Applesauce

On "1984"....

2012-01-29T05:31:00.000-08:00

It is indeed shameful that I should peruse this George Orwell classic at so advanced an age. It is particularly embarrassing to confess that I am a student/teacher of literature. After owning a copy of the book for almost half a decade I finally managed to trudge through it.

Trudge is a very apt word for a book which is resplendent in its stupidity. This dystopic dystopia strikes one as the ravings of a closet capitalist cowering behind his "Capitalist black top hat", presenting one with a monumental perversion of Marxist/Socialist/Communist ideology. The vapid and stereotypical delineation of girls/women further manages to make one cringe at the abysmal lack of insight exhibited by the text, and its blatant gender insensitivity.

So much for 1984...I am hoping that Running in the Family by Michael Ondatjee shall prove more fruitful reading.

Gratitude....

2012-01-23T09:09:00.000-08:00

In the normal course of life, one generally takes many things for granted. It is only when circumstances are unusual that one realises who really cares. For my part, I've realised how invaluable a person my husband is, and I am ever so grateful that he is a part of my life.

Thank you God for that beautiful serendipity that introduced me to this affectionate and ever so caring human being. It could so easily have been a miss.

Thank you !!! Thank you !!! Thank you !!!

New innings....

2012-01-21T23:37:00.000-08:00

It is that time of the year again...when you realise another "new" year has begun. This year shall bring an addition to the family, and resolutions or not, things are bound to change. There has been/is much anxiety, but I hope April shall bring things to a successful resolution. *Fingers crossed*

Otherwise, this post is my reminder that I need to write more. There is something about putting pen to paper (finger to keyboard) that sort of makes vague diaphanous ideas more cogent and comprehensible to oneself. A mirror to the mind so to speak. A rendering that reveals what is occupying the occipital. More reading, more listening and less speaking. Mantra for 2012.

Happy new year everyone !!!

Remembering Brecht fondly...

2011-05-26T13:44:00.000-07:00

On the Critical Attitude

The critical attitude
Strikes many people as unfruitful
That is because they find the state
Impervious to their criticism
But what in this case is an unfruitful attitude
Is merely a feeble attitude. Give criticism arms
And states can be demolished by it.

Canalising a river
Grafting a fruit tree
Educating a person
Transforming a state
These are instances of fruitful criticism
And at the same time instances of art.

Bertolt Brecht

***

A Persian proverb tells us that doubt is the key to knowledge. Descartes "cogito ergo sum" seems to sum it up. T.S. Eliot claims that criticism is as inevitable as breathing.

Questions, questions and more questions, and the answer is another question. Oh, what a happy happy world. Never definite, hence never insipid. I shall always be happy as long as I am free to ask what, why, when, where, who and how. I may not always acknowledge that felicity, but I am sure (or am I?)that my subconscious somewhere recognises that incertitude liberates me.

Amen.

On Creation

2011-04-28T01:34:00.000-07:00

I have been accused multiple times on a social networking site called Facebook for not being "original", but merely quoting from other people.

To make my case, I quote once again from John 1:1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. After this first creator called God, so many have had so much to say that I fear my ratiocination will to a degree always resemble plagiarism.

So why not borrow from someone who said it better than me? Let me be polemic and say that originality is overrated. It does not exist. New ideas are merely a mastication of old ones. Can I attempt anything better than another permutation of syllables all previously defined and sorted by lexicographers? Also, I do not have enough wisdom to attempt being wise.

And some say wisdom comes with age and experience. As junk food has increased the mortality rate substantially, I fear we shall be deprived of many a pearl of wisdom. Till then, I shall be happy to string together what already exists.

P.S. - Social networking sites like FB are considered windows to your personality. Please make sure you invest in dark hued curtains.

Othellos in the making...

2011-04-05T08:06:00.000-07:00

Sigmund Freud insists it is sex. Karl Marx believes it is economics that rules in the last instance. And in the penultimate instance, it is likely to be our insecurities.

When food, clothing and shelter are taken care of, what drives us are our insecurities. Everyone, is generally an Othello in the making ready to strangle an innocent/not so innocent Desdemona. Am I tall, dark, handsome, rich, poor, short, fat, pimply faced, smart, unlearned....what I think I am drives me. Some strive to better their odds, most to merely efface them. To mask them as well as they can.

Do you ever feel that someone reacted over much to something you said in general? Maybe you touched a nerve somewhere. Or there have been instances when its been vice versa.

Can one look beyond one's insecurities? Maybe. Maybe not. In the interim it might be very sapient to acquaint oneself with them in order to ensure that Desdemona lives.

To Whomsoever it May Concern - Part 2

2011-03-11T21:59:00.000-08:00

New Age Army wives take aim at old mindset

Insiya Amir & Ajay Sura,TNN,Jul 19, 2009, 01.49am IST

Is it time for change in the hierarchy-conscious Indian Army? Some Army wives are gunning for it. Alleging harassment because they refused to work for the Army Wives Welfare Association (AWWA), the wives of two officers say they have been forced to kowtow to the same hierarchical rules as their spouses.

Savneet Paul, who has sent a legal notice to the Army and is waiting for a response, alleges that her husband (a Major) was given below-average ratings in the annual confidential report based on the couple's social interaction at AWWA activities. In other words, it's not merit but what the wife does that counts. Rosme Chaube, also the wife of a Major, has written to the Army chief expressing similar grievances.

Army wife sues senior officer

Vikram Choudhury, Friday July 3, 2009, Chandigarh, NDTV

Savneet Paul's husband, an army officer is fighting insurgency in Kashmir but back home in Patiala, she is fighting a different battle. She has decided to take legal action against her husband's superior officer Col D.S Loomba and his wife.

This after Col Loomba made adverse remarks in her husband's annual confidential report (ACR) because of her non-participation in the Army Wives Welfare Association (AWWA) activities during their posting at Meerut last year. Savneet says, she could not follow the orders given by the CO's wife since she was pregnant.

"I was pregnant and I was not well and I am not serving in the Army. My husband is in the army. Why should I? See I have married an army officer. I have not married the Army. I have not joined the Army. They are not paying me," says Savneet Paul, wife of Maj P S Paul.

The Annual Confidential Report showers praises upon Maj P S Paul but towards the end says: On the social front, nil AWWA activities. The couples' performance was found to be below average.

Savneet, claims she was under depression as there was a social boycott against them inside the Army campus once she refused.
Indian Army earlier had declared under oath that the AWWA is not a part of its functioning. If that was the case this case has surprised many. Now an officer is judged on the conduct of his wife.

"It is very surprising when Army is saying that it's a welfare organization, an NGO - how can working with an NGO affect the officer's career? It is surprising and shocking. AWWA has nothing to do with an officer's capability," said Major (retd) Guneet Choudhary, Advocate.

There is a saying that behind every successful man there is a woman. Savneet Paul doesn't want this saying to be proved wrong. She is working hard to get her husband's ARC amended. It may not be very easy but then there are many who believe it is not fair to mention contribution AWWA activities in officer's ACRs.

Natrang

2011-03-10T16:40:00.000-08:00

A movie that encapsulates the best Marathi talent in acting, art direction, music, playback, and lyric/script writing available in the industry today.

The Feminist Backlash

2011-02-23T12:58:00.000-08:00

I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat or a prostitute ~ Rebecca West

I have begun so many articles on feminist theory with Ms West's very apt quote, but it is only recently that I have realised that at a subliminal level, I was/am still wearing the feminist straitjacket.

The idea of picking up a Fair & Lovely tube, or a Femina magazine embarrasses me. I would not like to be seen with either. Simply because in theory, I am supposed to be against them. Of course, I still am against the way they are advertised, but I can no longer deny their utility.

The first is an excellent skin cream. The fairness factor is dubious, but it is the only product that soothed skin which had been irritated by the ingestion of a strong compound to expunge cystic acne.

The latter, though not exactly an exemplar of Pulitzer journalism, at Rs. 50, is one of the cheaper though still readable "Women's" magazines in India. Many sections make no sense to me, but nevertheless some articles do strike a chord. Browsing through it has its pleasures.

So should I deprive myself of these and much more simply because in theory I should be against them? Are they not products meant to shackle? I think I need to remind myself of what I have often told my students. To move beyond labels. If you label yourself, you are circumscribing yourself. Limiting yourself to a certain definition of you which may not really be you.

So yes, I read Femina, though I am no "new" woman. I am capable of reading a Jeanette Winterson as well as picking up a women's magazine. I choose to sample it all.

In time I hope not to cringe at being seen with the same. I wish to lose the urge to explain my use of these products. That, I believe, would be true freedom.

I wanted catharsis...

2010-12-30T13:44:00.000-08:00

...basically, I wanted to use this blog to rant and rave on the last day of this year. Venting is such an important part of life, isn't it? Else, we would all be weapons of self destruction.

On the other hand, blogging about perpetual bad days is a total waste of time and e-space. No one cares, and I don't care either. Yaaaaawn...

***

I have been thinking about God. I find little time for prayer. I was devout till I lost my fear of the dark. A pity that. Now, on very fine days, I merely request him/her to curse some very select people. So much wiser than doing it to their face. It avoids so many complications, and thank God for that !!

In spite of a very sapient Professor (whom I worship and credit for all my eccentricities) being a stout atheist, I fail to comply. I agree with his take on most -isms, except this one. Infinite philosophical speculation exists on the subject, but I want no part of it. I just want to believe. It is so comforting. Like cool breeze on a warm day, or a cosy blanket on a cold one.

I plan to wrap myself snugly in my speculatory blanket and hope for the best for next year. My only resolution for 2011...optimism.

***

Happy New Year God...I hope you are reading !!! I deserve an especially good year because I am probably the only one who wished you. The rest were too busy asking for stuff.

Dream Deferred by Langston Hughes

2010-11-30T11:16:00.000-08:00

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

***

Or does the dream haunt you perpetually like a nightmare? Does it constantly rattle like a break dancing skeleton in your very own very very private cupboard? Does this happen because the hoi polloi tell us to "dream big"? Visualisation is the key word here.

Size matters, but why not begin with the microscopic? Maybe like reading one poem a day to revive and rejuvenate a decaying mind that fails to find companionable conversation?

Julie and Julia anyone?

Free Fall

2010-11-14T12:17:00.000-08:00

Can it stop? Or do you just keep falling into an abyss with absolutely no end in sight, except THE END? Existentialist thought seems predominant.

Once again, time to turn a new leaf. So many new leaves....it's like autumn every single day of the year. I feel I am burying myself in a pile of dead leaves in trying to turn green ever so often. The burden of expectations gets more and more onerous to bear...Atlas like almost.

Ironically, the Existentialist hopes. Paradox, anyone?

Only Time - Enya

2010-11-12T10:31:00.000-08:00

Who can say where the road goes,
Where the day flows?
Only time...

And who can say if your love grows,
As your heart chose?
Only time...

(interlude)
Dee dah day, dee dah day, dee dah day
Dee dah doe day doe, dee doe day doe

Who can say why your heart sighs,
As your love flies?
Only time...

And who can say why your heart cries,
When your love lies (dies)?
Only time...

(interlude)
Dee dah day, dee dah day, dee dah day
Dee dah doe day doe, dee doe day doe

Who can say when the roads meet,
That love might be,
In your heart.

And who can say when the day sleeps,
If the night keeps all your heart?
Night keeps all your heart...

(long interlude)
Dee dah dah dah
Dee dah dah dah
Dee dah dah dah
Dee dah dah dah

Who can say if your love grows,
As your heart chose?
Only time...

And who can say where the road goes,
Where the day flows?
Only time...

Who knows?
Only time...

Who knows?
Only time...

More lyrics: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/e/enya/#share

Disillusioned with friendship....

2010-08-24T15:37:00.000-07:00

Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person - having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away. ~ Dinah Craik, A Life for a Life, 1859

***

Oh...the loss of that comfort !!! And the horror it can perpetrate. Sigh.

Goodbye Party for Ms. Pallavi M

2010-05-21T11:41:00.000-07:00

I recently had the privilege of being given a fond farewell by my well meaning colleagues. After they "facilitated" me with a bouquet and a book, the speech given in my honour reminded me of Nissim Ezekiel's poem Goodbye Party for Miss Pushpa T.S.

My very own "Goodbye Party" homily was just as farcical. Part appraisal, part insult, and part malapropisms, it redefined the “Send-off” concept. Indeed, we English teachers have much to applaud ourselves for. In our incompetence, we tend to convert everything into stand up comedy.

The goodbye speech evoked such strong emotions in me, that my lachrymal glands shrunk instantly and I could not produce the expected histrionics. I regret to say that I failed to shed a tear.

In hindsight, I wish I had recorded the momentous event. I am sure that that is the important stuff you share with your grandchildren.

Goodbye Party for Miss Pushpa T.S. :

Friends,
our dear sister
is departing for foreign
in two three days,
and
we are meeting today
to wish her bon voyage.

You are all knowing, friends,
What sweetness is in Miss Pushpa.
I don't mean only external sweetness
but internal sweetness.
Miss Pushpa is smiling and smiling
even for no reason but simply because
she is feeling.

Miss Pushpa is coming
from very high family.
Her father was renowned advocate
in Bulsar or Surat,
I am not remembering now which place.

Surat? Ah, yes,
once only I stayed in Surat
with family members
of my uncle's very old friend-
his wife was cooking nicely…
that was long time ago.

Coming back to Miss Pushpa
she is most popular lady
with men also and ladies also.

Whenever I asked her to do anything,
she was saying, 'Just now only
I will do it.' That is showing
good spirit. I am always
appreciating the good spirit.

Pushpa Miss is never saying no.
Whatever I or anybody is asking
she is always saying yes,
and today she is going
to improve her prospect
and we are wishing her bon voyage.

Now I ask other speakers to speak
and afterwards Miss Pushpa
will do summing up.

~ Nissim Ezekiel

About The Poet :

Goodbye Party For Miss Pushpa T. S. was written by Nissim Ezekiel, one of India's foremost Indo-Anglian poets. He was born in 1924 and was educated in Mumbai and London. He produced several volumes of verse and plays and was an art critic. Ezekiel died in 2004 at the age of 79.

Most of Ezekiel's poetry is for adults, as it is serious and quite difficult to understand. In this poem, however, Ezekiel uses simple Indian' English. Here he is making gentle fun of the people who cannot speak English properly by including in the poem common mistakes made by speakers whose mother tongue is not English. There are grammatical mistakes, strange arrangements of words and phrases and idioms which are direct translations of expressions in Indian languages - they all sound very odd in English. The poem is in the form of a speech made by one of Miss Pushpa's friends. It should be taken in the spirit in which it was written.

Courtesy : http://www.english-for-students.com/Goodbye-Party.html

Discontent...

2010-04-29T12:04:00.000-07:00

..that is what I feel, all the time. What am I doing? Where is life going? Why am I so tired all the time? What do I want to do with my life? Do I have the motivation to see my resolutions through?

I think it is time to find out. There is no other choice left.

Pain is Good

2010-04-27T10:06:00.001-07:00

Or so I am trying to tell myself. When you have no cure, you just have to endure, and I am going to try my best !!!

Procrastination Help

2010-04-10T12:21:00.000-07:00

How did I spend my Saturday?

Watching 3 seasons of Desperate Housewives consecutively. Eating fried Gujju (to hell with being politically correct..) farsan (yeah yeah...don't remind me it's me who was eating it), two packets of Monaco biscuits slathered with cheese, and more than six servings of ice-cream. And yes, after this rather sinful day, I feel I am in hell.

I can't think. I can't move. I am in this catatonic state. It is nothing short of paralysis. Is this what I want to do with my life? I realised I am just procrastinating. Physical ailments apart, this is the most dangerous disease that I am suffering from. And what is worse, it seems to be chronic.

When this realisation dawned, I turned to God. I googled "procrastination help". That was the clearest manifestation I was capable of in my paraplegic state.

Thank you God for answering my prayers...there's actually a site dedicated to people like me. I'm not alone. And what a relief that is.

I am going to defeat this Goliath by taking a year long sabbatical in God's own country. :) Sounds good? Or is that a paradox ?

Hmm....

Ok...I'm rambling.

Goodnight.

MVP

2010-03-20T01:32:00.000-07:00

Well well...after worrying for a month or so that I was going mad and that it was all in the head, the above mild Mitral Valve buckling is the diagnosis. I have to take betablockers and take is easy with physical and mental exertion. And yes, I must also keep my teeth clean and be careful if I am undergoing any operative procedure. Easy enough !!!!!! :)

Now I know why I get palpitations, hate inclines, get headaches and feel dizzy and arrive in class breathless after climbing one measly floor.

I am ever so relieved.

***
Thought for the day : A known evil is better than an imagined one.

Mensuration....

2010-03-13T06:43:00.000-08:00

My maid has hepatitis, so she's resting. This means in spite of a humungous amount of paper correction, the kitchen is my domain. Hmm....I overcome this difficulty by nibbling on Parle Digestive Marie and adipose cell enlarging banana chips. Voila....no cooking. :)

***

Freshly grated ginger added to tea makes for a divine combination. And that's what I set out to brew. 2 tsp tea + 1 tsp sugar + 4 cardamoms + etc. etc. Sigh.

If you look at cook books today, the art of cooking has been reduced to a chemistry experiment. We are assaulted by all sorts of measures - tsp, tbsp, 1/2/3 cup + ml + grams + etc. etc. Did our grandmothers and mothers cook like this? What happened to intuition?

***

Some water + a handful of tea leaves + some sugar + some spices + etc. etc. :) Now I am happy with my intuitive cup of tea.

Inspired, mensuration free cooking...here I come.... :P

***

Thought for the day :

We are so caught up with measurements, that we tend to forget what we are measuring.

In Memoriam

2010-03-04T08:57:00.000-08:00

When it's dark ahead

When it's dark ahead

At times when

it is dark all around ,

all paths left behind

disappear

and nothing

seems to exist ahead

it's best to

stay still ,

and face

anything

and everything

that happens .

~ Manaswini Paladugu

The poem above has been reproduced without the permission of the poet since she has gone where I cannot reach her anymore. But yes, memories still exist. Memories of a spontaneous person with child like enthusiasm for everything that surrounded her. Someone who did not hesitate to go on solitary rambles, or to wander off into the wilderness.

Another sky? Another horizon?

2010-01-13T07:40:00.000-08:00

There is another sky

There is another sky,

Ever serene and fair,

And there is another sunshine,

Though it be darkness there;

Never mind faded forests, Austin,

Never mind silent fields -

Here is a little forest,

Whose leaf is ever green;

Here is a brighter garden,

Where not a frost has been;

In its unfading flowers

I hear the bright bee hum:

Prithee, my brother,

Into my garden come!

~ Emily Dickinson

I wish I could write poetry too. I mean REAL poetry (not that we postmodernists believe anything is "real" anymore ) !!! The few lines I churn out are too Modernist to be poetry. In other words they are highly symbolic pieces of writing with a profound subtext and with encoded meanings which only make sense to me.

I always feel the urge to write when I get emotional about something. Old Will Wordsworth did get something right when he called poetry the "spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings". Unfortunately my "feelings" are not as idyllic as his.

I generally consider the 13th of any month a good day for me (since I am born on Friday the 13th), but today has been an exception. Today has inspired me to write an epic, or maybe direct a reality show (I am sure that would be more politically correct in 2010). To cut a long story short, today has been a tragedy.

What is literature made up of, but conflict? And washing particularly dirty linen that assualts the olfactory senses is the stuff that reality shows thrive on. I have all the ingredients for a New York Times' Best Seller. The TRPs would be great too. Any takers?

To be honest, I don't want any. I want to go into hibernation. I want to repress ugly memories. I want to forget. I want to explore another sky. Gaze endlessly at a less begrimed horizon. I want to set sail for new lands. I want my ideals back. I want idols too, and without clay feet. I want scintillating ideas. I want devotion unsullied by incertitude. Hope, compassion, understanding, forgiveness - I want it all !!! I want T.S. Eliot's "Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata./Shantih shantih shanti".

***

January is the cruellest month, breeding
Depression out of dead resolutions
Newspaper headlines heralding student hangings
Accusing three well meaning idiots
Hope faces the gallows

"Hurry ! Hurry !
You will miss the rat race
The show must go on"

The burial of the breathing
Multiple games of chess...

The horror! the horror!

***

Another sky, another horizon? Please !!!!

Amen !!!

Poem Courtesy : http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/emily_dickinson/poems/5212

Saline Water

2009-12-16T12:14:00.000-08:00

Drops wend their way.
It is loss of hope.

Can you stop this nautanki? People can hear you wail.

The deluge continues.
Stormy sighs. Gulped down gulps.

And then that long silence...

SOS.SOS. No response.

Indifference hurts more than one can imagine.

My Experiments with Tea

2009-11-21T12:34:00.000-08:00

After savouring tea which costs more than gold in Darjeeling, I seem to have found myself a new obsession. It is 2.00 am in the morning, and I have brewed myself a cup of "Masala Chai" with cinnamon, cardamom, cloves and ginger.

The phrase "storm in a teacup" has taken on new meaning. This brew does have potential.

Cheers !!!!

Mirroring my Mind

2009-06-28T12:42:00.000-07:00

Despondency - Matthew Arnold

The thoughts that rain their steady glow
Like stars on life's cold sea,
Which others know, or say they know--
They never shone for me.

Thoughts light, like gleams, my spirit's sky,
But they will not remain.
They light me once, they hurry by;
And never come again.

A Beautiful Mind..

2009-05-02T04:50:00.000-07:00

It’s all in the mind. Or so they say. I only wish mine were not so full of chaff. Pessimism seems to be choc- a-block. I am so tired. I wish I could put mine on autopilot at times. Friends, family, fiancé – with a mind like mine, I’m a bane to them all.

A sabbatical is what I really require. I need a mental break. I need time to rejuvenate my fatigued grey cells. Why else would migraines attack me so? I need time to think about what I want. I need good books, and I need good company. Paradoxically, I also need solitude.

The bottom line is that I need help. SOS. SOS. SOS.

Our Car

2009-04-28T04:13:00.000-07:00

Ivan Aivazovsky - Landing at Subashi

2009-04-25T06:09:00.000-07:00

Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky (Russian: Иван Константинович Айвазовский, Armenian: Հովհաննես Այվազովսկի - Hovhannes Aivazovsky July 29, 1817 – May 5, 1900) was a Russian painter of Armenian descent, most famous for his seascapes, which constitute more than half of his paintings.

Aivazovsky was born in the town of Feodosiya, Crimea, to a poor Armenian family. His parents family name was Aivazian. Some of artist's paintings bear a signature, in Armenian letters, "Hovhannes Aivazian" (Յովհաննէս Այվազեան). His talent as an artist earned him sponsorship and entry to the Simferopol gymnasium №1 and later the St.Petersburg Academy of Arts, from which he graduated with the gold medal. Earning awards for his early landscapes and seascapes, he went on to paint a series of portraits of Crimean coastal towns before traveling throughout Europe. In later life, his paintings of naval scenes earned him a longstanding commission from the Russian Navy.

In 1845, Aivazovsky went to Istanbul upon the invitation of Sultan Abdülmecid, a city he was to travel to eight times between 1845-1890. During his long sojourn in Istanbul, Aivazovsky was commissioned for a number of paintings as a court painter by the Ottoman Sultans Abdülmecid, Abdulaziz and Abdulhamid, 30 of which are currently on display in the Ottoman Imperial Palace, the Dolmabahce Museum and many others at various other museums in Turkey.

Due to his long life in art, Aivazovsky became the most prolific Russian painter of his time. He left over 6,000 works at his death in 1900. With funds earned during his successful career as an artist he opened an art school and gallery in his home town of Feodosiya.

As of 2006[update], Aivazovsky's works have been auctioned for as much as $3,200,000, and his international reputation continues to grow. On June 14, 2007 his painting "American Shipping off the Rock of Gibraltar" sold for 2,710,000 pounds, "the highest price paid at auction for Aivazovsky". He is also said to be the most forged of all Russian painters.

A minor planet 3787 Aivazovskij, discovered by Soviet astronomer Nikolai Stepanovich Chernykh in 1977 is named after him.

Aivazovsky is referenced in Anton Chekhov's play Uncle Vanya.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

***

I am tempted to reproduce this artist on my wedding card. I don't want a typical gaudy one. I was something simple and elegant. And Aivazovsky seems to be a very good idea. And the best part is that the copyright has expired !! Yay !! View of Kerch (1839) is my selection.

Once the venue has been booked, I can contact the printer. Sigh. I seem to be getting old. It's time to get married now. Am I happy, am I sad? Am I looking forward to it? I don't know. If only life were stereotypical, I would not have to indulge in this catechism.

Gratitude

2009-03-30T07:51:00.000-07:00

Being grateful is the key to happiness. Or so say a number of self help books. Hmm hmm hmm...so here goes..

1) I am grateful that everything is alright now.
2) I am grateful for the 28th of March. It was one of the best days ever.
3) I am grateful that I can now pat dogs without cringing.
4) I am grateful for the love that dogs can bestow.

Hmm..hmm...rather canine, is it not? But then again Cleopatra is the loveliest bitch I came across. I am quite reconciled to dogs now.

Else, all is ok with my humdrum life. It goes on as usual, and yes I am grateful for that as well.

Such a long journey...

2009-03-27T04:09:00.000-07:00

I've come a long long way since the last post. I have one hospital trip, and a surgery whose details are too gory to share behind me. On the other hand, December 2008 ended cheerfully. 21 December was a joyous day. Praise the lord.

New year was good too, and today is the new year according to the Hindu calendar.Hmm...a day for new resolutions? I don't think so. But definitely a day for being grateful. My life seems to be so much happier than that of those around me.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. :)

Barium Meals : Medieval Torture

2008-11-19T08:23:00.000-08:00

Who says medieval torture is only medieval? Barium meals are just as bad. I should know having ingested 5 glasses of flavoured chalky stuff recently. Arrrrrrrrrgh !!!

Humiliation

2008-11-02T07:53:00.000-08:00

Besides the n number of things I need to confess, this is the one that humiliates me the most. David Lodge just made the confession a little easier.

***

He taught them a game ... in which each person had to think of a well-known book he hadn't read, and scored a point for every person present who had read it.

**
'What d'you call the game?' Melanie asked Philip.

'Humiliation'

***

Now how difficult is that? There is no time. No leisure. I feel intellectually redundant. All this must change, and soon.

I am making a bid at amelioration by "Changing Places" with Lodge, but I hope I don't end up on square one what with the holidays coming to an end. Boo hoo. Where did Diwali go ?

Otherwise, I wait (not so patiently) for good friends to return. Come back, will you? Patience is an expensive commodity, and I cannot afford to run out of it.

Arbeit Macht Frie ? I sincerely doubt it !!

Mushroom Fried Rice

2008-07-24T09:23:00.000-07:00

Yippee....it succeeded !!!

The President is Coming

2008-07-18T22:24:00.000-07:00

Written by Anubav Pal, and directed by Kunaal(numerology anyone?) Roy Kapoor, The President is Coming is a superlative theatre experience. One of the best performances I have come across to date. The script was scintillating and investigated all the cliches our culture imbibes. It was critical, yet sympathetic. Profound, yet comic. It truly makes you laugh at 'us'.

* * * * *

Belling Bell Pepper Rice

2008-07-14T09:00:00.000-07:00

My latest culinary triumph is Bell Pepper Rice. Apparently, this is of Thai origin, but its claim to fame is its simplicity. A few spices, a few bell peppers, and some rice....and voila, you have a meal !! I fear I shall subject my poor husband to this on a daily basis once my infatuation with food wears off.

My Experiments with Food !!

2008-07-13T04:47:00.000-07:00

I don't really know what has come over me, but I do find that I am spending a lot of time in the kitchen.

Chocolate Coffee Cake, Chocolate Coffee Mousse Cake, Walnut Cake, the one and only Black Forest soaked in oodles of rum, Chhole Bhature, Sambar, Chilli Paneer,Schezwan Paneer, Rum Chocolates, Mysore Masala Dosa, Sada Dosa etc. etc.

The downside is that at the end of one of my cooking sprees, I am so tired that I rarely taste what I cook or bake. So much for my experiments with food....

Dosa

2008-07-13T03:33:00.000-07:00

Golden brown and ever so crisp, this Dosa recipe beats any restaurant preparation.

Ingredients : Boiled rice 2 cups, Normal rice 2 cups, Cooked rice 1 cup, Urad Dal/Black gram beans 1 cup, Toor Dal/Yellow lentils 2 tbps, Sago 2 tbps, Methi seeds 1 tsp, Salt 2 flat tbps or to taste.

Method of preparation :

Clean, wash and soak the boiled and normal rice. Soak the urad dal, toor dal, sago and methi seeds together. It is important to soak the dal and rice separately. Soak for eight to twelve hours.

Finely grind the urad dal, toor dal, sago and methi seeds.Do not add too much water. If a drop of the urad dal batter floats in water, then it is done.

Coarsely grind the rice along with a cup of cooked leftover rice. You may need to add some water while grinding the rice.

Mix the rice and dal batter. Add two flat tbps of salt (or to taste). Beat vigorously till you see bubbles rising. Cover the batter and let it ferment for ten to twelve hours.

Post fermentation, the batter more than doubles in volume, and is light and frothy. Use this batter to make the dosas.

To make the dosa, heat a non stick pan and spread a big spoonful of batter on it. Add some ghee. Cover the dosa for about fifteen to twenty five seconds using a pan lid. Remove the lid, fold the dosa, and serve hot.

* Refrigerate the batter if it is not to be used immediately.

Paneer !!!

2008-07-12T09:01:00.000-07:00

A simple and quick cottage cheese recipe that my mother relies on when she is short of time.

Ingredients : Paneer 200 gms, 2 small tomatoes, 2 small onions, 1 tsp ginger garlic paste, 1 tsp garam masala, 2 tbps chilli powder, 1 tsp Corn/Rice flour mixed with a little water (optional), 2 tbps chopped coriander (optional), 1 tbps oil, salt to taste.

Method of preparation : Soak the paneer in salt water (warm water if the paneer has been refrigerated) for a few minutes and drain. Grind the tomatoes and onions to a smooth paste and keep aside. Heat the oil in a vessel and add the tomato, onion, ginger and garlic paste to it. Stir and let it cook for a few minutes. Add the garam masala and chilli powder. Add the corn/rice flour mixture and some water if the gravy is too thick. Now add the paneer and stir well. Add salt to taste. Mix well, and let it simmer for a few minutes.

Garnish with chopped coriander and serve hot.

* You may vary the quantity of the spices to suit your palate
* You may substitue tofu for the paneer
* You may add boiled peas to the above recipe to give you Mutter Paneer

My Life and Hard Times

2008-05-12T09:24:00.000-07:00

To whomsoever it may or may not concern

Ho hum....life has been more or less hectic. A ton of tests and a good friend's leaving for Vizag....it feels like I've weathered a storm. And after the storm came the fall. A rather rough one on Colaba Causeway which has resulted in three painkillers a day besides a torn chudidar. One moment I was perfectly alright, and the next I was kneeling as if in prayer, and my left knee took all the brunt. Sir (Capt. S. Raj...I call him Sir) and Caro literally picked me off the pavement and bundled me into a cab after I had rested some on a stool provided by the kindly neighbourhood paan wala.(Pssst....Sir seems to be acquainted with some rather weird people, useful though they may be). All protests of "I am alright, and the torn part is not visible, and we can make it to Churchgate" were shot down with alacrity. Sir saw me to my door lest I manage to damage myself further. A good thing too considering that the swelling and pain are yet to abate.

Ever since I have been suggesting potential PhD topics for psychology enthusiasts. What do you say to a study of the correlation between the way you tumble and the level of embarrassment? You could create your own made to order tumbles with orange/banana/apple peels/other things more or less rotten + your choice of public/private places + incredibly embarrassing post trauma questionnaires. e.g. "How do you feel about the fact that your b** was sticking out when you fell?" Generally horrified when I disgrace myself in public, I seem to be untouched by the tragedy on Saturday. It was just too neat. Hence this train of rather non productive ratiocination. Sadly, it has no takers.

Else, I've been doing a "Rudali" over the answer scripts that my students have presented me. In response to "The lawyer was five and twenty" a student writes, "It means that he was twenty five, or it could also mean that the lawyer was five years old before he was twenty years old". Argggggggggggggggggggh......I need a mental asylum. The horror...the horror !!!

Otherwise, I am perfectly happy with my life and its hard times....

Love,

Pallavi

P.S. - Do not forget to wish me on the 13th as I turn old and grey and remain as unwise as ever. I hope my 43" Plasma T.V. is on its way.

Aesthetics and Literary Criticism

2008-03-20T01:42:00.000-07:00

Philosopher, author, and art critic, Arthur Danto quipped a few years ago, that the position of Aesthetics is

“about as low on the scale of philosophical undertakings as bugs are in the chain of being”.

No offence to the bugs, but besides being marginalized by philosophers, Aesthetics is often neglected completely by the literati. Few Indian graduate and post-graduate programmes in literature require even a passing acquaintance with Aesthetics, or advise dissertations in the area.

Originally coined by Alexander Baumgarten in his book “Reflections of Poetry” in 1735, the meaning of “Aesthetics” has metamorphosed over the ages. B. Bosanquet in his “History of Aesthetics” defines Aesthetics as “the philosophy of the beautiful”, while E. Meumann thinks of it as the “Science of beauty in nature and arts”. Hegel, Benedetto Croce and T. Munro opine that Aesthetics studies works of art, the process of producing and experiencing art, and certain aspects of natural and human production outside the field of art. There has always been a close connection between art and aesthetics, and hence the armchair status of aesthetics where literary criticism is concerned is the result of abysmal ignorance in most cases.

R. B. Patankar tells us that the relationship between Aesthetics and literary criticism is often conceived on the analogy of the relation between pure science and technology. Critics analyse, interpret, compare, evaluate, and grade works of art. Aesthetics analyses the conceptual structure underlying these activities of the practical critics. It identifies the inherent concepts, shows how they are interrelated, inspects their form and content, inquires what horizons of value are opened up by their adoption, and relates these concepts to concepts underlying other spheres of human activity.

This type of conceptual analysis throws light on the world we live in, for to analyse the basic concepts underlying our commerce with works of art is to reveal the form of the corresponding aspect of the human world. Aesthetics questions the meaning, intention, and representation of literature. It interrogates the meaning of “meaning”, and in doing so equips the literary critic with a better understanding of his art.

Aesthetics then takes the form of Metacriticism with literary theory as its object. In “The Significance of Theory”, Terry Eagleton states that first there is meta-theory, and then there is literary theory that is the object of enquiry for meta-theory. Similarly, the object of enquiry for literary theory is literary criticism, whose object of enquiry is literature. Finally, there is real life that is the object of literature. The analysis of metaconcepts by Aestheticians has tremendous implications for literary criticism as it ensures the topicality of criticism by maintaining a permanent state of flux. Indeed, as M. C. Beardsley maintains, that by clarifying and confirming critical statements, Aesthetics is “a philosophy of criticism or metacriticism”.

Aesthetic scrutiny helps ward off the phenomenon of essentialisation which often accompanies literary statements, especially pertaining areas like genre theory. To demonstrate, a serious problem arises if we view Aristotle’s description of tragedy as a definition that specifies the essential properties of all tragedies. This, in fact, has been the tendency of many of the Aristotelian commentators. F. R. Lucas, for e.g., argues that,

“the essence of ‘tragedy’ was that it handled serious action of serious characters, whereas comedy dealt grotesquely with the grotesque”.

We may think here of the novels of Thomas Hardy like “Jude the Obscure” or Mahasweta Devi’s “Rudaali”. Such works according to the conventional view cannot be categorized as ‘tragedies’. The analytic flavour of Aesthetic probing helped abandon the idea of any tight definition of Art.

The “de-definition” of art Mary Devereaux observes, was formulated in academic philosophy by Morris Weitz. He derived his views from some work of Wittgenstein on the notion of games. Wittgenstein claimed that there is nothing that all games have in common, and so their historical development has come about through an analogical process of generation, from paradigmatic examples merely by way of “Family Resemblance”. Thus Wittgenstein’s work paves the way for a more flexible conglomeration of criteria for classification ensuring that experimental literary exercises do not face unqualified rejection or stereotyping.

Aesthetics provides philosophical tools to probe certain issues or problems as they emerge adding rigour to critical introspection. The application of the Indian Rasa theory to contemporary cinema is one example of the same. Such novel use results in innovative investigation, which yields startling, and at times subversive results.

Patankar tells us, that often the relationship between the aesthetician and the critic is like the relationship between the logician and the common men as thinkers. Men did not learn from Aristotle how to think syllogistically. They were doing it ages before Aristotle was born. He merely made them explicitly conscious of the logical form of their reasoning. In a similar fashion, Harold Osborne in his “Aesthetics and Criticism” does not invent or discover “Configurationism”, but merely makes the literary critics explicitly aware of this criterion from Gestalt psychology that they were using. By making the implicit explicit, the aesthetician helps deconstruct theories, thereby exposing contradictions and ensuring that a critic is reined in before he obfuscates concepts creating semiotic chaos.

Aesthetics in the process of clarifying concepts deployed by critics questions the norms used to judge works of art. For instance, Matthew Arnold’s claim that a true estimate of art must not take history into account may be contested by historicizing art. One sees instantaneously the fatuity of comparing a Caravaggio and prehistoric cave-paintings using the same prescripts. But can one use history to exonerate all callow attempts? By dwelling on such issues, the Aesthetician provides valuable insights into the literary world.

Patankar indicates that the clarification of concepts is crucial because critics appear not to use just one criteria with limited application, but a “spiral of criteria”, each criterion depending upon a more general criterion for its justification. In the process, many such spirals of criteria are continuously competing for supremacy and therefore always living in an uneasy atmosphere of precarious co-existence. He contends that the inevitable tendency to go from narrower to more general criteria should be obvious from the way literary judgment is defended.

Suppose one were to say, “The Color Purple is certainly a good novel, but it is not so great because its agenda is rather crudely obvious and the author is unable to maintain detachment throughout”. The assumption here is that great literature is subtle and not in the face. In trying to defend our judgment we passed by easy transitions to general criteria which apply – at least we hope they do apply – to all literature disregarding the fact that black writers, especially women, did not have the luxury to be subtle.

There is also another route, says Patankar, by which we come to general statements about literature. While judging the merits of Volpone, Measure for Measure and Hamlet, we realise that though the first two may be called comedies, and that all three share a preoccupation with the problem of moral depravity, we cannot by any stretch of the imagination call Hamlet a comedy. It is here that we find the need to take recourse to a more general criterion of value. The larger the field we wish to consider, and the greater the heterogeneity there is in the works to be evaluated and graded, the more general the criterion is apt to become.

Thus, the critic who begins unostentatiously with “Is this a good play?” invariably ends by asking, “What is good drama?”. The process does not stop here if the critic is acquainted with two or more arts. If literature is a representation of life and if the same is true for painting, can we not say that all art is a representation of life? The constant exchange of terminology between the critics of different arts strengthens this belief. The critic now feels that in order to be a good critic he must know what art in general is. And thus, criticism leads to aesthetics or metacriticism.

Aesthetic interpolation sees to it that discipline and consistency are maintained in a critics work. Even professional critics err at times and use criteria which are mutually exclusive. Dr. Johnson contradicts himself in his Preface to Shakespeare when though he lauds Shakespeare’s “realistic representation of reality” which is in the neoclassical vein, he finds fault with the fact that the good people often suffer and that the villainous prosper in his works. The two criteria obviously contradict each other because divine dispensation is most certainly unreal. One also needs to clarify dubious distinctions made by the likes of Clifford Leech who insist that “tragedy, as it can exist today, must be very different in manner from the plays we have from Sophocles or Shakespeare or Racine, but …in its essence it will be one with them”. Leech has tried to set up a distinction between the noun “tragedy” and the adjective “tragic”, and has argued that, “the noun is still, in precise usage, restricted to drama”.

Many such contradictions go undetected, till philosophically trained aestheticians expose them. Harold Osborne, Terry Eagleton and others have rendered a great service to criticism by making critical discourse more disciplined.

The elucidation of a concept may at times lead to reformulations. Postcolonial Aesthetics that emerged from Edward Said’s “Orientalism” and the phenomenon of “Postmodern” literature that deliberately deconstructs its own constructs may be seen as examples of the same. Also, Foucault’s books on the “History of Sexuality” have ushered in “Queer Aesthetics” that has turned traditional literary criticism on its head with people like Jonathan Dollimore and Alan Sinfield as its exponents.

Concepts like autonomy, spontaneity, psychological, and archetypal pattern (Maud Bodkin) theories are examined. People like Walter Benjamin debate over the radical potential that technological advancements invest art with. All in all, Aesthetics equips us by engaging in questions of philosophy, psychology, social sciences, history etc. to view Art as an open concept and new movements become a welcome possibility.

The task of the critic presupposes that of the Aesthetician, and it must be noted that Aesthetics does not dictate which concepts are to be employed, but analyses the concepts already used and foregrounds the discrepancies if any. The discipline is anything but static as it negates prescription. It is time one realized that the aesthetics of literature is nothing but poetics and the critical examination of concepts involved in it. As Patankar tells us, it is an error to suppose that literary aesthetics is the application of extra literary principles to literature.

Of course, there are people like Stuart Hampshire who try to prove that there cannot be anything like aesthetics or even literary criticism as no general criteria employed by either discipline may be applied to any art, as all art is “unique”. If it is a fact that every work of art is unique it follows that works of art cannot be classified and compared and graded, and also that there can be no general criteria of aesthetic excellence and thus the occupation of critics and aestheticians is gone. But, Patankar says, “if the concept of uniqueness is correctly interpreted, these consequences do not follow”.

To echo Terry Eagleton’s “The Ideology of the Aesthetic”, aesthetics is always “a contradictory, self-undoing sort of project, which in promoting the theoretical value of its object risks emptying it of exactly that specificity or ineffability which was thought to rank among its most precious features”. To ensure that the very language that elevates art does not perpetually offer to undermine it, it is crucial the “mist of mutual misunderstanding and suspicion” enveloping aesthetics and literary criticism needs to be lifted !!

What next?

2007-11-02T11:22:00.000-07:00

It looks like I am caught between the devil and the deep sea. And no, I do not plan to explain. What next? Que sera sera....???

SOS

2007-09-15T09:14:00.000-07:00

9.113.2091854.156.2965. .. 9.239198.9.235185.4514. .. !!

Onam Special

2007-08-20T22:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Anu,

Do send me the other story as well. :)

Else, nothing much...will go to work tomorrow after a week. You celebrating Onam?

Take care...

Love,

Pallavi

* * * *

Anupama Mohan to me
show details
04:08 (6 hours ago)

i hope so! Onam is on the 27th and last time we had the most annoying (hilarious to S) experience. S and i went to 'Madras Palace' whose online menu invitingly screamed 'Onam Special'. off we went on Onam day, and after 1.5 hrs of train, bus, and biped foray, we reach the place. basically, a middle-of-nowhere oasis. first thing to notice: full-throttle south india decor and jagjit singh music playing. ok, "so India is land of contradictions, sue me." we call curly-haired muchhooless waiter. menu comes - i take one look at 'Onam special menu' leaflet in the 14 page novel that is the hotel menu and say, this one. he smiles knowingly and nods his head. left to right. i am a little anxious in case he didnt understand 'this one' said with finger pointing towards leaflet held in plain sight by other hand. confusions happen, right. he clarifies - 'sorry, maadim. no Onam special today.' i am blunderstruck - 'but today is Onam - phbttt phbttt' now it is his turn to be blunderstruck. he recovers. 'yes, maadim. we dont have Onam special. every other day we have. today No.' S is laughing bullets out of his gall bladder by now. i am still thinking he can be redeemed - the waiter that is. so i speak slowly in case he is an escapee on barbiturates. 'today - is - Onam.' the pauses in my words marked the popping of 10 children per second somewhere, probably kerala. waiter unfazed. 'oh sorry maadim, our other branch has Onam special.' i am wary but poor mallu-food-starved tummy was already beginning to get hopeful. 'where is your other branch?' beaming waiter: 'in Richmond Hill, maadim.' S had to physically restrain me from clobbering waiter into chutney powder and dosha. RichfuckingmondHill is next state away. so that was my last Onam - i was super pissed.this time though my new frd - a Mallu and a chef with a restaurant (finally i am learning the art of how to win friends and influence them to open restaurants with my kinda food) has invited us and so it just might be a culinary treat. o'wise there is always leftover stuff in the fridge and an overactive imagination!

: ) long note.

other story beneath.

tell your thoughts.

umma,

Me.

Malavun Taka Deep

2007-08-11T06:34:00.000-07:00

Malavun Taka Deep ...this has been one of my favourite songs for multiple reasons. The music here is minimal, and it is the voice that carries the weight.

But what I find more intriguing is how the lyrics successfully combat sexual politics. The song unabashedly vocalises female physical desire. Society tends to portray women as devoid of sexuality and sexual desire. Women are pristine goddesses who are essentially sexually handicapped and paralysed. If they declare otherwise, then they are labelled prostitutes.

This song does neither, and beautifully conveys the dynamics of not singular, but mutual desire.

I have tried to translate my tongue, but I fear I have failed to capture the grandeur of the ornate language.

Of course, if one does not want to analyse the lyrics, one can always concentrate only on Lata Mangeshkar's delicate cadences.

Malavun taka deep = Diminish the light of the lamps
Chetavun aanga aanga = By the spark created by the friction of our bodies
Rajasa kiti disat = O King, it is after many days
Labhala nivaant sanga = That I have had the pleasure of your leisurely company

Tya tithe phula phulat = There amongst all the flowers
Pengete ajun raat = Night still dozes
Haya, tu karu nakos = Oh, please do not
Evadhyaat swapna bhang = So soon destroy my dreams

Chorus :Rajasa kiti disat = O King, it is after many days
Labhala nivaant sanga = That I have had the pleasure of your leisurely company
Malavun taka deep = Diminish the light of the lamps

Gaar gaar hya havet = In this cool weather
Gheuni mala kavet = Taking me into your arms
Mokale karun taak = Release
Ek vaar antarang = Once and for all, your innermost feelings and desires

Chorus : Rajasa kiti disat = O King, it is after many days
Labhala nivaant sanga = That I have had the pleasure of your leisurely company
Malavun taka deep = Diminish the light of the lamps

Door door taarkaat = Far away amongst the stars
Baisili Pahat Nhyat = Morning is bathing herself
Savakash ghe tipun = Without haste cherish
Ek ek roop ranga = Each and every aspect of my beauty

Chorus : Rajasa kiti disat = O King, it is after many days
Labhala nivaant sanga = That I have had the pleasure of your leisurely company
Malavun taka deep = Diminish the light of the lamps

He tula kase kalel = How will you ever fathom
Kon ekate jalel = Who would want to live lonely and burn with desire?
Sanga ka kadhi hare joh = Tell me, does he ever lose
Ekata jale patang = Who chooses to singe oneself and die like the candle moth?

Chorus : Rajasa kiti disat = O King, it is after many days
Labhala nivaant sanga = That I have had the pleasure of your leisurely company
Malavun taka deep = Diminish the light of the lamps

Kay ha tujhacha shwaas = What, is this your breath
Daravale ithe suvaas = That scatters its fragrance everywhere
Bola re halu, uthel = Speak softly, lest there rise
Chandanya vari tarang = ripples amongst the stars

Chorus : Rajasa kiti disat = O King, it is after many days
Labhala nivaant sanga = That I have had the pleasure of your leisurely company
Malavun taka deep = Diminish the light of the lamps

Capitulation

2007-08-10T23:37:00.000-07:00

The capitulation is complete !! I surrender. I finally meet my Waterloo !! Tsk tsk....what a way to go....

May Musings?

2007-04-24T12:42:00.000-07:00

What's done cannot be undone. And I'm glad. It's all for the best eventually. There is so much to look forward to. I just need to let this anger drain.

***

I want to meet Bhavya. Is there anything I can do for her? Would it serve my purpose to be a snitch?

***

I need to pen a letter soon. What shall I write? What apologies can I offer? Was I negligent? Is it too late?

***

So many reports.
So many questions

The Quintessence of JNS IB

2007-04-13T08:02:00.000-07:00

Pallavi to JNS-IB-English.
show details 20:29 (0 minutes ago)

My dear students,

Exactly where is this argument going? I assume you'll realise that I am perusing your rather entertaining exchange. And Anuj, pray why are you supposedly quoting me. Quote Shakespeare instead. He provides more colourful vocabulary.

It's been a pleasure teaching you'll. . . though we've had our ups and downs. And I reckon I shall miss you'll (cliche?). For me, the best part of JNS = my students. Thank you for a wonderful experience.

And now let's get to business ....where are the last few CAS filesssss? ;)

Good luck for your exams.

Love,

Pallavi

- Hide quoted text -
On 13/04/07, anuj gupta wrote:
dude hridaye this aint fair man...shes making fun of u..and u aint doing shit abt it....hetali..wait let me emphazise HETALI!!!!!!! is making fun of u...i think you should do something about it..and ...kunal and hridaye...u know who the thing is..and no its not hetali...shes not THAT bad looking...i mean she is...but not that bad man hehehehe...i hope "THE THING" doesnt read this...coz she is guilty..and shell know...and yes in pallavi misses words "your so horrible"...but sorry its not affecting me in anyway..she was created by god to be made fun of..what am to do?..i am a very god fearing person..i need to obey his ways...i am sorry...u thing...you know who u are.

On 4/13/07, hetali pandya wrote:
hridayee i love uu mannnn........... u noe its all joke cause anuj nd kunal r pissin me off!!! hahahah ur my frndd due no matte wattt

Damandeip chadha < damandeip@gmail.com> wrote:
hahahahaha this is funny shit man

On 4/12/07, Hridaye Nagpal wrote:
and all this time i supported u.......fuck of now

On 4/12/07, hetali pandya wrote:
anuj u noe thts not funny at alll...................i mean don compare me 2 hridaye ....yukkkkkkkkkkk hahah

Kunal Saha wrote:
WAIT!! I got it!! i think it is..i think ...its ...HETALI!!

On 4/12/07, hetali pandya < hetali_p@yahoo.com > wrote:
haha i need help anujj...please fill in the blanksss

anuj gupta < anuj89@gmail.com> wrote:
ur a **a**i --- aka "the thing" play hangman till u get a name...(vowels are given) contact me if u need any help gaytali.

On 4/12/07, hetali pandya wrote:
aunjjj ur hridayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.................nthn can b worst than this hahahahahhaha

anuj gupta < anuj89@gmail.com> wrote:
hetali is gayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy (no puns intended) (ull know what i mean) to make it clear for ull i mean (homoooossseeexxxxuuuaallllll) gayyyyyy

On 4/10/07, Pallavi < pallavee@gmail.com > wrote:
I will be unable to take you'll for two hours as I have other work.

Hence B div = 9 to 10 and C = 10 to 11.

Please take note of the same and inform the rest.

Regards,

Pallavi

--
I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat or a prostitute

~ Rebecca West, 1913

Applesauce @ http://www.pallavees.blogspot.com/

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sometimes the only way to make your self look good is by making others look bad and im tired of making others look good
hope to hear from you soon....
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-~----------~----~----~----~------~----~------~--~---

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I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat or a prostitute

~ Rebecca West, 1913

Applesauce @ http://www.pallavees.blogspot.

An ode to the "Noble" Profession.

2007-04-11T00:12:00.000-07:00

Teachers. A part of the noble profession? I am not so sure any more.

What am I doing? Why am I here? Is it worth it?

A snake pit !! A snake pit !!! A S s s nake pit !!!!!!!!!!!!

The students seem to be the only silver lining to this expansive black hole . . .

Waterloo?

2007-04-08T03:53:00.000-07:00

Finally facing my Waterloo? I don't think so. . . .

Of Pachyderms..

2007-03-24T09:48:00.000-07:00

My resolution to become a pachyderm has failed miserably. I think I shall turn into a dinosaur next. They had a thicker hide, didn't they? :)

Addicted

2007-03-08T23:13:00.000-08:00

Either I'm dazed or I'm low. Is there no way out? Where there's a will.....hmm..hmm..hmmmm....

"Lust for Life" ? ...

2007-01-13T07:44:00.000-08:00

...and he shoots himself eventually? I don't understand it. I prefer Monet and his parasols. So much more sheltered !!

***

Why do I use exclamations so often? That is what my students ask me. Apparently my slides are peppered with them. I apparently also use apparently very often.

That latter answers itself easily. It is so much easier to sit on the fence, to equivocate, to be ambivalent...

***

And where am I going with this? I have no idea. None at all.

Hail anarchy and confusion...I shall spend another year meandering through life !!!!!

D Day

2006-12-19T09:48:00.000-08:00

This has been one of the lousiest days so far...I hate the 19th of December !!!!

Under the Shanghai Sun

2006-12-04T07:24:00.000-08:00

I went to China with dual purposes. The official aim was to attend the IB Asia-Pacific Regional Workshop on CAS (Mixed Level) at the Shanghai Jincai High School in Shanghai. The unofficial one was to pick up authentic Chinese chopsticks for an ever effervescent colleague.

Every morning and afternoon from the 27th to the 29th of October was devoted to the workshop. Steven Money, the workshop leader, was efficient, and the interaction with CAS Coordinators from all over the Asia-Pacific was productive. Language proved no barrier as Angrezi, pidgin or otherwise, ruled the roost.

The Shanghai streets were not so kind, and communication proved Greek, Latin and obviously, Mandarin. Consequently, buying chopsticks was the more complex task. A comparison of Shanghai and Mumbai was inevitable thanks to Mr. Vilasrao Deshmukh's rhetoric of an impending metamorphosis.

The Chinese metropolis is divided into two parts by the Huangpu river. Acting as a timeline, the water body cuts the city into the old Puxi ( West Bank) area and the newly developed Pudong (East Bank) area. While symmetrical Pudong sent my sense of direction wandering, Puxi was more familiar with its Fort like colonial aura.

At night, Shanghai dazzles electrically (they apparently have no load shedding worries) on both sides of the Bund that separates the two banks. The Jade Buddha temple, the Yu Yuan Gardens, the French Concession and the Pearl Culture centre, amongst others, are worth a dekko. The architecture is uniformly futuristic and the landscaping meticulous. The plethora of Pizza Huts and Starbucks is proof of an economy in transition.

However, the perfect pièce de résistance loses its gilt when one comes across the impecunious begging for a few Yuan, albeit, no Dharavi is in sight. The duplicate market thrives in spite of official bans, and is reminiscent of Chor Bazaar. Disparity, though effaced, is present.

Despite the obvious cracks, Shanghai remains a city worth emulating. But is displacing and dislocating 70,000 slum dwelling families going to transform the ugly step sister into Cinderella?

We can only wait for the fairy godmother !!

Left / Right ?

2006-11-23T07:36:00.000-08:00

Brain Lateralization Test Results

Right Brain (48%) The right hemisphere is the visual, figurative, artistic, and intuitive side of the brain.
Left Brain (48%) The left hemisphere is the logical, articulate, assertive, and practical side of the brain

Are You Right or Left Brained?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Testing Times

2006-11-20T21:34:00.000-08:00

INTJ - "Mastermind". Introverted intellectual with a preference for finding certainty. A builder of systems and the applier of theoretical models. 2.1% of total population.

Free Jung Word Test (similar to Myers-Briggs)
personality tests by similarminds.com

Sleep Deprived !!!!!

2006-11-20T07:33:00.000-08:00

I need rest !

I need rest !!

I need rest !!!

I need rest !!!!

I need rest !!!!!

I need rest !!!!!!

I need rest !!!!!!!

And shall the rest be history?

S.O.S.

! = one day

I hate myself and want to die ...Nirvana?

2006-11-18T08:13:00.000-08:00

Despondency

THE THOUGHTS that rain their steady glow
Like stars on life’s cold sea,
Which others know, or say they know—
They never shone for me.

Thoughts light, like gleams, my spirit’s sky,
But they will not remain.
They light me once, they hurry by,
And never come again.

~ Matthew Arnold

Diwali Resolutions...

2006-10-19T07:06:00.000-07:00

**Kuch To Log Kahenge
Logon Ka Kaam Hai Kehna**
Chhodo Bekaar Ki Baaton Mein
Kahin Beet Na Jaaye Raina
** **

Kuch Reet Jagat Ki Aisi Hai
Har Ek Subah Ki Shaam Hui
Tu Kaun Hai Tera Naam Hai Kya
Seeta Bhi Yahan Badnaam Hui
Phir Kyon Sansaar Ki Baaton Se
Bheeg Gaye Tere Naina
** **

Humko Jo Taane Dete Hain
Hum Khoyen Hai Inn Rang Raliyon Mein
Humne Unko Bhi Chhup Chhup Ke
Aate Dekha Inn Galiyon Mein
Yeh Sach Hai Jhoothi Baat Nahin
Tum Bolon Yeh Sach Hain Na

Kuch To Log Kahenge
Logon Ka Kaam Hai Kehna

*******

Kuch To Log Kahenge is the refrain I dole out to the hoi polloi. For me, it has just been a platitude that does nothing to block the lachrymal secretions. The barbs are just as keen; and my skin as permeable as ever.

I think it's time to shed the ineffective cover, and don the garb of a pachyderm.

Hail the herds........!! :)

Anaesthetised Sati

2006-09-25T08:43:00.000-07:00

Mother tells me I have a wild imagination. But what does one think of, when in spite of a cold that has clogged olfactory modality, one gets a distinct whiff of one's flesh vaporising. Cautery under anesthesia is like going sati without the pain and the eventual demise.

My nerves seem to have taken the brunt literally though. I feel nothing. All tactile sensation is gone. I can pinch myself all I like, and still continue dreaming. Some subcutaneous nerve may have been excised along with the cyst.

Que sera sera? Who knows...I don't need painkillers !! :)

That's NOT What I Go to School For ...

2006-09-05T07:28:00.000-07:00

5, September 2006 - Teacher's Day.

I woke up to hear the rain beating its thunderous symphony on my always closed pane. I would have to take the cab again, and the ride without my MP3 player was going to be a drag. I rummaged through my cupboard and pulled out the headphones for my cell radio.

***

Teacher's Day dedications blared and voila, the RJ dedicated the following number to all teachers...

Her voice is echoed in my mind
I count the days till she is mine
Can’t tell my friends cuz they will laugh
I love a member of the staff

I fight my way to front of class
To get the best view of her ass
I drop a pencil on the floor
She bends down and shows me more

CHORUS
That’s what I go to school for
Even though it is a real bore
You can call me crazy
But I know that she craves me
That’s what I go to school for
Even though it is a real bore
Girlfriends I’ve had plenty
But none like Miss Mackenzie
That’s what I go to school for
That’s what I go to school for

So she may be thirty-three
But that doesn’t bother me
Her boyfriend's working out of town
I find a reason to go round

I climb a tree outside her home
To make sure that she's alone
I see her in her underwear
I can’t help but stop and stare

CHORUS

Everyone that u teach all day knows your looking at me in a different way
I guess that's why my marks are getting so high
I can see those tell tale signs telling me that I was on your mind
I could see that you wanted more when you told me that I’m what you go to
school for
I’m what you go to school for

She’s packed her bag it's in the trunk
Looks like she’s picked herself a hunk
We drive past school to say goodbye
My friends they can’t believe their eyes

CHORUS

***

Gag. Choke. Splutter.

***

That is definitely NOT what we go to school for !!!

Busted ??

I'm a Barbie Girl in a Gay World !!

2006-08-25T20:22:00.000-07:00

Lesbian Barbie upsets Mattel

Curitiba: Toy manufacturer Mattel is reportedly threatening to sue a Brazilian artist for portraying Barbie as a lesbian.

Karin Schwarz's exhibition features pictures of Barbie in compromising situations, reports the Jornal de Sao Paulo newspaper.

Mattel has given the artist 24 hours to close down the exhibiton or they say they will take legal action.

But Ms Schwarz says she will not back down: "Barbie is exploited by Mattel. She wears a bikini, she shows off her belly, has big breasts, and even has a boyfriend," she said.

The exhibition, entitled Amazing Girls, is on show at a bar in the city of Curitiba.

A Mattel spokesperson said: "Barbie is a very proper lady and she is not happy about being portraited as something that she isn't.

"We are going to sue and we hope that this teaches people a lesson. Also, Barbie is 46 years old, she should be respected!"

Courtesy : The Mumbai Mirror

P.S. - Hail Ms Schwarz

The Nevermore

2006-08-07T09:20:00.000-07:00

Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been;
I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell;
Unto thine ear I hold the dead-sea shell
Cast up thy Life's foam-fretted feet between;
Unto thine eyes the glass where that is seen
Which had Life's form and Love's, but by my spell
Is now a shaken shadow intolerable,
Of ultimate things unuttered the frail screen.

Mark me, how still I am ! But should there dart
One moment through my soul the soft surprise
Of that winged Peace which lulls the breath of sighs, -
Then shalt thou see me smile, and turn apart
Thy visage to mine ambush at thy heart
Sleepless with cold commemorative eyes.

~~~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Open Sesame

2006-08-02T10:36:00.000-07:00

Courtesy : My student Hridaye Ashish Nagpal

The Rising

2006-07-30T06:46:00.000-07:00

Some clouds have a chemical lining !!

The Slough of Despond....

2006-07-11T11:58:00.000-07:00

Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it's awful!

Aesthetics in Africa

2006-06-24T07:17:00.000-07:00

“ Most of the stories I wrote were the stories I told myself just before I went to sleep”

- Edgar Rice Burroughs

Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan is a colossal daydream spanning twenty six books that spawned over forty Tarzan movies, hundreds of comic books, radio shows, television programmes, and other Tarzan paraphernalia, including Tarzan toys, Tarzan gasoline, Tarzan underwear, Tarzan ice-cream, Tarzan running shoes, Tarzan … – the list is virtually endless. Edgar Rice Burroughs became one of the twentieth century's most popular authors, and Tarzan one of the world's best-known literary characters.

Mittyesque daydreams make life bearable, and do away with the monster of ennui. Tarzan proves instrumental here. Gore Vidal calls Burroughs ‘the archetypal American dreamer’. It is no wonder then, that the basic appeal of Tarzan lies in the fact that Burroughs, a ‘master dreamer’, provides an alternative Utopia that we can inhabit. Tarzan’s world is an Eden that no serpent can invade (and if it is indeed invaded, Tarzan always overcomes), an Elysium that is idyllic and tranquil in spite of the action. To cut a long story short, an environment that one can dominate completely. Tarzan, thus, is a classic dream-self that provides the reader a spacious sense of mastery over a world that more often than not, tends to elide the individual. Tarzan triumphs even if we fail !!

Applying Freud’s idea of ‘play’ to Burroughs’ Tarzan daydream, one could say that Tarzan is a manifestation of subconscious desire. Antony Easthope points out that Tarzan, to be more precise, Burrough’s first Tarzan novel, "Tarzan of the Apes", with its African adventure setting, addresses itself to a dominantly masculinist culture; takes up directly the issue of European colonialism; and also bears the imprint of Darwin, Herbert Spencer, and the debate over heredity, environment and genetic racial difference.

It concerns a white man – Tarzan AKA Lord Greystoke – who has, to use colonialist phraseology, radically ‘gone native’. It contains as one of the central features, an idealised stereotype of women as the lover that stifles masculine desire. Thus, Easthope opines that "Tarzan of the Apes" explores boundaries between the self and the other; boundaries defined as those between animal and human, white and black, ‘civilised’ and ‘savage’. Consequently, as Tarzan consolidates specific binaries, this daydream transmutes into a nightmare from the postcolonial perspective, as it explores and legitimises the colonial unconsciousness.

Tarzan, which literally means ‘white-skin’ in ape idiom, is obviously a white man who cannot but survive as he is naturally the ‘fittest’. It is not surprising then that baby Tarzan survives in a remote part of wild and savage Africa. Burroughs flings a baby into the African wilderness, and the infant survives to metamorphose into Rousseau’s ‘noble savage’. In order to substantiate his ‘original jungle-hero’, and to make him credible, Burroughs takes recourse to what an African critic, N. Khalfani Mwamba, calls the ‘Tarzan Untruths’.

These ‘Untruths’ change Africa the continent, into Africa, the continent of tropical forests. Africa, comes from the Sanskrit word ‘jungala’ which means ‘dry desert’. Nevertheless, English textuality stresses the opposite, and Africa becomes the land of ‘thick vegetation and dense forests’, the African truth being that it has less forest cover per square mile than any other continent.

The first glimpse of Africa that Burroughs gives us describes its shores as, “beautiful with semi-tropical verdure”; and the country, “rises from the ocean in hill and tableland, almost uniformly clothed by primeval forest”. Strangely enough, though Eurasia has more forest cover per square mile than Africa, it is the Africans who have been termed ‘Jungle Bunnies’.

That pre-slavery Africa was ‘uncivilised’ and ‘unchristian’ is another ‘Tarzan Untruth’ or myth that many live by, and which Tarzan of the Apes no doubt endorses with its repetition of the word “savage”, which is applied to the land as well as to its inhabitants. Burrough’s camera obscura focuses only on the ‘uncivilised’, and conveniently dismisses African ‘civilisation’. ‘Civil’ comes from ‘city’, and Africa’a Ta Ibit (centuries after its construction, renamed Thebes by the Greeks) is the first historic city of historical record. Also, Ethiopia was the first Christian country in history, declared so by King Azana a full century before Constantine did Byzantium in 325 A.D.

To borrow from Edward Said, the Orient - Africa with "Tarzan of the Apes" -, becomes a projection of the European underground self. Africa has often become the locale for metaphysical encounters with evil as in books like, "Heart of Darkness", "Raiders of the Lost Ark", "The Mighty Young Joe", and "Out of Africa". Tarzan needs Africa to confront his evil or ‘savage self’. This savage “Tarzan of the Apes” grasps his “food in his strong brown hands, tearing it with his molars like a wild beast"; whereas, “Monsieur Tarzan” uses a “knife and fork” to eat “cooked food” as “No civilised men eat raw flesh”. Though the “blacks” cook their meat, they are still less ‘civilised’ than Tarzan. Tarzan will not “ruin good meat (by cooking it like the blacks) in any such foolish manner”, and he “craves” and “needs” meat because he descends from an ancient “race of meat eaters”.

Burroughs probably introduces “raw flesh” in order to justify, to quote Roland Barthes, Tarzan’s “bull-like strength”. In his essay, "Steak and Chips", Barthes examines the steak myth, and comes to the conclusion that steak derives its prestige from its quasi-rawness. In it,

‘…blood is visible, natural, dense, at once compact and sectile. One can well imagine the ambrosia of the Ancients as this kind of heavy substance which dwindles under one’s teeth in such a way as to make one keenly aware at the same time of its original strength and of its aptitude to flow into the very blood of man’.

Applying the same analogy to Tarzan’s meat eating habits, Burroughs no doubt is justified in his portrayal of this “giant figure bearing a dead lion upon its broad shoulders”.

Animals, rather, “savage” animals are of course an inherent part of the African wilderness. Burroughs’ scant knowledge of wildlife is evident in the fact that “Sabor”, the tiger in his magazine story ("Tarzan of the Apes" was first published in a magazine called All-Story) was not native to the African continent. “Sabor” became a lioness when "Tarzan of the Apes" was published in book form. And is it mere coincidence that the animals have names that have an Oriental ring? Kala, Tublat, Kerchak, Horta, Dango, Bara, Numa, Sabor, Sheeta and the like, are definitely if not Oriental, at least ‘un-European’.

In comparison to “his” Apes, Tarzan is the “superior being” because of his “superior intelligence and cunning” and “the divine power of reason”. His cunning ensures that he teaches himself to use the “full-nelson” successfully on every beast. The beast of course is too dumb to think of rolling on its back and crushing the “mighty” Tarzan with its weight. Tarzan can’t be conquered as these “brutes” cannot imagine hunting in groups. Had they done so, Tarzan may have been defeated. But of course, they don’t. It is Tarzan who teaches them to unite; and thus, gives them the means to “overthrow” their “cruel chief” Terkoz. Implicit here is the ideology that ‘white is right’, and just and fair, and hence, should rule. An absolutist vein runs right through all Tarzan novels.

Tarzan can see with his “sensitive and highly trained nostrils”. Olfactory nerves, Burroughs informs us, are merely under-developed in man. It is not to be wondered at then that Burroughs almost forces Tarzan’s son Korak into the African continent in order to develop Korak’s faculties. Tarzan reigns because, “in his veins…flowed the blood of the best of a race of mighty fighters, and back of this was the training of his short life-time among the fierce brutes of the jungle”. This makes him fit to not only rule over “his” apes, but to also colonise the village of Mbonga.

Easthope points out, that "like Heart of Darkness", "Tarzan of the Apes" assumes that white people are in some way inherently superior to black people. He feels that employing the narrative figure of a European ‘gone native’ makes it possible to admit the, ‘exploitative purpose of imperialism while simultaneously recuperating it’. He shows how a structure of imperialist ideology is constructed on the basis of racism and genetics. Thus animals, apes, Africans, and Europeans form a hierarchy according to inherited intelligence, with Europeans at the top.

When Tarzan encounters the “blacks” for the very first time, he finds that, “these people were more wicked than his own apes, and as savage and cruel as Sabor herself”; and towards the end of the novel, during the discussion on finger prints, Burroughs has the officer stating “..some claim that those (fingerprints) of the negro are less complex”. On first coming across Europeans, Tarzan concludes that, “they were evidently no different from black men – no more civilised than the apes – no less cruel than Sabor”. Thus, Tarzan’s superiority is confirmed as he combines two hereditary attributes, i.e. ‘intelligence and an aggression not inhibited by civilization’ (perhaps another reason for the stronger physique).

Consequently, the text vindicates white supremacy as there is darkness at the heart of all men in a continuity stretching back to ‘the earliest beginnings of the world’; so that by nature, Europeans are no better or worse than the Africans. But, their right to assume the role of the coloniser is justified because they (whites – here, Tarzan) are more intelligent, endowed with the “divine power of reason”, and having access to better ideas and technology.

"Tarzan of the Apes", in defiance of anthropology, treats cannibalism as an index of primitivism. While the Africans lick their “hideous lips in anticipation of the feast (of human flesh) to come”, Tarzan can’t bear the idea of consuming human flesh, and his “hereditary instincts” make the prospect nauseating to him.

Though Europeans head the hierarchy, here again Burroughs makes distinctions. The English (Tarzan), French (D’Arnot) and Americans (Jane Porter & Co.) belong to the ‘higher white races’, whereas Italians and Portuguese do not. We realise that it is not just Darwin who dominates. John Stuart Mill also makes his presence felt. Economics matters.

Burroughs almost hypocritically talks of, “that arch hypocrite, Leopold II of Belgium, because of whose atrocities they (Africans) had fled the Congo Free State..”. A perusal of the history of colonization shows us that Belgium had occupied a large chunk of Africa called the Belgian Congo.

Belgium was no doubt seen as a threat by other European nations, who were on a similar ‘civilising mission’, and had dispatched many a “Father Constantine” to legitimize their intrusion, lauding it as the ‘white man’s burden’.

In later novels, Russians are villains – e.g. Rokoff and Paulovitch in "The Return of Tarzan" and "The Beasts of Tarzan". Arabs are also demonised in subsequent Tarzan books. In "Tarzan of the Apes" itself, we have the two caricatured characters of Professor Archimedes Porter and his assistant Samuel T. Philander discussing the Spaniards and the Moors; Professor Porter asserts that “Moslemism was, is, and always will be, a blight on …scientific progress…”. Colonisation offers a fig leaf in the form of ‘progress’, and in the process the land and the Bible exchange hands. Political and religious ideology makes its presence felt in Tarzan.

As an anthropologist, Burroughs is pleasantly vague. His apes are carnivorous, and they are able, he darkly suspects, to mate with human beings. Terkoz on seeing Tarzan pursuing him, concludes that, “this (Jane) was Tarzan’s woman”, and rejoices, “at this opportunity for double revenge upon his hated enemy”. Though an ape ‘desiring’ a human mate is obviously an anomaly, what comes across as even more shocking is that he thinks that he can avenge himself using Jane. Terkoz here thinks like the ‘other’ man despite his inferior intelligence – a WASP woman is always ‘desirable’ to the ‘other’. So, are Burroughs’ apes, really apes? The ape “Death Dance”, an imitation of the so called ‘rites and rituals of tribal Africa’ makes one suspect otherwise. The apes seem to be just another extension of “savage tribal” Africa, and consequently, less animal and more “savage”.

As some feminists have pointed out, colonization has its roots in patriarchy. More often than not, women are considered property. If Terkoz considers Jane property, so does Tarzan when he “takes his woman into his arms and carries her into the Jungle”, no doubt to rape her. Once again heredity triumphs, and he behaves like the “perfect gentleman”, and Jane is not molested. But then again, the very notion of chivalry is steeped in patriarchy, wherein a woman becomes someone who is, to quote the sentimental lovelorn Tarzan, “created to be protected, and…he (Tarzan)… created to protect her”.

In "Tarzan of the Apes", Easthope tells us ideologies of empire and race are reinforced with the masculinist ideology of gender. Women are immobile, naturally loving and potentially transcendent, while men are active, aggressive rationalists. We see the traditional gender distinction between the Madonna and the Whore mapped onto the distinction between the ‘civilised’ and the ‘barbaric’. We see two versions of Jane. First as Jane the Baltimore girl; and then the African Jane who watches with “…mingled horror, fascination, fear, and admiration…the primordial ape battle with primeval man for possession of a woman – for her”. In the ‘heart of darkness’ the, “veil of centuries of civilisation and culture”, is swept, “from the blurred vision of the Baltimore girl”. The text envisages a woman as, ‘actively experiencing heterosexual desire’.

While Tarzan expresses one version of feminine sexuality, it simultaneously denies another. Easthope points out that for Tarzan, his ape mother Kala was an object of Oedipal desire - he considered her “kind and beautiful”. Easthope argues that a post-puberty Tarzan should have similarly found either another adult ape, or some African woman attractive. But this obviously does not happen as his ‘race’ can’t be contaminated. By completely denying any desire for the African ‘other’, and instead displacing and sublimating such desire onto Jane and the wish for her as a composite figure between ‘civilised’ and ‘savage’; Easthope feels that the novel contradicts itself at a fundamental level. Sexuality is thus circumscribed by the ‘projections of the white European male mind’.

The object position of all women, especially non-WASP, which the textuality of Tarzan reinforces, is also reflected in the movie-remakes of the book, as well as in the comic strips. As Kovel points out, mass media and the movie industry have had an obvious ‘white male nationalist propagandist character’. No wonder then that in one comic strip called "Legion of Hate", an all woman African nation – called of course a “tribe” – and referred to as ‘Amazons’, forge an alliance with the Nazis only because they are interested in “mating with white men”.

Jane Porter and her maid Esmeralda share this yoke of patriarchy in "Tarzan of the Apes". Esmeralda unfortunately, is what Sandra Gilbert would call ‘the doubly colonised’ because of her colour and gender. Though Esmeralda speaks English, it is pidgin, and she is forever invoking “Gaberelle”. Her grammar is skewed, – “what am it now? A hipponocerous? Where am he, Miss Jane?” – and her speech is servile and inarticulate – it is ‘darky’ dialogue.

The native is always inferior even if he has been salvaged by using what Gramsci calls ‘hegemony’ - power achieved through a combination of coercion and consent. Gramsci argued that the ruling classes achieve domination not by force or coercion alone, but also by creating subjects who ‘willingly’ submit to being ruled. The colonizers tried to achieve this by forcing an alien language and an alien God (all other religions are ‘heathen’) on those they colonized, and Esmeralda is but one example of the ‘willing’ subject.

Colonization plays an important role in identity formation (or malformation) of the ‘willing’ as well as ‘unwilling’ colonised subject. Franz Fanon, citing his own example, shows us how a person who is colonized, not only loses his identity in the process of colonization, but also fails to assume another identity even in a postcolonial setting. At the screening of a Tarzan film in France, Fanon was shocked when he realised that he was expected to identify with the ‘negro’ instead of, as he had always done, with Tarzan. Thus his black skin/white masks reflects the miserable schizophrenia of a colonized identity that is supplemented by likes of Tarzan.

Towards the "blacks", Tarzan is quintessentially colonial. If he feels that ape vocabulary is insufficient (at least in "Tarzan of the Apes"), he considers the “natives” as people almost without a language. When Jane Porter and her father arrive in Africa, Tarzan sends them a note – “THIS IS THE HOUSE OF TARZAN…”. His miraculous grammatical accuracy is more than fantastic, but what is more implausible is the fact that he never thinks of using this language with the villagers of Mbonga. In response to this, Jeff Berglund critiques,

‘If he (Tarzan) intuits that writing is a product of humans, why does he refrain from using it with other humans? If the binary opposite of textuality is orality, then the Africans of the Mbongan tribe in their extreme orality – cannibalism – are alienated from the English book, from all that it connotes, the power it bestows…Tarzan…intuits that writing is a means of communication between white humans, not just between paper and reader’.

This may be construed as an example of how colonialism conceptually depopulates countries, either by acknowledging the native but relegating him or her to the category of subhuman, or simply by looking through the native, denying his/her existence. Disney’s supposedly innocuous animated version of Tarzan (not of the Apes – that it is only Tarzan is significant, and reveals Disney’s agenda) happily elides the natives and depopulates Africa of most of its population – there are no Africans in Africa in the Disney version.

As Chris Tiffin and Alan Lawson tell us, such depopulation was a necessary practice for invoking the claim of terra nullius upon which the now disputed legality of imperial settlement (as opposed to ‘invasion’) is based. Only empty spaces may be settled, so the space had to be made empty by ignoring or dehumanising the inhabitants. As Peter Hulme points out, ‘The topic of land (was) dissimulated in the topic of savagery, this move being characteristic of all the narratives of the colonial encounter’.

Inscribing the natives as primitive and unable to make use of the natural resources around them allowed first the biblical parable of the ten talents, and then the Darwinian theory of natural selection to justify dispossession as part of Destiny. Resistance was interpreted as malignant treachery and a justification for brutal suppression, and even annihilation. Of course, they (in "Tarzan of the Apes", the French), “spared the children and those of the women whom they were not forced to kill in self-defence, but when at length they stopped… it was because there lived no single warrior of all the savage village of Mbonga”.

If labour was required in the coffee plantations or on cattle stations, to exploit the ‘natural’ wealth of the seemingly limitless tract of land, a new encoding of the native was employed. The coloniser now saw the native, in Kipling’s phrase, as ‘half savage and half child’. Childhood itself, as Jo-Ann Wallace demonstrates, was not a primordial concept in the Anglo-Saxon archive, but one that had been comparatively recently developed. It is almost, she argues, as though the idea of childhood was a necessary conceptual precursor to empire.

Tarzan, the coloniser, exploits “his children” in later novels like, "The Jewels of Opar". He robs (Burroughs conveniently calls it “replenishing his (Tarzan’s) store”) the ancient city of Opar of gold and jewels and uses the natives as coolies. Tarzan is the “protector” - he “protects” the High Priestess of Opar, the enchanting and exotic La from her own “tribe”. (La is just one of the many high priestesses and princesses who love Tarzan and assist him when the need arises: Tarzan, of course, is immune to their charms and always returns to his Jane). In a similar fashion, Tarzan “protects” his “blacks” from other “invaders”(i.e. east European Jews, Arabs, blacks – women being almost completely exempted from evil or sin).

In order to achieve all of this, Tarzan uses violence continually. He hunts not just animals, but also murders wantonly. Even when he is in the city, his muscles serve him well. He bashes up a gang of goons in a flat, and then jumps out of the window and escapes the law enforcers that arrive on the scene. Later, on the insistence of his friend D’Arnot, he goes to meet the police to mollify them, and explains to their satisfaction why he chose to dive out of the window. Praising Burrough’s visual melodrama, Vidal says that “he (Burroughs) had a gift very few writers of any kind possess: he can describe action vividly”. Though the action itself is not really all that intriguing, what is important is the ideological underpinning.

Physical violence preoccupies the narrative, and it almost transparently reveals the intention of the text – i.e. to construct ‘a moral universe’. All Tarzan novels endorse and legitimize a certain kind of violence by creating a false consciousness that is essentially absolutist in nature. The actual attack on the village of Mbonga is sub-ordinate compared to the ideology backing it.

As David Bozarth points out, Tarzan of the Apes ends before we are shown that Tarzan of the later books who abandons his wife and family to go on obsessive feral man junkets. Each time he reverts from ‘civilised’ society, Tarzan murders native blacks or incites riots in reclusive societies by defying ‘established’ authorities. During the Great War, he embarks on a personal vendetta against Germans in Africa, becoming a grim methodical executioner.

The body counts in all Tarzan books are excessive – and most are killed by the apeman himself. In World War II, Tarzan slaughters ‘monkey men’ (Japanese soldiers), and Nazis (Dark Horse Comics – "Tarzan the Untamed" and "Tarzan and the Lions of Xuja") in a killing frenzy obviously sparked by wartime sentiments. Violence against the state is castigated. But violence perpetuated by the state is valorised – “duty is duty”, and the nation is supreme. This was one of the tenets constantly evoked by the colonialist to justify the means he used to reach his end.

Tarzan is thus a white adult fantasy, replete with degenerative human behaviours under the guise of popular entertainment. The Tarzan nightmare, declares Mwamba, will keep recurring as long as ‘racism, sexism, military adventurism, and greedy individualism’ thrive!

Dismissing Tarzan as popular fiction, and hence low culture, would be fatuous - it is popular potent fiction !!

Possessed?

2006-06-04T09:45:00.000-07:00

12.5 %

My weblog owns 12.5 % of me.
Does your weblog own you?

Hiatus

2006-06-03T21:25:00.000-07:00

On break from blogging until inspired by the moronic Muses.

Armed for Life

2006-05-26T14:27:00.000-07:00

Sushila Patil is an ex-army nurse. She was recently operated for ovarian cancer. She presently resides in Aalandi (a town near Pune) in a small rented room all by herself.

There is much I can and want to say about her, but to use a cliche, I shall never do her any justice. So I end my brief ramble here though it shall continue metaphysically.

Amen !!

Depraved

2006-05-17T15:09:00.000-07:00

"Isn't Ross cute?"

"Yeah. I love 'Friends'"

"Me too"

I've had no 'Friends' in my life. None at all. It's been more than a decade. I won't really say I miss them. But yes, I wouldn't mind having them around. Of course, it would mean I would get no work done, but it would be nice to live vicariously for a change.

Yes, I confess. I am a freak !! I haven't watched regular television for more than ten years. "Jurassic Park", anyone?

And no, I'm not complaining; but it does make me a sucker for movies. It's almost 4 a.m. and I am still glued to my laptop. These 25 DVDs with all the movies I've ever wanted to watch have driven me crazy.

Am I depraved or what?

Ennui

2006-05-15T03:58:00.000-07:00

There shall be no more posts until I manage to clear my cache of tons of bad humour !!

Friday the 13th, May 1983

2006-05-12T08:23:00.000-07:00

"Happy Birthday to You" is a song which is sung to celebrate the anniversary of a person's birth. According to the Guinness Book of World Records, "Happy Birthday to You" is the most popular song in the English language, followed by "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" and "Auld Lang Syne". The song has been translated into many languages, though it is often sung with the English lyrics in countries where English is not a primary language. It's also the most frequently sung song in America.

The melody of "Happy Birthday to You" was written by American sisters Patty and Mildred Hill in 1893 when they were school teachers in Louisville, Kentucky. The verse was originally intended as a classroom greeting entitled "Good Morning to All". The version as we know it was copyrighted in 1935 by the Summy Company as an arrangement by Preston Ware Orem, and is scheduled to expire in 2030. This was the first copyrighted version to include the lyrics. The company holding the copyright was purchased by Warner Chappell in 1990 for $15 million dollars, with the value of "Happy Birthday" estimated at $5 million. [1] While the current copyright status of the song is unclear, Warner claims that unauthorized public performances of the song are technically illegal unless royalties are paid to them. It is not completely certain who wrote the lyrics to "Happy Birthday to You".

During the SARS outbreak in Hong Kong in 2003, the government advised people to regularly wash their hands with soap for around 15 seconds. In order to make this practice more easily handled by kids, some primary school and kindergarten teachers told their students to sing "Happy Birthday to You" slowly while they washed their hands, and to only stop washing after finishing the song.

Courtesy : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Happy_Birthday_to_You

Vade Mecum

2006-04-28T18:51:00.000-07:00

I am no longer a part of the countless unemployed Indians.

The Power of Goodbye

2006-04-09T22:26:00.001-07:00

I owe my brother an immense debt for introducing me to this song by Madonna. It teaches one to stop self-flagellating.....with or without a "bruised heart" !!

Your heart is not open so I must go
The spell has been broken, I loved you so
Freedom comes when you learn to let go
Creation comes when you learn to say no

You were my lesson I had to learn
I was your fortress you had to burn
Pain is a warning that something’s wrong
I pray to God that it won’t be long
Do ya wanna go higher?

Chorus:

There’s nothing left to try
There’s no place left to hide
There’s no greater power
Than the power of good-bye

Your heart is not open so I must go
The spell has been broken, I loved you so
You were my lesson I had to learn
I was your fortress

Chorus2:

There’s nothing left to lose
There’s no more heart to bruise
There’s no greater power
Than the power of good-bye

Learn to say good-bye
I yearn to say good-bye

Courtesy : http://www.lyricsfreak.com/m/madonna/86871.html

Oh Caro...

2006-03-25T04:38:00.000-08:00

Three theories explaining the possible causes of the untimely
ghostification of K**** and other phantom members of the class of 2006:

1) The Note-to-Float Model: This content-based theory, first proposed
by Blahblah and Boring (1532), states that the content of notes may be
toxic, and repeated prolonged exposure may result in feelings of
weightless floating and spirit-type non-being.

2) The Study Sickness Theory: This theory, propounded by Yawn et al
(1860), is process-based. Similar to the Sleeping Sickness caused by
the Tse-Tse Fly, this condition is caused by the equally deadly Paper
Five, which induces a deep sleep in the reader. Although this condition
is not permanent, it occurs every time the paper is taken up, thus
contributing to confused cognitions regarding the reality of one's own
existence.

3) Type Zzzz Personality: This trait approach suggests that Type Zzzz
Personality persons and xeroxes are incompatible and contact may result
in a sudden state of REM, and thus to instant ghostification.

Short term interventions for the spirit state include sleeping, staring
into space, chatting with friends, complaining about how pointless it
all seems, and watching T.V. However, these have been found to have
only temporary positive effects.

(Reproduced without the permission of my comrade Caroline D'Souza - a budding psychotic psychologist)

Patented Puking Pastilles

2006-03-23T06:28:00.000-08:00

An erudite monograph on modes of lowering the suicide rate among stressed students

(Coming Soon at a Chemist near you)

Airborne to Chairborne

2006-03-13T09:52:00.000-08:00

"Airborne to Chairborne" is the title of the essay I studied in school as a 10th standard student.

Later, I met the man. His ideas on God, euthanasia and the condition of the disabled induced a catechism of my very complacent notions.

This post (his article) is a tribute of sorts !!

Airborne to Chairborne

All my attempts to move my limbs were futile. The pain in the neck was excruciating and it intensified by the second. I was stumped for a moment but quickly recovered to realise the seriousness and significance of my inability to get up. I do not remember whether I screamed involuntarily, then, in sheer desperation. On that abominable night, my mind was in a medley of intense frustration, utmost dejection and extreme disappointment. For some timeless moments, I wished I were dead.

On 28 June '88, at around 2300 hrs, whilst returning to the Officers Mess on my motorcycle after night flying, I drove onto a road barrier just ahead of the technical area gate, inside Air Force Station, Pathankot. The impact of the helmet on the wooden bar wrenched my neck and broke the cervical spine. Fifteen minutes after the accident, I was taken to the Station Sick Quarters in an unconscious state. While being carried, my head was left unsupported. The base of the helmet (rear side) which was resting against the nape of the neck pushed the fractured vertebrae into the cervical spinal cord. (The casualty must always be carried in a stretcher, after immobilising his/her neck with a cervical collar.) The resultant spinal injury completely paralysed me below the neck.

After overnight's stay in Military Hospital (MH), Pathankot, I was transferred to Army Hospital, Delhi (AHDC). Neck surgery failed to mitigate my predicament. Though I had brief spells of consciousness during the fortnight's hospitalisation in AHDC, my memory fails to recollect my fight for survival. On 12 July '88, I was transferred to the Spinal Cord Injury Centre of MH Kirkee, Pune.

Two weeks after my admission, I gathered my wits and eagerly inquired about the prognosis. The medical officer looked up and motioned his hands skywards; perhaps he wanted me to adjure divine intervention. This charade instantly deflated my hopes but it lucidly conveyed the enormity and helplessness of the incurable nature of the incapacitation. Inconsistencies of life have always bemused me but not even the wildest nightmare presaged that one day I would fall prey to such a quirk of fate. The modicum of faith I had in Providence got shattered when I failed to show even an iota of improvement.

The cervical spinal injury (quadriplegia) necessitated me to lead a totally dependent life, tethered to the bed and wheel chair. Now, I am like a man fettered for life; unable to use my hands and legs, incontinent and spoon‑fed. Ironically, the most painful aspect of quadriplegia is the painlessness! It isn’t mere loss of tactile inputs and outputs but absolute dependence on someone else to accomplish mundane necessities and domestic chores that yoked me; even for things like swabbing ears and swatting flies.

Disuse atrophy had set in within a couple of months and took its toll by altering the geometry of my torso and limbs. The mirror replicated the image of a human skeleton swathed in a layer of wizened skin. Two years' stay in MH Kirkee taught me how to battle the numerous encumbrances and how to conquer the bouts of depression. With a smile on my face, I managed to dissemble the pangs of the heart. The Indian Air Force (IAF) realised my uselessness and discharged me from the service on 12 April '90. The silly accident dealt coup de grace to my aspirations and terminated my fledgling career in the IAF. In August '90, at the young age of 26, I got admitted in Paraplegic Home, Park Road, Kirkee, Pune, as an inmate to begin the second phase of my life ‑ afresh.

I was born and brought up in a village by name Chirayinkil, 35 kms north of Trivandrum. At the age of nine, I entered Sainik School, Kazhakootam. A slow learner and an unobtrusive student by nature, I had excelled consistently in both academics and sports. Later on, I was found worthy enough to be adjudged as the best Air Force cadet of 65th course of National Defence Academy (NDA), Khadakwasla, Pune and as the best in aerobatics of 134th Pilots Course of Air Force Academy, Secunderabad. In Dec '84, I was commissioned into the IAF as a fighter pilot. I had 700 hours of flying experience (including 500 hours of flying in a magnificent flying machine called MiG-21) during my truncated career in the IAF.

All my efforts to rationalise personal catastrophes have always mystified and at times stupefied me. To adapt to the new challenges posed by the debility, I had to unshackle myself from the self‑imposed stupor. Therefore, in Sep '90, I decided to learn the art of writing by holding a pen in my mouth (because of dysfunctional hands). I began scribbling illegibly but was chagrined to find little progress even after 3 weeks' laborious efforts. Then, I decided to change tactic and wrote a letter to Sheela George, the person who kept on chivvying to start mouth‑writing (earlier I had paid little attention to her exhortations). My joy knew no bounds when I completed the few lines that embodied my first mouth‑written letter. Initially, I found my hard work to be a mere pie in the sky; but, 4 to 5 months' assiduous efforts resulted in attaining a readable style of writing. This modest achievement enabled me in reviving the chain of correspondence and begetting new friends.

In May 1991, I was presented with an electrically operated wheel chair, with chin controls for manoeuvring, thanks to the benevolence of the IAF. Motorised mobility, though only a poor substitute for natural one, has enlivened my lifestyle considerably.

It was Wing Commander PI Murlidharan, my former flight commander, who mooted the use of a personal computer (PC), as a writing tool. He added that it would assist me to utilise my mental faculty to the hilt. Hitherto unsuccessful attempts in procuring a keyboard (modified to suit my requirements) have somewhat emasculated my resolve. Nonetheless, my hope of acquiring a PC remains undiminished.

In the meantime, I toyed with the idea of teaching. For some untenable reasons, I kept on declining the offers by bringing one imaginary reason or another as an ad hoc excuse. Aforesaid setbacks notwithstanding, I'm very hopeful of converting the second phase of my life into something as meaningful as the one I would have had from the confines of a cockpit.

Believe it or not, every dark cloud has a silver lining. To surmount even seemingly insuperable obstacles, one has to muster the remnant faculties and shun the thought of disability and then canalise one's dormant energies purposefully and whole‑heartedly. It isn't just physical ability and average intelligence but an insatiable appetite for success and an unflagging will power that would texture the warp and woof of the fabric called human destiny. Greater the difficulty, sweeter the victory.

Prejudice & Prejudice

2006-03-05T23:19:00.000-08:00

The backdrop is quasi Grecian.

It is pouring cats, dogs, and elephants.

Elizabeth Bennet is drenched, and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy is dripping too.

He tells her he loves her. She rages and refuses him.

Soppy?

***

Lizzie is visiting Pemberley.

Michelangeloesque art is splashed across walls and ceilings.

Naked bodies. Fluttering cloaks.

Nude sculptures are caressed by electronic eyes.

Particularly the butt.

Soft porn?

***

Proud to be Prejudiced !!!

Premacha Gulkand

2006-03-01T08:18:00.000-08:00

By a Marathi poet whose name I forget..

AbUSED

2006-02-27T02:26:00.000-08:00

"I don't want to lose touch with you".

Right. Thank you.

You expect me to believe that?

Tears. Evaporation. NaCl.

So many pinches of salt.

Mounds.

Heaps.

Mountains.

I refuse to scale them anymore.

Beating Around the Bush

2006-02-24T04:49:00.000-08:00

India has done a great job as a democracy: Bush

At the best of times, meeting the most powerful man on the planet can be intimidating. But when he walks into the Roosevelt Room of the White House quite unexpectedly a few minutes ahead of the scheduled interview time holding in his hands a book you have written, and quips, "I've been reading a good book lately!" the most composed journalist can be knocked galley west. You could have felled me with a noodle. I barely managed a "Thank you, Mr President" as he put the book in from of him and settled into his chair. He was flanked to his left by National Security Advisor Stephen Hadley and to his right by Presidential spokesman Scott McClellan. Two other aides sat next to them, and with me was a journalist from the Hindi daily Dainik Bhaskar .

President Bush bantered for a while with other US wire correspondents who were seated behind us but were not allowed to ask questions.

He made a brief preliminary statement about how much he and his wife Laura Bush are looking forward to their first trip to India. He also lavished praise on Prime Minister Manmohan Singh describing him as a "very decent, honorable person with whom we established warm relations... kind person (who) at the same time represented his great country's interests very well."

President Bush then took questions:

Chidu Rajghatta : Mr. President, how and why has India come front and center to US strategic thinking now after being on the margins for so many years?

THE PRESIDENT : Well, as you know there was a history, particularly during the Cold War, that made it difficult for our countries to establish a close relationship. However, things change in the world. And as the post-Cold War thaw developed, as -- attitudes began to shift.

Secondly, the Indian economy, as a result of more transparency and openness and trade, began to change. And as the Indian economy changed, it changed the commercial relationship between the United States and India.

Thirdly, there are some common threats that make it in our interests to work together -- namely terrorism. As I said in my speech today, the United States has been attacked, but India certainly understands what it means to have suffering as a result of terrorist activities. And so there's common interests that have helped to change the relationship. And I intend to seize those interests, as does the Prime Minister, in order to foster what we've called a strategic relationship.

And in my speech today, I made it clear to the American people that this relationship is in our interests. And I described the various ways it was in our interests. It's just I think the evolution of the relationship goes to show that the world is -- changes, and it's never static. And so thank you for the question.

Q : Mr. President, if India's credentials are so good, why isn't the US backing its candidacy for the U.N. Security Council?

THE PRESIDENT : Well, let me make one other point, if you don't mind, that I should have made in my speech today, and that is that there are a lot of Indian Americans who made a tremendous contribution to our country, as well. And there are a lot of -- over the last -- as the high-tech boom helped transform our society, a lot of the brain power behind that boom have been Indian Americans, as well as Indians educated here in America. And so the American people, as well, have begun to get kind of a different perspective on the great contributions that India can not only make to our own country but can make to the world.

Our position on the United Nations Security Council has been very clear. First, we support a U.N.Security Council reform, but we think it ought to happen after other institutions within the United Nations become reformed. What I was always worried about is that we would focus on the U.N. Security Council and nothing else would happen. And so we have -- we have said to all parties concerned, I fully understand the Indian position, just like other nations, that we will take your case under consideration, but first things first.

And a classic case of the reform I'm talking about is the Human Rights Commission. It needed to be reformed. And what I was, again, worried about is that we'd miss opportunity while focusing on the U.N. Security Council.

Q : Mr. President, when do you intend to take the US.-India nuclear deal before the Congress, and before the Nuclear Supplies Group, which is part of the US obligation?

THE PRESIDENT : Yes, it is. As we speak, Nick Burns, of the State Department, is discussing this vital issue with the Indian counterparts. We are working through what has been -- as I said in the speech, a difficult issue for the Indian government, as well for the American government. To change the past, the ways of the past can be difficult at times.

I appreciate the Prime Minister's courage last July of laying out a way forward, which I support. And so first things first is to go to India and hopefully reach an agreement on separation, and then bring that agreement back and start selling it to the Congress.

It's -- but we can't bring anything back until we've agreed to the agreement. And that's what's happening now. There's a spirit of goodwill and cooperation.

It's in our country's interest, by the way, to encourage India -- and aid India in its development of a civilian nuclear power program. The American people are beginning to see high prices of energy, but so are the Indian people. And the reason why is, is that there's growing economies -- ours, India's, China's -- which is adding to global demand for energy. And demand is outstripping supply, and then what happens, you see price.

And one way to help deal with price here at home and/or with India is to develop alternative ways to power homes and businesses, as well as automobiles. I was sincere in my speech today when I said that we're dedicated to research and development to come up with alternative ways to use automobiles, and want to share that technologies with other nations, particularly a nation like India, which has got huge potential and vast room for growth.

And it's in our mutual interests -- I also made it clear that it's in our interests that the Indian economy prosper. And it's a very simple reason why.

One, a prosperous country is one that is -- particularly one that has shown its capacity to deal with a multi-ethnic and multi-religious society -- it will give India more opportunity to lead, particularly in parts of the world where people need to see how democracy can work and function in a proper way.

And secondly, the American people have got to understand a prosperous India is advantageous to our own industries. I mean, we want people buying American products, Indians want Americans buying Indian products, and that exchange of trade in a free and fair way is beneficial for workers and consumers.

And I said an amazing statistic today -- at least I thought it was -- 300 million middle-class citizens in India.

That's larger than the population of the United States. And so we shouldn't fear relations with India -- matter of fact, we ought to welcome them and work on ways to strengthen them. That's really what the purpose of the trip is.

Q : Do you consider India to be a responsible nuclear nation?

THE PRESIDENT : I do, particularly when they signed the IAEA safeguards, and they have a separation between their military and their civilian nuclear parts of their government.

Q : Mr. President, would the United States have a problem if India continued to source oil and gas from Iran?

THE PRESIDENT : I think people are going to have to buy their energy where they can get it. On the other hand, I do want to make it clear to the Indian people and the Indian government that an Iran with a nuclear weapon will destabilize the world, and that those of us who are for peace and stability must work in concert. So there's a difference between energy supply and working closely to achieve a very important objective.

And we will discuss this issue carefully with the Prime Minister. There is a consensus in the world, and that consensus is that an Iranian government that has declared its -- has said that Israel shouldn't exist, for example, and if it were to have a nuclear weapon, would be a danger to all of us. And I will continue to make that point with the Prime Minister.

Q : Why has the US not questioned A.Q. Khan, whose activities intersect proliferation and terrorism?

THE PRESIDENT : Well, we were the nation that exposed the conspiracy to deal with -- more than the conspiracy, the activities, let me rephrase that -- we were the nation that exposed the activities of sharing technologies, sensitive technologies, nuclear-related weapons-related technologies. And we, of course, want to know as much about the A.Q. Khan network as possible. But had it not been for US. intelligence, coupled with British intelligence, this network never would have been exposed. And the light of day helps understand proliferation.

Q : Mr. President, why does India have to jump through the hoops to get a civilian nuclear agreement when its energy requirements are similar to China, another big, growing economy?

THE PRESIDENT : There are the nuclear supplier group, and the IAEA -- in other words, the world has signed on to this.

We think it's in India's interest to do so, as it pertains to its civilian nuclear power industry. It will give confidence to people. It will make it easier for the United States to work with India. This will be a confidence-building measure that we don't believe is an unrealistic request. And we do realize there will be separation between the military side and the civilian side. What we're working on is the civilian side.

Q : Is the US more comfortable dealing with dictators and monarchs?

THE PRESIDENT : Do what now? Do I feel comfortable doing what?

Q : Dealing with dictators and monarchs?

THE PRESIDENT : And monarchs? Well, I mean, I've got a great relationship with Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth of Great Britain. (Laughter.) She's a lovely lady and a great figure in a country that's an important ally. And, of course, that monarchy is very supportive of a free and open and democratic system.

(Getting serious) You must take the words that I said in my second inaugural address very seriously, in that we must end tyranny in the 21st century. It's a goal that all of us can work on. India has got a unique role to play. I mean, when you really think about troubled spots, these are countries many times that are having difficulty dealing with what it means to honor minority rights and welcoming different religions within kind of a social and civil fabric.

And India has done a magnificent job of showing the world how democracy can work. And it's -- India is -- I'm confident the country will play a constructive role and can do so in a much better way many times than the United States can. I mean, after all, there are 150 [sic] Muslims living within the Indian democracy. We got a lot of Muslims in the United States, as well, which shows the world that it's -- your capable of honoring -- worshiping God as you see fit, and you can do so in a free way, and at the same time, be a productive citizen of a state.

And India can help a lot. I was very impressed by its contribution to a new democracy in the neighborhood, and that's Afghanistan. India has provided $565 million of cash, recently pledged an additional $50 million to build the Afghan National Assembly building. And that's responsible -- a responsible nation does that. And it's a -- it goes to show -- at least says to me that India understands that a democracy in our neighborhood will help yield peace, because if you study the history of the world, regions that had been in turmoil are now peaceful as a result of the evolution of democracy.

And one of the points I made in my address to the Asia Society is that there are -- there's more democracies now in the region, which will make it easier for a current Prime Minister, future Prime Minister of India to help achieve the vision that we all want, which is a peaceful world.

Q : Mr. President, in this era of free flow capital,why would -- why are there so many restrictions about inflow of talent -- human capital to the United States, who probably add wealth and knowledge?

THE PRESIDENT : I appreciate that question. I am -- you're talking about visa restrictions for highly educated citizens. I am for lifting those. I think we ought to raise the level of those who are either educated here and stay here and/or come meeting high-- with high skill levels. It's in our interest.

I've always been a proponent of that.And likewise, I would hope that India would lift its investment caps. In other words -- and part of the trip is to kind of work on ways to continue to develop this strategic relationship in a constructive way.

It's a -- you know, I said something interesting -- at least I thought it was interesting -- in the speech.

I said, for a period of time, if you're a friend of Pakistan, you couldn't deal with India, and if you're a friend of India, you couldn't deal with Pakistan.

And we have tried to change the relationships so that people recognize it's in their interest that the United States is a friend of Pakistan's, and people in Pakistan recognize it's in their interest that the United States is a friend of India's to help, if need be, reduce tensions.

Right now, the level of tensions are, relatively speaking, down. I can remember when I first came into office. You might remember there was a series of incidents that got everybody quite nervous, and we had shuttle diplomacy -- Colin Powell. And it seems to me that there is a renewed commitment to resolving problems. I thought it was very interesting that trade between the two countries has doubled, that there's, you know, new transportation hubs. That's all very positive in terms of resolving issues.

You asked me about the relationship, how it's evolved, and I mentioned to you that as time passes sometimes, and circumstances change, relationships are able to develop a new dynamic. I would hope that time and circumstantial change is enabling India and Pakistan to develop a new dynamic. It appears to be that way.

Final question.

Q : Mr. President, you're going to India, but you're not visiting the Taj Mahal...

THE PRESIDENT : I know. It means I'm going to have to

Q : Have you broken the news to the First Lady?

THE PRESIDENT : No, it means I'm going to have to come back. It's a -- I am disappointed with that. People who have seen the Taj Mahal say that it's -- pictures don't do it justice. It's one of the great magnificent sites of the world. And look, if I were the scheduler, perhaps I'd be doing things differently. But you want me doing one thing.

I'll be the President, we've got the scheduler being the scheduler. I'm going to miss a lot of the really interesting parts of your great country. I know that.

I would hope that I would be invited back sometime after this trip.

Q : You could be in trouble with the "Desperate Housewife."

THE PRESIDENT : Yes. Well, she's certainly the star of the family. She's really looking forward to going with me.

Q : Between a cricket match and a Bollywood movie, what would you like watching?

THE PRESIDENT : I'm a cricket match person.

(Laughter.) I appreciate it. As I understand it, I may have a little chance to learn something about cricket. It's a great pastime. (Laughter.)

Q : Mr. President, what is your earliest memory of India.

MR. McCLELLAN : We've got to go to the next one.

Q : What is your earliest memory of India and Indians?

THE PRESIDENT : Gandhi. It's my first memory, as I think about India. You know, a person who was so spiritual that he captured the imagination of the entire world. He's proof positive that -- throughout history there have been individuals that have had the capacity to shape thought and to influence and -- beyond border. And he did that.

Q : You watched the movie?

THE PRESIDENT : I watched that, too. But that's -- but my memory was earlier than that.

Thank you.

Q : Thank you, very much.

THE PRESIDENT : Enjoyed it.

CR: Have a great trip to India, Mr President.

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/msid-1426634,curpg-1.cms

Bird Flew

2006-02-19T08:40:00.000-08:00

http://community.livejournal.com/boondocks_comic/?skip=100

Despondency?

2006-02-06T11:04:00.000-08:00

Dear J***** (aka Jerk),

I think you are as unChristian as they come.

You do not know what you discard. More fool you...

Grow up, will you?

Regards & etc.,

Pallavi

P.S. - Forgive my juvenile delinquency, but Father Aristotle believes in 'Katharsis'.

It's the same letter, jst worse!
cut it out!
and go to sleep
u will be fine tmrw

go go go

as will i

I will
sure
fine
i will be fine
u will be fine
we will be fine

tomorrow
tomorrow
tomorrow

tomorrow never comes
so we shall be fine

tomorrow never dies

they shall be fine
you will be fine
and I shall be fine

and tomorrow shall die today

The Country & The City

2006-02-05T10:06:00.000-08:00

The Country and The City – Raymond Williams

An Overview

Identity formation more often than not results in the creation, and subsequent consolidation of binaries. One such potent binary that textuality endorses is that between the country and the city.

The ‘Country’ and the ‘City’, Raymond Williams informs us, are very powerful words. In conjunction, they help define the other. If the country signifies ‘peace, innocence, and simple virtue’, the city metamorphoses into ‘a place of noise, worldliness, and ambition’.

On the other hand, if the country stands for ‘a place of backwardness, ignorance, (and) limitation’, then the city gets construed as a centre of ‘learning, communication, (and) light’. Focusing on either the country or the city ensures that consciously or subconsciously, the unacknowledged other makes its presence felt; if not directly, at least in comparison.

Concentrating on the literary interpretation of this binary in his The Country and The City, Williams succeeds in producing what Terry Eagleton calls a ‘librarian’s nightmare’. The book amalgamates divergent academic domains defying conventional criticism. It effectively wields history (rather, alternative history), geography, economics, psychology, sociology, politics, etymology and philosophy in order to contest the established canon.

An overview of canonical literature produces abundant examples that stress the country city/court dichotomy. Shakespeare’s As You Like It and Sidney’s Arcadia, have supported what Williams calls the myth of the ‘Golden Ages’ by lauding certain ‘traditional’ values through its representation (or misrepresentation) of the ‘rural idyll’.

In 1809, John Clare is overcome with nostalgia for the “..happy Eden of those golden years’. In 1796, in The Deserted Village, Oliver Goldsmith laments, “E’en now, methinks, as pondering here I stand / I see the rural virtues leave the land”. Critics claim that George Eliot and Thomas Hardy looked back to the ‘old rural England’ and ‘recorded the great climacteric change in rural life’ – a change that was ‘very recent indeed’, and which resulted in the disintegration of the ‘organic community’ of ‘Old England’.

But, if at the time of the Magna Carta (the charter given to English barons by King John in 1215), Innocent III describes how “the serf serves; terrified with threats, wearied by corvees, afflicted with blows, despoiled of his possessions”, the myth of a bygone ‘Golden Age’ is belied. Did it ever exist? Williams says, in answer to this question, “One answer of course, is Eden”! Williams thus exposes this recurring literary nostalgia as ‘a well-known habit of using the past, the good old days, as a stick to beat the present’, and to escape confronting it.

Constant contextualising enables Williams to identify the reasons for the existence of certain genres like the Pastoral. (Pastoral = a literary work idealizing rural life - especially the life of shepherds) He connects Sidney’s Arcadia, a neo-pastoral to the history of enclosures in England – the joining of small strips of land in order to bring a larger area under cultivation.

Enclosures had resulted in the aggravation of an already existent rural poverty. Arcadia, Williams points out, was written in a park which had been made by enclosing a whole village and evicting the tenants. This rural idyll is thus preserved by a ‘simple extraction of the existence of labourers’. The ‘Christ figure’ of the shepherd becomes a literary construct far removed from social realism. Also, the influence of patronage ensured that the poems were ‘not country life but social compliment; the familiar hyperboles of the aristocracy and its attendants’.

Depopulating the landscape of the proletariat, made ‘natural abundance’ a necessity. It was not “God will provide”, but “God provides” – the intermediary workers were elided and “The Pheasant, Partridge, and the Lark /Flew to my (the land lord’s) house, as to the Ark…/ And every beast did hither (to Saxham) bring / Himselfe to be an offering”. If what Thomas Carew claims in his To Saxham is indeed true, then we must assume that the butcher simply didn’t exist.

Literature, thus promulgated a certain way of seeing through convenient elision. Later, when George Eliot (no comment on her having to use a pseudonym from Williams) tried her hand at redressing the issue through inclusion, she could not but lapse into what Williams calls a “choral mode”, since for her, the working class was not a ‘knowable’, but an alien community, and the rural working class idiom hence escaped this educated narrator. Williams himself, by quoting the likes of Fred Kitchen and Grassie Gibbon succeeds where Eliot failed, and manages to give voice to the deviant that had been if not silenced, at least muffled by traditional cacophony.

Williams does not blame capitalism or the changing modes of production for rural poverty. He does not indulge in regressive nostalgia that resists change – he seeks no refuge in ‘a world of books and memories, in which the scholar can be professionally humane but in his own real world either insulated or indifferent’. Instead, he tackles ‘agrarian capitalism’, and points out that it is the minority ownership of the means of production that results in destitution. Williams, commenting on the conversion of rural land into a ‘landscape’, calls it the ‘high point of agrarian bourgeois art’. This ‘art’ empties a rural landscape of rural labour by banishing the facts of production, and legitimises the ‘exploitation of the agricultural and genuinely pastoral lands beyond the park boundaries’ by a select few.

In the chapter Town and Country, Williams declares that, ‘the greed and calculation, so easily isolated and condemned in the city, run back quite clearly, to the country houses’ as ‘what happens in the town is generated by the needs of the dominant rural class’. It is the dominant rural class that can afford to invest its surplus in new ventures. Thus, Williams, in showing us how the exploitation of man and of nature which takes place in the country is realised and concentrated in the city, rejects the diametric relationship between the country and the city. Both the country and the city are subjected to the same modes of production, and both exhibit minority ownership. So, if we find a poacher in the country, we are sure to find a Fagin in the city.

Williams while retaining a sympathetic outlook where the rural is concerned, manages to deal in a just manner with the city too. If literary tradition sees only the ‘darkness’, Williams sees the ‘light’. London, Thomas Hardy claims,

“appears not to see itself. Each individual is conscious of himself, but nobody conscious of themselves collectively, except perhaps some poor gaper who stares round with a half-idiotic aspect”.

S. T. Coleridge and R. Southey supported this analysis as they saw industrial revolution which was more conspicuous in the cities, as an agency of social atomism. People were seen as living in a monotonous world whose mechanical regularity resulted in apathy and alienation. People in the city were reduced to “crowds”, and a city (here London), to quote Hardy again, became “a monster whose body had four million heads and eight million eyes”. Literary textuality now took a statistical turn that was essentially pessimistic. Publications like Charles Booth’s Life and Labour of the People of London reduced the poor to objects of study and depersonalised them by classification and grading.

Victorian and Edwardian storytellers, Williams tells us, ignored the problems of a city consciousness and of explicit and controversial ideas by taking recourse to a (contrived) naturalism. This ‘naturalism’ supposedly excluded ‘self-conscious authorial commentary’ as exhibited in Hardy in whom the tension of being a ‘returned native’ like his Jude (Jude the Obscure) is palpably felt. Such ‘naturalism’ can be seen in the carefully rendered ‘Cockney’ dialect in Lizerunt (1893) and The Record of Badalia Herodsfoot (1890) written by Arthur Morrison and Rudyard Kipling respectively. Analysing Kipling’s literary ‘naturalism’ from a postcolonial perspective, we find it tends towards essentialising. It is significant then that Hardy had decided against such idiomatic differentiation because of its ‘falsely distancing effect’ and its ‘reduction of persons to types’.

Though Hardy seems to be justified here, Williams tells us that his traditional insistence on the absence of any ‘collective consciousness’ in a city like London isn’t entirely vindicated. Unlike Hardy, H. G. Wells, though appalled by the social condition in the cities did not fall for the country city dichotomy. As is evident in his fiction, he recognised the connection between the ruling power of the city and the ruling power of the country, and his social satires like Tono-Bungay that incorporate science fiction do not oppose the city by relying on an idealised version of ‘rural order’.

Literature often sees city life as an overwhelming experience. This experience, Williams says, could either turn into ‘an affirmation of common humanity, past the barriers of crowded strangeness; or into an emphasis of isolation, of mystery’. Nineteenth century literature has explored both these avenues, and terms like multitude and solitude, made equal and interchangeable by, what Baudelaire calls, “fertile poets”. In trying to accomplish this, the city acquires a symbolic (Eliot’s ‘unreal city’ - Wasteland) and mythical (Yeats’ Byzantium/ William Blake’s vision of London as the new Jerusalem) dimension.

Like the Pastoral, Williams sees Modernism (only certain aspects of Modernism – he praises James Joyce’s Ulysses for its incorporation of the concept of plural consciousness) as another genre that is somewhat escapist in the sense that it does not bother with social reality. As Williams observes,

‘In his later verse, Eliot related loss of meaning in the city to the loss of God. By implication, or direct statement, the human settlements of the past are given a different significance, and the rural settlements – isolated and remote, visited from the city – acquire, if only by default, a traditional significance. This regular association of rural living with the past and with tradition, and then by symbolic rather than historical association with religious faith, became commonplace. The city, it seemed, was what man had made without God’.

Convincing though Williams’ argument is, postmodernism with its emphasis on poststructuralist tenets can punch holes in his theory by questioning the concept of ‘reality’, social or otherwise. Nevertheless, as a Marxist, Williams’ rejection of symbolism and myth as a concept that legitimises the ‘loss of social recognition and consciousness’ while parading ‘as a condition of understanding and insight’ is understandable.

In The City and the Future, Williams through numerous examples (Wells’ Time Machine etc.) shows how science fiction consolidates the country city binary, but unlike the development of the pastoral where the country was alienated, these cities of the future are a dialogue with urban sociology and planning. They engage with studies of the government of the cities, with the physical environment of an industrial and metropolitan civilisation – to cut a long story short, with urban problems. Nevertheless, it still succeeds in obscuring the present as it sees the country as the past, and the city as the future.

Williams points out the incongruity of such a literary thesis as the city is also a place where new collectivities are formed. For example, ‘the growing organisation of the working class itself: the great civilising response to industrial tyranny and anarchy: the creation of the unions out of the network of urban friendly and benefit societies, and beyond this expression of a new and active neighbourliness, the vision of mutuality as a new kind of society: the cooperatives, (and) the socialism, ..of the ..cities’.

Williams also shows us how Imperialism results in the rebuilding of the country city dichotomy on an international scale, wherein ‘distant lands become the rural areas of industrial Britain, with heavy consequent effects on its own surviving rural areas’. This is reflected in novels like Things Fall Apart and A Grain of Wheat, written by Chinua Achibe and James Ngugi respectively. Closer to home, it is seen in Dadabhai Nowroji’s Economic Drain Theory.

Though a Marxist tract, Williams’ The Country and The City refutes Marx and Engels’ argument in the Communist Manifesto that the bourgeoisie had “rescued a considerable part of the population from the idiocy of rural life”. Giving examples of the Chinese and Cuban revolutions, and other anti-colonial uprisings, he shows us how it is these “rural idiots” and “semi-barbarians” who have been the main revolutionary force in the world.

The country and the city dichotomy even when acknowledged to be a permeable boundary is no longer tenable today without modification. Raymond Williams acknowledges this permeability, but his analytic paradigm would perpetuate and fossilise the dichotomy in today’s interdisciplinary and intertextual times. Social history such as the kind Williams maps now mandates knowledge of feminist movements, subaltern dissidences, postcolonial theory (etc.). Otherwise, it must risk appearing simplistic and ideologically gauche.

Nevertheless, Raymond Williams extraordinary assimilative literary criticism needs to be applauded for exposing The Shadow Lines that circumscribe literary conventions and criticism.

Paycheck

2006-01-15T21:04:00.000-08:00

The cell phone rocks to "Smoke on the Water". The LCD of my Nokia 6610 flashes "Prachi Khandeparkar".

"Yes Ma'am..."

"I want you to coach a third year student. Bhavya is bright but needs help as she was unable to attend lectures due to ill health."

"Oh, ok. I'd be more than happy to help."

"But this would be proper tutoring so you must charge her."

"Charge her? I've never charged to teach. I wouldn't know what to charge !! "

"4000 to 5000 per month . Coach her once a week for a couple of hours."

"Ok. Fine....."

...

***

Mrs. Neeta Ramakrishnan insists I coach her daughter twice a week, and that I come over to their Mahim flat to discuss the details.

Twice a week !!! No way !!! I don't have the time !!!

Let's ask for an absurd sum !! She's bound to refuse.

***

"I will charge Rs. 10,000 for coaching her twice a week for one and a half month. She must come over to my place. Is that ok?"

"That's alright. When will you begin?"

<< Is this woman insane? >>

"13th of January. Friday the 13th. And by the way, I will need a 50 % advance. Is that ok too? "

"Fine. Do you want cash, or will a cheque do?"

"Cheque is fine."

"Right, I'll give it to you just now."

"Oh no, no. 13th will be fine."

***

Flabbergasted. Boggled. Dumbfounded. Stupefied.

Paycheck !!!

As I Like It

2005-12-20T10:06:00.000-08:00

Opinion about William Shakespeare’s “As you Like It”, has often been polemic, what with some critics labeling it a ‘sentimental pastoral’, while others like G. B. Shaw contending that it is more ‘lucrative’ than ‘sentimental’. Shakespeare, Shaw tells us, ‘was forced to write popular plays to save his theatre from ruin’, and that ‘he did it (i.e. wrote these popular plays) mutinously, calling the plays “As You Like It”, and “Much Ado About Nothing”’.

William Empson’s critique is a departure from extreme polemics. He identifies as a pastoral any work that contrasts simple and complicated life, to the advantage of the former. In Empson’s view, this mode of life serves as an oblique way to criticise the class structure of society. Shakespeare’s “pastoral” adheres to this definition, though not in its entirety.

Shakespeare’s attitude to either the country or the city is not unproblematic. He cannot be accused of conventional “pastoral” oversimplification. His ambiguous outlook is presented through antagonistic juxtaposition of characters – Jaques Vs. Duke Senior, Jaques Vs. Touchstone, Audrey Vs. Phebe are but some examples of the same.

Classical poets have idealised pastoral life as possessing features of the mythical ‘Golden Age’, and ‘country life’ symbolizes an innocent alternative to ambition, disturbance and war. Here, the court, as Duke Sr. tells us, is nothing but “painted pomp” – it is “envious”, and full of sycophantic “flattery”. To cut a long story short, the country is the city’s antithesis.

If the court is corrupt, the Forest of Arden should have been Elysium. But as we step into the forest with Rosalind and Orlando, we are greeted with the negative – their precise tautology confirms Arden as a “desert place”. Also, the wind is cold, and the weather such that protection becomes preferable. If Andrew Marvell in his “The Garden” painted a picture of plenitude with lines like, “The Nectaren, and curious Peach / Into my hands themselves do reach”, Shakespeare shows us that labour is a sine qua non.

Unlike Ben Jonson, Shakespeare does not declare that “the painted partrich lyes in every field/ And, for thy messe, is willing to be kill’d”. Exploitation is acknowledged through Jaques accusing the Duke of being a greater usurper than the brother who has banished him. Humans are essentially “tyrants” and “usurpers” whether they live in the country or the city, seems to be the message that Jaques wants to convey.

Nevertheless, his moralizing is lopsided. He considers usury, exploitation and neglect of the “bankrupt” not just human, but also “natural”. The deer episode exemplifies this. In a way, he contradicts his own invective against the Duke by providing him a reason for usury – nature is no better than man, so why not exploit it? – capitalist exploitation is absolved. He considers the “careless herd” callous without realising that if they neglect the wounded deer, it is only because the herd cannot help him. Ironically though being a man, and hence being capable of aiding the deer, Jaques isn’t proactive. Pontifical verse is more than enough to quell the qualms of his conscience.

Deviating from the quintessentially romanticized picture of love and friendship that pastoral eclogues portray, “As You Like It”, does not provide a motive (it is either love/lust at first sight) for love. As one critic puts it, ‘Love is all romance and poetry in Orlando and Rosalind Love is pastoral convention carried to ridicule in Silvius and Phebe. Love is a parody in Touchstone and Audrey. Love is prose, matter-of-fact in Oliver and Celia. “As You Like It”, also questions the nature of “true love”. Rosalind and Touchstone are instrumental here.

Rosalind in her “hose and doublet” catechizes Orlando as regards love and informs him that though “men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love”. Touchstone parodies Orlando’s callow love-eclogues, and his love for Audrey is blatantly lecherous and debauched. To speak in capitalist terms, love comes across as a ‘mutual contract’ – an ‘investment’ with its own liabilities. Rosalind while educating Phebe crudely observes that “Sell when you can, you are not for all markets”.

What Helen Gardner calls the ‘Mozartian’ nature of the play also adds to their ideological refrain with its “Most friendship is feigning, most loving, mere folly”. This wonderfully witty play with its bold and outspoken heroine and core of optimism and romance pokes gentle fun at the game of love while praising its virtues and celebrating its triumphs.

In conjunction with love, we see Shakespeare ostensibly questioning what it means to be masculine or feminine. Orlando to Rosalind, to use a cliché, is like the candle held to the sun. Rosalind’s scintillating wit has endeared her to many feminists. Consequently, they have been able to excuse Shakespeare for his rather tawdry representations – namely, Phebe and Audrey – one a coquette, and the other a fatuous country lassie, who not unlike Mr. Morel in “Sons and Lovers”, can make no sense of Touchstone’s poetry and incisive wit. (Weird, isn’t it, that some feminists should find this double indictment of gender and class innocuous?)

Shaw locates the reason for Rosalind’s enduring popularity not in her feminine traits, but in her masculinity. He points particularly to her male attire during most of the play, and to the aggressive manner in which she makes love. Shaw calls her an “incomplete human being”, but contemporary critical verbiage would probably term her behaviour androgynous.

Shakespeare’s vocabulary throughout the play makes it quite clear that Rosalind’s comportment is unlike that of the “natural” Elizabethan female – she is masculine. And if she is successful as a character, it is masculinity that must be lauded. Shakespeare’s transvestite intellectual thus does nothing to blur the gender divide as proposed by a certain faction, but only compounds the binary with obscure misogyny. Once again, to borrow from commerce, femininity is ‘unprofitable’ !!(Nevertheless, one can excuse Shakespeare, because he was not free from discourse – patriarchal or otherwise).

Shakespeare subverts the tradition of the pastoral ‘moral eclogue’ through Corin and Touchstone. Corin’s bucolic pro-pastoral sermon that applauds the ‘dignity of labour’ is negated by Touchstone’s mercantile repartee – he points out that Corin earns his living through the “copulation of cattle”.

In the Touchstone-Corin eclogue, the tension between literal and figurative language is palpable. No wonder then that C. L. Barker feels “As You Like It” is a ‘language play’ – a play wherein there is an almost Metaphysical alliance seriousness and levity. Through adroit verbal callisthenics, Shakespeare exposes how ‘Ways of Seeing’ are negotiated by one’s perspective. Though one can’t agree completely with Touchstone, one sees that Corin is no religious figure – he is not the figure of Christ as the God Shepherd. Rather, Corin is a country capitalist.

Thus we see that Arden is no pastoral idyll. Economy is not elided - the fact that economy directs sociology is acknowledged. Nevertheless, Shakespeare does not produce a counter-pastoral. The Country-City binary is not dismantled. Though Shakespeare exposes pastoral exaggeration, he still maintains the binary. The country is not an Elysium, but nevertheless, it is ‘simple’.

All the original country characters are ‘simple’ people who delight in ‘simple’ things. Hegemony is seen at play when Corin calls himself “a true labourer” who earns what he eats. Even Adam, though city bred, is a ‘loyal’ proletarian. Orlando laments that there aren’t more like Adam in whom is seen the “constant service of the antique world”. Incongruously enough, the proletariat is never shown at its labours. So though, there is no ‘magical extraction’ of the curse of labour’ (Raymond Williams) by the simple process of the extraction of the existence of labourers, there is an elision – there are labourers, but there is no actual labour !!

Thus, we see that though Shakespeare does not fall prey to what Raymond Williams calls the myth of the conventional ‘Golden Age’, he successfully creates a new ‘Golden Age’ that is based on hierarchy. The Lord’s in his manor, and all’s well with the world !!

Mumbai Local

2005-12-19T19:07:00.000-08:00

The LCD told me that the next Churchgate Slow would make me wait for six tedious minutes. I grimaced.

Why hadn't I done my usual 20 metre sprint across the Santacruz bridge down to platform number 2 ? Why had I let the earlier local grate out without me?

HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME

Time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions.

On the platform the hoi polloi come and go,
Talking of Cutting Chai & not Michaelangelo.

HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME

Hallelujah. The train cometh.

Sleek. Very sleek. Futuristic.

This was my first encounter with the new coaches introduced by the Western Railway. All steel, its insides gleamed in the evening sun. The first class compartment had plush peach seats, more easily accessible handholds, and all the fans actually rotated.

Some juvenile graffiti decorated the walls, but it was welcome for a change. "Smita - a crudely drawn heart - Anil", made me feel a wee bit at home in these alien surroundings.

Plugging the ears with never severed electronic umbilical cords dangling from omnipresent FM Tuners/I Pods/ MP3 players/Cell phones. Reading. Applying make up. Brushing hair. Nose digging. Etcetera & etc.

To cut a long story short, all the normal "Mumbai Local" functions had ceased. We were actually looking around, and at each other.

I am told that the "Second Class" ladies generally share a great rapport, and over time form their own micro communities which discuss everything from nits to nervous disorders.

Being a part of the elite "First Class", I had barely exchanged a word with my co-passengers. 'Mind your own business' seemed to be the creed, and so I was in for a surprise. Sheepish, almost apologetic smiles were exchanged.

"This is my second time".

"This is my first".

"Cool na ?"...

...was interrupted with the unusually clear and surprisingly not nasal,

"Attention please. The next station is Khar Road. Agla station Khar Road hai. Dhanyavaad".

Deja vu! Deja vu!

The Kolkata Metro anyone? The only difference being that they didn't announce the exit direction. (By the by, why do they always have female announcers? I wouldn't mind a Bacchanesque baritone).

More smiles, and some gawking at the LCD which many (yours truly included) had not noticed initially ensued.

Smiles. Grins. Giggles. Chuckles. Chat.

Such a Long Journey ??

No. Non. Nein. Nahi.

Brown Skin, White Masks

2005-10-11T09:00:00.000-07:00

Fair & Handsome !! A fairness cream for men with a double peptide bond for "tough male skin" !! What tough skin?? Skin is skin, is skin, is skin, ain't it?

By the by, what happened to tall, dark & handsome ??

New Kid on the Block !!

2005-09-06T07:08:00.000-07:00

Yes, there's a new kid on the block. And no, I am not talking of Donnie, Jon, Joe, Danny or Jordan. He's all of five months, and he's my nephew !! With more nieces and nephews than I can count, I'm definitely headed for senescence. :P

Baby's Day In

2005-08-21T04:06:00.000-07:00

Click. Flash. Grin. Then back to crying or wailing or tugging your hair off. When a camera stares her in the face, my niece Ananya looks straight at the lens and gives you her best toothless all-gummy grin. A definite child prodigy !! Classical Conditioning anyone?

In Theory

2005-08-08T11:20:00.000-07:00

Another application of all the literary theories we canvass in class....

But before that, it is very
important that you'll take the following psychological test !!

No cheating. Pick your dessert, then look to see what
Psychiatrists think about you!
After taking this dessert personality test, copy,
paste and send this e-mail on to others, with your OWN application of
the various theories that you'll are aware of !!

If you were making a dessert and you had your choice
of those below (or some great bakery was baking the
dessert of your choice), which would you choose?

> *Angel food
> *Brownies
> *Lemon Meringue
> *Vanilla with Chocolate Icing
> *Strawberry Short Cake
> *Chocolate on Chocolate
> *Ice Cream
> *Carrot Cake
>
>
> NO ... You can't change your mind once you scroll
> down!
>
>
>
>
>
>
> So think carefully, what your choice will be!
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> OK - Now that you've made your choice, this is what
> research says about you!
>
> Angel food...
> Sweet, loving, cuddly. You love all warm and fuzzy
> items. A little nutty at times. Sometimes you need an
> ice cream cone at the end of the day. Others perceive
> you as being childlike and immature at times.
>
> Brownies...
> You are adventurous, love new ideas, are a champion of
> underdogs and a slayer of dragons. When tempers flare
> up, you whip out your saber. You are always the
> oddball with a unique sense of humour and direction.
> You tend to be very loyal.
>
> Lemon Meringue...
> Smooth, sexy, & articulate with your hands, you are an
> excellent after-dinner speaker and a good teacher. But
> don't try to walk and chew gum at the same time. A bit
> of a diva at times, but you have many friends.
>
> Vanilla with Chocolate Icing...
> Fun-loving, sassy, humorous. Not very grounded in
> life; very indecisive and lack motivation. Everyone
> enjoys being around you, but you are a practical
> joker. Others should be cautious in making you mad.
> However, you are a friend for life.
>
> Strawberry Short Cake...
> Romantic, warm, loving. You care about other people
> and can be counted on in a pinch. You tend to melt.
> You can be overly emotional and annoying at times.
>
> Chocolate on Chocolate...
> Sexy, always ready to give and receive. Very creative,
> adventurous, ambitious, and passionate. You have a
> cold exterior but are warm on the inside. Not afraid
> to take chances. Will not settle for anything average
> in life. Love to laugh.
>
> Ice Cream...
> You like sports, whether it be baseball, football,
> basketball, or soccer. If you could, you would like to
> participate, but you enjoy watching sports. You don't
> like to give up the remote control. You tend to be
> self-centered and high maintenance.
>
>
> Carrot Cake...
> You are a very fun loving person, who likes to laugh.
> You are fun to be with. People like to hang out with
> you. You are a very warm hearted person and a little
> quirky at times. You have many loyal friends

From: Pallavi Mogre
Date: Sun Nov 30, 2003 5:10 am
Subject: I chose Brownies, BUT according to POSTCOLONIAL tenets.....

...there's a big problem with this test !!! Edward Said would probably
call it "Eurocentric" !!

I may have heard of angel food, and lemon meringues, but I have no
idea as to how they taste etc. Plus, this test OTHERISES vegetarians,
and those whose sweet tooth never erupted !!

Maybe we should invent (or should I say CONSTRUCT, because I don't
particularly believe in these tests) a psychological test with stuff
like jalebis and rasgollas ... or would that be called NATIVISM ??

Also, I can't be sure that these rasgollas were originally Indian,
right? For all I know, they may have come to India from Timbuktu. So,
HOW NATIVE IS NATIVE?

And would I be justified in making these UNIVERSALIST ASSUMPTIONS?
Some people don't even get one square meal a day.

MARXISTS would declare war on these jalebis and rasgollas, and
FEMINISTS would probably brandish statistics telling me that though
chefs at 5 star hotels may be male, the scene at home hasn't changed
all that much, and that women are still frying the jalebis !!!

Oh well.......

..........let's just enjoy our dessert, eh? ;)

Snippets

2005-07-22T22:38:00.000-07:00

"Is that Bal Gangadhar Tilak?"

"No, it isn't. Tilak was hideous, and he most certainly isn't !"

The portrait hung in what used to be the drawing room of a palatial two storeyed colonial style bungalow. The red turban, grey moustache, and the regal customary shawl made it distinctive. What was peculiar about the portrait was that its eyes followed you regardless of which corner of the room you chose to occupy.

Bringing out the family tree, and directing my attention to its apex, my grandfather told me that this was the man who built the place I then called home. My friends told me it looked spooky by night. Maybe it did. But it was home...surrounded by gardens, a well and stables, it must have been magnificent two hundred years ago.

Gradually, the old place in the heart of Girgaum had been hedged in by towering concrete structures. A part of the garden was rented to box-makers; and the stables were converted into a dumping ground for kitchen waste, where a cat and her kittens found home every year.

***

"Don't worry beta ! Aap mujhe bas do sau rupaiye de do, aur main aap ko berth dila doonga. T. C. ko hum sambhaal lenge. Aap ghode bech ke sona."

Squirming inside the linen closet of the first class A.C. compartment of the Guwahati bound express, the strains of a soppy Hindi oldie kept reverberating through my mind. "Karvate badal te rahe aadhi raat hum" was my predicament, the only flipside being that roaches had replaced romance.

I kicked the air as yet another cockroach attempted to scale the Everest that was my shank. A small shower of sweat beads accompanied every bid to do away with affectionate insects. Streams of perspiration branched out into tributaries as they encountered epidermal cilia. Lying chained to my own luggage, the fatuous optimism with which I had boarded the train at Dadar oozed out of every pore in sauna like fashion.

Securing my suitcase to the adjacent basin pipe had proved unsuccessful. The bright red VIP Eleganza had been inadvertently splattered with frothy fluoridated sputum spewed by compulsive brush-before-going-to-bedders, some stray droplets making their way to my makeshift bunk.

The stomach churned bile. The aroma wafting from the loo added to the nausea.

***

She had more holes than a normal person does, and the reason was not genetic. She needed her nose rings, her eyebrow rings, her navel rings and of course her earrings to face the world.

Smart. Pretty. Intelligent. Arrogant. These were the epithets used when Nancy Misquita was mentioned. But she knew better. It was only in the bathroom of her plush Bandra flat that she shed her inhibitions as well as her clothes.

Devoid of props, she shuffled onto the weighing machine. The scale hand traced an almost acute arc and stood still. "Perfect", she murmurmed and then looked up to face her fogged reflection in the mirror. She didn't really need her kilograms to tell her that she was eyecandy. Catcalling roadside Romeos confirmed that almost every other day.

That was not to say that obese and ugly women were spared. But at least they called her "Sophia Lauren" and not "Moti Mausi". Where such riffraff came across Lauren she failed to fathom...

***

As the Virar fast lurched away from the Charni Road platform, a silent scream escaped Nancy. Wailing was futile. There was no one in the empty train compartment to hear her cries. No one except that cold-blooded thing, that glinted at her with unblinking eyes. And what was worse, it was advancing, and even her martial arts training could not keep it at bay.

She eyed the “In Case of Emergency Pull Chain” sign. Did she dare yank it? Wouldn’t it be awful to be stuck with this pintsized saurian between stations? And how could she face the Railway Police in case it escaped? She couldn’t jump off after pulling the chain, could she? What if a train was chugging along the adjacent track? What if…what if…

Her close encounter with it when she was all of ten years had left her traumatized. As dusk approached, she would go around shutting all windows and pulling the curtains across. For fifteen years she had followed this ritual daily. Not a chink of light could escape. It was a complete blackout…more complete than the prescribed blackouts during the Indo-China war. And after all her precautions, she was stuck in a train compartment with it !!

The train slowed down. “Mumbai Central” blurred past her watering eyes. The train stopped. How? Why? What? rushed through her frantic mind even as she alighted.

“Platform No. Do pe aaiye hui train yard jayegi. Yatriyon se vinanti hai ke we is train ko khali kare. Yatriyon ki asuvidha ke liye khed hai. The train halting at Platform No. 2 is going to the yard. Passengers are requested to please vacate the train. The inconvenience caused is deeply regretted”, blared the usually unwelcome nasal voice of the railway announcer as Nancy ascended the bridge en route to the taxi stand. No more local trains…ever !!

Nancy was convinced that she would die of a heart attack if she had to share a train compartment with a wall gecko again !!

***

The Famished Five

2005-05-11T09:30:00.000-07:00

Apart from applesauce, there's plenty to be had. Where's the menus you ask.

Well, here goes: jugs of creamy farm fresh milk, homemade orangeade and lemonade, cold ginger beer, warm squishy loaves of home baked bread, jammy buns, butter, hard boiled eggs, fried eggs, omelettes, bacon, ham, tongue, pork pies, apple pies, mince pies, buttered crumpets, gooey macaroons, smashing salads, a variety of sandwiches, chocolate cakes, cherry cakes, fruit cakes, tureens of peas and potatoes, mouthwatering stews, plum pudding, date pudding, tinned pineapple, tinned peaches, tinned sardines, potted meat, potted shrimp, bars of chocolate, toffee, boiled sweets, tomatoes, potatoes, lettuce, strawberries, apples, peaches, licky ice-creams, meaty bones, dog biscuits...

...the list is sempiternal and in most cases, the eatables are alien. It is evident that Enid Blyton's gustatory modality is rather acute. Nevertheless, it would be much better if she spared us the details. Read. Chomp chomp. Chew. Crunch. Munch. Read. Munch. Munch and munch !!! It's true. I've never been able to read "The Famous Five" (or for that matter, any other Blyton book) without having something at hand to feast on.

The Five eat between their adventures. I eat between meals. They no doubt burn all the calories they consume while they climb hills, row to Kirrin Island, go fishing, cycling, hiking, skiing, camping, and of course, adventuring. I, lazing on the sofa, merely add another unwanted kilo to my weight !

Avoirdupois anyone? And no, that's not pabulum !!

Folderol

2004-12-05T09:27:00.000-08:00

Does that sound like medicine? Well, it is too. The best you can get. Not that I intend to post it. I only know the recipe for applesauce !!!