Thursday, February 17, 2011

RIGHT MOMENT,WRONG TIME BUT..WORTH A TRY..


Submitted by: Shikhar Bhargava

At this moment when i pause,
the world around me with its flaws,
self destructs humanity and its followers,
and its being with their last borrowers..

constant silence, the world, a tree
of mortal souls as one can be,
through the silence a touch of hope
giving reason to elope..

day after day a new leaf dies and knows,
leaving behind one branch holding a two faced rose,
a flower that holds a world of beauty in its heart,
turning the tree to paper as its branches fall apart!

i felt a breeze pass as i stood in front of where the tree once was surrounded by the silent sea just like death embracing her own children and all that had been left were the wiped out remains of the last man on earth who thought he could have still made a difference!

P.S. To read more blogs by the author, visit TRANSPHERICAL SOULS

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Winds of Change

Submitted by: Trisha Roy


At the very earliest, it is my primary responsibility to clarify what I intend to speak about, and what exactly made me write it. Most of my literary work is abstract, for I am obsessed with incoherence of thought. It has no certain predefined form, no expectations to meet, and no rigid boundaries of thought, for I do not intend to give it a beginning, a body and an end. The best thing about literature, or for that matter, any form of art, is that it gives form to something which is elusive to the mind. When I sit down to write, I precisely have no idea where my pen will take me, and it is only when I give myself completely over to it, that I realise that a structure has indeed come up. I give the pen a dream, and the pen gives me the form. Similarly when a painter paints, he does not give the canvas a picture. He gives the canvas his attention and the canvas  gives him the picture. This is precisely what makes art in any form so beautiful, refreshing and magical in this otherwise mechanically manipulated universe.

Coming to the point, what I intend to say is that, the following piece of work was written with no specific event or case in mind, but just as a sum total of a lot of issues that had been gathering dust over time in some obscure corner of my mind. However, it was written partially in the aftermath of reading two books- first, the book called “A Thousand Splendid Suns”- an extraordinary book by bestselling author Khalid Hosseini, and second, a book called “The French Lover”, one of Taslima  Nasreen’s  lesser known books, not as outrageous as “Lajja”, but very enlightening when it comes to the female psyche or, for that matter, feminism itself, in its subtle shades. As must be pretty apparent by now, I intend to talk about women, and I intend to talk a lot!

Now, I am no feminist. Rather, a feminist in parts and pieces. For that matter, every woman is a feminist in her own right; so, that intrinsic feminism is obviously in my flesh and blood, but I am, by no means, a self-proclaimed  feminist. I do not call every man a chauvinist, and I do not hold men responsible for all the issues in a woman’s life. I am not here to scream about the plight of women in our seemingly progressive but intrinsically stagnant and impoverished country; I just have a list of small ironies that strike my face so hard everytime I think of myself as a liberated young lady from a liberated progressive society, where women are quotedly “marching ahead in life”.

Let me name the ironies then. We have been always claiming that “times have changed”. Yes, times certainly have, but who validates that change?? Yes, the jump from the kitchen to the conference room is apparently a massive change; the transition from the saari to the formal trousers is a salient thing too, but then, no change is real change except the change in perception.....and perceptions, mind you, haven’t really changed.

Who claims then, that times have changed?? For everytime I look at the newspaper, and learn of a Dalit woman stripped and marched in full public view in some obscure village in India, I know times haven’t changed. Everytime I hear of diplomats and foreigners being raped in the Capital, I know things are yet the same. Once when a male friend suggested a “pepper-spray” as an essential commodity for self-defense, I wondered how far we have come. Everytime I think of the Pakistani village girl Mukhtar Mai, and how her brother’s alleged affair with a high class Muslim girl, resulted in the price being paid by her “sentenced” gang- rape by the Zamindars, while her father and brother waited outside the room where ‘justice’ was supposedly being given, I realise that times will perhaps never change. Everytime I hear male drivers mocking at driving women, I am disillusioned. Everytime I read of a fatwa being issued on Sania Mirza’s short skirt, I am enraged. Every time I hear of IAS officers and diplomats being accused of domestic violence inspite of being at such respectable positions in the government machinery, I grow more certain of the futility of the lopsided progress of a country like ours. Everytime a young  girl like Aarushi is pathetically defamed by the media after her tragic death, I conclude that we are still as primitive as we ever were. Everytime a beautiful model like  hangs herself because her boyfriend refuses to marry her, and everytime the old father of an ugly young girl of marriageable age, almost sells his daughter at the hands of any prospective bridegroom, I stamp my helplessness with the stench of harsh truth. The stench of truth is indeed very unpleasant, choking in fact, but then, there is no avoiding it.

The crux of the story is that, some things in life are just trapped in a vicious circle. There is no escape, no redressal, and no hope. All that there is, is a mirage..the closer you get to it, the more you analyse it, the more disillusioned you become. There is certainly a metamorphosis from one form to another, and this superficial change fools us into believing that there is change. Perceptions however stay on- immutable, rigid, invincible and irreparable, and without perceptions changing, societies and civilisations never change.

Winds of change do not come easily to a country like ours. Sometimes, we have to put up a passionate and rebellious fight to let them enter our land, and we are probably not rebellious enough yet. So, here we were, and here we remain, with our eternal hopes of a change that has not come in centuries, but will surely come some day, because at the end of the day, it is good to remember that,

“The hands that rock the cradle, can also rule the world.”

Friday, February 4, 2011

THE DARKEST FEAR!


Submitted by: Shikhar Bhargava

As deepest fears of darkness come up and start today,
In this total blackout there will always be a ray,
Of light visible to those who know the right way,
Only to keep their loved ones close and perils at bay!

Objects in the mirror are close than they appear,
To be what their future will bleatly fear,
Those bygone days where the mirrors use to brood,
Over the candlelight face of a woman and her mood!!

Knights in their armours and kings on their thrones,
World war iv will be with sticks and stones,
For there is not a single fly who would vouch for an honest man,
And not single person who would die for his motherland!!

So we should al together take a vow,
Be it to die for a cause or die right now,
Till you live..fight for what is dear,
To you and overcome that darkest fear
in you!!

What is it?..What is it that darkest fear?
That fear..that grips the heart?
Its what man has to know himself,
Is all that we have to fear is fear itself!!

P.S. To read more blogs by the author, visit TRANSPHERICAL SOULS




Wednesday, February 2, 2011

The Changing Face of Guwahati

Submitted by: Abhishek Saha



As a child, I remember going out to the riverside parks with my dad and sit on the benches by the side of the Brahmaputra and watch the sunset and impending dusk.  It was a certain period in the city’s timeline, when Guwahati was gradually approaching a modern style and yet modernity had not shown its ugly face. Somewhere it was all balanced out like the sound of heavy electrical instruments and the lead singer’s voice in a well orchestrated rock band performance. The simple audio and video cassettes were moving out and CDs had come in, only a handful of rich people had bought something called a mobile phone, even the construction of the recent flyovers had not started, there weren’t any of the malls or multiplexes or branded restaurants which we see now, the Nehru park was the main place for children’s amusement, you didn’t see teenagers with cigarette between their lips swearing abuses and moving around in costly cars and stylish bikes and the streets of Guwahati weren’t flooded with cars, bikes and people.  Roads and streets of the city which were once deserted and dark, now bustle with human activities, lights and cars. Schools had simple routine, with academics as the main focus and fests on the sideline.  Small shops and simple grocery stores were very much in business. Dressed and packed meat was not available anywhere.

Everything has changed.  And most important thing is that such changes are not superficial. They are deep rooted, I think. They represent the erosion of a complete way of life, which we have had for a long period of time. The change had been gradual, no doubt but nonetheless it has taken a very prominent and definitive shape now. Just see how even the Durga Puja celebration pattern has changed in the city.  Lights, crowd, canopy of temporary fast food joints on the footpaths, traffic jam, fun filled pandals, high cost images, the sound of the dhak, children dressed in new clothes and their crackers, the sweets and the khichdi, the pundits and their mantras (sometimes amplified)....all these together always create an unique and pleasantly nostalgic aura about Durga Puja in the city. History has its share and over the years Puja in Guwahati city has taken a lot of unprecented twists and turns to reach the present state, a rather consumer driven state. More than the worshipping part of the event you will observe that people are busy with various sale offered by most companies whether be it ladies wear or cars. “This Puja.....” and you have a whole lot of offers and schemes to choose from. The present day scenario of any festival is dominated by a very strong market force. Most of the malls are open till late up to night.  Amidst the glitter and pomp of materialistic demands and excitement, the religious devotion and attitude for the spiritual quest can be easily questioned. To add on top of it, you have the exponential increase in the number of private vehicles and its effect on the traffic of the city during the Puja; all through the four days the roads are jammed and crammed by people in their mostly newly bought cars and bikes thronging the Puja pandals. And yes don’t forget how some of the prominent pandals of the city become the haven of drunk and misbehaved youngsters, because of whom it is sometimes embarrassing to visit these pandals with women or girls. 


Only time can say if these changes are for the good or the bad. With the strong footing of economic liberalisation, financial condition of the average man has changed a lot. Every other middle class person owns a car, everyone has a LCD TV set and everyone sends their children to a posh school and eats at branded restaurants. And again you see obese children everywhere, youngsters smoking weed and rashly riding motorbikes and meeting their end.  Hardly will you see a young boy sitting on the benches of the riverside park with his dad nowadays. You will find him at a famous restaurant selling fried chicken or may be at a place specialised in pizzas. 

The city still has an immensely huge working class population for whom every penny comes with a lot of pain. But side by side, as a by-product of liberalisation, corruption, and various other easy ways of income, a section has come up, especially a young generation which doesn’t understand the value or to say the purpose of human life with any rational justification or moral and ethical implications. From where the money comes and where it goes has no value for anyone. Common people’s money, messed up in cycles of corruption lands up in the hands of all the wrong people who use it unjustly for all the wrong reasons. Most of the politicians never even care to understand the importance of the hard earned money which is laundered in their hands. 

Perhaps all the development we see, is one sided. Perhaps to satisfy the greed of a handful of the people, we are living in this make-believe world of ads and commercials.  Perhaps with money comes an unjust psychology. Perhaps that’s why in most of the fields and sectors, we find people who have lost all sense of ethics and morality and indulge in worst of activities. And perhaps that’s why even as Guwahati’s face changes, you see large number of beggars looking at you with haunting eyes and demanding something as you walk on the streets or get down from a luxury car or come out of a branded restaurant. 


P.S. To read more blogs and see more photographs by the author, visit Abhishek Saha Speaks Out and Abhishek Saha Photography



Monday, January 31, 2011

परीक्षायें@BIT

Submitted by: आयुष श्रीवास्तव (BE/1359/2010) 


हम सभी लोगों मे एक बात Common है: वो है Examophobia, यानी Exams का डर. Exams से एक हफ्ते पहले बजरंगी जाकर Books खरीदना, और एक दिन पहले Mishra Xerox जाकर Notes लेना तो हमारा धर्म बन गया है. और ऐसा हो भी क्यों ना? BIT मे Paper ही ऐसा Set होता है जैसे Einstein और Newton सब, हमारे ही क्लास मे पढ़ते हो..!!

यह परीक्षायें...... क्यूँ इतनी ये प्रचंड होती हैं?? :-(
ऐसा लगता है मानो हमारी भूलों का यह दंड होती हैं
Teacher जी को हमने क्या खूब है सताया जी,
हमारे जुमलों ने उनको भयंकर है छकाया जी..
शिक्षक ने भी आज खूब ज़ोर से है गाया जी,
हंस ले गधे हंस ले, आज मेरा दिन है आया जी..!!

एक शाम जब मे खेल के Hostel वापस आया,तो याद आया कि कल से Exams शुरू हैं...और वो भी पहला Exams Mathematics का! वैसे ही सारी उम्र मर मर के जिए हैं, तब जा कर BIT तक पहुँचे हैं..अब एक साल तो हमे जीने दो..!!

But Paper तो होना ही था..तो हुआ ही..
अब Exam Hall मे:
Question Paper मे Alpha, Beta, Gamma हर जगह छाया था...
पर Paper देखते ही मुझे तो कैटरीना का नया गाना याद आया था...;-)
टीपने को जैसे ही सर पीछे घुमाया था,
Invigilator जी को सर पे ही खड़ा पाया था..!!

"बेटा,20 साल से तुझ जैसों को देख रहा हू मैं
 एक-एक को इस Campus से बाहर फेंक रहा हूँ मैं,
 चल, अब या तो तू चुप-चाप अपना काम कर ले,
 वरना बाहर जाके सुकून से आराम कर ले|"

अचानक मेरे मन मे Famous बनने का ख़याल आया |
Number-Wumber की फ़िक्र छोड़ो,यह सब तो है बस मोहा-माया||

अब सीधे तरीके से Famous बनना तो ज़रा मुश्किल है| कुछ तो उल्टा सीधा करना ही पड़ता है Famous होने के लिए. मेरे मन मे famous होने का पहला तरीका जो आया:

सोचा बन जाता हूँ कसाब या अफ़ज़ल जैसा आतंकी,
बम से मार डालूँगा सबको, फिर कर लूँगा थोड़ी रोने की नौटंकी |
किसी की इतनी औकात नही, जब सरहद पार हमारा दाता है,
कंधार जैसा अफ़रन करके छूटना हमे बखूबी आता है||

Terrorist बनना थोड़ा Risky है. तो सोचा की Better होगा अगर Democracy मे रह कर ही "Legal Terrorist" बन जायें. Legal terrorist…!!! हाँ भाई, आप सही समझे, हम नेता की ही बात कर रहे हैं.:

विचार किया तो एक और काम दिल को भाया है,
इससे सरल और कमाओ काम कोई Businessman भी नही खोज पाया है!
भ्रष्ट नेता बनकर Public का मेवा खाना है,
जी-हुजूरी, चाटुकारी करके पैसा-शोहरत सब हथियाना है ||

जैसे लालू खाते चारा, करते भारत का वारा न्यारा,
नटवर सिंग ने तेल पी-पीकर डकार भी ना मारा,
मधु कोड़ा ने तो झारखंड के साथ कैसा कैसा खेल किया,
हमारी बहन कुमारी मायावती ने सारा धन मूर्ति पर ही उडेल दिया|

Fame के इसी उधेड़बुन मे जब मैं खोया था
किसी ने मुझे एहसास कराया की मैं सोया था
शिक्षक महोदय मेरे पास आए, बैठे और बड़े प्रेम से बोले
"बेटा,तुमने पूरे समय तो अपने अमूल्य नयन नहीं खोले
कम से कम नाम लिखकर रस्म-अदाययगी तो कर दे..
पूरा Paper blank छोड़ा, इतना तो हम पर एहसान कर दे..!!"

मेरी एक बात तुम बड़े ध्यान से सुन लो,
तुम Famous बहुत होगे, इसका एक भरोसा कर लो |
कथा-अख़बार, कहानियाँ हर जगह तुम्हारा ही नाम होगा,
तुम्हारी उलूल-फ़िजूल हरकतों से हर तरफ कोहराम होगा|
ए असामान्य बालक, तेरे तो चेहरे पर ही मूर्खता की अमिट छाप है.
तेरी प्रसिद्धि का यही तो राज है....मानो या ना मानो...
तू तो शखचिल्ली का भी बाप है.... .!!


Thursday, January 20, 2011

Welcome!

The Literary Society of Birla Institute of Technology, Mesra welcomes you. 
It is a Young Writers' Club which invites entries from all its members in the regular Symposium events hosted at the institute. The most interesting works every week get selected and published on the blog http://literarysocietybitmesra.blogspot.com/ . We shall keep you posted with the most interesting entries regularly and we welcome your feedback on them to encourage our young writers at BIT Mesra.