Showing posts from February, 2009

Across the Sea and Along the Boarders...

Across the sea and along the boarders, India is facing explicit threats from its neighbours. The conditions there in the neighbourhoods do not seem to be promising. With the military rebellion broken out in Bangladesh, the situation has become worse.

The Sri Lankan squall on the LTTE has already become a burning topic, which dishevelled the not-so-quiet Tamil Nadu politics. The linguistic identity, which the subservient population of Sri Lanka tries to establish with India, is the major cause for Indian concern. This identity-claim based on the language Tamil, is a protective-ideological measure taken by the population. The Sri Lankan Tamil population is the migrants from India, centuries ago. What ever the history is, in the present context, it is impossible to accept another group of people, as some one Indian, out side the political boundary of India, only on the basis that they also speak one of our regional languages. We cannot even sympathise with them, on the fact that they were…

The Humanoid

Famish, the deep-laid seed of mortality,
When creeps on the road of stomach,
The New Despotism stands,
Beside a multi national restaurant!
The deep carved eyes looked for them,
With the burden in the stomach,
Crawling, whirling, kicking…
Questions thousand raised,
To the ‘ideologists’, for answer! But-
Busy those self-volunteers were,
In ‘planning, implementing and evaluating’
Their new business dogmas!
Pity rolled down through the metal cheeks of a humanoid
Exhibited in the restaurant. Roared-
He shouted; terror filled the air.
Despotism stood stiffened, stark.
The Humanoid stole bread pieces, thirty!
He fled with the famished.
Famine took the restaurant.

Oscar India...Oscar

On the day of the Oscar awards, India died of happiness but rose in the realization of what otherness it has been bestowed with and by what curious eyes, it has been viewed by the west. The three unparalleled individual talents kissed the Oscar statue. India dampened its eyes. The happiness was that much. It was difficult to hold the pounding heart without the chill of tears poured over it.

Slum Dog Millionaire, the film, which won the best film award and Smile Pinky, the film, which won the best short film award, both are about India. ‘About India’-that phrase is to be underlined. There are question marks on whether they have portrayed India in the way as it really is.

There is a western archetypal curiosity about India and its life, from the European renaissance or even before it. Columbus’s landing on America and many other geographical discoveries also are the after effects of that curiosity. It is that curiosity that we can identify in the Oscar achievements of these Indian films…

Problems Faced by the Post-Colonial Consumers


There is no one that can be called consumer in the truest sense. ‘Consumer’ is the result of the process of marketing. The identity of the consumer is an ambivalent one, because the consumer is the holder of money or the possession, which when he transfers to the market, it becomes the ‘investment’ for the market and a facility to satisfy his needs. The need of the persons provides the space for the establishment of the market. The market labels the individual as a consumer. These semantic identities act as an interlinked chain and are transferred through the market.

Not only linguistic labeling, but many other discourses also can be seen transmitted through market, especially after the globalization. They are:

The action of adulterating, being mixed with extraneous material, illicit substitution of one substance for another is known as adulteration. It becomes more embarrassingly conspicuous in the third world post-colonial countries. Not only the indigenou…

The Writers

"Who is a writer?” - Some one asked.
“The one who knows what to write?” – I reflected. Then the other person said;
“No, the one who knows that who is not a writer, is a writer. For he then learns, what to write; and how!”

What ever may be the criteria to define a writer, each one of us has definitely tried writing at least once in our life.

Writing, as Paulo Coelho says, is the expression of one's own soul.

Sometimes it might be the intuitions of an author that is manifested through his or her writings. But when a reader approaches a written or printed piece of writing, the probable intuition with which the writer had given the expressions, would become-- a fact, a truth, a prophesy, and, a living and pulsating piece of life.

I am hinting on that moment when the reader enters into the complex network of symbols and associations on the writer’s behalf and becomes astonished and shocked on seeing those inexplicable scenes of imagination and reality intervened.

I am hinting on a rise i…

The Love Story.

How does it matter to you when someone is falling in love, in some obscure part of the earth? In no way it matters. But suppose if that person is somebody whom you know, then?

You might have read many love stories and heard that all the love stories are the same. Let me tell you that it is wrong. The course of love, the happenings in the lives and hearts of two individuals, in the most fantastic and mysterious sort, can never be written as a story. For in love, hearts spill tears and eyes fill with blood. And this is no story. This is reality. And any one, like reading a story, can’t understand this. Those can only understand this, who has felt it at least once…

True that some way, in love, the whole world seems to be beautiful. But in reading a story, you will only be preoccupied in the pages, and the world around you seems to be ignored. So love is not a story, ever…

I don’t know how to answer these questions like when, how and why I got acquainted with her sight, only with her sight,…

On a Crying Child

Cry child cry. Let them know you,
For it only will open the deaf ears of Monitory Despotism.
Prince of filthy street
Let your throat cry loud.
Shiver the stars make the cloud to shower.
Your tears might tempt
To write a poem that can catch -
Those, who reads for an aesthetic pleasure.
Be a model for the artists
To portray the un-kept and also for us
Be a model to be exhibited in
The new plan, for poverty eradication,
As, a ‘courtier of poverty’!
Who in the world else; know
You are the prince, not a courtier
Un-kept, unwanted;
Other than your deserted stomach dried throat and tearless eyes!

Cry child cry…
For the crying-one only gets loaves…

The Nature Discourse

Womangot one of her finest attributes from the male dominant literary scenario, as ‘Nature’. The feminine face of nature and the female identity as nature both have its long history, though the later image remains controversial.

What would be that peculiarity or peculiarities of nature that prompted the poets of endless facility for imagination to proclaim it with the pronoun for feminine gender? A scrutiny seems to be relevant in an event where the nature seems to be engulfed more with deserts than with rain forests and where existence becomes the cause for destruction. For existence of human beings or any other living creatures, they need a habitat, which must be suitable for the comfortable life of them. The point, which turns the contemporary ‘marketism’ into a silly butt of joke, is that nature itself is providing the habitat for humans and all other living beings. For the existence of “some”, they are destroying the nature, which is actually their habitat. Here, those “some” are …