hours in each day are too few!)<br />
<br />
1. <b>The Sense of an Ending</b> by Julian Barnes<br />
<br />
<i>Gifted by Saif bhaiya. He never goes wrong with books and poetry. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>What you remember is a very personal version of what happened. This book, a short text of profound depth, will grill into you precariousness of memory, history and constructs of identity.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgucbQx_6LGVDfIkHHsMNr5Q24QqAXhcMMgiMAPBYB7eGPELrwtAxayCcvjiuNSPScRDhlGzRSLjYs7wb961dk5vVhABf32yxOp-RJkyWO_HprRIx626RZ03GCw1kzzRxmZhCTSz2G0298/s1600/10616542_10152975993502473_7872752381470353334_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgucbQx_6LGVDfIkHHsMNr5Q24QqAXhcMMgiMAPBYB7eGPELrwtAxayCcvjiuNSPScRDhlGzRSLjYs7wb961dk5vVhABf32yxOp-RJkyWO_HprRIx626RZ03GCw1kzzRxmZhCTSz2G0298/s640/10616542_10152975993502473_7872752381470353334_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
2. <b>The Sensualist</b> by Ruskin Bond<br />
<br />
<i>Bought from Oxford Bookstore. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Why this book makes the cut is because this is unlike any Ruskin Bond you might have read. The endearing author who wrote of childhood, hills and nascent relationships suddenly delves into topics of intense and even violent sensuality - a surprise from his corpus.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCh4EdQNWPuiiK52hWphNMDt9DwGyfG6REQ0RaIoHfnOEc1CfZMOU77cXNjNxxMZeZegcQ9E0M_V8B0aml81Vc-22zUDRSG2VhSdLQ55oTy2LySO-s8eGe3URLSIZu0hsSbD-M1PNgwkM/s1600/11541908_10152975993252473_3659994055218765850_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCh4EdQNWPuiiK52hWphNMDt9DwGyfG6REQ0RaIoHfnOEc1CfZMOU77cXNjNxxMZeZegcQ9E0M_V8B0aml81Vc-22zUDRSG2VhSdLQ55oTy2LySO-s8eGe3URLSIZu0hsSbD-M1PNgwkM/s640/11541908_10152975993252473_3659994055218765850_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
3. <b>The Last Song of Dusk</b> by Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi<br />
<br />
<i>This book called out to me from a shelf at Spell & Bound, SDA. The bookstore, unfortunately, does not exist anymore. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I have misplaced the picture of the book, but it remains indelible on my psyche. It is among my top 5 reads of the entire lifetime. I have a definite crush on the author, and he, in my opinion, is the best writer of Magic Realism among Indian writers in English. The Last Song of Dusk is a masterpiece of intensity, poignance, pain and sensuality. Treat, this book is a treat for any heart!<br />
<br />
<br />
4. <b>To Sir, With Love</b> by E. R. Braithwaite<br />
<br />
<i>Sent to me by Ayush, a cousin from Mumbai.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
A classic. This is an autobiographical text about a teacher making a forceful impact on the lives of students. It resuscitates your belief in the institution of education, which, however obsolete in terms of content, can create remarkable differences with the aid of one motivated and enterprising individual. (I am so kicked about being a teacher in a part-time role, more so because I know of such possibilities!)<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8nTK7RDmNx-gV__OgGeMu20XfONE8FoBuG1Ce-N62MgGZHIK0hiNvqOFeKgU-oEJ1zgpD2BJ8dtnAWdgkEcJXMLSdFg_jNcXxKPcPL4pZNpb9u7yQbfKq2dF6_M22sdB7hRpMa5qvDI/s1600/11998881_10153137310682473_1647495067903839526_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8nTK7RDmNx-gV__OgGeMu20XfONE8FoBuG1Ce-N62MgGZHIK0hiNvqOFeKgU-oEJ1zgpD2BJ8dtnAWdgkEcJXMLSdFg_jNcXxKPcPL4pZNpb9u7yQbfKq2dF6_M22sdB7hRpMa5qvDI/s640/11998881_10153137310682473_1647495067903839526_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
5. <b>The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid</b> by Bill Bryson<br />
<br />
<i>Gifted by Gangesh, who remained disappointed with me for the greatest time because I couldn't find time to read this book. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
This is a memoir - about a child growing up along with the world around him. Each new development brings an opinion along with fascination - a wonderful guided tour through the America of mid-20th century.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsLocw5oY2UrJyxqq0EJ4zNN4YUehwRALT9NW0V_PnWuPii1gpyE_PvGZg3-eLMohjJ78dRQHml_q6yLbdR2qDDb06yx321JFAL_u0d1dY4dahmLlwO_lwzvwnmqDyLLZVRi2x4eHsui0/s1600/12009686_10153153135932473_4378579680317924825_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsLocw5oY2UrJyxqq0EJ4zNN4YUehwRALT9NW0V_PnWuPii1gpyE_PvGZg3-eLMohjJ78dRQHml_q6yLbdR2qDDb06yx321JFAL_u0d1dY4dahmLlwO_lwzvwnmqDyLLZVRi2x4eHsui0/s640/12009686_10153153135932473_4378579680317924825_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
6. <b>Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair</b> by Pablo Neruda<br />
<br />
<i>Gifted by Saif bhaiya, as a Diwali present. His choice, as always, was impeccable. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I sigh as I read the name of this book. Neruda creates magic while fusing melancholy and love in his verses. Read - there is no other way of understanding this experience. I have gone through each poem here more than six times, and I cannot help but be captivated into a lull each time. A lyrical lull.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZoIkYK62N8nZK5I1I2aL4tZs23b9HjWiPacVF_UrrjFLqj6mZjc6P2Fi81_1XIMA3SFgynFvAGaB02Izhz8wrgL0mGJRZHibjQC7OxBPgqyTNUlFNimEaNWsZoWNksnoWkYME0CzsYu0/s1600/11219625_10153244407842473_8366106823812124536_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZoIkYK62N8nZK5I1I2aL4tZs23b9HjWiPacVF_UrrjFLqj6mZjc6P2Fi81_1XIMA3SFgynFvAGaB02Izhz8wrgL0mGJRZHibjQC7OxBPgqyTNUlFNimEaNWsZoWNksnoWkYME0CzsYu0/s640/11219625_10153244407842473_8366106823812124536_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
7. <b>My Gita </b>by Devdutt Pattanaik<br />
<br />
<i>Bought from a roadside book-shack in Green Park.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
"<i>Yatha ichchhasi, tatha kuru</i>" is my takeaway from this book. Own your beliefs, be an eternal observer and change along with the times - this is what the text teaches us. The best part is, this text will probably teach you something much different than what it emphasized to me. Pattanaik has created a following for a reason - he makes Indian philosophies accessible, while providing counter-narratives to each. Read this book, and then read this again. I have put it on my TBR this year as well.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgCommuQsKyDY-lSVTbEw1ZqhwBKmQd0YHpsKT0KIurfV-Uy9dhrd0sqjrK0lV8dJSOH2Mhi7ZX1czoOImKRBoYVvW1XF8VvLno7tggI4IsakaxftkQLRvFd9ZNUBqy-6avoQSUYZ5pY/s1600/12311062_10153278590657473_2450892959546275800_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgCommuQsKyDY-lSVTbEw1ZqhwBKmQd0YHpsKT0KIurfV-Uy9dhrd0sqjrK0lV8dJSOH2Mhi7ZX1czoOImKRBoYVvW1XF8VvLno7tggI4IsakaxftkQLRvFd9ZNUBqy-6avoQSUYZ5pY/s640/12311062_10153278590657473_2450892959546275800_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
8. <b>Urnabhih</b> by Sumedha Verma Ojha<br />
<br />
<i>Gifted as a performance reward by Deepak, my boss in the previous organization. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
A love saga set in the Mauryan times, drawing its basic plot from the state espionage system - what else do you need for killer excitement in literature! The author brings an altogether different era alive in front of you - and I experienced racing heartbeats more than once. I was literally sitting on the edge to see plots and sub-plots unfolding with alarming grace as I turned pages. This is highly recommended!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQnqOqXeTb-liJEwH6auIDs9sAoJX-aZg0bbF0AmJSmvqmedsWSnjUj52M7mkOY4WznGa47Fqby08TmGW6TCQEdTiQ31GlXL0nNT3-6cD55GOY9SL-bCRRUikk1S-56vkyHaywTEbRD8c/s1600/IMG_20141211_031502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQnqOqXeTb-liJEwH6auIDs9sAoJX-aZg0bbF0AmJSmvqmedsWSnjUj52M7mkOY4WznGa47Fqby08TmGW6TCQEdTiQ31GlXL0nNT3-6cD55GOY9SL-bCRRUikk1S-56vkyHaywTEbRD8c/s640/IMG_20141211_031502.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
9. <b>Norwegian Woods </b>by Haruki Murakami<br />
<br />
<i>Secret Santa gift by Shweta, colleague at Shiv Nadar School, where I am currently employed. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Need I even spare words on praising Murakami? I will say what I said in a review earlier - Murakami makes sadness titillating. It is a task accomplished with much difficulty and immersion. <i>Norwegian Woods</i> became a part of my blood flow while I read it, and rendered me incapable of reading anything else till long later.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmydC9EoGRTPE4A3wYsv_eZCdy781ltmRsLVHfVCSi3qm1rIt6kukVoK5DLfV6TyFUsWQ__GWk8NhW8MjF0LmBAyeXe00oUEyftMoteRuxv5y-uTXwcHYRBIhVGOMn7ibCp6-K5yMI_o/s1600/1424395_10153310201372473_7440660538601238727_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="608" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmydC9EoGRTPE4A3wYsv_eZCdy781ltmRsLVHfVCSi3qm1rIt6kukVoK5DLfV6TyFUsWQ__GWk8NhW8MjF0LmBAyeXe00oUEyftMoteRuxv5y-uTXwcHYRBIhVGOMn7ibCp6-K5yMI_o/s640/1424395_10153310201372473_7440660538601238727_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
My reading is coming along just fine this year as well. I recently received my Brunch Book Challenge hamper, for having finished 58 books in the past year, and I am more positive now about the ways in which reading can impact your life. Above and beyond all, reading gives you yourself. I don't know if it makes sense, but each time you run a line and its meaning in your head, you're talking to yourself. It brings you at peace with the idea of existence. It also, many times, gives you answers that you had forever been seeking. Read, and keep reading, for there is only so little time to absorb so much out of the Universe.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPqKYAXV0ySm41Tlzk7yT7i9eOHhMAXzUvgtSbglIb46VxEymUmBIb6WJAduoCjE3lHBqWAIsv9Ygoeg39UNJindmo636Yxl8HsY0tl4yw9mJGdlH5td3kZPZ7pcE8W3EBg5XDT0RL4KY/s1600/1001107_10153486462482473_1727702400507211586_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPqKYAXV0ySm41Tlzk7yT7i9eOHhMAXzUvgtSbglIb46VxEymUmBIb6WJAduoCjE3lHBqWAIsv9Ygoeg39UNJindmo636Yxl8HsY0tl4yw9mJGdlH5td3kZPZ7pcE8W3EBg5XDT0RL4KY/s640/1001107_10153486462482473_1727702400507211586_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br /></div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-45378153729931672982016-03-09T22:27:00.003+05:302016-03-09T22:28:05.500+05:30Dreamcatcher<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">My thoughts meander<br />
In first person <br />
Through geometric patterns<br />
Woven with dreamy glow<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I am the centre of the culvert<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Which bends towards you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">And then disappears behind<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">A foliage <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Of ugliest brown<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Vintage solitude.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I am the incline<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Of the scale<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Which refuses to measure <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Your lengths <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">In my breadths<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">And the hypotenuse of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Long dead human concern<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Longer than the sum <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Of your lengths in my breadths.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I am the radius<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Of the ellipses<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Which dot the ends<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">And enjambments<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">In all sentences<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Phrases<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Murmurs<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I create and destroy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Within the haven of <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Illuminated text boxes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I am the angle <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Between my desire<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">And your swollen ego<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Acutely aware of the<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Obtuse notions<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">You straightened in your head<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">At quarter past nine</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Over an empty flute of wine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I am the point at which<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Reality blurs<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Into forcibly conjured dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Nightmares of your departure<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Touched by the feathers <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Of my dreamcatcher.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">You left.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Nightmares left. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I am the circumference <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Around the dreamcatcher <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Swaying without a centre<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZhMwU2tqiT6pEtGDeCXv_em8e4v6Bfx1761QV-HpCqMGTUkQVZOrSOeJfpgFi79rG3SMnMElZ36lJVyM1iXiTVtlFLFMsB_14kjhCKVB3Kxw6rAcVNDqu7TQZ1Y6BGRCUYCBP6FKcps/s1600/1goR9DZ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZhMwU2tqiT6pEtGDeCXv_em8e4v6Bfx1761QV-HpCqMGTUkQVZOrSOeJfpgFi79rG3SMnMElZ36lJVyM1iXiTVtlFLFMsB_14kjhCKVB3Kxw6rAcVNDqu7TQZ1Y6BGRCUYCBP6FKcps/s640/1goR9DZ.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
</div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-27067367986561013692016-02-29T02:06:00.000+05:302016-02-29T02:06:25.398+05:30Leap Into Some Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I had been researching for an article on Leap Years and Leap Days, when the beauty of the concept struck me. Leap Days are days which exist lesser than the other days. These are days which go unnaccounted for. If you're working today, you're working without pay. If you were born today, you'll have to bank on either 28th February or 1st March as the official day you came into existence. Facebook will have nothing to show you today, unless from a really far off past.<br />
<br />
And best of all, if you're forming memories today, you cannot mark an annual anniversary for them. Which makes the nostalgia invisible, or eternal.<br />
<br />
Think about it. Today is a day you must obviously try and live more than the others, because, like I said, it will exist lesser than all the other days on the calendar. The scientific reason, of course, is to take care of the anomaly which arises between the calendar year and the solar year, but that reason makes no difference to my life. Despite this adjustment, there is still an error of timing left, which is adjusted by not counting multiples of 100 as Leap Years, unless they are multiples of 400 also. Too many numbers in there, and they still do not guarantee precision. Again, precision makes no difference to my existence, but reasons for forming formless memories do.<br />
<br />
If you've seen the (quite disastrous) movie Leap Year, you would be aware of the Irish tradition where women could propose to men on a Leap Day, and fear no refusal. Some say, it is a day when no man is safe, because his denial may cost him a kiss, a silk dress, or a pair of gloves to be given to the lady who popped the question. This latter tradition, arguably, started in 13th century Scotland, when Queen Margaret decreed that on 29th February, a lady may unabashedly propose to any man she fancied. Rest assured, she won't go home empty handed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJs3UdiEo8hc1DofvUQvxo7JSV5RbL7Up4jz0DCpQyNeCnrNkJMQ4vzldsSzaZ3msHjBtw9p102abJurLCbXktbzDqZ8aXi0ntwaKNkr3QvfLSWp8HX7F8xNZDpauhf6Nr11Z6slqq1g/s1600/6145-leap-year-2880x1800-movie-wallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJs3UdiEo8hc1DofvUQvxo7JSV5RbL7Up4jz0DCpQyNeCnrNkJMQ4vzldsSzaZ3msHjBtw9p102abJurLCbXktbzDqZ8aXi0ntwaKNkr3QvfLSWp8HX7F8xNZDpauhf6Nr11Z6slqq1g/s640/6145-leap-year-2880x1800-movie-wallpaper.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
It is quite apt, then, that the extra day be added to the month of love. No one really knows for sure why February was left with only 28 days in a calendar where all the other months boast of far more. There are legends, none with a strong grounding though. Leap Day gives this pretty month a chance at equality, just short of it though. And the more I think about this day of fleeting importance, the more its importance becomes apparent to me.<br />
<br />
Even though modern existence robs most of us off the luxury of time, I'll still have a plan to utilise this extra day for moments, tasks and conversations which are too important to be archived. February 29th, in the modern idiom, should become the day where we all say out loud those things we've held onto for too long, without the fear of listener's judgement, or retaliation, or condescension. All those three are contemporary malaises, which deserve at least a day's bravery to cure. And if your brave admissions of love or longing (or desire, or any curbed feeling) are met with unpleasant reactions, there is always a kiss, a silk garment, or pile of books to ask for (because gloves really make no sense to our times).<br />
<br />
There are times we push hard to make a moment happen, and then we wish it away because it turned out to be too unpleasant for our heart to digest. Congrats, here you have a day which you won't have to wish away, because it will not hit your calendar till it becomes a long lost memory, which, a leap of years later, you would only smile back with fondness over. At least I would. I like prolonging intense moments, by forming calendar memories of them. Today, I won't get to do that. It's my day to be brave, and yours too. If you've withheld a sentiment from me - inbox it right in! I have my most nonchalant self waiting to hear.<br />
<br />
I really hope we make a tradition out of it. I would. In the personal utopia I have constructed with some kind people and kinder words. May Queen Margaret's decree be followed - a moment of love, or a bar of Silk, find your happiness either way, and then, if needed, forget the day ever existed :)<br />
<br />
Live and let go, I believe, is a lovely motto for our age. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjVO25hlWZv8jlzTATqmfyfet8emmlJfFCKahpL1jvJV3XNu-hm-oerh5wG7kAr504c4a9Zzm5hQ-_oXUWR7eHopzHIceNr5rU1CHGW0z7aSp95TZXrEp6-09hTMRbvJKJsx5_TxxPm0/s1600/ask-history-why-do-we-have-a-leap-year_iStock_000020004359Large-E.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjVO25hlWZv8jlzTATqmfyfet8emmlJfFCKahpL1jvJV3XNu-hm-oerh5wG7kAr504c4a9Zzm5hQ-_oXUWR7eHopzHIceNr5rU1CHGW0z7aSp95TZXrEp6-09hTMRbvJKJsx5_TxxPm0/s400/ask-history-why-do-we-have-a-leap-year_iStock_000020004359Large-E.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-9685278153804441302016-02-25T16:05:00.000+05:302016-02-25T16:05:35.099+05:30Soulmates - Guest Post by Prateek Pandey<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><i>That dreamy look you get when someone walks into the room can mean
only one thing. Your soul mate has arrived. The way they smile, the way they
shift their gaze down and left with that reflective look before they answer, or
the way they throw their head back when they let out a hearty laugh leaves you
weak at the knees. Carefully caressing every movement of theirs with your gaze,
their sigh becomes your sigh and their embrace becomes your completion. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><i>Such deep surrender can only be possible with a soul mate. It cannot
be explained any other way, right? Of course it can, but in that moment of
desire, logic escapes us and the loins take over where love pretends to play.
But it’s not a singular desire that drives us to lose sight of reality and
suddenly abandon our faculties in favour of love, sweet love. That would be far
too simple a neanderthal response to explain why such sophisticated beings as
ourselves suddenly drool with desire when the brain fog sets it. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><i>We go through life savouring successes, even tiny ones, bravely
rising from each setback that befalls us. With each rising we muster a portion
of renewed hope, a smattering of new wisdom, and a lowly regret that we tuck
away neatly because it doesn’t quite complete the picture that we now present
to the world. That’s the image of composed resilience that won’t be stifled. It
would be fantastic if that cycle came around only once, but it doesn’t. It
comes around more often than we’d care to remember, or even less than we’d care
to admit. And so with each cycle we grow weary, but continue to exude hope and
optimism, because all the fairy tales in the world cannot be wrong. My soul
mate cometh, and I shall be ready and waiting to meet her at the door before
the threshold, so that we can trundle in together, or not. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><i>The reality is closer to the truth of us spending our lives seeking
avenues of expression so that we may be able to reveal ourselves to the world
without feeling vulnerable in the process. Striking that balance leads to a
tiresome combination of restraint and expression, until one of the two become
more dominant. That dominant disposition shapes our character to the world
around us, eventually convincing even us that it is who we are, until that
fateful moment when that soul mate enters. That soul mate comes in the form of
one who expresses what we restrain, and restrains what we express, thereby
striking a cord with a desire buried so deep that just teasing it leaves us
giggling like lovesick teens who just witnessed the de-flowering of the world. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><i>That completeness awakens us to the optimism and passion we once
held dear, and with seeming abandon, we expose ourselves willingly in
preparation for the embrace we yearned for since forever. Suddenly we wish to
express to the world on their behalf what they restrain, trusting foolishly
that they will express to the world what we restrain, and from between our
loins shall spawn the perfectly balanced beauty of the sum of us. </i><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYvkHMWyB0UNuxm2At8hp_8zZlkmVAjDn5UvZIrp0ueVpLp2tJkUP9ABcvQopb74qolF0KWzJYi4ciFV0ClOw2h89j8dkHv3epSYsCiJpOafVs04yt1nOFugRMTA_GjWNWoM_D60qN-zA/s1600/Artist-Handmade-Abstract-Rainy-Artwork-Romantic-Picture-A-Couple-Of-Lover-Under-The-Umbrella-Oil-Painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYvkHMWyB0UNuxm2At8hp_8zZlkmVAjDn5UvZIrp0ueVpLp2tJkUP9ABcvQopb74qolF0KWzJYi4ciFV0ClOw2h89j8dkHv3epSYsCiJpOafVs04yt1nOFugRMTA_GjWNWoM_D60qN-zA/s640/Artist-Handmade-Abstract-Rainy-Artwork-Romantic-Picture-A-Couple-Of-Lover-Under-The-Umbrella-Oil-Painting.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PC - <a class="_ZR irc_hol i3724" data-noload="" data-ved="0ahUKEwi-q_Dr2ZLLAhVEcY4KHRSGDKoQjB0IBg" href="http://www.aliexpress.com/store/product/Artist-Handmade-Abstract-Rainy-Artwork-Romantic-Picture-A-Couple-Of-Lover-Under-The-Umbrella-Oil-Painting/1682071_32388178858.html" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; text-align: start; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span class="irc_ho" dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; margin-right: -2px; overflow: hidden; padding-right: 2px; text-overflow: ellipsis;"><span style="color: black;">www.aliexpress.com</span></span></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><i>Whether they are soul mates or not is almost entirely irrelevant, or
at best, subject to interpretation. We selectively interpret life, and love,
and then follow it with deliberate action that either proves our views to be
true, or abandons the world for being untrue. It is what we choose it to be,
but such choices have to be mutual if the outcome is to be idyllic. Sometimes
we meet one whose choices are inversely mutual, thereby syncing perfectly with
our own, but sometimes what appears to be an initial sync turns out to be a
novelty phase of fascination and not much more. When that phase passes, some
will convince us that soul mates are not always intended to stay forever, while
others will suggest that they weren’t ours to begin with. Either way, the
outcome remains true, and the lessons we take will either build us up, or break
us down. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><i>The amazing thing is, whether we’re right or wrong is not really
what matters. That’s just bonus points. How we appreciate and grow from
whatever or whoever comes our way is what peppers life beautifully, or taints
it horribly. Much of life is wasted waiting for opportune moments or
validation. Soul mates will be drawn towards us as kindred spirits when we live
authentically and pause only for air to fill our lungs before we push on again.
But authenticity is not easy to express, because we’re raised to find affection
and validation as markers that determine our success. No wonder, in a world of
emotionally stinted half formed adults, we wait for our soul mates to join us
before we immerse ourselves fully in what is always only ever a one time offer.
<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<i><br /></i>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><i>Life doesn’t wait for soul mates, nor should you.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">***</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<b>About the Author - </b>Prateek Pandey is an idiot. He is precisely the kind of idiot I am proud of knowing and in whose presence literature, poetry and language acquire newer dimensions. He answering questions through his prose and poetry which the world is yet to learn to ask. Lampooner. </div>
</div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-73266329510300590602016-02-01T15:14:00.000+05:302016-02-01T15:14:42.843+05:30Bibliophilia Revisited - Part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello!<br />
<br />
If you've known me via any medium in the past year - personal or digital - there is a good chance you know that the bibliophile in me had gone insane. I read a very proud 58 titles in the year, 18 of which, I realised, I need to sing praises of.<br />
<br />
Quoting from an the previous post - "Books helped me discover knowledge, meaning and even balance. A lot of time which I could have potentially spent over-thinking was spent guessing and obsessing over unfolding plotlines. My thoughts were often writing stories of their own, which were so powerful, that it impacted my actual writing styles, in a good way. I connected with people who connected with my reading list - and these, I can tell you, were the easiest people to match wavelength with. I ended up inspiring, quite happy to say this, a few to set their own personal targets and take up reading seriously in the coming year."<br />
<br />
If your reading list is not sorted for the coming months, following are the 9 books I can safely recommend for complete satiety of the book-lover in you. I will follow this up with another post containing the remaining 9 titles, to complete the list of 18 fantastic reads. (Random fact - 18 is a really cool number. In my life, as well as in the Mahabharata.)<br />
<br />
Here we are - leave your thoughts about the books you have already read and any further suggestions for me in the comment box please!<br />
<br />
1.<a href="http://www.amazon.in/Bridges-Madison-County-Robert-Waller/dp/1455554286" target="_blank"> <b>The Bridges of Madison County</b></a> by Robert James Walker<br />
<br />
<i>A beautiful New Year gift by Ankita!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>Romance, eternity and simplicity beautifully combine in this book. This was my January read, and the most comfortable companion for breezy afternoons with a cup of coffee.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRPRqx_qeEMCT2z3BY9cfA7IxS2KzxbrpzPBvHez9eJ_zL4AMSPDS5N-yLAIdNdu0uE68ilnC1QWBflowd94Fkkq2zGFtYZrY1rg9njOgDKDEzR3V23bY64aQTemy1j-pOJRwvxQi_64E/s1600/IMG_20150105_214422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRPRqx_qeEMCT2z3BY9cfA7IxS2KzxbrpzPBvHez9eJ_zL4AMSPDS5N-yLAIdNdu0uE68ilnC1QWBflowd94Fkkq2zGFtYZrY1rg9njOgDKDEzR3V23bY64aQTemy1j-pOJRwvxQi_64E/s640/IMG_20150105_214422.jpg" title="Bridges of Madison County by Robert James Walker" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
2. <b>The Remains of the Day</b> by Kazuo Ishiguro<br />
<br />
<i>Picked up a year after it was prescribed in my course on postcolonialism during Masters at Jamia Millia Islamia. Der aaye durust aaye.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Remains of the Day </i>is a poignant recollection of the waning period of British empire, especially the manner in which it affected the British Aristocratic class. It tells the story of a Butler and his obvious confusions with the changing social relations and norms of conduct. A dash of unrequited love, and, sigh, the book manages to mark a permanent place in your heart. (You can also watch the film adaptation, equally good, I can say.)<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKLGRZ5iHkzuWRyELfogw_Nl5aKTFEXiVtpiVaGkMy4ZYkvG-mM792JtMR5SGDPA7t-vPOpC0JW2U__ysZAKwv1euevCA6RvaXF4sVDRgN-RuBp4Q1g2fwVLipYSs5W1-nOQtK2KlEAk/s1600/IMG_20150202_095353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKLGRZ5iHkzuWRyELfogw_Nl5aKTFEXiVtpiVaGkMy4ZYkvG-mM792JtMR5SGDPA7t-vPOpC0JW2U__ysZAKwv1euevCA6RvaXF4sVDRgN-RuBp4Q1g2fwVLipYSs5W1-nOQtK2KlEAk/s640/IMG_20150202_095353.jpg" title="The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro" width="640" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
3. <b>Love in the Times of Insurgency </b>by Birendra Kumar Bhattacharya<br />
<br />
<i>No clue as to how I came to own this. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
A translation, this one is a Sahitya Akademi winner. The plot dives into the life of Naga people, and the effect of Second World War on them. Nothing has introduced me to the local practices and beliefs of Nagas as wonderfully as this book. Then of course, the binding factor is the throbbing tale of love in the middle of all violence and mayhem.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwfUloHCFJJ9akix34HqAOe05CDKXc-sEujmNNPF5WbqDAn5MPzI8-xWgvotA35hn0GiS0roGpArHiIC5uCFSpY4rTerQnJKbqstXrMNalGfGLWeEil2J-aIw1D_0FEaRueuMKHO2t7w/s1600/IMG_20150224_173015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwfUloHCFJJ9akix34HqAOe05CDKXc-sEujmNNPF5WbqDAn5MPzI8-xWgvotA35hn0GiS0roGpArHiIC5uCFSpY4rTerQnJKbqstXrMNalGfGLWeEil2J-aIw1D_0FEaRueuMKHO2t7w/s640/IMG_20150224_173015.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
4. <b>Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban</b> by J. K. Rowling<br />
<br />
<i>Bought the entire set from Delhi Book Fair 2014. Just like that. Because I am crazy when I have money.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I cannot potentially dare to say anything about this saga - way too many Potterheads out there to glorify the series. However, I can safely say that I am ecstatic I began on this magical journey, even if very late in life.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAuKraTMrc8YOBEDhl7r3LmbRPphiLK4jHM6bW_oh11Wrr6umrXZeg_nvUsa8TVr6QqGq8t0wvAPaDLGE44yT6wV0JZDWYuCzmDrFVlEcqJ1nRZyopYjsSRc6X-TBeQul_NZx5pfIv9A/s1600/IMG_20150403_144632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAuKraTMrc8YOBEDhl7r3LmbRPphiLK4jHM6bW_oh11Wrr6umrXZeg_nvUsa8TVr6QqGq8t0wvAPaDLGE44yT6wV0JZDWYuCzmDrFVlEcqJ1nRZyopYjsSRc6X-TBeQul_NZx5pfIv9A/s640/IMG_20150403_144632.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
5. <b>The City of Djinns</b> by William Dalrymple<br />
<br />
<i>Someone gifted this to me. Can't remember who. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Classic. It is not a leisurely read, but has a lot to offer to anyone who is in love with the city.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0PMts3PTkhfQcwB6mGLZsr7hQLoAV63_cBlj0L3of_cyygjbmeqS0SEsIgr9MzMymSac4Xxp6rtXqf5UAQjG1f6c6csmSi-bI3Gg3vxmLImyfsj1AdscxMXGVlKoMsNiKDkPeYGNvQtc/s1600/IMG_20150410_121537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0PMts3PTkhfQcwB6mGLZsr7hQLoAV63_cBlj0L3of_cyygjbmeqS0SEsIgr9MzMymSac4Xxp6rtXqf5UAQjG1f6c6csmSi-bI3Gg3vxmLImyfsj1AdscxMXGVlKoMsNiKDkPeYGNvQtc/s640/IMG_20150410_121537.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
6.<b> First There Was A Woman and other stories</b> by Marija Sres<br />
<br />
<i>Bought it from the Zubaan Mela, 2014. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I pick up a lot of Zubaan books, primarily to understand gender and gendered existence. And theory never helps me, stories do, This is a fantastic book with fables, legends and myths to understand how the sociological constructions of gender came about.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxhdBYGZrNYr-QOwkBS3tYadV5KkSNBdeFlZLj4ItFyxEsjP7C6jj5yytWp6B8T2SnCczqzsIVDT4JImPOwEbOerQKRBxqL_Dfcxg98NK4Ol2OJA9VEgfao_3eVigHNuR93AVJZlO50-I/s1600/IMG_20150427_134945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxhdBYGZrNYr-QOwkBS3tYadV5KkSNBdeFlZLj4ItFyxEsjP7C6jj5yytWp6B8T2SnCczqzsIVDT4JImPOwEbOerQKRBxqL_Dfcxg98NK4Ol2OJA9VEgfao_3eVigHNuR93AVJZlO50-I/s640/IMG_20150427_134945.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
7. <b>An Abundance of Katherines</b> by John Green<br />
<br />
<i>Bought from Salim bhai's bookshop (New Book Land, Janpath). Best books, best rates. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
This is my favourite John Green, a preference which does not find favour with many. Besides having all the elements of a quintessential John Green book, it has some mathematics and formulae aimed at defining love. Also, it has an ending which, for a change, did not leave me brooding.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMSWkQoqC28uF1U3MZQBXfD0t6ej_YvD8TngLeXrQQQGVYjVSNcBs33ykS5tZL5raLrK9LPEOFaSF6o3mho3KCmzW_Vt9u6RHbfkvouKu1V0KXgFuhcU-dHaGUDjLYwFsPK6ZOTYU5rhE/s1600/IMG_20150503_121307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMSWkQoqC28uF1U3MZQBXfD0t6ej_YvD8TngLeXrQQQGVYjVSNcBs33ykS5tZL5raLrK9LPEOFaSF6o3mho3KCmzW_Vt9u6RHbfkvouKu1V0KXgFuhcU-dHaGUDjLYwFsPK6ZOTYU5rhE/s640/IMG_20150503_121307.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
8. <b>Myth=Mithya</b> by Devdutt Pattanaik<br />
<br />
<i>Bought from Salim bhai ki dukaan. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Symbolism has always fascinated me, and when I discovered infinitely fascinating symbolism in my own backyard, I was dying with delight! Pattanaik offers you an understanding of much from our traditions, rituals and culture we take for granted and refuse to acknowledge. I am all set to read this book one more time.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXUpEXsd0Cd52MpXHqNK5YsOCQC3LQXxuP3rSl25YVLJ_RGVzXyyl6pNQMBxAM-okAWMagaiIXQsG9_3iL0rN0SeK0KC_bn6-SjbBZ1mBHdOzCX6zzQvRt2WCESFUHg2RH7uqvhd5-tA/s1600/11020852_10152901146637473_4658714060715044279_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXUpEXsd0Cd52MpXHqNK5YsOCQC3LQXxuP3rSl25YVLJ_RGVzXyyl6pNQMBxAM-okAWMagaiIXQsG9_3iL0rN0SeK0KC_bn6-SjbBZ1mBHdOzCX6zzQvRt2WCESFUHg2RH7uqvhd5-tA/s640/11020852_10152901146637473_4658714060715044279_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
9. <b>Tuesdays with Morrie</b> by Mitch Albom<br />
<br />
<i>Gifted with love and a love-note by Neha Thureja. My kid. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I do not read a lot of self-help books, and this looked like one. I was, however, pleasantly surprised by the the simplicity, both, in narrative and in content. I did not learn many new lessons here, but my faith in the way I lead life got reaffirmed a great deal.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-wnkoBVL6WgMpK4GBtPpipPFevgxuTsl-GNlW7mJMPEetkXma0h_LrcQ_9IloyOgUv7t01ep3vJiJmMY_ppKPV-tWCtSTKJJ2MntDj788_m3AR7DknY3RXzIadPSdb9mOPTIy_ZXNSsc/s1600/11140121_10152940541492473_7317317782987566212_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-wnkoBVL6WgMpK4GBtPpipPFevgxuTsl-GNlW7mJMPEetkXma0h_LrcQ_9IloyOgUv7t01ep3vJiJmMY_ppKPV-tWCtSTKJJ2MntDj788_m3AR7DknY3RXzIadPSdb9mOPTIy_ZXNSsc/s640/11140121_10152940541492473_7317317782987566212_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Nine more books are left to complete this list. That will happen in the next blogpost.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<i><br /></i></div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-1313297825459616002016-01-27T13:12:00.001+05:302016-01-27T13:14:17.626+05:30Missing Pieces<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Puzzles need</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Empty spaces<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Like cases<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
To keep
congruency alive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And so, my
life<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Thrives<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
On your
admissions of loneliness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I fit into
the crevices<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
You leave
bare<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And into
instances<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
You forget
to share.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The pain
that numbs you<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Gives me reasons to live.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I align to
your latitudes<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I fill your
missing pieces <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
With
multitudes<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of what they
call mortal sins.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I entwine my
luck<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
With the
empty spaces<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Between your
fingers<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And what
lingers is<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Nervous comfort in
your eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I languorously chew</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
On the smoke </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Burning your subterranean ideals.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The fluidity for which I aspire</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then conspires</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
To stop the cauterization </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And attempt a dousing. <br />
I'll still be the banks</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Once this river has flown through. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Selfish,
coveted<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Stolen, even
as you resisted<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It fills you<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
As it fills
me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
With an
emptiness<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of a special
kind<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Leaving a
hole<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Difficult to
find.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I served my
destiny.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
You
fulfilled yours.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk36W-IhLzCFIkBuIBWhKKtebiANelVkN-4PE81AOReSo_ehaqhEkykutOGZI6_Cdsd8FcI3PanNhN3o6Tt1lBoz6JIeOUwhGmmPpoKFEqRkLZH-fAJ8_0PBzOkMGCAdkS4xb-7lI6SaU/s1600/il_fullxfull.321866551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk36W-IhLzCFIkBuIBWhKKtebiANelVkN-4PE81AOReSo_ehaqhEkykutOGZI6_Cdsd8FcI3PanNhN3o6Tt1lBoz6JIeOUwhGmmPpoKFEqRkLZH-fAJ8_0PBzOkMGCAdkS4xb-7lI6SaU/s640/il_fullxfull.321866551.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-2546936606594275642016-01-08T00:24:00.000+05:302016-01-08T08:52:05.910+05:30If I Could<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">If I could<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I would tell you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">That I love the idea<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Which brews<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">With your aroma<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">And dies with my soul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">You're tastefully forbidden<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Majestically hidden<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Tragically unbidden <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">In this land<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Which unfolds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Into folds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Of my existence<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Screechingly tugging at yours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">If I could<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I would tell you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">That I want that story<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">To plain be true<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Which I conjured<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Out of the concoction<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">You held in your hands<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">And more so in your eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">As our gaze met<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Unflinchingly <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Mischievously <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Menacingly<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I moved to your side<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Just to avoid your eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">If I could<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I would tell you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">That inebriation is the cue<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">With which I come through<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">To drink pieces of you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I like treasuring you numb<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I like being dumb <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">To all but your being<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Equally drunk <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">On prying me out<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Of the haze of noise<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">And smoke of humanity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">You're majestic<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Each time I drink to desire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">If I could<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I would tell you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">That held hands<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Are normal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">They're cool<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Like all instances <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Of pretended normality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Holding hands is the only<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Transcendence of morality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Rest follows on its own<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I hope it follows soon<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">On the same,</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Pretended course of normality. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">If I could<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I would tell you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">That not writing to you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Is not an option<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">It is a curse<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Customized<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">To our love. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">As I write to you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I write you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">An unbecoming tale<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">As I repeatedly fail<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">To say any of this to you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">If I ever could<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Even then I wouldn't <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Let you know</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">How easy and true<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Was it to get through<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">This funny notion of love<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I happily hold<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">As a recipe of remorse<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I am adamant<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">To never share with you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I'm forever keeping from you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">The idea of you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I uniquely own<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Whether you do, or not</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Say '</span>I do'.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY4-p7oehPtpRWT9kWgYc01V5RILyIkDPkb-JVzYrzSbJc_WIAV8KCvOwNTMthArfqDPIACz3JtfyaDmCRrgQFLDd4pqw92Pvoh5gXJUV8IP20FtMcnbry7XJMz98jhXBINt-fTZbL5_E/s1600/f2f024f2d2b851c396ff6e3df24bfe91.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY4-p7oehPtpRWT9kWgYc01V5RILyIkDPkb-JVzYrzSbJc_WIAV8KCvOwNTMthArfqDPIACz3JtfyaDmCRrgQFLDd4pqw92Pvoh5gXJUV8IP20FtMcnbry7XJMz98jhXBINt-fTZbL5_E/s640/f2f024f2d2b851c396ff6e3df24bfe91.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
</div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-32890979558914725932016-01-06T00:43:00.001+05:302016-01-06T00:43:32.667+05:30Murakami and Melancholy <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Some pieces of literary brilliance fill you with so much despair that you are literally waiting to burst open with all those shrivelled packets of unhappiness you had locked away long ago. This obnoxiously long first sentence only goes onto perfectly display the amount I was holding back, till I turned over the last page of <b>Haruki Murakami's<i> Norwegian Wood</i></b>. And then, despair took over. A kind of sweet melancholy which does not make you cry, but leaves you eternally ponderous.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_bJKEtogSoALIXEFweUzXiiuMrU8PuVDDcHNmYAYjY9p76_sRQ0-w7MGXQXKm1mGXWSyP4GY5mL5T335Xd60OcXo_D5tDOVY5YQ1cZUxmeRqxFbNPj77vsY5U2z1JIVk5Y2Roj9O89po/s1600/7a0b44824cd13937d8ccbc201b0a8fa3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="608" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_bJKEtogSoALIXEFweUzXiiuMrU8PuVDDcHNmYAYjY9p76_sRQ0-w7MGXQXKm1mGXWSyP4GY5mL5T335Xd60OcXo_D5tDOVY5YQ1cZUxmeRqxFbNPj77vsY5U2z1JIVk5Y2Roj9O89po/s640/7a0b44824cd13937d8ccbc201b0a8fa3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks for a lovely Secret Santa gift Shweta!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Many call <i>Norwegian Wood</i> a love story. Few others a loss story. How, however, is it so simple to classify a novel which is a deeply moving reflection on all that ails us as humankind. Each character, painted in poignant detail, is a model of damage which many people suffer over many eras in life. The central character, <b>Toru Watanabe</b>, has a lot riding on him. He is the unifying factor in a story which seamlessly sews together damaged, fragmented, suppressed and even deranged psyches. <i>Norwegian Woods </i>is a love dance played within the psychological space of different individuals united with this deep sense of melancholia.<br />
<br />
Imagine eternal winters taking over the heart of people - this is what Murakami's simple tale narrates. I say simple consciously. Simple is what this book is. Simple in language, in style, in thoughts, and it is this simplicity which tugs at your heart with a passive force binding you to the pace of the lives of Toru, Naoko, Midori, Reiko, Nagasawa and even Hatsumi. Far too many deaths in the book only add beauty to the narrative. Like that was even possible.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisSMCMRdz-PGhAi3pr16THNS7bzmWGL_30vimCBw6VnuujPYmrWSlRE8s2CPqLe6pXF8mDnzPhfp2gdgEstEOBRg8qqRBm2Ji81sXkIbvQrdulOkMylTPFihooMeugQEVaYt1wHlgSKJM/s1600/download.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisSMCMRdz-PGhAi3pr16THNS7bzmWGL_30vimCBw6VnuujPYmrWSlRE8s2CPqLe6pXF8mDnzPhfp2gdgEstEOBRg8qqRBm2Ji81sXkIbvQrdulOkMylTPFihooMeugQEVaYt1wHlgSKJM/s640/download.jpe" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haruki Murakami</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This is not a review, yet it is important to spell out that Toru Watanabe was in love with his childhood sweetheart, Naoko, who came with historical and psychological complications. His relationship with a reticent and implosive Naoko is a contrast to his companionship with Midori - an outgoing, verbose, crazy-but-endearing girl, who is also a model of emotional strength. The exploration through the relationships with these two very different females is an exploration of Toru's character, which I found torn between a promise of valorous love and the reality of a sensually satisfying affair. Nowhere have I seen a more wonderful elucidation of the physical mutating and shaping the psychological and emotional realities of a person. Murakami has accomplished this in nerve defying detail.<br />
<br />
I was recently sharing with a close friend, how this novel revealed to me that sadness can be titillating too. Their is a heavy dose of wintry sorrowful sensuality in Murakami's prose. Sadness appears to be the most defining, the most basic, and the most unifying of human emotions. So much, that you want to touch feel it, touch it, lie down with it. Make love to it too, perhaps.<br />
<br />
The spell of the book can cause this spiel to continue. I must put a stop though, since Mitch Albom beckons me after this.<br />
<br />
A parting message - the impact of the book was so strong that it led to a need for discussion. While much of it happened over whatsapp, a twitter property also came into being, called <b>@LitColl</b>, short for <b>#LitCollective</b>, under which tag, I will be hoping to discuss some literary concepts with you all. Care to join?<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9kKy8M9WY1ajkBKXstWis1c4ukw2RPfaWqVfTs4hNvRSIl4TgIG-4uMIuN0i5BJjkay3t_XSKmeDtdSQVdVUFXW8HHqmM5srQ_56Kbu5HtLfyfGB892026CukYv9ptq4j8eWKWu2FK0/s1600/1451846847976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9kKy8M9WY1ajkBKXstWis1c4ukw2RPfaWqVfTs4hNvRSIl4TgIG-4uMIuN0i5BJjkay3t_XSKmeDtdSQVdVUFXW8HHqmM5srQ_56Kbu5HtLfyfGB892026CukYv9ptq4j8eWKWu2FK0/s640/1451846847976.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-66856258069263698862016-01-01T05:45:00.000+05:302016-01-03T03:45:58.507+05:30One Day At A Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Many would argue, that the time for nostalgia is over. For me, it has just come alive. I am celebrating the New Year in the most spectacular way possible - sipping through memories in an absolutely quiet room, all to myself. In the distance, I can hear some crass party music buzzing on meaninglessly. I can also hear gentle snores from neighbouring rooms. Dreams are hastily in motion, living their final pleasant breathes for tomorrow will bring the rush of office life, the mayhem of odd-even logic. My sister has an exam. I hope her dreams are flooded with untidily scribbled notes.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb28-b42RF8pcC0FbxMtnY-GWEZRSfgmevW3U8vIVSialiQJmr9IrJpTMUehG5Mg_rpwihKxHTBppsvQaepLWJ5sV9BwAmoYzZo-agwU8K8UYHphRFeNSKgVinZgt2cGEhRcc2muOlAI0/s1600/spink-roses-gifts-hearts-bench-vintage-photo-hd-wallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb28-b42RF8pcC0FbxMtnY-GWEZRSfgmevW3U8vIVSialiQJmr9IrJpTMUehG5Mg_rpwihKxHTBppsvQaepLWJ5sV9BwAmoYzZo-agwU8K8UYHphRFeNSKgVinZgt2cGEhRcc2muOlAI0/s640/spink-roses-gifts-hearts-bench-vintage-photo-hd-wallpaper.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PC - imgcell.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
As for me, I am going to sit this night out. I have a couple of things to ponder on, another couple to feel good about, and I am going to allow myself the privilege of embracing only the fatigue caused by contentment. 2015 was a special year, not because it was perfect, far from it actually, but because at the end of all of the chaos, I remember prettiness. In fact, I even remember the darker times with a hint of pretty. That is a good sign, no?<br />
<br />
Dates, endings and beginning are all psychological constructs. Nothing really, materially or physically has changed between yesterday and today. Still, I have quite loved observing dates to which we attach significance. These are times to pause and reflect, before you decide to drone on and get accustomed to the usual pace of life after a moment's high. Here are some reflections and learnings from 2015 which I find worth sharing. A part of them you might relate with, a part of them might help you out in someway. Another part of them, perhaps, you could help me out with.<br />
<br />
<b>Books</b><br />
There are these drunk screeches I can hear from cars blaring music as revellers inside them welcome 2016 in a manner I never can. I am casting loving glances on my Murakami lying a little away on the quilt, because once this post is over, I will be snuggling with it to sleep. (Whatsapp servers being down helps). I have always been an avid reader, but in 2015, I saw in me a compulsive need to read. Amid social media comments which called me a show-off to a liar, I persisted with my stubborn love for books, and ended up reading 58 of them! That, by any standards, is a huge number to accomplish in a year.<br />
<br />
However, number is not all that I have accomplished. Books helped me discover knowledge, meaning and even balance. A lot of time which I could have potentially spent over-thinking was spent guessing and obsessing over unfolding plotlines. My thoughts were often writing stories of their own, which were so powerful, that it impacted my actual writing styles, in a good way. I connected with people who connected with my reading list - and these, I can tell you, were the easiest people to match wavelength with. I ended up inspiring, quite happy to say this, a few to set their own personal targets and take up reading seriously in the coming year.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7-33R415kKPpY-WBa_OqO-KTqJjYKr4gagzL5pIwjODTtdikUDpMVCrL4Bz4UqcrRhf9omdr5Bm8OdteIAXAvKG9NjC8hoFUhekFg474MYd6EDuVBEjFaJneOgqr0gH5cOODa6Bm-Ns/s1600/Books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7-33R415kKPpY-WBa_OqO-KTqJjYKr4gagzL5pIwjODTtdikUDpMVCrL4Bz4UqcrRhf9omdr5Bm8OdteIAXAvKG9NjC8hoFUhekFg474MYd6EDuVBEjFaJneOgqr0gH5cOODa6Bm-Ns/s640/Books.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
No matter what was happening in life, I always had a book to come back to. It was comforting, and not in the least did it contribute towards making me reclusive. Rather, these books gave me so many conversation topics that I would be bursting with literary excitement everytime I was in human company. As much as I can remember, I only gifted books this year. Trying to find the perfect book for a friend was almost as exciting as trying to set him/her up with a perfect match! For those who have yet not discovered the magic of books, I am here to help. For those who want to sort out their reading list, I am here to help. For those who want membership in my personal library, duh, I am here to help.<br />
<br />
<b>Time</b><br />
Not my greatest friend, honestly. But I got along fine with it.<br />
<br />
A persistent question which friends/acquaintances/people I interact with on social media, asked me was - how do I have time to do all that I do! Honestly, I don't have an answer. I do find myself burdened, running delays, panicking with the load of work I have - but that is a rare occurrence. It happens when the general spirit in life is low. Else, I am quite happy observing the diffraction in my thoughts as they are forever trying to accomplish multi-hued objectives. I am quite chaotic in my head, but this is a very endearing chaos which keeps me goofy and occupied. Do you see what I mean?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidobUznQyCIXOqg2Hy0IKQ-UFor3uR-SiQ8yYuUFXt5jtwdL7fs53ssD0m9VGVB3K4qP97naB-FGf6EbjvIWm7C1gzLNMEB-AS0xQAyGzjN_Mp0njohPUAxSg2ra-0h80BcIYCpVILotI/s1600/time-management.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidobUznQyCIXOqg2Hy0IKQ-UFor3uR-SiQ8yYuUFXt5jtwdL7fs53ssD0m9VGVB3K4qP97naB-FGf6EbjvIWm7C1gzLNMEB-AS0xQAyGzjN_Mp0njohPUAxSg2ra-0h80BcIYCpVILotI/s640/time-management.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PC - bookbook.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
There are a few things I have learnt in 2015, about my relationship with time, which I am going to carry forward next year. I spent hours curating experiences for myself. I took myself out of dates, learnt to make peace with solitude and understood that cacophony is disorienting if consumed too much. This might not sound feasible or wise, but wherever there was a choice between saving time or saving money, I literally squandered money to save myself some precious minutes. I've started sleeping adequately, and I think, I have begun loving my sleep-hours more than food. THAT is saying a lot.<br />
<br />
Moving beyond the ticking aspect of clocks, I have learnt to trust and respect time. It will keep moving - no matter what. So, if you have a happy situation - live it, because it won't last. If you have a difficult situation - keep cool, because it won't last. Flow, if possible. Act in the best possible way, take your breaks, get back up again, and time, with its constant flow, will take care of the rest.<br />
<br />
<b>Poetry</b><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUSD2z_cbCPcCQUz6QY2jypwS0YUAnLJiL1zNHWVRV6AZd7dU1r4b4iMW21N_I2NkxQF6ky7B1dS8oqrEZHjijwUXjn1H9xHkQdzDbJhCBKCR56cc1gY2l4roCGIbvOVhlKYVBB2GkpQ/s1600/12347705_10207718952869837_6849912682397205520_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUSD2z_cbCPcCQUz6QY2jypwS0YUAnLJiL1zNHWVRV6AZd7dU1r4b4iMW21N_I2NkxQF6ky7B1dS8oqrEZHjijwUXjn1H9xHkQdzDbJhCBKCR56cc1gY2l4roCGIbvOVhlKYVBB2GkpQ/s400/12347705_10207718952869837_6849912682397205520_n.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PC - Tejinder Singh</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I am not a great poet. Good is also a debatable adjective, but I have had the golden privilege of frolicking about in poetry most days of the past year. That, however, is not what I want to talk about. I actually want to mention <b><i>Poets' Collective</i></b> here, defining which is beyond the collective expressive capabilities of all the beautiful souls which inhabit it.<br />
<br />
PC is a family which many of us have built together. Even while I try and observe a safe distance from most things, attachment towards PC comes naturally, without realization. Part of it, certainly, is about poetry. A greater part of it, however, is about life. In its most intimate manifestation, I have seen people show their craziest sides without a shred of fear about being judged or mocked at. I LOVE THAT. "Being" is more important than "being free". Think about it. And in this almost surreal state of being, I have seen some amazing poems brewing, even before they take the shape of words. There is no larger purpose here - we've got our jobs and ambitions and plans sorted for that. This is, perhaps, about saying - "Let's grow old in poetry, together."<br />
<br />
This commitment, to growing together, learning together and cherishing all the good which comes along with poetry in our lives is what makes PC special. At least I believe so.<br />
<br />
<b>Mistakes</b><br />
Oh many! So many!<br />
<br />
Learning from mistakes aside, I learnt, that there are some mistakes I cannot help but commit repeatedly. In that scenario, what is important is to learn how to assuage situation soon enough, so as not to cause damage anywhere. Internal or external.<br />
<br />
I believe people are sometimes too harsh on themselves when they realise their mistakes. It's okay. You will go on making them. Problem arises when you repeat your mishaps. Please find new mistakes to commit through life. Once done, ask yourself, 'What next?' And act. Action is sometimes the greatest way out of the gravest quandaries in life.<br />
<br />
Shall I tell you something more? In retrospect, each of your silliest mistakes will beautifully fit together like puzzle pieces to complete the mosaic of your vibrant life. You'll have nothing to regret, unless you're hell-bent upon it. Hang in there. Most of these things are happening for a reason.<br />
<br />
Important - when others make a mistake, and you think you are in a position to make them realize it, please to it with an aim to correct and not to condescend. There was this lovely day last year where there was an oversight on my part, and I was shamed in front of an alien public, in a verbose and unpleasant manner. I love rebukes. They are usually dazzling chances to learn. But not this time. Tough love does not include shaming - it includes a stretching of parochial perspectives.<br />
<br />
<b>People</b><br />
Aah. My favourite part. This year was insane with respect to people. I offended a lot of people, sometimes knowingly so. I fell in love with a lot more. Some unfriended me, some took me out on marvellous dates. The pretty difference this year was, whenever it came to conflict between my peace and someone else's happiness, I first saved myself and then did whatever I could for the other. Rants aside, here are a few mentions.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Dr. Ashok Chakradhar</i></b> - an inspiration and mentor, he gave me the privilege of calling him a teacher - a role in which he excels effortlessly. Literature, poetry, discourses and life - I gained a lot through my interactions with him.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Mujeeb</i></b> - calling him a lifeline is still an understatement.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Niyati</i></b> - if I have truly shared any phase of my life in painful detail with someone, it has been her. This relationship was due some years on me.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Akshat </i></b>- we grew up, suddenly. We've had a history of most invigorating discussions, but the level and class and subjects suddenly became too grown-up. In a good way, I guess. (This person is my reality check in life.)<br />
<br />
<b><i>Mohit</i></b> - he brought music and senseless smiles back in my life. Among few of the toughest days in 2015, it was just this guy, who could say precisely the words I had wanted desperately to hear.<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">Ekta </i>- the way we connected, in an instant over that auto-ride, this is the stuff that great friendship stories are made of. Resolve to meet me more, okay?<br />
<br />
<b><i>Ambikesh, Prateek, Sharad</i></b> - funnily enough, you guys played a similar role in my life at different points in time. Standing up for me, and facing my boiling temperature, you three have completed cycles of the relationships we're hopefully building for a long time to come.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Nimisha</i></b> - daughter, decided? Chuck everything and come snuggle with me when times are tough. Also, there are always books and pizza.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Anurag </i></b>- you came up bravely, but there is a long way to go. You know it. I know it.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Divyaksh </i></b>- you are my goofy spoon of happiness and the best ever insight into mythology and philosophy.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Puneet and Atif</i></b> - <i>kaise?</i> How are you guys such dazzling humans at heart? I have loved your poetry, your love and the pretty bonds of friendship which have formed between us.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Rashmi</i></b> - no words in the world are capable of telling you how thankful, indebted and in awe of you am I. You are such a reflection of the life-force which I forever want to live with!<br />
<br />
<b><i>Mimansa</i></b> - the genuineness of your heart tugs at mine. I hope to know you better next year.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Pooja</i></b> - when you talk, it is like my conscience speaking to me. I could write poetry for you daily, you know, hoping that someday you'll scribble some verses for me.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Yaseen</i></b> - you're a friend I have chosen to believe in.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Evita</i></b> - how did we come to be so close? How did you come to be so fond of me?<br />
<br />
<b><i>Kamal</i></b> - I think noone in my life understands the term 'unconditional love' better than you do. Darling son, okay?<br />
<br />
<b><i>Nishant</i></b> - God gave me my full when he designated you as my friend. I'm blind and demanding when it comes to our love and friendship!<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">Netrik - </i>for the unconditional faith you have posed in me and the world we've created.<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">Yasser - </i>for being a charming new addition to life.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Atika </i></b>- the liberty to be at peace with myself when I am with you is stupendous. You are a beautiful person, and there is nothing I will not do to add smiles to your life.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Vernita</i></b> - I have ended up admiring you. So much! I want to meet you so much more and keep falling in love with you.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Saif bhaiya</i></b> - you are the BEST gift that 2015 gave me. I have known you several years, but not like this, never like this. Your being there matters. A lot.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>One Day at a Time</b><br />
My biggest gift this year was the ability to live one day at a time. Yes. I gave each new day its respect. I seldom carried on emotions and intensities from previous nights to new dawns. There were many mornings I woke up and asked myself - so, what do you want to try out today? And whether it was as basic as making mashed potatoes for myself, or beginning work on a new book - I just went ahead and did it. Simple.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJHshlas1qtTtb6uX_lG9JyGBtfBdPB01iGz3F8WkKoWyYbZiOkPke5LIBavApXVLM2wAaJrmZtVbmsitxkI2N2BIsql6r2XcDnRZ8TMR6K6xkWrkDBe4BdopqBZunf0KuLS5yb4NW7U/s1600/12376408_802302186560012_4174303482200758989_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJHshlas1qtTtb6uX_lG9JyGBtfBdPB01iGz3F8WkKoWyYbZiOkPke5LIBavApXVLM2wAaJrmZtVbmsitxkI2N2BIsql6r2XcDnRZ8TMR6K6xkWrkDBe4BdopqBZunf0KuLS5yb4NW7U/s640/12376408_802302186560012_4174303482200758989_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I wish you a great 2016. I have some great plans and some stupid tasks to accomplish gloriously. Absolutely kicked about it. You?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1901701252396078909.post-31545054738619481482015-12-18T00:05:00.001+05:302015-12-18T00:05:34.192+05:30Come to Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>You ring in my mind<br />
That turns blind<br />
To the aberration <br />
Our love, my love<br />
Is causing in the Universe.<br />
On this blemished landscape<br />
Don’t become a curse<br />
For incoherent rhythms<br />
Beating within the hearts of hopes<br />
Clinging on time-worn ropes<br />
Suspended<br />
From a hook never seen. <br />
Come to me<br />
Like the balancing chaos<br />
Found on the rope I tread on<br />
And the hope I nudge on<br />
To reach you<br />
As world and order crash all around me.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>*** <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>It’s been long<br />
That the song<br />
Of our love was hummed<br />
In the chirps of lonely birds<br />
By the cries of hurting herds<br />
Echoing in the vanity of that look<br />
Through the pages of a yellowing book<br />
As yet unfinished<br />
For words are scarce<br />
And end uncertain.<br />
Come to me<br />
Like numbness in vocabulary<br />
Like the need to say just the needed<br />
Like empty spaces filled with dark silence<br />
Like words that mean much, <br />
While saying nothing. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>***<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>I’m giving up the goal<br />
But retaining the dream<br />
I think you not a song<br />
But a familiar scream<br />
My soul lets out for comfort.<br />
Voices are my friends<br />
Reverberating through unlived<br />
Unloved<br />
Undone.<br />
Come to me <br />
Like the dark songs of desire<br />
Like the forest quagmire<br />
That sucks me in<br />
To be freed into you. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>***<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The smell in my room<br />
And the mustiness of memories<br />
Are the same breed of torture<br />
I willingly embrace<br />
To hold you tight<br />
In my slipping grip. <br />
The past is tricky<br />
For after ceasing<br />
It conjures a future<br />
That could scarce in this lifetime be.<br />
Come to me<br />
Like a memory unlived<br />
Like the times yet to come<br />
Like the moments that never were<br />
Like past which ruins my present<br />
And the future which is stubbornly absent. </i></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMgH30aoWTpfyLtjqYZYOfCxT_m-FNyUOygMnpSBZko66n1hrxhgBkjpQVI6fSz4-8IL36wdqd5af3m-Z-p14HhfM2eUc1-DK50BmYUjec9-ncxpsBtDTMtLyQdOsRKATRtoVTmqilirE/s1600/bewitched-park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMgH30aoWTpfyLtjqYZYOfCxT_m-FNyUOygMnpSBZko66n1hrxhgBkjpQVI6fSz4-8IL36wdqd5af3m-Z-p14HhfM2eUc1-DK50BmYUjec9-ncxpsBtDTMtLyQdOsRKATRtoVTmqilirE/s640/bewitched-park.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Painting by Leonid Afremov</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
</div>
Saumya Kulshreshthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05195931245951633406noreply@blogger.com7