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Thursday, March 26, 2009

My take on Marquez


A story...... can say a sequel to what I read once long time back... (The Chronicle Of A Death Foretold by Gabriel Garcia Marquez) I don’t know what other may think of this piece but this is how I wanted it to be. I didn't know earlier that I can imagine things in such a livid sense...

There was a girl who was betrothed to a handsome man of the whole town and above all this man was worldly wise, intelligent, sailed whole sea, and came back to settle down. He was known for his riches and intellect. He came to this poor village and fall for a young girl who was rarely seen out of her house except on Sundays for mass. She was beautiful like a pearl her smiles were like that of a baby sleeping contented in mama's arms; her deep dreamy black eyes had fairy dreams. He became her suitor and parents agreed both sides and wedding was celebrated with boom. At night when she was waiting for him in the anticipation of what’s going to happen. Trying to imagine how he will touch her and what he will say after looking her veiled face and countenance full of blush. He came with flowers in his hand and smiling bright. He sat beside her on bed and touched her hand lying on bed. He bent her a little and kissed her neck deep with one hand stroking her hairs. He laid her down and kissed her full on lips from over the net of her veil. He flung the veil across the room and slid his hand underneath her dress. He discovered the warmth of woman and slid his trousers down and then the disaster struck over the life of newly wed couple. On finding her slit too easy to penetrate, he springs back on his toes and screams aloud calling her whore. A Whore! A Whore? In frenzy, he tore down her dress into shreds and wraps a towel around her lower body. Pulling her by hands, dragging her all the way down to her parent’s house, he flung her on the floor in front of bewildered mother and sister.
He brandished her as whore and believed her to be non-virgin. He discards him saying that she is not virgin and not pure to be taken by him. Shocked family beat every nerve in her; kill her spirit with blames and abuses. She remains as mute as a stone on the streets being hit by wayfarers. Suspicion grows on a popular man of the society and he was killed and her loss of virginity was avenged by her brothers. They went in jail and dies there off.
Life gets back on track for everyone but for her life of a long wait begins thereafter. As repudiated by her husband, she retires to a small cottage on the outskirts of the village and sits by the window sewing and knitting for villagers. This is how he eked her living and lived a life of forsaken bride. Her daily chores included a letter to her husband who had long forsaken her and forgotten (?) too. Letters contents used to be sometimes passionate, full of grievances, narrating daily chores, talking light, loving, missing notes, and tortuous and in the end carried a note saying she is still waiting for him to come and take her. She had faith that strong belief that one day he will come and be her man forever. Thus, she spent lonely nights tossing in bed feeling his arms around her and wetting the pillow underneath.
Never she left the cottage and grew old on her sewing machine, knitting and sewing still. And, one thing she never stopped, i.e. writing letters to her husband. There was no one to make her feel loved, infuse life into her dead and inert world, and acknowledge her existence. Never the cottage door got opened, shut with no latch as it was from the very first day. He came forward and lifted her off the stool she was sitting on. She was in her shredded wedding gown and took her to bed. He laid her down and she looked t him for the first time unblinkingly. He came closer and said this is what you wanted- “me to come to you, lo! I’m here.” And, while speaking thus he broke into tears and hid his face in her neck shrouded with her long hair. She placed her hands on his head and buried his face in her bosom feeling the wetness o his weeping soul deep within herself, quenching her thirst, her love for him. They went into a deep sleep then for long time as if had spent ages wide awake.

One day, one day the door was ajarred with force and a man old, in tattered wedding suit, with bald patch on his head, and carrying a heavy suitcase stepped in. She knew it was him even when she didn’t look up to see who flung the door open. He thumped the suitcase in his hand on the table in front and it burst open spilling hundreds of letters with her name written on them. Yet she kept on doing her work and never gave him a look.

What I wrote above is different from the way Marquez’s ending. Marquez has given a brilliant ending to the novella showing the triumph of love and devotion. Marquez had shown Bayardo coming back to Angela after long hiatus of seventeen years with two suitcases in either hand. One suitcase had his clothing and the other had letters from Angela tied in a color ribbon, unopened, and arranged date wise. Can there be another end for this story?

Those were the times when, if hymn is loose that means girl is not virgin and she has indulged into sexual liaisons. The girl (Angela Vicario) gave a name of some man (Santiago Nasar) in the village thinking that as he was so popular no one would dare lay hand on him. But, to her ill fate her brothers (Pablo& Pedro Vicario) killed him despite the fact that the suspect was their close friend. She was in shock of being repudiated, dragged, humiliated, and beaten on her wedding night by her husband (Bayardo San Roman). To avert further beating she used the name of poor man who was being murdered. She destined his death. Marquez left the question unanswered in the novella, for instance, who, actually took Angela’s virginity? Was he Santiago Nasar who deflowered her? Did she tell truth? Was she really not a virging before her marriage? Why she never spoke truth even when Santiago was about to be murdered?Why she remained mute throughout the novella? Why, nobody in the whole town stopped Vicario brothers from the brutal killing? Did honor of Angela was restored with Santiago's killing? The question of honor, isn't a facade of society? Like these several more questions remained unanswered. Marquez played his role of a chronicler and presented the incident that had happened sometime in past with some fictional elements incorporated in it. Angela never defended herself too and never uttered anything until she was tired of being beaten up and spoke Santiago’s name because no other name came in her mind.
It might be a case that Angela was too shocked and definitely a woman will be in such a terrible state, when , on the very night of her wedding she will be dragged on the streets, draped in towel, partially nude and be thrown at her parent’s home. The broken hymn might be the cause of some accident or physical activity in her daily chores and not sexual intercourse. But, who gave a darn to it?

Marquez is one of the brilliant writers in the history of literary cannons. His writing style is too different from all the literary ages. Magical Realism! He talks of supernatural in such a natural manner that it seems as if it’s a common man standing besides you narrating a story full of ordinary human experiences. Be it the ‘Love In The Time Of Cholera’ or ‘One Hundred Years Of Solitude,’ Marquez etched out every story in a world which is too ordinary and yet have an aura of something beyond human knowledge. Everything in the world of Marquez’s writing is imbued with age old myths, superstitions, magical moments, occult instances and yet they are way too human. He is a magician who weaves a world of magical instances and myriad mythical hues around you and let you delve into the world of mysticism. Clairvoyance, honor, magic, history, mythical realms, super natural elements rules the world of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s writings.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Baawra Mann

Hazaron Khwahishen Aisi…Thousand Desires Such As These

Bawraa mann dekhne chala ek sapana.
Bawraa mann dekhne chala ek sapana.

Bawraa se mann ki dekho bawari hai batein.
Bawraa se mann ki dekho bawari hai batein.
Bawari se dhadakane hai bawari hai sansein.
Bawari se karvato sea nendea duur bhage.
Bawre se nain chahe, bawre jharokhon se,
Baware nazaro ko takna...
Bawraa mann dekhne chala ek sapana.

Bawraa se is jaha mein, bawraa ek saath ho.
Is sayani bhid mein bas hanthon me tera hanth ho.
Bawri se dun ho koi bawra ek raag ho.
Bawri se dun ho koi bawra ek raag ho.
Baware se pair chahe,bawre tarano pe,
Bawre se bol pe thirakna
Bawraa mann dekhne chala ek sapana.

Bawraa sa ho andhera, bawri khamoshia.
Bawraa sa ho andhera, bawri khamoshia.
Thar tharati loh madham, bawri madhoshian.
Bawra ek ghunghta chahe, hole hole bin bataye,
Bawra ek ghunghta chahe, hole hole bin bataye,
Bawre se mukhade se sarakna.
Bawraa mann dekhne chala ek sapana.

Bawraa mann dekhne chala ek sapana.
Bawraa mann dekhne chala ek sapana.
Bawraa mann dekhne chala ek sapana.
Bawraa mann dekhne chala ek sapana.
This is one of the most beautiful song of 'Hazaron Khwahishen Aisi' directed by Sudhir Mishra in 2003

I Missed You Nanny


I am blessed with beautiful people in my life and one amongst those rare beauties is Rakhi (My Nanny). Why I call her Nanny because she used to organize my bag when we were in PR classes in 2005. She used to arrange my wardrobe and books too when staying at my place. She is a coffee freak and CCD maniac who aspires to bring renaissance but is smoldering herself in the coals of extinguished fire. We had spent amazing time of our life CCD lounge at Janpath Lane. Chocolate fantasy and cappuccino ahha!  If there is bliss on this earth then there it used to be when we used to talk, read, and plan our evening classes in CCD Lounge (of course not for attending them but to bunk them). We have strolled down Janpath Lanes many a times and went back home literally penniless somehow managing to commute via Metro passes. We had enjoyed roadside savories and snacks the way a hunger stricken mongrel does. I tried my first fag with her and mistakenly inhaled smoke which brought on a bout of coughs and reddened my face. After this she didn’t allow me to have another. Poor me!  

She gave me a gift which she brought for me from calinpong (is spell correct?)- a double zipper bag. It has a story of its own. She used to carry a white Levis bag(?) and it used to get soiled easily so she used to be a little more conscious while keeping it somewhere so mostly in her lap. And, the bag she brought for me was too, white in color :o.

Nanny was not there with me on my engagement and I missed her terribly as it was an important day of my life and she is the important part of my life. We celebrated her B’day together and let me tell you that too in an ultimate fashion and she was not here with me on my B’day. I miss her so much so that at times I feel a kind of void creeping in me. She used to stay at Green Park which is of course too far from my place, yet whenever I used to feel dejected and depressed I could have reached her which is not possible now. There was a kind of satisfaction somewhere in my heart that if life is not easy at home then  Nanny is there- I can leave home anytime and stay with her as long as I want to. This respite is lost now. She is, back home in Siliguri. But, this doesn’t mean that we have grown apart rather we have came closer in terms of communication which was some what less when she was in Delhi owing to her job :).

I know what kind of constraints comes in when you want to give words to your feelings, and not thoughts, about someone too close to you. And it’s a wonderful Testimonial she gave me on my B’day.

Love You Nanny

 

                                                                                                        

                                                                  

 

Dear Beautifully Chaotic


I wanted to write a letter but thought this blog is my daily journal so what better place can I ever find to scribble my thoughts in. It's for you Beautifully Chaotic aka Hoplesly_wild aka Prianca! :) 

Human life is full of complexities and vicissitudes of what nots kinds and yet we live it with such a pomp which at times people in other worlds envy to a greater extent.

We are social animals so have to live as one with the world around us. Lots of people come in our life, of which some become friends, other develop family relations, and some just remain mere acquaintances. I don’t know to which category I shall place you. You must be 3-4 years younger to me and yet I have developed such an affinity towards you for which I just have no words to surmise efficiently and effectively.  I met you by chance. Call it as an ordained meeting! Though you were related to one amongst my acquaintances yet I reached you directly as if something led me towards your profile when I saw your blog link on Deepika’s profile. I never say I liked or I disliked. I just say I loved or I say nothing. And, the fact is that I Loved something in you which I sensed from your blog. At times you come face to face with something which had been lurking beneath your own real self. I saw a wild streak in you which throb within me. I just had an inkling that you have broken up with your group but knew not why. I acquired foolish and insensible overviews about you to which I hardly gave my ears. I have loved you since the day I have met you and I love you just like someone who is too close to my heart. You are someone who has become an integral part of my world which I weave around me to be happy all the time. I love few people because with very few people only my wavelength gets synchronized. And, you are one of those very few people whom I love.

I asked you to write a testimonial for myself as I wanted to see how I will be portrayed in your words. Thanks a ton for that little girl!

Wherever I be in this world juts keep one thing in my mind give me a call even if it is an odd hour I’ll answer you. Do not ever give a second thought and just dial the number or scrap me or mail me, I’ll be there! Even if you want to weep and let yourself loose give me a call I’ll let you do that and be a silent listener to all your grievances towards crude world around. I’m telling you what I can do so never flinch back. Just let me know when you need a hand to hold on to and shoulder to lean on to. In happy days I’ll just sit remote and smile at all your good times.

I just pray to God that He puts some more sense in Sam so that he realizes what a gem he has gotten hold of. May you love gets its consummation into a beautiful lifelong relationship.

I may not be a person of high intellect, high stature, exquisite beauty, or wonderful heart. I am just an ordinary girl who loves you because you are what you are and not what world asks you to be. Remembrance is something which is long lasting not the human body. I have lived one more life in you, in moments spent with you. I will still live when I’ll be no more on this earth in some nooks of your heart as a long forgotten but a memory worth looking back at.

God Bless You & Sam

Love

Prachi

 

Kindergarten Project



Sometimes I think I have an unquenchable thirst. Thirst for something beyond an ordinary human experience. I’m an unsatisfied soul with lots of dreams and desires. I’m definitely, not a materialistic being with high career ambitions and to be known in public. I have simple dream of a simple life far from city and its inhabitants. I think this ‘simple life’ will remain an unattainable dream throughout my life. I don’t want to leave a monotonous looking and an unworthy legacy for my progeny. I want them to remember me and revel in the memories of moments spent with me. I won’t even mind a life of a spinster if I have little children flocking by my side and coercing me to tell them a fairy tale. I’ll open a kindergarten with a beautiful and colorful interior and exterior. It will be kind of small valleys of little blossoms where they can feel the joys of childhood and innocence. With characters from Panchatantra, Aesop’s Fables, Alice In The Wonderland, Fairy Tales, installed at various places and painted on walls. I will arrange a room with a two tailors and designers seated on their sewing machines. There will be a color chart so that kids can select the dress color of their choice. Tailor & designer would be dressed up in pink with an inch tape around their neck and scissor in the pocket of their coat. Tailor will make little kids stand on a cushioned stool and take the measurement and kids can take a candy or a gift of their choice from the box upholstered near the dress designing room. Walls will be painted with dress designs, inch tape, scissor, sewing machine, and caricatures of little kids, tailor and designer, in brilliant hues.
Class rooms will have different characters of Disney land and fairy world imprinted on the walls and ceilings will have spray painting work in different colors. Sitting arrangement will be of desks and chairs in primary colors. There will be a cupboard right at the back side of class in the very centre so that students can keep their lunch boxes and water bottles.
There will be a playground with swings and little pond with ducks at the centre of it. I’ll ask gardener to plant daffodils, morning glory, blue carnations, roses of various colors, sunflowers, tiger lily, marigold, dahlia, and , jasmine. Sunflower should be planted on the boundaries covering whole of the garden.
Kids’ library should have little gadgets, fairy tales books, color books, cursive writing, comics, and folk tales.
Every year students will be promoted to next level of class by giving an oral test and giving a presentation of what they learned in previous class either in the form of picture or words. No exams will be hosted for torturing little souls and create complexes of any kind in them.
There will be a small shop for kids where they can buy the necessary stuffs like books, crayons, water colors, brushes, pencils, and other stationeries.
It's just a dream that I want to accomplish some day in  my life. I haven't yet worked on the exact interior and exterior of the kindergarten. May be it's a kind of illusionary place which will never come to exist in reality but I like to create such fancy places and live in a phantasmagoria....

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

My thoughts_2

"Life is such that it makes you love what is unattainable. We always hanker after something that is either being dispossessed or have never been acquired."

-Nicky

Friday, March 13, 2009

New Blog Template

 

Once again, I have changed template of my blog. There are two reasons behind it

  1. I was fed up of it and I felt as if its look makes me sulk. I live words, words I speak or write. And, when the portal or notebook on which I spill my words in the form of broken trails of thoughts makes me feel sullen then how can I breathe fresh?
  2. My Friend, Rakhi was not able to access my blog from her place and how could I stand this.

So, I changed the template.

It takes lots of mind boggling and brain wrecking search on Internet to get a good but free blog template. I'm working hard these days so that i can save some for getting a personal blog template designed. Long way to go! 

How do you find this template? Does it suit my blog? Let me know!