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)

Ian McEwan in Jaipur? : Its Jaipur Literature Festival Season

Since 2005, JLF is one of the most significant events in India's literary calendar. More about the festival and this year's programme is here

India's biggest and best ever festival of literature. This year starring: Ian McEwen, Gore Vidal, Manil Suri, John Berendt, UR Ananthamurthy, Anoushka Shankar, Aamir Khan, William Dalrymple, Aparna Sen, Siddarth Dhanvant Shanghvi, Christopher Hampton, Paban Das Baul, Paul Zacharia, Indra Sinha, Susheela Raman, Dev Anand, Kamila Shamsie, Mamhood Farooqi, Jeet Thayil, Uday Prakash, Donna Tartt, Himanshu Joshi, Anita Nair, Namita Devidayal, Nayantara Sahgal, Chitra Mudgal and Tishani Doshi.

Special for MITSIANS

Arjun Deo Charan and Giriraj Kiradoo

Arjun Deo Charan explores Rajasthani poetry with Giriraj Kiradoo

THURS, 24th Dec. 2007 14:00 p.m.

Venue: Diggi Palace, SMS Hospital Rd, Jaipur

Siyahi's Translating Bharat : Language, Globalisation and the Right to be Read (Its in Jaipur!)

Note: Yours truly is aboard Siyahi as a Translator/Consultant. For detailed programme and other things visit Siyahi's website or write to mitakapur@siyahi.in/mita.kapur@gmail.com.



With India rising as an economic power, our diverse literary and cultural traditions are receiving the world's attention. Translations, as an act of literary preservation, are becoming increasingly significant in a globalized world. Indian languages and literatures are rapidly adapting to the critical cultural changes across the nation. There is an urgent need to cross-fertilize ideas, exchanges and translations between language groups, national and international. The oral, pictorial and scripted traditions, which constitute the rich history of Indian literature, need to be conserved and perpetuated with passion and professionalism.



Bharatiya Anuvad Parishad is a voluntary society formed in 1964 by Dr. Gargi Gupta. The parishad endeavors to master the art of translations by bridging the gap between English, Hindi and Bhasa languages, using Hindi as a bridge, and also caters to the growing need for an Indian linguistic identity apart from English. It has been able to do so by providing a platform for translators from different regional streams from all the major languages by being associated with universities, institutions and private organizations.



The conference, Translating Bharat : Language, Globalization and the Right to be Read, is an effort by Siyahi to provide an interactive space for creating synergies to help writers, translators and publishers to understand core issues and work towards creating bonds which will help them benefit from each other's experiences and understanding. The Indian economy is reaching out to the world. Translating Bharat is a small step in presenting the diversity of Indian literature by bringing together authors, poets, translators and publishers, from Bharat that is India

itizn't a nyoo year post; and itizn't an editorial as well

Freespeech enters its second calendar year; 2008 has indeed arrived- classes have resumed, campus is getting busier every minute and top-up coupons are easily available again.


Will it be yet another year, like the previous one(s)? The world doesn't change as indifferently as a digit or two in a year's citation. It remains very much the same; cold is as chillier, Mody is as isolated and far-off, studies as imposing and chances of an escape as rare as they always have been. Even, a New Year eve replays the last New Year’s Eve! The same way of going about and through it!

And Freespeech still doesn't get more than 2 visitors a day; and Amrita Sharma is still the only regular student contributor. Before you conclude that this party-spoiler sameness episode should be shown the way, let me wish some genuine newness for you and an epic readership for Freespeech in 2008.

MADE FOR EACH OTHER by Ruchi Singhal

Ruchi is an Engineer-in-making (E 7/III yr) but with a lot of other things on her mind. One such thing has taken form of this little 'love story'.

Getting up early is the hardest job for me, but as usual Johnny woke me up early this morning too. I don’t know what pleasure he gets in going for those mundane “morning walks”. Moreover the nefarious fellow always tricks me into accompanying him. He always says that there is a beauty in the nature, but oh! what beauty, the vicinity is the same everyday.

Today again we are here on the grounds of his beloved ‘exotic’ park. I was trying to keep myself from dozing off when all of a sudden a whiff of breeze with actual ‘exotic’ air stormed me. In order to find the source of that calling aroma, I turned around.

What I saw was beyond imagination. There stood before me the best creation of God. The words ‘glorious’ and ‘attractive’ seemed Lilliputian in front of her. Her fur coat & open curly hair made her look like an angel. Overwhelmed by her beauty I somehow gathered courage to go near her. Although speechless, I was somehow able to convey my words of appreciation to her. Seemingly glad she gave a million dollar smile.

Convinced by the Hindi saying ‘hansi to fasi’, I almost jumped with joy. I even started making plans of our marriage. There will be a huge list of guests, delicious food items and a lot of melodrama. And the title would read “Tommy weds laika”.

So what if dogs don’t marry. I really hope our puppies will be as exquisite as she is.

Comedy, Terror and the Beautiful: Amrita Sharma Responds to 'Life is Beautiful'

Roberto Benigni's 1998 classic 'Life is Beautiful' (La Vita E Bella) is one of the greatest comedies and (an even greater anti-war film) ever made. Set against Nazi holocaust , the movie is a father 's amazing heroics to convert the war and holocaust into a game for his son and by doing so he's able to keep him away from all the ugliness his little world is forced to acknowledge. Benigni got the Best Actor's Academy award for playing Guido the father, the film was adjudged the Best Foreign Language film and also won an Oscar for the Best Original Dramatic Score. Same year, it was the Grand Jury Prize winner at Cannes. This piece is inspired by a classroom screening during one of the PMEL sessions.

Rightly said, 'life does not cease to be funny when people die as much as it ceases to be serious ,when people laugh’.

If comedy could manage bring out laughter from people enveloped with terror, it could indisputably be the biggest weapon to fight terror.ifmiseries don’t seem to relent and one cant help getting out of aninevitably oppressive situation ,at least one can overwhelm the heartwith joy for a while by smiling and making others smile.Thanks to comedythat has helped to bring back the smile on innumerable faces throughages.’Life is beautiful’ is another piece of comedy that has raked upthis idea. It whizzed past in a couple of hours but didn’t fail leavingan indelible imprint in our minds unveiling the idea of fighting terrorusing a weapon which may be invaluable but paradoxically, even theleast fortunate with this treasure.the treasure of the ability to smileand making others smile.

The hero of the movie,(yes,even thoughhe didn’t come up with any stereotypical heroic stunt and was notextraordinary in any way,he definitely was a hero in my opinion.Havingnever giving in to the profusely oozing sweat of hardships that heunderwent in the Nazi conentration camp during the war of fascism) ajewish Italian named Guido ,never failed to make his son smile all thetime using his humourous imaginations even in the grim atmoshpherethat was prevalent in the death camp where destiny had brought them.There wasn’t a single misery that had not gripped him.Beit the catastrophe of war his nation was suffering.Be it the longingnessfor his beloved wife Dora who was separated from him in another jewishconcentration camp or be it the terror of the ultimate end that they allseemed to be heading towards along with his little son who had just embarked on the journey of his life.

All his wit told him thatthe only way to get over such horrific fear was to hold on and notforget to laugh it off.The miseries surely were not enough to engulf hisfaith in humour.He rather told his son who was intrigued in thebeginning that it was an all new game that they had come to play andthat they had to score the 1000 quickest points to win a Tank.This wasenough to fascinate the kiddo who also started taking the hardships as agame and enjoyed it.

Guido was shot to death by the germansoldiers but didn’t fail to make his son laugh even a minute before he died!

Isn’t that a lesson to be learned and realize thesignificance of comedy.Terror is never an invited guest.It graduallylooms over the horizon.But if one learns the art of comedy,it canfortify him to fight back a terror in the ugliest guise.Because laughterdoesn’t just makes life simpler and more worthwhile but mostimportantly,beautiful.

Indeed! Comedy is the biggest weapon to fightterror.And above all,Life is Beautiful!!

Rightly said,’life does not ceases to be funny when people die as much as it ceases to be serious ,when people laugh’

If comedy could manage to bring out laughter from people enveloped with terror,it could indisputably be the biggest weapon to fight terror. If miseries don’t seem to relent and one can't help getting out of an inevitably oppressive situation ,at least one can try filling the heart with joy for a while by smiling and making others smile. Thanks to comedy that has helped to bring back the smile on innumerable faces through ages.’Life is beautiful’ is another piece of comedy that has raked up this idea.

It whizzed past in a couple of hours but didn’t fail leaving an indelible imprint in our minds unveiling the idea of fighting terror using a weapon which may be invaluable but paradoxically, even  the least fortunate with this treasure. The treasure of the ability to smile and making others smile.

The hero of the movie,(yes,even though he didn’t come up with any stereotypical heroic stunt and was not extraordinary in any way,he definitely was a hero in my opinion. Having never giving in to the profusely oozing sweat of hardships that he underwent in the Nazi concentration camps during the war of fascism)an Italian Jew  named Guido ,never failed to make his son smile all the time using his humorous imagination  even  in the grim atmosphere that was prevalent in the death camp where destiny had brought them. There wasn’t a single misery that had not gripped him. Be
it the catastrophe of war his nation was suffering. Be it the longing for his beloved wife Dora who was separated from him in another concentration camp or be it the terror of the ultimate end that they all  seemed to be heading towards along with his little son who had just embarked on the journey of his life.

All his wit told him that the only way to get over such horrific fear was to hold on and not forget to laugh it off. The miseries surely were not enough to engulf his faith in humor. He rather told his son who was intrigued in the beginning that it was an all new game that they had come to play and that they had to score the 1000 quickest points to win a Tank. This was enough to fascinate the kiddo who also started taking the hardships as a game and enjoyed it.

Guido was shot to death by the German soldiers but didn’t fail to make his son laugh even a minute before he died!

Isn’t that a lesson to be learned and realize the significance of comedy. Terror is never an invited guest. It gradually looms over the horizon. But if one learns the art of comedy,it can fortify him to fight back a terror in the ugliest guise. Because laughter doesn’t just makes life simpler and more worthwhile but most
importantly,beautiful.

Indeed!Comedy is the biggest weapon to fight terror. And above all,Life is Beautiful!!

How Music Cures: An Introduction by Ankita Gupta

Ankita Gupta teaches Music and her proposed doctoral thesis is on the interface between music and technology. The piece was written originally in Hindi and has been translated by freesepeech.

1

With the world so proudly into the twenty first century and science scaling newer heights everyday….with medical science making a magical breakthrough every now and again, it might not sound very convincing that music, on its own, can cure many diseases. Yet, its true and you may trust me for saying so. Ironically the increasing popularity of music therapy in the west has made Indians curious though they were the ones who pioneered it.

2

Music is the most developed and refined form of phonology and is called ‘nada’ by the people in music, literature and spiritualism. ‘Nada Brahma’ has a supreme significance in our lives. In Vedic India, chanting aloud helped cure illnesses of physical and spiritual kinds.

3

Ayurveda believes that the brain controls the body. Diseases caused by physical reactions too have a connection with the sensation of the nerves. This sensation is effected by various melodies as per their characteristics. The sound of music brings about a comforting change in the functions of the body which subsequently leads to curing. Both Indian and western medical sciences are of the opinion that 90% diseases are caused by psychological factors. As music has an infinite power to charge, to slacken and to lyricize a person, by playing antagonist sounds or ragas formed of such antagonist sounds the emotions which originate a certain disease can be suppressed. That what music therapy is at its core value.

4

But it can not work without faith in music and its therapeutic powers. The concerned raga should be listened to three times a day. In case of transferable diseases, the frequency should be increased. While listening to, one should try to be free of tension and focused and the ragas should be played in soft, slow tones.

5

Diseases and RAGAS: Tune In

Fevers of all Kinds: Hindol, Makha, Pooriya, Bhairav and Asawari

High Fever: Malkons, Basant Bahar

Cough-related Diseases, Constipation: Bhairav and Asawari

Typhoid: Hindol, Marva, Pooriya

High Blood Pressure: Poorvi, Todi, Multani

Pains of All Kinds: Peelu, Malkons, Todi, Multani, Paraz, Sohani

Heart Problem: Darbari Kanhara

Cancer: Shree, Nayaki Kanhara, Sindhu Bhairavi

Migraine: Darbari Kanhara, Jai Jayawanti, Sohani

Diabetes: Jaunpuri, Jai Jayawanti

Mental Diseases: Lalit, Kedar

Fear: Sohani, Pooriya

Eyes: Kaunsi Kanhara, Multani

A Reading of Joyce Cary's Growing Up by First Year Students

Apoorva Srivastava, Chandani Jain, Apurva Agrawal and Devanshi Tiwari's presentation was the best classroom presentation (CS-AB). Here, we produce the full text and invite comments from all B.Tech students. To know more about Cary go to his son composer Tristram Cary's page http://users.senet.com.au/~trisc/JCBiog.html and

ww.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joyce_Cary.

This is a presentation on ‘Growing Up’ by Joyce Cary.

We are presenting the outlook of father, a preteen kid, a teenager and the decision maker- the society.

The situation is seen through their respective eyes.

TEENAGERS AT PRESENT by Apoorva Srivastava

Jenny and Kate have just entered the teen age. According to me, children can turn out wild only when they are not taken care of very well. Here is this family, the parents hardly gave any time to their children, mother remains busy handling the social responsibilities and father remains busy with office, he spends long time out of town. They hardly ever took out time to sit with their children to point out their mistakes and judge their development due to which they turned out to be complete freaks. They failed to teach their kids about discipline and cleanliness.

Now the girls are not so intimately involved with their father as they were earlier, they are into their own world. Maybe these are the changes involved when someone enters the teenage.

But they have grown up, they have become practical and are also worried if their father is hurt, at the same time arranging for his ointment. The two sisters are very much concerned about each other.

All this shows that they have crossed that age where family is the only world. Now they have grown up to realize that there is more than just a family.

Now have a look at the same kids two year back……

THE PRETEEN KIDS by Chandani Jain

The kids before two years adored their father and mother. They had no grudges against their father. They totally depended on them for everything. They expected an emotional support from them. For them, their parents were the world.

They used to plan surprises very enthusiastically. One fine day, when their father returned home after being away for a long time, they planned a welcome surprise for him but as their secret was discovered, they were disappointed and felt humiliated.

So we see there is a lot of transformations from preteen to teen. The contrast between their ages is quite clear.


THE FATHER’S VIEW by Apurva Agrawal

Mr. Robert Quick, the father of the little kids, Jenny and Kate, really loved his daughters. He is the sole bread earner of the family and thus stays busy with his work but he takes out time for his family, his children since they are his responsibility and he loves them. He wanted his children to grow up as independent and wise young individuals, therefore, he gave them full freedom. He greeted them cheerfully even when he was tired and so he expected the same from them. He cared for his daughters and loved their pet too.

He had been away from home because of work and during this time he had missed his family terribly. He was eager to be with his daughters again. But he notices that the scenario has changed, his daughters have changed. They used to be innocent but now they have become wild and ruthless. Seeing the behavior changed of his daughters, he gets sad and shocked. When his daughters call him names and their bitch bites him, he gets afraid of their actions. H e Is feeling like a stranger, as if, he has just started knowing them. He feels lonely since his wife stays busy socializing and is daughters have abandoned him. At last he decides to go for a pool game but again he is in for a surprise from Jenny who is worried for his injury. He learns he has to grow up and change with them as they have changed while growing up.

Conclusion by Devanshi Tiwari

SO here we heard the story of ‘Growing Up’ through a father’s heart full of love for his daughters but definitely jammed by confusions at behavior of growing teens. A teen’s frustration at the flowing hormones and hopeless elders. The decisive eye of society, commenting on girls.

Its quite vivid from condition of the garden that in the Quick’s household, children were the conquerors. It was designed rather groomed for their taste.

They have a devoted mom and a loving father. They too love their parents but situation becomes complicated as they grow into their teenage. They dislike being questioned or instructed and generally overreact to situations. They have swings in mood from loving child to aggressive heroines to responsible daughters.

The chapter simply teaches us that even parents need to grow up with their growing kids. They have to adjust to their growing needs and swinging moods.

It should not be true: In Memory of Anil J.B.

It was an unbearably sad morning; many of us walking into the campus had no idea what awaited us. And for many others, who knew since last evening itself, it was a morning they didn't want to unfold. As we waited at the main entrance, we still secretly hoped that he'd jump of what was just another bed and not the final one, and say, "bhai aap sab yahan kyon khade hain?" Instead, it was a confirmation. An undeniable confirmation that Assistant Professor Mr. Anil J.B. is no more, that we won't see him again, that never again will he fill our lives with the joy and wit that came so natural to him. He, along with two other persons, didn't survive a road accident when their motorbike was hit by a Bolero on Sikar Road, National Highway 11, very close to the campus he loved so intimately.


His tragic departure leaves M.B.M. Engineering College, Jodhpur and MNIT, Jaipur in mourning from where he had graduated into a fine teacher and human being. In his address, Prof. SS Sarkar, Dean-FET, described him as 'a hardworking and brilliant' faculty'. Students, among whom he was immensely popular, are holding condolence offering from 1.30 p.m. in the quadrangle opposite library. The students' notice remembers him as 'our mentor and guide'.


Born on Oct. 10, 1972, he belonged to Jodhpur and came to join MITS in December, 2004. He is survived by his wife, a kid and parents.

We pray for the salvation of his departed soul and may God give his family the strength to survive this inconsolable grief and shock. Amen!

To pay tribute to him on this site, click 'comments' below.

Globalization and India's Poor: No Trickling Down by Amrita Sharma

True to what she wrote to us: 'I'm game for writing on any topic', Amrita Sharma is here again; this time on globalization and the poor in India, inspired by a classroom discussion.



Globalization is the new buzzword that has taken the people of thenation by storm lately. The nation has received unending applause forseeing unforeseen heights in international trade and economy. One cancertainly say that these are the heydays of Indian economy when internationaltrade is flourishing like never before. To top it off, the developingeconomy has fascinated the whole of world, and countries have began tosee India as a lucrative destination for setting up their overseastrade.

But while a part of the nation is busy bragging on thissuccess, there exists another chunk of population of India which isstill alienated to the term ‘globalization’. This chunk consists of thepoor living in the villages and even those living in the slums ofdifferent metropolitans and the so-called 'mini-metropolitans' of India. It’s not just the awareness of globalization that is lacking amongthe poor but matter-of-factly the effect of globalization also has nottouched the poor who are still striving to make both ends meet and arestarving for the very basic needs of life. Advocates of globalizationhave to say that economic growth of the country has increased thestandard of living of the people and the BPO industry has providedemployment for the middle class people who are now finding opportunitieseven in the global market place. Definitely, the middle class has shiftedto a better way of life but the poor is still sobbing.

Affordable healthcare facilities for children and women belonging to the lesserprivileged class is still a distant dream. The campaign taken up by thegovernment for setting up of at least one school in every village ofthe country which will also provide one meal a day, has still got a longway to go. Laws for checking child labor needs to get sterner. Agrarian policies that can help agriculture to look up in region with fertile land are craving for government's support. How can the government be so oblivious of the state of agriculture in India which is compelling farmers to commit suicide? Has globalization taken such a toll that the government needs to be reminded that a major part of the revenue of the nation still comes through agriculture?

The solution to this predicament does exist.

It’s high time the government got serious and took some giant strides for the uplifting of the poor while accentuating its economic development. The government can implement national development policies to reduce poverty while taking care of its international commitments and agreements. The middle class benefiting from globalization also has a role to play. By not being repulsive to protests for the rights of poor and (India being a democracy) by pressing upon the government for implementation of poverty reduction policies in tandem with economic growth policies ,the middle class can be pivotal in helping the poor to mollify and letting them benefit from the success of globalization.


The bottom line is: a nation cannot aim to prosper when a major chunk of its population is struggling for nothing more than a simple livelihood.

Rahul Soni Profiles Nobel Prize Winner in Literature

Poet and fiction writer Rahul Soni, 28, is the first guest author on Free Speech. Besides his research on Franz Kafka, he has published poems and short stories and has edited some online magazines. He came to live in India when Iraq invaded the country of his childhood in 1990. To read him more, visit www.phingerphood.wordpress.com.

Staving off stiff competition from Japan’s Haruki Murakami and, perennial contender, U.S.A.’s Philip Roth, Doris Lessing was declared the winner of the 2007 Nobel Prize for Literature. In the process she became only the 11th woman to win the prize and, at just a few days short of her 88th birthday, the oldest.

Doris Lessing, nee May Taylor, was born in Iran in 1919 and brought up in Zimbabwe, where her father owned a farm. In 1949, after two failed marriages, she left Africa and moved to London to try her hand at writing.

She is now widely regarded as one of the most important post-war writers in English. Her novels, short stories and essays have focused on a wide range of 20th century issues and concerns, from the politics of race that she confronted in her early novels set in Africa, to the politics of gender which lead to her adoption by the feminist movement, to the role of the family and the individual in society, explored in her space fiction of the late 1970s and early 1980s.

During a career extending more than half a century, she has published some 50 novels, short-story collections and memoirs, either under her own name or the pseudonym, Jane Somers.

Her 1950 debut, “The Grass is Singing” - which examines the relationship between a white farmer’s wife and her black servant - was an instant bestseller. The book broke new ground, both in terms of its outlining of an interracial relationship and in the sheer detail given to the characters’ internal lives.

This was followed by the “Children of Violence” series comprising “Martha Quest” (1952), “A Proper Marriage” (1954), “A Ripple from the Storm” (1958), “Landlocked” (1965) and “The Four-Gated City” (1969). It describes Martha Quest’s awakening to greater awareness on every level and was pioneering in its depiction of the mind and circumstances of the emancipated woman. The series, which is somewhat autobiographical, has been described as Lessing’s most substantial work. With these books Lessing created a modern equivalent of the bildungsroman of women writers of the 19th century.

Her real break-through, though, came with “The Golden Notebook” in 1962 (read excerpt here). The burgeoning feminist movement saw it as a pioneering work and it belongs to the handful of books that informed the 20th century view of the male-female relationship. It used a complex narrative technique to reveal how political and emotion conflicts are intertwined. Notably, Lessing herself does not agree with its status as a feminist classic. She would go on to write that its theme of mental breakdowns as a means of healing and freeing one’s self from illusions had been overlooked by critics. Lessing did not like the idea of being pigeon-holed as a feminist author. When asked why, she replied:

“I think a lot of romanticizing has gone on with the women’s movement... Whatever type of behavior women are coming up with, it’s claimed as a victory for feminism - doesn’t matter how bad it is. We don’t seem to go in very much for self-criticism...

“... What the feminists want of me is something they haven’t examined because it comes from religion. They want me to bear witness. What they would really like me to say is, ‘Ha, sisters, I stand with you side by side in your struggle toward the golden dawn where all those beastly men are no more.’ Do they really want people to make oversimplified statements about men and women? In fact, they do. I’ve come with great regret to this conclusion.”

When asked about which of her books she considers most important, Lessing chose the “Canopus in Argos” series. These books show, from many different perspectives, an advanced society’s efforts at forced evolution. The Canopus series is a blend of science-fiction and Sufi concepts.

Besides these books, she was short-listed for the Booker prize 3 times: in 1971 for “Briefing for a Descent into Hell”, in 1981 for “The Sirian Experiments” and in 1985 for “The Good Terrorist”.

In the citation for the 2007 Nobel Prize in Literature, Lessing was described by the Swedish Academy as “that epicist of the female experience, who with skepticism, fire and visionary power has subjected a divided civilization to scrutiny”.

Nevertheless, her selection has not been without controversy. The American literary critic Harold Bloom called the academy’s decision “pure political correctness. Although Ms. Lessing at the beginning of her writing career had a few admirable qualities, I find her work for the past 15 years quite unreadable… fourth-rate science fiction.”

Her latest work, The Cleft, is a sci-fi novel which imagines what happens to a mythical all-female world when men are introduced.