Heres a collection of essays in no particular order. Constructive comments are welcome.
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THE LAST BLUE NIGHT
A sultry night breeze caresses my face as I gaze across the deserted stretch of beach and out into the vast emptiness of the ocean. Dimmed to my senses, bereft of life, it seems ominous, a dark, black tyranny under the midnight sky. Punctual waves crash through this façade, roaring in with ever increasing consistency. I feel the grit of moments, the grains of time underneath me offering solidity at the price of that vista of glittering immortality. The buzz of a semi drunk fly is tuned out, a distant dog barks poetry in a distant dream but it’s easily ignored for these jewels are what captivates me, their all knowing smile and the cold warmth of their gaze. I sigh in satisfaction and float in the murky pools of my existence, barely a ripple breaching the surface.
Suddenly I am awakened, the sea is upon me and a wave pounces on my defenceless pants. My nirvana is disrupted and shown for what it truly was, a passing breeze. The sands have shifted beneath me and clouds have appeared. I stumble back trying to find purchase in the now muddy sand, trying to flee before I’m ensnared in the manacles of a lobster, ugh how scary that passing thought was. I run haphazardly towards dancing lights and boisterous screams, a dog sprouts four legs and comes racing at me. Dodging sideways, I bump into something, apologize and finally make it through this large window and find myself looking at an amazing scene.
Pious drinkers and frequent smokers are enthralled in worship, glittering lights everywhere-red, blue and pineapple green shining through murky rings of smoke, recurring lines of speech and obvious metaphors of reality. As charity seems to descend upon me I decide to take part in this joyous ceremony. Hookah is ordered, smoke sprouts from my lips but alas conversation resists. An essential ingredient I find out as fewer of those partaking in this banquet seem inclined to acknowledge me. I shift uncomfortably. The bench is too hard, yet not very solid; these lights seem to hurt my eyes and make my formidably dim mind further recessive. Faces which once seemed joyous now seem empty and as perilous as the distant sea. They are all around me, a cacophony of combined noise crashing upon my ears in a steady rhythm. A waiter dressed all in crimson comes to partake of the formalities, handing me a crisp white note with large bold letters. Addressing the patron it spells outs what is owed and calmly adds a short message of thanks. As clarity finally descends on me I realise to my horror that I’m in a damn expensive coffee house by the beach.
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Excerpt from the “prisoner in the corner of my mind”
He watched as the tiny white spokes of snow got caught in the wind and swirled around him blowing through his long black hair. He tasted the bitterly cold winds as it carresed his face allowing himself to feel the pain for a while. He was on a jutting outcrop overlooking the land which stretched for miles below him, although now it was partly hidden by the storm coming in. Taking one last look he turned and made his way down the slope, he still had a long way to go. The storm began to get worse.
The snow was not too deep but the storm was adding to the drift and making it harder to walk through it. As he walked memories started to slowly filter through, white walls like snow and a small round doorway. The water, no rain falling from a roof, a woman who offered him something. They were like a slowly fading dream after a man wakes up, even now he could not tell from they had come into his mind. He was not even sure where he was going .Memories fading..
He suddenly realized that he had let himself get too deep into his thoughts, now he was not sure where he was anymore, not that it mattered as he only had a vague feeling of where he was supposed to go, but the storm had got worse and he had to find shelter.
The world had turned all awhite and the wind a screaming banshee, pushing against him tearing at his clothes and trying as if to blow away his soul. He suddenly realised he could no longer feel his hands. The snow seemed to have piled up. Driving him ever deeper into it forcing him to find its depths, like an unsatisfied whore. He was stumbling forward now just to keep moving to keep his body moving and his brain working. The cold was almost complete. The wind and ice had plastered and frozen his hair into long angelic wisps and he could no longer feel any part of his body. The horizon could not be seen and he could not distinguish between the sky and earth all was bathed in the blinding white. He knew he had to keep his mind working and his body moving or he would have no chance of survival but thoughts were now coming through as if squeezed from a thin necked bottle, still he tried to drink them all in forcing himself to remember the few spare memories, forcing himself to remember all the pain, turning his hatred into rage as he feuled his struggle onward.
The storm seemed to have laid a conspiracy and the wind whispered it behind his back. The snow danced in front of his eyes and all around him they were laughing and laughing.. “Aaaaah”,he screamed and hit out at them but he only caught air which made them laugh all the more louder. He wildly swung his arms trying to stop it, stop the laughter, stop them all. He was on the ground and could not tell if he was sobbing or laughing.
He lay there for a while listening to the silence and his own breath, then slowly using his long forgotten limbs he started crawling forward. The end had to be near.
The blinding white ahead of him offered no refuge and only his heart had that cruel promise of an end called life. The struggle was almost over. Like a man in the last throes of passion he groaned and shook trying to extend a numb frozen hand to claw forward another inch. The daggers of ice joyfully whistled as it blew into his eyes stinging the parts still capable of feeling pain. The tiny slits allowed by frozen eyelids offered him a painful price for the view of the bleak desert in front of him. Nothing could offer him even the tiniest morsel of hope to go on and his own reserves were now almost over. His mind started roaming wildly as he dreamed of forgotten lands and the beautiful blue sky.
“Trrrk”, the noise always awoke him. It was always accompanied by white coated men who did things to him.
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India Today Vs Outlook
[Topic:Nuclear Deal]
India Today came out with its August 27th issue with the cover story and article by the same name, “Manmohan Singh, talking tough”. The article was followed up by a detailed report on ‘how the deal was clinched’ followed by opinions by guest columnists Yashwant Sinha and Brahma Chellany. The opening article has solid political understanding of the issue and an uncharacteristically humorous approach to the issue making it an easy and enjoyable read. The writers Priya Sahgal and Satarupa Bhattacharjya start off with a blow by blow account of what took place after the 123 agreement was passed by the U.S Senate. The writing style is classy and riveting, Prakash Karat is portrayed as being Manmohan’s tormentor and maybe even of democracy, the entire Left is markedly portrayed as anti-American rather than anti-deal. The strangle hold by the left on the Congress’ reforms agenda is much talked about and so is the question on the writers’ minds, will this gambit by Manmohan pay off? Will the reforms agenda once more flow through along with the nuclear agreement? Will Manmohan refuse to be a Marxist poodle on a leash? The Marxist position is thoroughly articulated from a political viewpoint, the Left could choose to at this point revive Muslim anti-American sentiment or choose to go anti-BJP, thus revising the popular perception of its secular credentials. The deal is also looked at at politically from Manmohan Singh’s viewpoint. The article goes on to say that he is getting clever at politics and not as naïve as the populace perceive him to be, engaging Left leaders like Buddhadeb Bhattacharya who is not as anti-American as others in his party. Also the article spells out the political repercussions for the Congress, the internal party perception of the deal and the methods left open to them for dialogue with the left. The article ends on a humorous note about seeing the politician in Manmohan in the months to come. Overall this article gives a thorough picture of the deal from a politically neutral viewpoint while the next article glosses over the finer details of the deal and its conception. The writer Raj Chengappa gives us an inside look at how the deal was first conceptualized and then dialogue initiated between the U.S and India. It goes on to give a detailed account of the personal political capital invested by Mr. Bush and Mr. Manmohan Singh, the hectic negotiations between diplomats, inside stories of the talks and the glitches witch had to be ironed out. The story has the feel of a thriller and the reader is kept through the suspense and then led through the buildup of tension and emotion with finally a happy ending. However, attention to detail is kept throughout the article with informative boxes listing the salient points of the deal, or the benefits to India or the exact clauses which were problematic and had to be worked out. The entire article can be considered Congress leaning since the deal is shown as a major triumph of Indian Foreign Policy, however the following two articles counterweight this one thus keeping a balance of sorts. The opinion by Mr. Yashwant Sinha is of course anti-deal, him being the vice president of the BJP and a former external affairs minister. The opinion by Mr. Brahma Chellaney is also anti-deal and he raises valid concerns about the deal, for eg the newly refurbished Cirus reactor having to shut down by 2010, which produces a third of our weapons grade plutonium.
