NATIONAL CONFERENCE ON ENERGY begins today: Day 1 Schedule

NATIONAL CONFERENCE ON ENERGY
18th - 19th OCTOBER, 2008

DA Y 1 Saturday, 18th October, 2008

Registration: 08:00-09:00 : Dr. Harshita Sachdeva, Dr. Harlal Singh, Ms. Manshi Roy

09:00 -10:30/ Inaugural Session
Welcome Address: Prof Shaktidev Mukherjee
Address bv Chief : Prof. H P. Garg
Address by Guest of Honour: Prof. Munish Garg
Chaitperson's Closing : Prof S. Sarkar
Vote of Thanks by Convener: Prof. K. Singh.
Key-note Address: Renewable Energy Scenario in Inida by Prof. HP Garg

11:00-11:30/Morning Plenary Session

Chairperson: Prof. B. L. Jhanwar
Rapporteur: Dr. Griraj Kiradoo
Invited Talk: Prof. V. R. Satsangi

11:30-13:15/Morning Technical Sessions
Technical Session 1 (Room 1)
Chairperson: Prof D. Mukherjee
Co-chairperson: Dr. K. Quanungo
Rapporteur: S. Surana

11:30-13:15/Teehnicaal Session 1 (Room 2)
Chair Person: Prof. VR Satsangi
Co-chairperson: Mr. SK Vashishtha
Rapporteur: Dr. Alpana Gupta

The Wonderful Karuna Girls

During the E-Day celebrations, among the colorful stalls, dance, music and fireworks I came across Karuna. An inititaive that is as old as I am on this campus. And yet, somehow, I had never heard about their inspiring work. And I am sure there are many like me. Here is what Karuna is all about. The following is a reconstruction of the text sent by Enginium's Smruti Ranjan.

Karuna was formed last year and initially it had 12 members. Two members have dropped out. They came together initially to help the children of all the labourers who were working on the various construction sites inside the campus. These were migrant workers and looked as if they did not know what to do with their kids. Most of these children ended up doing nothing except eating dirt and a lot of other un-eatables found around the construction site.

Giving them something worthwhile to do and also to eat became Karuna's first assignment. The Karuna volunteers provided the children something to eat- snacks, biscuits, fruits. But that was not enough. They then started searching for schools where they could enrol these children. They searched a lot of schools in the tehsil and after a lot of searching they came across Bal Seva Sadan, a school attended by kids from the villages around. The school has 60 children. It does not take any fees and is supported by three NGOs which give them an annual income of rs.30,000. What started as an attempt just to help the workers' kids turned into a full fledged engagement with the school. we distribute snacks, teach the kids and have also conducted a drawing competition in the school.

The Karuna team thought of printing the children's drawings as greeting cards but that went beyond their budget. But they plan to do it later. Their engagement with the school has increased.

And their efforts have been helped by the fact that nearly 100 people have registered for Karuna. Now they plan to arrange our entire workforce and start proper classes for the school. The principal has requested the Karuna team to prepare special lessons in English, Mathematics and Environmental Sciences. One of the very obvious handicaps for the school is a sad lack of teachers, they have four of them and they too are not equipped enough. there is also a language barrier that the Karuna volunteers face.

They are currently working on preparing the entire course for the school including screening of certain movies and if possible certain lessons on the laptop. And their Diwali gift for the kids is notebooks, pens and pencils and sweets for the entire school.

The website for Karuna is almost ready and the team has furthered the the procedure for registering Karuna as a cooperative. They are also working towards joining hands with Kasturba, an orphanage in Sikar.

The Karuna girls want to start an evening school for all the child labourers around the campus but for that they need support from all of us. I request all of you to help these wonderful girls in whatever way/capacity you can.

BLESSINGS FOR AN ENGINEERING RACE by ANNIE ZAIDI

(Annie Zaidi is a Delhi-based poet and professional journalist. The poem is reproduced from http://www.pratilipi.in/)

May you not give birth to monsters.
May your children not have the haunchesof a pig.
May your pigs not have hornsfrom highland cows.
May your salmon be wild and your prawns unfarmed.
May your goats be purebred
and your cotton, white gold.
May you bloom and grow
bloom and grow
and may you know when to stop.

Drama Society Meets Today

The Drama Society will meet today (Sept 2, 2008) at 5.45 pm in the Central Quadrangle. We are happy to inform that its a 88 member strong society now and more are expected to join, on the spot, in today's meeting. See you there!

Drama Society Registration Opens Today!

Students inclined to join the FET DRAMA SOCIETY should register themselves. The registration will begin on August 11 and will end on August 14.

Dates: 11-14 August, 2008

Time: 3 p.m. to 4.30 p.m.

Venue: Computer Lab VI, Ground Floor, Old FET Building

You may also send your registration request at rajkirado0(at)gmail.com, mentioning your name, batch no and contact details (mobile no and email id).

Pratilip 3: Wagish Shukla's Novel in pdf and A Lot More

Literary bimonthly Pratilipi's third issue is out now and one of its major attractions is Vishesh: Ek Tilismi Upakhyan, a chapter (a droplet) from IIT Delhi's Mathematics Profeesor Wagish Shukla's proposed (ocean of) a novel (2500 pages!). Australian Filmmaker Michael Buckley's essay on Gesture as Cinema and paintings by Meena tribal women are among the Featured attractions.

Among others writes in the issue are Norwegian poet Olav Hauge, Japanese poet Shuntaro Tanikava, Sukrita Paul Kumar in Gulzar's translations, Nand Kishore Acharya, Asad Zaidi, Anjum Hasan and seven younger poets. In the fiction section it has a short story by this year's Man Asia Literary Prize long listed author Sumana Roy, Meena Arora Nayak, and three Hindi authors Kunvar Narain, Malchand Tiwari and Piyush Daiya. Famous painter Haku Shah's autobiographical piece heads the non fiction section.

I.I.T. Professor Writing a Novel in Hindi !

Not many Engineering students know that Prof. Wagish Shukla, who teaches Mathematics at IIT Delhi is also an Indologist, a Sanskrit and Persian scholar par excellence, a devoted Ghalib and Bedil researcher and a Hindi novelist! For years, he has been writing a novel called Atha Yagyavalkyopakhyan. I am happy to share with you that Prof. Wagish Shukla has provided excerpts from latest developments in this project for Pratilipi, a bilingual literary magazine that I edit. Find time to read this wonderful extract in which Indian narrative devices meet the crime thriller to create an exciting new genre.

Pratilipi 2, out now

(http://www.pratilipi.in/)
Pratilipi is an online, bilingual (Hindi/English), literary magazine - possibly India's first. It is, for the time being, a completely non-commercial venture running on the editors' investments and on the works of like-minded contributors. It aims to provide space for conversation and debate between diverse sorts of writing and writers.

Contributors to the second issue include, among others: Uday Prakash, Ann Jäderlund, Staffan Söderblom, Wagish Shukla, Badri Narayan, Rustam (Singh), Malayaj, Krishna Baldev Vaid, Sampurna Chattarji, Teji Grover, Sara Rai, Sangeeta Gundecha, Udayan Vajpeyi, Chandrahas Choudhury, Purushottam Agrawal, Mangalesh Dabral, K.V.K. Murthy, Sheen Kaaf Nizam, H.S. Shiva Prakash, Sameer Rawal, Vivek Narayanan, Annie Zaidi and Madan Meena.

Giriraj Kiradoo & Rahul Soni (Editors)Shiv Kumar Gandhi(Art Editor)

School, Friends, Memories: Ankita Agrawal

Ankita (CS-AB) takes a trip down the memory lane and recalls her school adventures and friends with whom she learned to be herself.



IT WAS 27TH JANUARY 2007 EVENING.COOL BREEZY WINDS WAS BLOWING AND BIRDS WERE CHIRPING. OUR FAREWELL FUNCTION HAD JUST ENDED INSPIRING IN ME A PROUD FEELING OF BEING A PART OF SUCH A FAMILY, FAMILY OF “MAHARAJA SAWAI MAN SINGH VIDYALAYA”.I FEEL SO RESPLENDENT IN CALLING MYSELF A “MANSINGHITE”.

AFTER THE FUNCTION WE ALL THAT IS ME AND MY FRIENDS ROSHNI, VRINDA, BAHULA, SHIROMI, ADI, ARCHIT AND ARJUN WERE SITTING IN THE SCHOOL CANTEEN REMEMBERING OLD TIMES AND PLANNING ABOUT OUR FUTURE. ACTUALLY WE WERE SO ENERGIZED AND EXCITED AFTER LISTENING TO THE INSPIRING SPEECH OF HERR HIGHNESS RAJMATA GAYATRI DEVI, GUEST OF HONOUR OF OUR FAREWELL THAT WE WERE NOW READY TO FACE THE WORLD OUTSIDE.
BUT FROM INSIDE WE ALL HAD AN EMOTIONAL BREAKDOWN, AS WE ALL KNEW THAT THIS ID PROBABLY OUR LAST MEETING IN SCHOOL AND THAT NOW WE WILL NO LONGER BE CALLED “SCHOOLITED”(IN OUR SCHOOL LANGUAGE) AND THAT FROM TOMORROW THERE WILL BE NO WAKING UP EARLY FOR SCHOOL, NO STANDING OUT FROM LINE FOR DIRTY SHOES AND UNIFORM, NO CLASS.

NOW SITTING ON THE ROUND TABLE WE ALL STARTED REMEMBERING THE TIME 12 YEARS BACK, WHEN WE ENTERED AS TINY TOTS IN CLASS 1ST. I STILL REMEMBER THAT DAY WHEN, WITH MY LITTLE FINGER IN MY FATHERS HAND I STEPPED IN THE BIG GATE OG THIS SO CALLED “BIG” SCHOOL. MY FATHER KNEW MANY PEOPLE AROUND BUT I KNEW NO ONE JUST MY FATHER.

NOW STARTED CLASS DISTRIBUTION PROCESS. EACH STUDENT WAS ALLOTED A SECTION EITHER A, B, OR C. I WAS GIVEN SECTION A AND WAS SENT TO A LADY – FAIR, SMALL, AND SWEET FROM FACE. SHE WAS AVIS MAAM.TODAY SHE IS JUST LIKE MY SECOND MOTHER.

AND THEN BEGAN MY JOURNEY IN MSMSV.CLASS 1ST WAS REALLY FUN – NO TENSION, SOME FRIENDS, SOME FIGHTS, LITTLE CRYINGAND OFCOURSE A “LITTLE” STUIES.

IT WAS A BIT DIFFICULT FOR ME AND I BELONGED TO A HINDI BACKGROUND FAMILY WITH JUST MY FATHES SPEAKING ENGLISH. FOR A GIRL LIKE ME TO ADJUST IN AN ENGLISH MEDIUM SCHOOL WAS A BIT DIFFICULT. THIS EVEN REFLECTED IN MY RESULTS. THOUGH I, WITH THE SUPPORT, HELP AND DETERMINATION OF MY MOTHER I MANAGED TO GET “A” AS AN AGGRGATE. BUT STILL I WAS WEAK AND THUS MY TEACHERS WITH THEIR MUTUAL AGGREMENT DECIDED TO SEND ME TO “LEARMING CENTRE”. IT WAS A PLACE WHERE ACCORDING TO MY TEACHERS THOSE STUDENTS WHO HAVE A BIT OF DIFFICULTY IN STUDEIS ARE HELPED AND TAUGHT BY MIXING STUDIES WITH FUN BUT ACCORDING TO US IT WAS A PLACE WHARE THE DUMBEST STUDENTS WERE SENT.IT WAS A PART OF MY LIFE AND I GOT THROUGH THIS PHASE ALSO. I MADE FRIENDS WITH DEEPANSHI, DHANSHREE AND ROSHNI.ACTUALLY WE WERE SAME IN HEIGHT, MAY THAT BECAME A REASON WHY WE WERE FRIENDS. NOW WHATEVER BE THE REASON, WE ENJOYED EACH OTHERS COMPANY. WE USED TO JUST RUSH THROUGH THE GROUNDS IN RECESS WITH OUR TIFFINS FOR SWINGS. WE USED TO SHARE, CARE AND PLAY TOGETHR.

THE TIME FLEW AND WE WERE IN CLASS 3RD. I STARTED THINKING; I WAS BIG AS NOW I STUDIED BIG SUBJECTS LIKE SCIENCE, SOCIAL STUDIES EXCEPT FROM MATHS, ENGLISH AND HINDI. THAT YEAR ALSO BROUGHT WITH IT A SWEET GIFT FOR ME, MY BROTHER. THAT WAS THE BEST MOMENT OF MY LIFE. I SHOULDERED ALL THE DUTIES AND OFCOURSE THE RIGHTS OF BEING A BIG SISTER. AND IN SCHOOL THIS NEW YEAR GOT WITH IT A NEW FRIEND PURVA. SHE WAS IN MY FATHERS KNOWN AND THUS WE CAME REALLY CLOSE. OLD FRIENDS WERE THERE BUT SHE BECAME MORE IMPORTANT TO ME. WE USED TO SIT TOGETHER, TALK A LOT IN CLASS AS WELL AS ON PHONE WHEN AT HOME. THOSE WERE REALLY NICE MOMENTS.
WE WENT TO RANTHAMBORE TRIP, AN EDUCATIONAL TRIP FROM SCHOOL. IT WAS FUN. WE PLAYED TOGETHER, EXPLORED NEW AND ADVENTUROUS PLACES THERE, MADE NEW FRIENDS. IT WAS 5TH STANDARD; WE HAD SHARED 3 YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP. OUR TEACHERS USED TO CALL US BEST PALS. EVERYBODY ADMIRED OUR FRIENDSHIP. IN THIS CLASS BOTH OF US WERE REALLY LUCKEY AS WE GOT OUR FIRST BREAK IN OUR SCHOOLS ANNUAL FUNCTIONS STAGE PERFORMANCE. IT WAS LIKE AN HONOUR TO HAVE THIS IN JUST 5TH STANDARD. EVERYBORY IN SCHOOL THATIS TEACHERS, SENIORS STARTED KNOWING US. BOTH OF US TOOK THIS OPPORTUNITY SINCERELY AND USED TO PRACTICE A LOT. THE ANNUAL FUNCTION TIMES ARE THE BEST TIME AS DURING THIS TIME IF YOU ARE ANYWAYINVOLVED IN THE FUNCTION THEN YOU CAN EASILY BUNK THE CLASS. IT WAS LIKE AN OFFICIAL OR LEAGL BUNK AND BOTH OF US, THE FISHY MINDS, USED TO DO THIS A LOT.
GRADUALLY 5TH STANDARD PASSED AND WE CAME IN 6TH, THE JUNIORS OF OUR SCHOOL. SHUFFLING OF SECTIONS TOOK PLACE AND ME AND PURVA WERE SEPARATED. NOW AGAIN I WAS IN A NEW ENVIRONMENT WITH NEW PEOPLE AROUND BUT DEEPANSHI WAS THERE. SHE HELPED ME A LOT TO ADJUST. I MADE NEW FRIENDS AND MY FRIENDSHIP WITH PURVA FADED AWAY. I WAS A KIND OF A MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING BETWEEN BOTH OF US AS BOTH OF US NOW HAD A DIFFERENT GROUP OF RFRIENDS AND WE WERE HAPPY. OUR FRIENDSHIP WAS STILL THERE BUT THE INTENSITY, BONDING WAS WEAK.

NOW I HAD A GROUP OF 6 FRIENDS. THE BEST PART WAS THE ONE OF THEM WAS CHRISTIAN AND ONE MUSLIM. IT WAS REALLY ADVENTUROUS AT LEAST FOR ME TO EXPLORE THESE NEW RELIGIONS. WE ALL USED TO ATTEND ALL THEIR RELIGIOUS AND FAMILY FUNCTIONS. IT WAS A KIND OF NEW FEELING FOR ME.I REALLY ENJOYED GOING TO CHURCHES AND DARGAHS.

NOW SINCE WE WERE IN 6TH STANDARD WE ALL USED TO BEHAVE AS MATURE TEENAGERS THOUGH CHILDLIKE SOMETIME. WE USED TO HANGOUT IN DIFFERENT PLACES OF JAIPUR. THERE WE USED TO SEE GUYS STARING US AND I ALWAYS USED TO WONDER WHAT AND WHY WERE THEY STARING? AS IN SCHOOL ALSO THERE WERE GUYS BUT THEY NEVER USED TO STARE US. WHATEVER, WE DIDN’T CARE, WE JUST USED TO ENJOY.

AT THIS POINT, TDS, TRUTH DARE N SITUATIONS BECAME AN INTERESTING GAME OR BETTER CALL IT A PASSTIME FOR US. TRUTH WAS A LITTLE BORE AS WE KNEW EVERYTHING ABOUT US. DARE WAS FUN AS WE LIKED PLAYING PRANKS ON EVERYBODY AROUND.

TIME FLEW SMOOTHLY. STUDIES WENT HAND IN HAND WITH FUN. AND NOW CANE 7TH STANDARD WHERE WE REALLY DISCOVERED WHY GUYS SO CURIOUS TO KNOW ABOUT US AS INSIDE US EVEN WE FELT THE SAME FEELINGS.

WE FELT THAT EVEN WE WERE BEING ATTRACTED TOWARDS THEM. THE AURA WAS CHANGING. THIS WAS A SIGN OF MATURITY ACCORDING TO US. HOW KIDDISH WE WERE NOW I THINK. THIS WHICH WE THOUGHT AS A M ATURE THINGWAS THE MOST IMMATURE THING I COULD HAVE EVER DONE. BUT AFTER ALLWE WERE GIRLS. THEN STARTED THE LONG LIST OF PROPOSALS, REJECTIONS, CRUSHES, BOYFRIENDS, AND AFFAIRS.

I IN MY LIFE I HAD NEVER THOUGHT THAT I WOULD EVER FALL INTO A RELATIONSHIP BUT IT HAPPENED. I WENT INTO A RELATIONSHIP. THIS I DID NOT BECAUSE I LACKED SOMETHING OR I WAS EMOTIONALLY WEAK BUT BECAUSE HE GARNISHED MY LIFE.

HE TAUGHT ME HOW TO HANDLE SITUATIONS, HOW TO REACT TO SOMETHING AND MOST IMPORTANTLY IT TAUGHT ME LESSONS LIFE. I WITH HIS ADVICE BECAME INDEPENDENT AND AT THE SAME TIME IT ALWAYS REMINDED ME OF MY LIMITS. AT THIS POINT, I NEVER THOUGHT THIS PERSON IS RIGHT FOR ME OR NOT OR CAN I SAY FOR THE WHOLE LIFE WITH HIM OR NOT BUT IT WAS JUST THAT HE UNDERSTOOD ME, CARED FOR ME AND THE SAME WAS WITH ME.

HE BECAME ONE OF MY BESTEST FRIEND. THOUGH WE ARE NOT INTO RELATIONSHI TODAY BUT STILL THAT BONDING REMAINS. THE BEST PART I LIKED ABOUT HIM IS THAT THERE HAD BEEN NO DIFFERENCE IN OUR FRIENDSHIP EVEN AFTER BREAKUP.THIS I THINK IS THE TRUE RELATION. BREAK UP WAS OUR MUTUAL DECISION BUT THE TENDERNESS REMAINS.

MY FRIENDS SAY HOW I OVERCAME BREAKUP BECAUSE ACCORDING TO THEM ITS EASY TO ACT AS LOVING THE ONE WHOM YOU REALLY MIGHT NOT LOVE BUT ITS VERY VERY HARDER TO ACT AS HATING THE ONE, WHOM YOU REALLY LOVE.
BUT THEN I TOLD THEM – STAYING FAR NEVER BREAKS RELATION, STAYING NEAR NEVER BUILDS UP RELATIONS. IT’S A LINK BETWEEN HEARTS WHICH NEVER ALLOWS YOU TO FORGET EACH OTHER.

THIS FOR PEOPLE ONE OF THE MOST DISASTEROUS MOMENT OF MY LIFE BUT FOR ME IT WAS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL EXPERIENCE.I TRUSTED THAT PERSON AND FOUND A PRECIOUS FRIEND. SO ULTIMATELY I WON A FRIEND NOT LOST A PARTNER.

NOW ALL OF US DECIDED TO FOCUS ON STUDIES AS IT WASW HIGH TIME. 10TH BOARDS WERE APPROACHING. I HAD TO FULFIL MY PARENTS EXPEXCTATIONS BECAUSE THEY WERE THE MOST IMPORTANT PEOPLE IN MY LIFE. I STUDIED FOR THEM AND I FELT VERY HAPPY AS THE RESULT WAS AWSOME AND MY PARENTS WERE PROUD OF ME. I HAD ACHIEVED ONE SUCCESS OF MY LIFE.

NOW EXPECTATIONS GREW. EVEN MY CONFIDENCE IN ME GREW. I TOOK ADMISSION IN ONE OF THE COACHING INSTITUTE FOR THE PREPARATIONS OF IITJEE . AGAIN SOME OF MY FRIENDS LEFT ME AS THEY CHANGED EITHER THEIR SCHOOL OR THEIR CITIES FOR BUILDING UP THEIR FUTURE, FOR PREPARATIONS.

LIFE TOOK ME TO THESE PEOPLE WITH WHOM I AM SITTING RIGHT NOW ON THIS CANTEEN TABLE AND SERIOUSLY LIFE BECAME MORE BEAUTIFUL. THESE FRIENDS HAVE BECOME AN ETERNAL PART OF MY LIFE . THERE IS SO MUCH WARMTH AND LOVE BETWEEN ALL OF US THAT TODAY WHEN WE ARE MILES APART ALSO I FIND EVERYBODY VERY NEAR TO ME. THIS I CALL FRIENDSHIP. AN IMPORTANT PART OF MY SCHOOL LIFE.

Poornima Chahar Remembers Her Father

A daughter's sad, fond and moving remembrances of her father.

Many a times such incidents or I must say accidents occur in our life that make us wonder “why the hell this happens to me always? ”... ……The incidents - which we can never forget, which we can’t imagine even in our wildest dreams. But as the time slips through our hands like grains of sand. The memories of that instant grow stronger and stronger. What I am talking about here is the incident that left a part of my life empty forever – that can never be refilled by any other person ……yes, the place of my beloved father.

So without wasting any more time I take you down the memory lane to the unforgettable day of my life.

“Who knows what tomorrow is going to bring when we have no idea what the next moment has in store for us”– anonymous.

I can’t elaborate exactly, how it happened but I’ll try my best to present even the slightest possible details of that black day of my life. The day traces back its existence to the year 1996. It was 13th august 1996 when I lost my father forever. The afternoon is still fresh in my mind. It was around 1 o’clock in the afternoon when the three of us –me (7), my elder brother Abhi (11), my younger brother Shantanu (5) came back home after school. My father was at home on that day waiting for us to be back from school. I ran towards him and started telling him about my day at school. At that time my mother was out of town, to my granny’s house at the funeral of her grandmother. In her absence my aunt was there to look after us. Around 1:30 we all joined at the dining table for lunch my cousin brother Narender also joined us for lunch. He was living with us as he was doing his graduation. We all were having great fun. After finishing with the lunch my aunt and Narender went for a small nap. And the remaining three of us agreed to watch movie and my father also came along with us. We all were sitting in the T.V hall and my father was lying on the cot. When around 3 o’clock he experienced some sort of pain in his chest but he did not paid much attention it. But it was not what he thought as just after 10 minutes he felt that the chest pain was increasing rapidly. He asked Abhimanyu to wake up Narender and if he doesn’t then pour a glass of water on him. But Narender did not arouse from his sound sleep. My father actually wanted him to search the phone number of Dr. V.P goyal (our family doctor) and call him because the intensity of pain in his chest had increased so much that he was unable to get to the phone. But after seeing that Narender was in no mood of waking from his sound sleep, he made an attempt to reach the phone and call the doctor but just before reaching there he suddenly collapsed. Actually he got a heart attack. Shocked by the sudden collapsing of my father Abhimanyu ran to my aunt to wake her up and aroused her immediately. Then she woke up Narender and then he called our neighbors to lend us a car. Within few minutes one of the neighbor came with the car and two-three of our neighbors lifted up my father to get him seated in the car. My aunt with my two brothers also went with them to see the doctor. Meanwhile my younger brother and I were unaware of the incident as we busy in watching the movie in other room. Around 3:45 I started to get ready for my tuition when I realized that nobody was at home except me and. But I didn’t gave it any serious thought and asked Shantanu to get ready for tuition, but he denied to go to tuition after seeing that nobody was at home to compel him. In spite of all my efforts he did not go to tuition. So I went to tuition alone. My tuition teacher was our next to next-door neighbor. When I went there she inquired about my fathers health I replied that he was absolutely fine but she told me that she saw him lying unconscious on the front seat of the car alone with my aunt my brothers. I came back from tuition and was wondering what might have happen to my father, as he was absolutely fine just a short while ago. Suddenly a thought struck my mind what if my father was dead???…. But my heart denied this wild thought. When I reached home I noticed that nobody was present there except my brother Shantanu who was watching cartoons. I also joined him till the other people come back home. Mean while on the other side within 10 minutes my relatives took my dad to the hospital. On their way to hospital everybody in the car made attempts to bring my father back to conscious but all was in vain. After arriving at the hospital he was immediately taken to the emergency ward where doctors made every possible efforts to save him, but suddenly he got another severe heart attack and his struggle for life ended half an hour the emergency ward. Every body standing outside the ward was praying to god for his safety. When the doctors came out with expressionless faces. One of the doctors informed my relatives that they fail to save them. Everybody busted into tears at this unfortunate news as nobody had ever imagined that he would leave us in such an unexpected manner. After completing the formalities of the hospital all the people come back with my father’s dead body. My aunt suddenly came inside the house continuously weeping and stated to pack our clothes and other such stuff. When I inquired what happen the she told me that we were went to grandfathers house then locked our house. When we came out of the house I saw some one lying in a very unusual manner on the front seat of the car and when I went near I saw that he was none other then my father his mouth filled with white effervescence and there were cotton buds inserted in his nose. But suddenly somebody covered his face with a white cloth. That was the last time I saw my father. When I sat in the car observed that everybody was bewailing. Being a child I was unaware of the fact that I have lost my father forever. My aunt was hugging me and weeping constantly. I was not able to understand that had happen and why everyone was crying. After half an hour of journey we reached our grandfather’s house and there also I heard the mourning of relatives after some times a dead body wrapped in white cloth was placed in the middle of the “aangan” of the house and my relatives started crying even more louder then before.

The news of my father’s death started spreading and reached to my mother and my maternal relative. As soon as they heard it they left for our hometown and they arrived at 3 o’clock in the morning. I just cannot imagine now what was her condition at that moment her grief was immeasurable. My younger brother Shantanu, unaware of the whole incident was playing with my younger cousins. I joined them to but suddenly all of us were locked in a room with my aunt as the cremation ceremony was going on. After this when I inquired about my father from my mother she said that he had went to meet god and would return back soon. This statement was carved on my heart forever and I am still waiting for him to come back. I always requested god to send my father back to me but I never got any reply.

It is often said that you don’t know what you have until you loose it! But I its actually like …….. You always know what you have you just never thought you would loose it. That is the case with me now. As a grown-up I wonder if I have ever imagined my life without my father. I never thought he would leave me at such in early stage and in such an unexpected way.

Memories of My Beloved Father

I shared some special memories with my father. I was his favorite. He loved to have a daughter. When I was born my father was on the seventh sky after hearing that he has become the father of girl child. It was he who named me ‘POORNIMA’. He loved me more than my two brothers. He always brought gifts for me whenever he went out of the town. Due to my father’s excess love I had become very stubborn. One day he scolded me for something, which I can’t recall, I started crying and when I was crying my breath got stuck and I was not able to breathe. My father poured water on me to bring back my breath. After two minutes I was able to breathe a little and turned fine after few minutes. After that my father took me in his lap and kissed my forehead and said – “ I could have lost my daughter”. After that he never scolded me.

My father was the one who taught me to put trust in God. He taught me a small prayer, which I offer to God every night. I still remember that I use to keep an empty bowl in front of God every night and then every morning rushing to check it and finding the bowl full of sweets. For me it was God who kept the sweets. But it was my father who filled the bowl with my favorite sweets just like he filled my life with beautiful colours. At times when I use to find the bowl empty I asked my father – “Papa what happened, where did my sweets go?” My father replied – “ don’t you remember you fighting with Shantanu last night”. Actually he uses to say this when he forgets to fill my bowl with the sweets. This practice turned me better. I reduced fighting with Shantanu.

One more incident, which I can’t forget, is “the daily Ice-cream treat”. The ice-cream seller use to come in our colony every night. My father and me loved ice creams. It was usual for us to have ice cream after dinner. We never missed it.

I have few such unforgettable and lovely memories of my father deep inside my heart. I feel proud when people say – “ She is just like her father”. His memories, his love, his teachings, his deeds are with me forever. I love him today and ALWAYS………..

Tragedy Knocked Out by Pratibha

For Pratibha, getting to MITS/Lakshmangarh was a 'tragedy'. She writes about how everythings has changed since then and the wonderful times she has had in her very first year here.

After wasting (my present perception!), a whole, long year and my parent’s valuable money at Resonance Coaching Institute, Kota after XII, I was left with two alternatives in my bag ,out of which only one was going to decide my future –counseling letters from SRM University ,Chennai & MITS, Lakshmangarh (although RPET Counseling was also there but I had sidelined it a long ago!). As my hopes of making it through IIT died a long and all the high spirits faded away slowly from my mind ,I was still damn sure to get admission at SRM University irrespective of whatever stream was assigned to me according to my eligibility(after all it was all about staying in a metro city!!). And thus I was there at SRM campus(yippy!!!) and to my utmost satisfaction I gladly ended up getting entrance in Bio-technology branch, instead of my zero interest in biology ,along with my cousin sister who was awarded with Electronics and Communication Engineering.

The college was such that the students were dying to get in -the enviable infrastructure...fascinating laboratories ...pollution-free environment ...alluring placement packages...And what not!! You just name it and they have it .I was overflowing with joy .It was like a dream come true .We had a great time there.

After returning from Chennai I came to realize that the stars high in the sky were writing a totally different chapter for me...family discussions ,well wishers’ advices, granny’s pressure, destiny ,chance ,luck ..all ended up dumping admission at SRM University and my dreams shattered like anything!!

Moreover, call it my bad luck or simply my fate...I was here...at MITS...in the small sleepy town of Lakshmangarh. Believe me, even in my wildest dream I never thought that such tragedy would happen to me...I would end up taking admission in an all-girls-college!!! However, that is life dears and that is how it goes on…

To tell you the truth the only thing that was in my mind when I came here(MITS) for the first time was that what the hell was the use of dropping a whole crap year when I could have made it here the previous year without wasting my precious time and money!! Nevertheless, such nonsense talks were of no use now as the time has flown away with its wings.

At that instant I really regretted coming to such an isolated place which seemed to me as a hub of different buildings –hostel buildings, school building, college buildings, a splendid mess and cafeteria, and many others which I could not specify .The infrastructure was not that bad and the counselling session also went nicely .So at last I made-up my mind to spend the four glorious years of my life here at MITS.
Thus my college life began in August-07 .the days were simply passing by when one day I came to know about the sports society of MITS and the sports in which the girls were trained here...and naturally volleyball lured in my interest as I had played a little bit of volley in my XII std. (that too as physical education was one of my electives!!) .So to make some constructive use of my time and to remain physically fit I started to play Volleyball regularly. It was great fun there –Ramesh Sir, Ram pal Sir, our so-called bosses who were more like our pals, some batch mates…I was enjoying each and every moment. Other essential stuff (quizzes, practicals, sessionals, proxies, mass bunks) went side by side…after all we were pursuing engineering. here.

All was going well –it seemed not to me but all others as deep inside my heart there was still a lot of pain for getting through any IIT or NIT but one day when our bosses told us that we were going to take part in UDGHOSH’07 (annual sports meet of IIT-K!!) then I was in a kind of state of relief as the thought of visiting the IIT-K campus comforted my healing soul…and thus it was UDGHOSH’07 –the awesome event loaded with lifetime memories.

After the splendid success of MITS sports team at Udghosh’07 then came the turn of SPARDHA’08 ,the annual sporting festival of IT-BHU gymkhana…that also proved to be another gem in the crown for MITSIANS as it also showered loads of medals and trophies…

So here are the two major events of my very first year at MITS….




UDGHOSH’07: mayhem for victory

On 19th of September 07 a group of about 37 girls headed by our faculty members: Anil J B Sir, Ramesh Sir and Neha ma’m, boarded a bus to Jaipur railway station and from there a train to Kanpur. The journey was full of fun.

We reached there on 20th morning and went to the campus on a college bus. After reaching the campus, we headed straight to the registration counter SAC (Student Activity Centre) to get our room allocated and that came out to be
the common room of the girls’ hostel.

On our way to the hostel, we could not help appreciating the color and excitement all around. The wall paintings at the SAC were definitely masterpiece of their own kind and were truly eye catching and so was the crowd there. As it was my First experience of an inter-college sports meet, I was feeling fantastic.

After getting fresh, we all headed for the canteen with our empty stomachs, as all of us were damn hungry. From there we went to explore the campus and came to know that the campus consisted of four playing grounds out of which two were cricket grounds, one football and last was hockey ground. Adjoining the main ground were two volleyball courts and on the opposite side were two basketball courts complete with night-lights and seating facility. There was also an indoor compact stadium with two badminton courts and opposite to it was an up-to-date gymnasium. A tennis complex with four tennis courts equipped with central lightening was also there. Then I realized the big difference between being an IITIN and not being the one.

After that short visit, we went to the central ground where the inaugural ceremony marked the official beginning of the sports fest. There were around 800 participants from different colleges across the country and all were so much excited to participate and win in their respective sports...

At the end of the sports meet, awarded with the most prestigious trophy of “The Best Outstation Team”, along with “the best athletics team”, and “the champion’s trophy" in lawn tennis and badminton, the girls really had enough reasons to cheer for!

The girls bagged 33 medals in total with 14 gold medals and the remaining silvers and bronzes. The Basketball team emerged as the runner-up after giving a worthy fight to the competitors in the finals. Two girls also bagged silver medals in the informal events (slow cycling and chess).

The MITSIANS left an everlasting impression not only on the referees but also on the audience, so it hardly comes to a surprise that even the hosts outstretched their continuous support against their home team. All the surroundings echoed with hoots like “MODEEE……MODEE!!” and many more.

The days passed with a blink of an eye and the nights with a flash and thus the journey ended as we headed back to MITS on 23rd (tough none of us wanted to!) capturing the unforgettable moments we spent there in our hearts forever…

Even today, when I think about those wonderful days I just cannot resist remembering our so dear Anil JB Sir who was always so nice to us during the whole trip and even at the college… We really miss you a lot, sir!


SPARDHA’08 : reckoning tracks, awaiting glory

The memorable journey began at the meeting point of Jaipur railway station on fifth march when a group of 35 girls along with Ramesh Sir, Paras Sir, Subhash Sir, and Alpana M’am boarded a train to the holy city, Varanasi.

The journey was a great fun. While I was quite busy with my novel (though our mid-terms were scheduled on 15th!), others were busy playing antakshari (or call it a cacophony competition!) and chatting with our faculty members who lately became our gang members. It was so wonderful knowing our teachers so closely!

We reached varanasi on 6th noon. It was then that I came to know that the campus spread over unending greenery was one of the biggest campuses in Asia land wise...

After waiting for an hour or two to be registered, we headed to our allotted accommodation that was some sort of staff quarter. After placing our luggage we rushed to the mess as all of us were so much hungry but we were very disappointed to know that there was no food for us in the stores and we ended up eating maggie!!

Then it was turn to line up for the bathrooms, as we had to get ready quickly for the basketball match scheduled in the evening. After that we went to the basky court to hoot for our team and meanwhile we came to know that the campus had seven or 8 different playgrounds, an indoor stadium, one basketball court, two volleyball and tennis courts each... Moreover, the campus also had the Vishwanath Temple, which we visited on our last day at the campus...

With the arduous efforts of the sports team, the girls managed to get an attractive cluster of 49 medals with 28 gold, 20 silver & 1 bronze medals. To add to the laurels to MITS the sports team bagged the fascinating “The Best Outstation Team” trophy along with “the champion’s trophy” in volleyball, tennis & badminton. To get the adrenalin rushing, our sports queens also bagged the trophies for best athlete, best volleyball player and best badminton player.

The basketball team stood at second place after being defeated in the neck-to-neck finals. The athletics team also bagged 17 medals and proved their worth.

Thus, MITSIANS have outdated their forerunners in terms of surpassing all the previous records... The days passed in nanoseconds and before we realized it was the last day of our trip. During our journey back home, we realized that we were out of time to prepare for the upcoming sessionals!

The workload seemed never-ending to me and I was in no condition of studying after such a tiring journey. Thus, days passed by and so the exams that went worst as hell…and such were the marks obtained!!

Now, worries apart. In nutshell, I am going to cherish these experiences forever and I hope I get similar chances in the following years…………..

I JUST WANT TO BE ME by Nivedita Sonak

Nivdita is a I yr (CS- A & B) student who first read this poem in one of the Pragmatic Communication sessions.

I’m a human being,
Who wants to fly on her own wings,
High, soaring high in the air through the rainbows,
Touching the sky without any fear and foes,
That is why,I want to be me,
Like a bird which is just set free.

Neither I want to be a replica,nor a clone,
To make my stand in this world alone,
My ego is low but dreams high,
With roots deep and fruit ripe,
So,I want to be me,
Like a growing tree.

I know my depth but wish not reveal,
I care not for others as I want myself to feel,
Deep in my thoughts,I explore some faults,
As a personof low stature,but of high cults,
But I want to be me,
Like a flowing sea.

Oh GOD! I want no more,
But just some vigour assured.
A strength to face this world like fire,
Where humanity is coiled up in an ugly attire.
Even then I want to be me,
Away from sins,under thy serenade beam.

Hope Is Like A Road in the Country: Amrita Sharma

(Image Courtsey: IMDB)

Amrita Sharma writes on her latest date with art, Hope and Kirsten Sheridan's August Rush (2007).

Hope is a beautiful word. Once we choose to hope, anything is possible. Hope is to desire as listening is to hearing. And I hope to be excused for trying to put Paulo Coelho's view in another way, that ,if one truly hopes for something the whole of nature conspires in order for him to get the thing. The late sequence of events has strengthened my belief in the word hope. My talks apart, for today I am here to tell the story of a kid whose life was nothing but hope itself. The Hope to follow the music that was concealed deep within but was yearning to be let out. And the Hope to see his Mommy and Papa. Or was it the one and the same thing??...It was this kid who could better understand the magic that those four alphabets come together to create...When he was big enough to open his eyes in an orphanage and to the world ,for which he had not more than little wisdom to tackle, and could just understand what the word mommy and papa means ,he hoped to see them. He hoped that he will be with them sometime...What more? He hoped to find music. He listened to music and played from within his soul and without an instrument to play!! The instinctive inclination wasn’t a wonder having been born to musician parents.......

......But the amazing part of the story lies in the way he finds hope and the way he finds music in every sound of nature. Then be it the rustle of the wind, the tinkling of wind chimes ,the whistling sound let out of a sigh, the blowing of horn, the tapping of feet, the swaying of trees, he found music every where, leave aside those created by a musical instrument!! Ask him how can he hear music, and this it what he has to say, its everywhere. Its in the wind, its in the air, its in the light, all you need to do is to open yourself out. All you need to do is to listen .He was too free form within to be put in a confinement and so expectedly one fine day he broke away from the orphanage to search for his parents and for the music out there which he was bereaved of Music seems to be overwhelming the word hope. But it has not. No sooner did he break free that he got in touch with conventional music. When he first placed his fingers on the strings of a guitar he left his guide spell bound with the astounding command of an eleven year old. When asked how he knew about music, pat came the reply, 'It’s the moon who told me to follow it and that is all I know...but I can listen to it all around me and within me'....Life has to be a combination of both ups and downs and this was no exception. Though he got in touch with music it wasn’t the place where he ought to be. Because here his love was being sold...but as I said, Hope can work wonders. It brought him to the place he belonged...to a church. Where music was not thought of as an object of sale but a revered art? If you are thinking by now that the child's second quest is abandoned, you are mistaken! In fact the whole nature was conspiring to get him to get his parents. Both of his unmarried and unfortunately separated parents who were still unaware of the existence of their son, accelerated their hope to be together. Yes, it was hope indeed which finally made the kid's mother aware that the inexplicable loss she felt all the way through was not out of no reason. Her son was still there and was alive ! And she had to find him. Though the mother had no clue , where she would find her child, she hoped to see him...

......Music was an indispensable part of the life of the three. Father, Mother and the kid. At one point of time the separation from each other, started separating them from their second love also: music. But that was not something they were destined for. So, destiny took a merry turn and they found their way back to music only to find one another and their beloved son performing in the music concert 'The August Rush' . One may call it a fairy tale as the sequence of events seems to be too much of mere coincidences, but I prefer to call it the miracle of HOPE. True...Hope is like a road in the country; there never was a road, but when many people walk on it …it comes into existence!!

At Last Poetry on Freespeech: Maiden With Dreams by Chini Sinha

Chini (she keeps deferring telling the tale behind her name) is a I year CS-AB student who has always done some excellent writing for her assignments. She read this poem, during one of the Pragmatic Communication sessions, in the classroom and we decided instantly that it'd go on Freespeech.

Miles away from the land of life,
Devoid of blooming hours of pride,
Seclusion and solitude, nature and streams,
Lives a maiden with hopes and dreams.

There was a time; she was chirpy and loud,
Modest in expressions, innocent yet proud.
Growing up with values and dignity,
Simplicity her attire, her inner beauty.

As she crossed the thresholds of innocent age,
Harshness and brutality of the world she faced.
Friends unhinged her with false gratitude,
Love she had was never really hers.

She had become blunt and fake,
Disappointed with herself for others sake.
Bewildered and lost, when she was giving up,
An angel of God showed her the sun.

She is now determined to shine one day,
Though alone she walks, she is happy and gay.
Miles away from the land of life,
The maiden with dreams is ready to fly.

Drama Society and Writing Competitions Approved!

Its official now, as they say.

Dean, FET has approved two proposals:
1. There be a Drama Society (Name yet undecided)on the campus.
2. There be writing competitions (twice a semester). They'll be called Freespeech Writing Competitions and first of them is coming very soon.

We'll keep you update on both of them. Those interested in drama and acting may start contacting me from today itself.

Galaxian's World: Destination Fatehpur (iWander by Aakanksha)

Galaxian's blog has some confident, interesting writing and we are glad she has allowed us to reproduce her Fatehpur travelogue.

Staying away from a city (read as a source of interesting entertainment) usually creates an exigency of freaking out completely, so one needs to search out for places you could hang around. Even the big Internet world has its virtual limitations .I had already cut off ‘nearby cha-cha’s & bua’s places’ long back (no offences..!!) as it eventually increases the ‘i-wanna-g0-home’ craving in me, fact & very true. So when Shilpi suggested visiting some “actual Rajasthan” around us, I agreed the very moment.

Instant assignments, surprise quizzes, unpredictable happenings have really increased our quickie planning power well. So all dressed & packed 4 of us put on our tourist’s shoes all the way to interior rural Rajasthan-Fatehpur , mind you not the famous Fatehpur-Sikri of UP .

Fatehpur happened to be a beauteous small town of exquisite havelis (the royal big houses of rich merchants dating back to even the silk route).Some of them even being renovated by a French group we could meet .The grand bawri’s though quite abandoned quite like the ones shown in movies & of course we couldn’t spot much of ghosts around as the tales go. Camels, vivid local colors & most of all the hospitality of people around completed our package thus creating another great memory.

My Latest Date With Art: A New Feature

(Photo: Shilparamam, Hyderabad by GK)

Have you seen a movie recently, or read a book or gazed at a painting or a photograph? If yes, share it with all - your latest date/encounter with art. No word limits, photographs and pictures most welcome and no deadlines! No pressure - write as you wish and when you wish.

Dr. Rashmi Gaur Delivers a Talk on Februray 23

Dr. Rashmi Gaur of Department of Humanities and Social Sciences, IIT-Roorkee will deliver a talk on Technical Communication Skills on 23.2.2008.

Time: 3.30 p.m.
Venue: New FET Building

Freespeech advises not to miss. Be there in time.

To know more about Dr. Gaur and her work, click here.

Amrita Writes on Writing: Did She Forget the Wastebasket?

Writing about ‘writing’!! Funny as it may sound, but let me share (or write?) a few thoughts about 'writing' and the ‘writer’ who finds the wastebasket ,his best friend! Finally….I realized that this unbeatable tool deployed (or should I say ‘exploited’?) to vent off the wildest of imagination, ideas, emotions and expressions needs a better acknowledgment. Why don’t our dear writers ever end up writing about ‘writing’ itself?? Writing about stuffs ranging from worth raking up issues to the so-called social taboos find hard escaping the gaze of a sensitive writer….nonetheless the art of writing still doesn not lure that frequently. Fine….but since the idea did (ultimately) visit my mind, judiciously I shall not not let it ebb with the thousands other frivilous ones.

What gives writing an edge over speaking or any other form of expression ?? Well, this inexperienced little brain is naïve about any hard core theories…. but then, let me try answering…The best part about writing is ,it always succeeds in giving the writer a chance to make his/her point at least once!Isn’t writing like speaking uninterrupted?? I mean, how often do we find people who want to listen to our bla-bla?? Isn’t it always so, that any offbeat issue that we want to be considered, is mercilessly belittled? I must not be mistaken for accusing the listeners. Its just that we don’t have the option of deciding the congruent listeners and what follows is that we prefer to remain dumb and keep things to our inner being .But according to Carlos Fuentes ,writing is a struggle against silence. And here’s where the writer wins. Everything that is on his mind is also in black and white. What more?? He never fails winning over a chunk of fascinated lot who are ever willing to give ears to him. There definitely exists another race of those who don’t miss on lambasting a writer’s view, but only after going through the inscription once!! And who cares afterall, because by then the author has already made his point. Moreover, if at all ,there is an ‘anti-view’ the confrontation also proceeds in a the much likeable , decent non-violent and the ‘holding-no-hard-feelings’ way ,that is, through writing.

Shakespear called ‘mercy’ ‘doubly-blessed’(for blessing the one who shows mercy as well as the one who receives it.) . Isn't the art of writing a similar thing? For, writing entertains those who do it and also those who read it! It certainly is a doubly-blessed art. And adding yet another feather to its cap, it can also be considered as an antidote to every ailment with the immense diversity of the product of the art that is available. We have all kinds of writers whose works can be rightly described as ‘a heart-warmer’, ‘a mood-chiller’, ‘a wound-healer’, ‘a true-guide’ ,‘a support-in-times-of-strife’, ‘a worthy-companion’….and what not? Man aspired to capture the images of certain moments in life,so that ,they last not just for a split second ,but a lifetime.Technologists breathed life to this dream by inventing cameras. So why would the writer lag behind in lending a helping hand when man endeavoured to make some invaluable thoughts tangible and immortal. Well said, that writing is not apart from living.Writing is a kind of double living.The writer experiences everything twice.Once in reality and once in that mirror which waits always before or behind. The act of putting the pen on paper briefly pauses the reflections and makes us more familiar with life itself!!

Finally, Stills from the Show: Hamlet Meets Macbeth

Tare Zameen Par: All is Never Lost by Sandhya

(For Sandy and Lucy)

Mind is its own place
But
Some hells/heavens are far too real to be mere perceptions


Last evening I watched T.Z.P. with M. M’s friends had already seen the film. They did not find it much good , I did. Were they wrong? I don’t know but I think I am not. T.Z.P. is very good.

I was reminded of the days when I was made to feel very low because I was not found as smart as the girls around were taken to be. But it also reminded me that I was never very unhappy for not being ‘this’ or ‘that’ much smart. I’d be sad only when I did not make my papa happy with my achievements or, under-achievements. Ishaan (Darsheel) in the movie is lucky to have a teacher telling him that it was not important to be a racing horse but to do what he loved most. Was I unlucky, then? In a way, yes, but,in many other ways, no. Lets come back to it later, first the film itself.

T.Z.P. is issue-based, problem-solving, a bit charisma-seeking, occasionally preachy, frequently imbalanced and yet profoundly touching. It has no great messages (thats one of the good things). It just reminds that there are always children who’d simply love and enjoy not doing the fruitful and the result-oriented. They might love to watch young birdies in their nest or the train of ants carrying food or a bee struggling out of water or the little kitten trying to climb the tree and falling every time or a rainbow in the little water supplies meandring in the backyard-garden. Ishaan doesn’t do most of these things, except the first one. I did all of them. But he does hundred other similar things. I should not forget though that there is also a BIG difference between two of us. He is a dyslexic kid. And one more difference, a BIGGER one: Ishaan paints what he likes. I drew and painted what would fetch appreciation of my papa=what was in the syllabus. In that sense, I am still a bit of my former self. Now, I either don’t paint or don’t know what to paint?

He doesn’t ‘want’ to paint, it comes from within as his only communication with the world. I have developed a thousand other silly ways of communicating with the world. I still ‘want’ to paint. I type ‘want’and the word starts playing…has it become a want?

But lets not be swayed by the heavy pathos or nostalgia of an unlived past. As I said earlier, T.Z.P. also reminded that I wasn’t very unhappy not being this/that smart; I wasn’t very unhappy not painting! Yes! Its in retrospect, after studying and competing for so long that I have started missing it ; after finding my thousand silly ways I have started missing one way that I didn’t tread.

But there was music too. More than painting and much closer. And there were animals! The lost dogs of my childhood - Sandy and Lucy, the rabbits, the parrots, and the paradise itself – ‘raj vihar’. My childhood was torn into two me-s, the papa-side me and the mumma-side me. Papa side - all very punctuated, and year long, round the clock, round the calendar, round the school sessions. mumma side – irregular, wild, and holidayish and,alas, brief. I grew on my papa-side and I un-grew on mumma-side. I learned at home/school and I unlearned at a ‘vihar’. But papa-side took over! Or did it really? I would be into one course and out of another. I’d quickly master a subject only to forget it happily and even quicker. I would have an ‘enviable’ score sheet which would make everybody, papa first and most of all, proud of me but not me; it would leave me more empty and dry inside. And again, lets not be swayed by this increasingly heavier pathos. I found thousand, ‘other’, ‘silly’ ways and I love(d) many of them! (I love teaching and I love being effective as a teacher. I am ready to learn, even study, more of this art.)

I ended up studying four languages, literature, computer programming, journalism and mass communication, interior decoration, foreign trade, economics and am also a proud management drop-out - my MBA lasted one month and a few happier days (it was like Ishaan’s boarding school, just that I was 20 then). Two masters, one bachelors (just one!), one diploma, four certificate courses and a presently pursuing doctoral (the tail of the devil, if hopefully it’s the tail finally). And I must say there were odd times when I enjoyed doing some of these things. And more than that, through all these, I intensified my love of all that I couldn’t or didn’t do. I am grateful to all my academics for mostly remaining the exact opposite of what I missed. Had it been equally or at least compensatorily exciting and luring, I’d have forgotten all that was behind.

But what now? Is all that lost forever? All my long years have surely made me more understanding of what I am made of or not made of. Or am I still not very sure? Maybe, may be not. What is sure is : I am definitely not what my profile says I am.

MISS ORIGINALITY: THE PAST PACKS QUITE A PUNCH by Smriti Ranjan

Smriti is into the third year of her Engineering graduation; also a member of the English Team, Enginium. This is her first write-up on Freespeech. The second is being edited and will be out soon.


Fashion is a strange word. By fashion I mean not just the fashion of clothes (which incidentally is a concept alien to me. My wardrobe has been in a state of inertia for quite some time now), but fashion in terms of trends, moods, styles governing every conceivable aspect of human life. It is strange, not because it is ‘strange’ strange, but because the more things seem to change the more they remain the same. Time, they say, goes round in cycles. It is a circle, not just a contiguous one but in fact a continuous one. If looked at with this perspective the past, present and the future are the same thing. Call it our love for compartmentalization that makes the three appear to be such different entities. It is like having the same pizza crust garnished with different toppings, where the crust and the crux is always the past. The past is the scaffolding, it is the buttress. And it will always pack quite a punch (heavier than the one Mohammad Ali landed on Joe Frazier, if you please).

It is not for nothing that you see remixes- from Lata Mangeskar’s songs to Shakespeare’s plays, reenactments- of past dictators’ lives to new boy bands trying to do the ‘Beatles’, re-stirring-of grandmas old recipes and pickles to history itself, to discussions about the relevance or non relevance of Nietzsche, Camus, Sartre and their ilk today, to researchers who spend their entire lives trying to disprove the theory of relativity to others who spend theirs trying to find new applications of Newton’s laws, to well this can go on. But the point is, be it philosophy or fashion (of clothes, that is) or music or food or just about anything under the sun, we simply don’t do things the way they were done in the past.

Everything ‘past’ has a certain magic, a halo of enigma, a tinge of mysticism, a certain permanence about it. From the Hippie culture and the sexual revolution and the Osho phenomenon, to the world wars and the Berlin wall and the rise and fall of communism, to Pink Floyd to Naxalbari and naxalites, to Indian democracy to American dominance, African emergence to Asian resurgence. Even the dictators seemed more bedazzling, more enigmatic. It is no wonder then that the present generation is on a perpetual borrowing mission, in various degrees of course. It is always on the lookout for new toppings to make things appear brand new or just trying to mix and match and repackage the earlier ones.

The past is more in our blood than we realize. And even if we do realize then we are busy coining up terms like ‘fashion cycle’ to make up for our lack of ideas, creativity, ingenuity and sincerity. Do not get fooled into believing terms like fashion cycle-they are all euphemisms for borrowings in various degrees. We cannot shake the past off. In this sense nothing we will ever create can be truly ‘original’ or no event that takes place can be treated as a stand alone, independent entity. For everything we do will be more deeply entrenched in the past than we can ever imagine.

The past is more present than the present itself; for it is the foundation that we stand on, it is the influence which guides us, the thoughts that make us, the music which satiates us, the enigma that bedazzles us, the tenderness which nurtures us. The past is the maker of our present and probably also our future. The past packs more than a punch.

Hamlet Meets Macbeth: All Are Invited

On the Joyful Occasion of Founder’s Day Celebrations
F.E.T-M.I.T.S. Presents

Hamlet Meets Macbeth: All is Well If Only It Ends Well
Date: January 23, 2008 Time: 3-5 p.m.


On Stage

Hamlet: Prerna
Macbeth: Sonam Gupta/Vani Kashyap
William Shakespeare: Trishla Ananya
Christopher Marlowe: Poorvi Gupta
Anchor 1: Snigdha
Anchor 2: Priyanka Dasgupta
Duncan : Sonam Gupta
Claudius: Prerna

Off Stage

Writer: Giriraj Kiradoo
Directors : Sandhya, Giriraj Kiradoo
Assistant Director: Ritika
Costumes: Sandhya
Support: Irene Sarkar, Alpana Gupta, Ankit Gandhi, Rano Ringo

About the Play

Do you know that the greatest ever writer, as he is often called, William Shakespeare (1564-1616) never wrote an original script?! That he copied and lifted material for his great plays from all possible sources? That he had a rival in Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593) whose baffling talent, originality and popularity gave William sleepless nights as he struggled to find one smash-hit of a play? That our greatest ever author who came from the small countryside of Stratford-at-Avon didn’t hesitate in lifting from his smart, sophisticated and university-educated rival even! Marlowe was killed in a brawl at a tavern when he was only 29. By then he had already authored three great and immensely popular plays including Dr. Faustus, his best by far. This play deals with a scholar’s pact with the devil. Dr. Faustus, the scholar, gets all the powers in exchange of his soul that he sells to the devil. The famous line about Helen of Troy – is this the face that launched a thousand ships? - occurs in this play.

Back to Will, the source of his greatness is said to be in his tragedies, especially the four greatest ones- Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello and King Lear. Three of them, save King Lear, has murderers as heroes. Let’s meet them one by one.


Hamlet

The young prince of Denmark returns to his homeland to find his father’s ghost paying him a visit during one of his sensational midnight rounds of the palace. Father Hamlet (they have a common name!) demands revenge. Actually, son Hamlet’s uncle Claudius had killed Father Hamlet when Son Hamlet was abroad. To make matters worse, Claudius married Father Hamlet’s wife, Gertrude. Hamlet, unlike strong bloodthirsty princes of his times, is not able to resolve his mind for revenge. Again, to make matters worst, he falls in love, with Ophelia whose mind and heart are both unreachable to him. Burden of revenge, guilt of mother’s deeds and unrequited love convert Hammy into the lovable, confused, mysteriously mad phenomena that he has remained ever since.

Hammy is famous for his delirious ‘to be or not to be’ speech and is considered to be the most refined and complex of the tragic quartet.

Before the play ends Hamlet, Claudius, Gertrude, and Ophelia all find the same fate: death/murder.

Sources of Hamlet: Ur-Hamlet possibly by Thomas Kyd (1558-1594) and The Spanish Tragedy definitely by Thomas Kyd

Macbeth

This committed and trusted soldier in service of Duncan, the King of Scotland, finds his head turned when three witches predict his destiny. They tell him that he’d be a king. Macbeth takes their words on face value and starts working extremely hard to prove the witches right. He’s helped by the ‘fourth witch’- Lady Macbeth who takes the prophecy also belonging to her- Lady Macbeth: the Queen of Scotland!

And he does become the king of Scotland killing Duncan. But as tragedies must end the Macbeth couple also dies.

Macbeth is known for the dagger scene in which a hallucinating Macbeth finds a flying dagger playing tricks upon him.

Sources of Macbeth: Macbeth of Scotland by Raphael Holinshed (? – 1580)

Othello

Othello – the ferocious, gallant moor – wins the heart of a girl all his opposite, Desdemona and they marry against her father’s wishes and under his curse: Othello, if she betrayed her father, no chance she’d spare you. Othello’s deputy, the smart and jealous antagonist Iago conspires Othello into mistrusting his loyal wife. Iago and Chance, lead Othello to kill Desdemona and himself but not before punishing the conspirator.

In modern times, Othello’s identity as a moor has evoked much debate over Shakespeare’s political correctness regarding racism (something he neither heard nor cared of).

Sources of Othello: Hecatommithi by Giovanni Battista Giraldi aka Cinthio

Now, just imagine what will follow if lovelorn and indecisive Hamlet happened to meet the sturdy and ambitious Macbeth? What if Shakespeare and Marlowe also joined the scene? Two rival authors and two rival characters (if the loads of academic research on comparing Hamlet and Macbeth stand any value at all) on one stage! Two competing writers and two incompetent murderers on one stage! And what if one of them is murdered?

Who? Who? Who?
By whom? By whom? By whom?

HMM gets the four on one stage and takes you to a journey inside the writers and characters, murderers and victims and amid the inevitable catastrophe and violence allows the comic relief to the audience.

In a world whose creativity is constantly being sucked by the readymade solutions on the World Wide Web, HMM is refreshingly ‘original’ though as we must have seen ‘originality’ lies in something subtler than mere content. Tulsidas used Valmiki’s Ramayana story but he made it his own in Ramcaritamanas and nobody would dare call Tulsidas a copycat! HMM is derivative and makes use of many sources including picking up a character, Dr. Moth, from the 1998-hepta-Oscar winning movie Shakespeare in Love. In one of the early scenes of the movie an inspiration-dried Shakespeare goes to Dr.Moth and seeks cure.

An Unborn Child's Witness: Aastha Arora on the Day Gas Tragedy Hit Bhopal

Many a times such incidents or I must say accidents occur which we can never forget and they form an inseparable part of our lives. With each passing moment the memory of that instance grows stronger and stronger. what I m going to tell u, is not my personal experience that is I have not experienced it but still it is related to my life.

You must have heard about the BHOPAL GAS TRAGEDY which took place on the night of December 2,1984. It happened at Union Carbide-a chemical factory which used to manufacture carbyle pesticide using Methyl Isocynate (MIC). About 40 tonnes of MIC leaked into the atmosphere from the tank due to accidental entry of water into the tank which overheated the reaction mixture and exploded the tank. It killed about 5100 people(about 2600 due to direct exposure of MIC and 2500 due to after effects)

My parents, my brother and my uncles (mama and chacha) were there at that moment in the same area where this incident took place. Now you must be thinking that where was I???I was with God. Couldn't get it??? I wasn't born till that time.

I didn't even know about this. When I studied about this tragedy in class 6th,I used to think that how the people would have managed and I didn’t know why ,but very unusual questions used to disturb me.

I used to talk about this to my mother but she never told me anything because she knew that it would be very shocking for me. But one fine evening when I was on the playground and my mother was talking to our neighbor regarding this tragedy, I suddenly appeared unknowingly to her. I heard the whole incident.

My mother told but it was a fine day and my mama and my chacha had come to meet them. They were all having a great time when suddenly the gas leaked into the atmosphere. The air around was very irritating and people had difficulty to breathe in. They ran here and there. My family members also came out of the house and started moving out from that locality when my father realized that his brother was missing. He asked his brother-in-law (my mama) to take my mother and brother out of that area and he would go and find his brother by the time.

Obviously, my mom refused to do so, because where would they go at midnight and where will they find him (father).At that time their were even no mobile phones available and my mom was worried where will they find him but my father forced them to do so.

My mama, mumma and my brother started moving and my dad went to search for his brother. Now my mumma, brother and my mama were on a scooter when suddenly they met with a road accident, in which my Mom got her right hand fractured, her brother got an injury on his leg and my brother got his chin injured. Three of them injured, took shelter in a house in which the family members were extremely helpful. They provided them with first aid and asked them to stay there at night so that they can get some rest. It was very cold that night and that unknown family provided them (my family members) with new and clean beddings and took proper care of them.

My mother was much tensed about my father and his brother. My father was still in same area searching for his brother, when he found him hidden under some dry grass and straw (so that he could breathe since the gas being heavier remains in the upper atmosphere).

Now both of them (my mom and my dad) were far apart and both of them didn't know anything about each other. And guess what happened?? Fortunately and surprisingly, By God's Grace, my father took shelter in the same house. This was the most surprising event that took place that day. Because, otherwise, what could have happened that day, I still get my heartbeat faster when i think about this.

Then they came to Agra and underwent the treatment. My mama had infection in his lungs, mom got her right hand fractured, Father got his eyes infected and my brother got a few stitches on his chin.

After the treatment, my parents went back to Bhopal mainly to visit that family that helped them. They wanted to thank them. But there was a lock in that house. Then since my father has visited that house so many times but always has seen a lock there. The house is still there, but God knows where the family members are. Nobody could know who they were, and where they are now.

After listening to the whole incident I had tears in my eyes. I really thank God for everything he did and truly believe in my parent's saying-"THAT FAMILY WAS THE SAVIOUR SENT BY GOD!!!!!"

Rehearsal Photos: Hamlet Meets Macbeth

Actors Get the Script Changed - Hamlet Meets Macbeth: All is Well If Only It Ends Well

Characters

Hamlet
Macbeth
William Shakespeare
Christopher Marlowe and his Ghost



Prologue

Good noon ladies, and few, castaway men passing their days idly in this sleepy town of dire desert. I bringeth you a story of two competing playwrights and two incompetent murderers.

Two murderers, all unlike in killing,

In fair London, we lay our scene,

Where ancient blood thirst comes to new chilling,

Where characters make their authors unclean.

Where stealing makes authors great
And astrologers decide their fate
A pair of star-cross'd murderers threat their life
And with their sword bury the authors’ strife

Well, I shall not test thy patience; it’s the story of Will Shakespeare who copied and borrowed his way to greatness, also of Christopher Marlowe who paid the grave cost of this greatness by often finding his ideas lifted, of Hamlet, the silly prince of Denmark who remembers none but an odd girl out and Macbeth the foolhardy general who asks the million penny question: Why Willy makes all of us murderers?

I promise one thing:

Never was told a story of more funny woe
Than of our Shakespeare and his Marlowe

Scene: A Theatre Festival
Time: Evening
(Hamlet is all lost and wandering around when Macbeth enters the scene)

Hamlet: Ophelia, Ophelia, Ophelia, my love, where art thou?

Macbeth: Art thou a man? Your father’s killed; your mother has become your auntie and you idiot…. Ophelia, Ophelia….

Hamlet: Who art thou? Thou hast no idea: greater the confusion greater the love. Ophelia, Oh Ophelia…….I am trapped by a great love, you dark moor.

Macbeth: Don’t insult my race, mind thy own. I am no moor….I am Macbeth……. the Great Soldier.

Hamlet: The Great Murderer!

Macbeth: Hold your tongue or lose it.

Hamlet: Ophelia, Ophelia, Ophelia……….

Macbeth: Who is this girl?

Hamlet: I don’t know.

Macbeth: Then why do you keep calling her. Ophelia, Ophelia…….?

Hamlet: Coz Will has asked me to.

Macbeth: Who is Will?

Hamlet: Will is nobody. He is a drunk. He is a poet. He is a copycat.

Macbeth: Got it, you mean William Shakespeare.

Hamlet: Yes, my lord.

Macbeth: I am also looking for that lunatic. I am a bit confused meself; just on the
highway I met 3 witches. They said I’ll be a king. Will wants me to be a king, why?

Hamlet: So that you can give him a noble prize; you know nobody gives him any prizes.

Macbeth: But, how do I become a king?

Hamlet: Ask thy wife. She is a kingmaker.

Macbeth: Idiot, I call her kingfisher not kingmaker.

Hamlet: Whatever, to murder or not to murder; that is the question.

Macbeth: That reminds me: Why Will makes all of us murderers?

Hamlet: We kill, to make him great. We sin, to make him great. We cry, to make him great. We suffer, to make him great.

Macbeth: Sadist! Damn sadist! If kill, we should, why not him? If suffer, we should, why shouldn’t he?

(Enters William Shakespeare, followed unknowingly by Christopher Marlowe)

Will: Freeze!

(Macbeth and Hamlet freeze)

Will: Well, told you, all the world is a stage. And thou art my characters. Characters never understand me. They don’t know how damn difficult a job it’s to create such weird people like Macky and Hammy.


Kit: Very difficult indeed, especially when they are not yours. By the way, from where have you lifted this time? I never wrote Hamlet or Macbeth. And Will, You have to stop it now; you have to. Dr. Moth, the great Psychiatrist and astrologer (Will: You also go to him?) has warned I’ll die soon, in a fight, in a tavern. I also need to be great. I also need to be immortal.

Will: You are, already. Great, and immortal, Kit. Go and drink like a killer. Death is tomorrow and drink is today. Murder is everyday. (Kit moving as if to exit). By the way, before you go and get drunk, did Dr. Moth tell you the name of the man who’d kill you? I see a plot coming up!

Kit: Jove! I wish I knew. I could write a tragedy on my own murder. The Strange and Unforgettably Lamentable Tragedy of Christopher Marlowe! (Aside- Will: Leave that to me!) By the way, ‘your’ characters are freezing, Will. (Will looks around at Macky and Hammy: Really?) Good bye and may Aphrodite give thee some pains and brains. Catchy line though: murder is everyday.

Will: Go and may Aphrodite let you die poetically. And you – children of imagination but not mine, come back to life, thy foster father calls you. (Changing the tone) We have shows tomorrow.

(Kit exits)

Hamlet: Ophelia, Ophelia……….

Macbeth (In a murderous frenzy): Oh ghostly dagger! Where art thou? I’ll murder the King and become a king myself. I know I’ll suffer, I know I’ll have to make Will great.

Will: Calm, my hero, calm. I’ll take the shame off you. I’m writing a murderer even greater than you…..he’ll kill his wife……Othello!

Macbeth: Will, before I forget again, first answer this million penny question: why do you make all of us murderers?

Hamlet: I also have some questions: She loves me or she loves me not. Why did my uncle Claudius kill my papa? Should I kill him or kill him not ? Should I kill myself or kill me not? To be mad or not to be?

Will: Friends, I make all of you murderers coz it clicks, tragedy clicks. I wrote comedies I earned money. I created you, it fetched me greatness.

M/H: What if we kill you? Will it not make us great? We also need to be great.
(A dagger appears in Macbeth’s hands)

Will: Save me, Kit and all those who conspired that I write such grave tragedies….Sophocles save me……..Euripides save me………Thomas Kyd save me…Kit save me…………save me……

(Enters the ghost of Kit Marlowe)

Kit: Leave him brothers, he was damn right. And more importantly Dr. Moth too. Death may be tomorrow but Murder is everyday. I got killed by somebody at a tavern.

Hamlet: Great light has gone out of our lives!

Macbeth: A great loss to theatre and playwriting.

Shakespeare: Even greater loss to me! (Sighs)

Kit: But, leave him brothers. He will make you great anyways. I shall live in him and he in both of you. Then, forget murders, let’s celebrate life. Hamlet and Macbeth, shall I call you Macky and Hammy, brothers, come, lets celebrate.

(The four make a semicircle and are engrossed in friendly celebration)

All Four: For life…..for drama that makes murderers lovable.

Kit: Coming back here, I saw the face of my Helen, the infamous Helen of Troy flashing in sky: Is this the face that launched a thousand ships?

Will: Wonderful, repeat the line…..is this the face…….thanks Kit.

Will (Steps forward): All thy world is a court, it punishes. Our theatre is a tavern, it punishes not. Kill or be killed. Write or be written. Inspire or get inspired (Kit: It means Copy or get Copied).

All Four: That is the question.

Hamlet: Ophelia, Ophelia…..

Macbeth: Where’s old Duncan, the king of Scotland? I am sorry. I won’t kill you.

(Exit Macbeth)

Hamlet: Uncle Claudius, give me my Ophelia and my senses back….I’ll kill you not…nor myself…..

(Exit Hamlet)

Kit: Keep them on track, Will. They have to kill.

Will: They’ll resume but for this fleeting while let their spirits roam free. You tell me…how it is to be a ghost? I am writing a ghost father for Hamlet.

Kit: You’ll never change. Well, a ghost is a dead playwright whose works are lifted by you.

Will: All is well that ends well.

(Both laugh. Arm-in –arm exit Kit and Will)

Epilogue

Remember ladies and few gentlemen: Life is Today, Death is Tomorrow. But Murder is Everyday.

(Shouts of Duncan and Claudius being killed from offstage. Duncan: Leave me Macbeth, I am your king. Claudius: Leave me, I am your uncle and father too)

Blocking for Hamlet Meets Macbeth: Are you a lady, Mr. Kent?

Well, we are into it.

The young lot from junior classes is shaping up really well, the actors have seen the 1998-hepta-Oscar-winner Shakespeare in Love and we have even done some graphics (have a look at http://docs.google.com/Presentation?id=dggt3x9q_8f4q343dj) to get our stage movements correct. In Shakespeare in Love, Ned Alleyn (Ben Afleck), the star actor of The Chamberlain's Men, irritated by the wrong steps of Viola De Lesseps (Gwyneth Paltrow) disguised as Kent (in the pic above), bursts, "Gentlemen upstage, Ladies downstage. Are you a lady, Mr. Kent?".

Here in our little play Macbeth, Hamlet, Shakespeare and Marlowe are all played by young women! (Reminder: Women were not allowed to be in theatre in Shakespeare's times and all the great Shakespearean females were played by men!)

The Greatest New Year News: Human Beings Are Simply Incapable of Killing Time! Says Amrita’s First in 2008

Wasting time....a hitch??

It’s new year. A time to revisit shortcomings. And wasting time seems to top the list by a substantial part of the lot. Is it worth fretting on?

They say,‘half my time is wasted in waiting for the bus/train/auto rickshaw’…this goes well for people also. I mean, don’t we find ourselves ‘killing time’ while waiting for somebody or the other, every often? And to add to the fun, Itoo was sitting on a bench on the railway platform in Delhi waiting for my train to arrive with another couple of hours on my hand .In other words, Iwas killing time when I decided to dissect this lavishly used cliché.

Let’s give it a thought. Can human beings, equipped with the prized brain, actually ever kill time, doing nothing? Is the larger- than- life size human mind ever out of work? How far are we correct to say that we kill time, as long as we are in our senses?? The flow of thoughts is an involuntary action of human mind. Ok, its correct that when we talk of doing something we understandably mean doing something productive that can lead to an affirmative contribution to our way of going about in life. But how do we explain this.

Doesn’t a writer keep hunting for such idle times when he can help his mind to maneuver ideas to write about. The true treasure of a poet is his free, solitary time!

When he can nurture his abstract and intangible ideas and find words for them in form of his poetry. And its not just the people with an artistic bend, don’t scientists and researchers sail in the same boat? Every discovery of today is the end product of profound and unconditional thinking undergone in free or so called ‘uselessly wasted time’ of past. Ideas are not slaves to deliberately saved ‘right time’ or ‘right place’ fort hat matter. Wasn’t Newton leisurely sitting under the straggly branched tree, when the falling apple popped in his mind, the historic idea of the Law of Gravitation? Past remains witness that ideas leading to greatest of discoveries were seeded in idle minds and in places as mundane as a bathroom (!!!), leave aside bus stands, railway platforms ,the sides of a road or even one’s home.

And this was indeed an exact hit in the head of the nail. Thanks to Aamir Khan for his flick Taare Zameen Par wherein he has rightly acknowledged the virtue of seamless imagination and unconditional thoughts through the fantasies of a little boy.

So…what say? Sitting idle and thinking is futile? Unyielding? A waste of time and intellect?…Well, all I know is: “not all who wander are lost!!

Hamlet Meets Macbeth: A Happy Ending by Giriraj Kiradoo

This short play was written because I couldn't find a decent script anywhere- in my humble library, in libraries around and on the world wide web which seems to have everything only till the moment you need something really good. So I had to write. Its scheduled to be staged on 23rd of January during the Foundation Day celebrations. No permissions are required to stage it anywhere, anytime. Its copy-left material.

Characters

Hamlet
Macbeth
William Shakespeare
Christopher Marlowe


Scene: A Theatre Festival
Time: Evening

(Hamlet is all lost and wandering around when Macbeth enters the scene)



Hamlet: Ophelia, Ophelia, Ophelia, my love where art thou?

Macbeth: Art thou a man? Your father’s killed; your mom has become your auntie,
and you idiot.. Ophelia, Ophelia….

Hamlet: Who art thou? Thou hast no idea: greater the confusion greater the love. Ophelia, Oh Ophelia…….I am trapped by a great love, you moor.

Macbeth: Don’t be racist, and anyways, it could be Othello – the new bloke - he could be a Moor , not I….I am Macbeth the Great Soldier.

Hamlet: The Great Murderer!

Macbeth: Hold your tongue or lose it.

Hamlet: Ophelia, Ophelia, Ophelia……….

Macbeth: Who is this girl?

Hamlet: I don’t know.

Macbeth: Then why do you keep calling her. Ophelia, Ophelia…….?

Hamlet: Coz Will has asked me to.

Macbeth: Who is Will?

Hamlet: Will is nobody. He is a drunk. He is a poet. He is a copycat.

Macbeth: Got it, you mean Will Shakespeare.
Hamlet: Yes, my lord.

Macbeth: I am also looking for that lunatic. I am a bit confused myself; just on the
highway I met 3 witches. They said I’ll be a king. Will wants me to be a king, why?

Hamlet: So that you can give him a noble prize; you know he hasn’t got a single prize.

Macbeth: How do I become a king?

Hamlet: Ask thy wife. She is a kingmaker.

Macbeth: Idiot I call her kingfisher not kingmaker.

Hamlet: To murder or not to murder; that is the question.

Macbeth: Why Will makes all of us murderers?

Hamlet: We kill, to make him great. We sin, to make him great. We cry, to make him great. We suffer, to make him great.

Macbeth: Sadist! Damn sadist! If kill, we should, why not him? If suffer, we should, why shouldn’t he?

(Enters William Shakespeare)

Will: Freeze.

(Both Macbeth and Hamlet freeze)

Will: Well, told you, all the world is a stage. And thou art my characters, dears. Characters never understand me. They don’t know how damn difficult a job it’s to create such weird people like Macky and Hammy.

(Enters Kit Marlowe)

Kit: Very difficult indeed, specially when they are not yours. You have to stop it now; Will, you have to. Dr. Moth, our common Psychiatrist-cum-astrologer has warned I’ll die soon, in a brawl, in a tavern. I also need to be great. I also need to be immortal.

Will: You are, already. Great, and immortal, Kit. Go and drink to your fill. Death is tomorrow and drink is today. Murder is everyday. Kit, before you go and get drunk, did Dr. Moth tell you the name of the man who’d kill you? I see a plot coming up!

Kit: Jove! I wish I knew. I could write a tragedy on my own murder. The Strange and Unforgettably Lamentable Tragedy of Kit Marlowe! By the way, ‘your’ characters are freezing, Will. Good bye and may Aphrodite give thee some pains and brains. Catchy line though: murder is everyday.

Will: Go and die poetically. And you – off springs of someone else’s imagination, come back to life, thy foster father calleth you. We have shows tomorrow.

Hamlet: Ophelia, Ophelia……….

Macbeth: Oh ghostly dagger! Where art thou? I’ll murder the King and become a king myself. I know I’ll suffer, I know I’ll make Will great.

Will: Calm, my hero, calm. I’ll take the shame off you. I’m writing a murderer even bigger than you…..he’ll kill his wife……Othello!

Macbeth: Will, it’s a million penny question: why do you make all of us murderers?

Hamlet: I also have some questions: She loves me or she loves me not. Why did my uncle Claudius kill my papa? Should I kill him or kill him not ? Should I kill myself or kill me not? Have I got something to do with Oedipus? To be mad or not to be?

Will: Coz it clicks, tragedy clicks. I wrote comedies I earned money. I created you, it fetched me greatness.

M/H: What if we kill you? Will it make us great?
(A dagger appears in Macbeth’s hands)

Will: Save me, Kit and all those who inspired me to write such grave tragedies….Sophocles save me……..

(Enters Kit Marlowe)

Kit: You were damn right. Death is tomorrow. Murder is everyday. I killed somebody at a tavern. Let’s celebrate life. Hamlet and Macbeth, shall I call them Macky and Hammy, brethren, come here, lets celebrate. Coming back here, I saw face of Helen of Troy flashing in sky: Is this the face that launched a thousand ships?

Will: Wonderful, repeat the line…..Is this the face…….thanks Kit.

(All four sit down and celebrate)

All Four: For life…..for drama that makes murderers lovable.

Will: All thy world is a court, it punishes, our theatre is a tavern, it punishes not. Kill or be killed. Write or be written. Inspire or get inspired (Kit: It means Copy or get Copied).

All Four: That is the question.

(Curtain Falls)