An unfinished thought

That longish silence hovers
Do you feel it?
Scribbling on your skin,
Making you itch with uneasiness

That queasy undigested thought,
Gives you an upset mindset
That unfinished idea, munches on
Awake or asleep, it refuses to let go

Burp all you want,
Paint your vomit on that paper,
It is a never-ending process,
The chewing, burping and vomiting.

Finish me, cut me out, kill me, it thunders
And all you do is follow orders,
Inside your head and outside,
Like a satiated child it falls asleep.

Only to be followed by another

Last Moments


Loads of things have happened....but one of the first thibngs i remind myself is that I need to be more consistent with blogging. So now coming back, so many things have happened in the last couple of months. There was my work at FPJ (Free Press Journal) then Visions... It was my last festival. As much I thought i won't miss SIES, I realize today that I will. I am quite near graduating from college. It's a scary thought. It's more like I was enjoying a roller coaster ride for three years and now suddenly the guy who manages the ride is asking me to get off and pay for it...(strange, coz i thought I had already paid up Advance) I got a new job (with higher pay). Its nice place to work at. The editorial is mostly filled with girls, so as my friends said there is obviously going to be loads of bitching. But apart from that, I get to write. Now that's more important, considering that I haven't written enough to polish those skills. There are however this group of 3 girls who interest me a lot. They remind me of my college gang. The same attitude, it helps me forget that I am missing out on the last days of college. Sigh i really am missing out on the last days.


While there are people who are hanging out and having loads of fun, I have to go somewhere else. You know I have been in a dilemma ever since I started my work. Its just that, I am missing all of it. I am missing out on the last days of my freedom, to be with people I may never see or speak to again. Or even if I do speak, it won't be the same free-speech....But I can't leave my job right now either. You see in times of recession I finally have a job. A job which allows me to travel and if I push myself in the right direction, a job which I can enjoy. No, I didn't get into this field to do this, but yes it is a very different experience. I just hope I don't get bored and chuck it away.

A Tale

We script a tale
Oh! so beautiful a tale
With roses and orchids
velvet,satin and silk spreads
We script a tale

We sing a song
Oh! so lovely a tune
It makes the heart smile
Renders the soul speechless
We sing a song

We write a book
Oh! how eloquent it sounds
Enthralls the world
held by hook, refuses to let go
We write a book

We commit robbery
Ah! the clever strategy
It almost brings a tear to the eye
leaving behind misery and gossip
we commit a robbery

We execute a murder
Ah! look at the symmetry
the blood flow,akin to lust
for a gnaw on a rotten paralytic stump
We execute a murder

We script a tale
We sing a song
We write a book
We commit robbery
We execute a murder

Oh! dear, didn't we
introduce ourselves?

Fear not, you are the next.....

Ouch
Sigh
Stop
Take a deep breath
its just another day

Wait
Stop
Look
You are late again
its just another day

Hear
See
feel
Is it noon already?
its just another day

dont talk
dont look
dont act
Its her again
and you are invisible

sigh
Its just another day

pack up
leave
forget
today never happened
its just another day

Ouch
Sigh
Stop
Take a deep breath
its just another night...

Mine.

i sit reading blogs and notes,
gasping and lynching with admiration
all the time wondering
what happened to me?

They tell me my page is redundant
my creativity is limited
I turn to answer them and meet nobody
what happened to me?

Lost in a crowd i try to pen a few lines
hopeless thoughts rushing around in mindless swirl
no one is looking, i steal ideas, i am creative
what happened to me?

I am creative, i do not write much,
i think, smug in this thought i move
till i see a kid with books penning some verse\
i wait and watch, i see something i like, i forge myself
I am creative

I turn on the computer, switch on music
wait, where is my music?
he heard this, i heard this on her phone, I might have heard this on VH1
i heard and i answered my duty, i was loyal
i flicked it, i am creative

I see a movie, a run of the mill to me it seems,
after all whats the difference between a godard, tarkovsky or kubeck
they all made great movies, all i need is to is voice my first thought
then they will know that i am an original,
I am creative

I sit back read this poem with flourish
i have written it, the words are mine,
the context is mine,
the thought is......
(i check behind me)
Mine.....

We all live in turbulent times. Terrorism lends a constant specter on our lives. This wasn’t really the thought in my head as I ran to catch my local fast to reach office on time. But even before i could comfort myself on the thought that I made it to the train, something else caught my attention. This lady in a purple Gujarati sari at the door telling the train driver something or at least trying to get his attention to something. Now of course no one was bothered, so I decided to ask her what was troubling her. She turned to look at me actually surprised that someone was asking her or rather taking an interest. ‘ upper khali bag pada hai jo kiska nahi hai’ she says. And immediately my journalistic instincts come to the fore and I and I start actually searching for the bag. Seeing me actually hunt some other less interested passengers also take the effort to find out what happened. I finally find the bag in the other half of the compartment and actually wonder that this lady who found it there actually took the ads asking us to be serious and look out for empty bags seriously. Any way I ask the compartment if the bag is anybody’s property. And then starts the confusion. The same ladies who did not bother to think about the bag panic and start a commotion.

Meanwhile the overtly conscientious had managed to get the attention of the train driver who was quite wondering if this whole thing was a joke. A brown color khaki dressed worker who had seen this whole commotion was quite some time finally decided to get done with and walked into the compartment and lifted the bag. And then I realized something really important, the so-called brave mumbaiker who actually saves people’s lives was just like this man who was risking his life and who wanted to that done with. Most of the hundreds who had saved countless lives had done it just like him, without a thought of what will happen in the next moment, or if he will live to see it. In this situation this guy probably knew the fact that it was probably a hoax but when one uses him as a microcosm in the whole picture we get to see the actual face of the tired hapless mumbaiker who actually saves people in times of disaster.

Anyways coming back to my story, the bag actually turned out to be a broken one abandoned by some one who didn’t think that it would cause so much of a mystery or be a doppelganger for a bomb. All’s well the train started and the conscientious lady went back to her knitting while the rest of the ‘scared’ passengers went back to relating the experience to their loved ones on the phone. In the midst of all this I realized that there were quite a number of students in the train who silently went on solving their maths problems and just spared an amused glance towards this lady who raised the commotion. And in their amusement I saw something more clearly than anything. I kind of saw the cause and the reason for the terrorists actually achieving success in their bomb blasts. I saw apathy, which was a lot more chilling than the fact that I had just been saved by a mere ‘uneducated’ lady.

kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill
ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore
be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed
ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore
wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch
ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore
work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work
feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign
improve improve improve improve improve improve improve improve improve improve improve
crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap
crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib
cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry
ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore
anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger
fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake
smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile
kill....

Nameless one

Upon lonely roads
We tread,
Holding hands together
We feel the sudor

We squirm at this
Yet look on
to find a future
among foggy roads

She turns while walking
seeing him overcoming a hurdle
with unmentionable ease
his posture set his eyes ahead

she turns her gaze on herself
doodling on the pages of her memory
uncertainty any movement
she feels the water trickle down

she pushes these incertitude of thoughts
her sore throat quelling her voice
she sits through lectures writing crappy poems
and yet the devices find soul

What is the point?
the cynic questions
strangers walk past averting their gaze
the hypocrisy stinks itself
she still walks silently

the sweat now mildly disconcerting

she quizzes herself
time and again
the past, the present, the future
all swirl in a mixture of cliques
she grasps an answer through this mess
'you are a fool' she condemns herself

he still walks on
her slowing pace lengthening his worth
'let her rest' he contemplates
for the journey is far ahead

little he knows her thoughts
her trembling hands he steadies
ready to battle all her fears
he knows not her demons

Quietly she readies herself
loosening his grip keeping calm
far ahead far behind she sees a fork
she knows not, the moment is long gone.


Jalimelys88

Mindless Banter

Reticent motions addle the brains,
Spring dosent seem that lively,
Rains dampen the spirit
What am I doing here?

Roads, mists, forks, choices,
Symmetry and analysis
Have lost meaning,
What am I doing here?

Poem, poetry, prose, plot, analogues,
Narrative, speech, words, actions,
Interpretations mean a pig’s ass
What am I doing here?

If persuasion is meaningless,
If perversion is a mockery,
If capacious is a pursuit of the foolhardy
What am I doing here?

Swati D'souza

Magic, A Kiss and Some More Magic

Have you ever wondered what you and I would have done without the staple feed of magic and its various Branches, How a miserable riot of mundane activities could have strangled and suffocated us beneath its succulent self? But we really do not have to bother of it now do we? With Harry Potter Movie (being the latest in the stable of Magical and other world fantasy movies) our magical Appetites have been more than satisfied.

After all the rules that one has heard about not comparing the movie with the book this one actually belies the presumption. It’s an adaptation worth being proud of for David Yates. Ardent fans like me would often discuss the sketchy adaptation and the poor image by which it resembled the book. However book 5 was something that I remember myself to have said that “god I am so not seeing the movie” for nothing else but the long length of the dialogues and the most boring build-up to the end unlike the other books. However one would be most surprised if the movie were to say something about the book. Every unwanted bit has been edited and thrown away in the garbage heap of unused HP parts in the book.

And yet story or no story Hollywood sure knows how to kiss (or rather show one). Having practiced for 33 times Harry “Daniel” Potter would now have to be a pro at going about the process in the forthcoming series. As usual like the other HP movies the sidekicks (Ron and Hermione) really have no other role to play in the movie except for filling up the frame. The Weasely twins too would have cringed at the length of the role and would have probably bombed the HP set with their Weasely Bombs. Daniel Radcliffe thus being the center of the plot gives us his best skills hitherto in acting. Without setting the stage alight he manages to convey his anguish subtly. Ralf Fiennes in his Voldemort bit sure does make us shake in the boots. However the most disappointing bit in the whole story for any fan would have to be the fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort. A blink-and-you-will-miss-it one never really knows where is the extended fight with the wizard, goblin and the elf.

With Eragon being the disappointing one this one sure makes up for the not only itself but also the other not-so-great HP movies. Probably not so much better than the fourth it makes one really believe that Harry lives, the “kiss” lives and more than anything the Magic Lives. And yet if not anything it keeps our panting quiet and our thirsts quenched at least till the last Volcano in the series. “TO HARRY”

THis was written as part of some project so decided to post it onto a redundant blog

The Colours of the Pink City

It’s not everyday that one gets to savor a typical rajasthani cuisine or hear stories about the Rajas and Maharajas and get transported in time. Therefore when the opportunity arose for us to visit Jaipur, we jumped and grabbed the chance with two hands.

Of Course one must look into the trivialities of reaching the destination, therefore the tickets were booked and there we were in the New Year on our way through a chilly night. Our destination of Ranthambore via the Sawai Madour junction didn’t disappoint us in any way except probably for the lack of tigers. The chilliness in the air did a lot to increase our vigor towards play and food which was just too good. However the tigers disappointed us. Two hours of sun, dust and more dust which left most of us looking like carpenters and yet we saw no tigers nor any paw. However the Rajasthani folk dance at night soared our spirits also made us conscious of the fact that city bred folks need to learn a lot more from rural India about culture. The next morning after a visit a long climb and a dekko of a local fort we were off to Jaipur and Chowkidhanee. Thoughts of shopping lanes and more rajasthani delicacy created mirages throughout the way in everyone’s head.

And Chowkidhanee refused to disappoint that mirage. The exotic village make-believe enthralled us for a good 2 hours with its Kadai Doodh, Hair Massage, Mehendi Palmistry and a lot more. However it was the gastronomic food will keel the place alive in our hearts for the sheer size and taste of the meal. Truly we had enough of a Rajasthani meal and yet craved for more. The next day we finished of with our industrial visit of a Newspaper and a Radio Station both of which we learnt and enjoyed but we had seen better earlier (being in Bombay that is). The Jantar Mantar and Amer fort held our interest purely because of the artistry and sheer magnificence of the place and the knowledge of building in that era. A new jaipuri band was formed: the “Neel Kants”, which happily kept us occupied during the night along with the ‘Dj nite’. However our hearts were impatient for shopping and thus we awarded with a full 2 hours for shopping. For shoppoholics this would be slander but we had a train to catch.

With bags ranging with bed sheets for the house to ethinic jaipuri camel ethnic chappls, we were ready to enter the train. On the way back memories of the trip, its food as well as the last trip to Delhi plagued us. But a novel game of black jack soon kept us busy throughout the journey and with a blink we were back to the dust and grime of Bombay with nothing but our souvenirs and the thought of the gastronomic portions of rajasthani food to serve us company until the next trip.

Blogspeak

Yes yes i know its been far too long after my first address. but then again there have been other issues to address too. like for example my dear mistress has been some what active on the blog...(thank god the first address was written in blogspeak, and plus she was too dumb to understand) Anyways the first issue that I think needs to be looked into is what is happening in the world around us and believe me a hell LOT is happening. The blog president resigned on account of sexual allegations against him (poor chap!) that was raked up by the blogmedia for like a whole fortnight...what work did I have in that you ask? but of course my dear blogs i was invited to as many blogger networks to speak about the improper conduct of some one as esteemed as our dear Blohead... and then as soon as that got done and the fire died down, I thought of leaving on a vacation for like duo weeks when a rival world called blofarce decided to set base on our source code..believe me i had to speak like for hours in the Blambase till they decided to take military action against the traitors...aahhh the rest of it I am sure you have followed in the bloppers recently. Anyway by then I had resolved that i would take a break of at least a week aah but then again the great Bijuse wasn't ready to concede his defeat...therefore the third problem that followed was that my blogirlfriend decided that since i was not giving her enough time she might as well as shift to mindspace for more fun...the time it takes to handle girls even in the virtual world is amazingly loooooooong..anyways once all that was done i was left with no stamina to think of anything beleive me nothing....

And yet our cause couldn't be left stranded and what would i tell my other brothers especially those to whom i had boasted of having sufficient blogs listening to me...so i have drafted my first initial points:

1) I will not be addressing just my issue but will be looking at the issues that all of us as a community face

2) No this is no political association but just another community like "i like blog and blogspeak" or "the society of uninterested blogs"

3) I need help to develop the language "blogspeak"

4) No porn or POrn related issues here (for those of us who like to view this voyeristc pleasure i shall direct you to further other sites but seriously guys i thought porn was for those stupid humans but then again even the best of us fail at times)

5) No more bitching about my creator, she likes to sleep let her....We will have a more worldly view of things around like "the bandwidth is more juicy here than any other portal in the milky way-to use a human term)

6) Any one interested in joining in the worldly appreciation of our Blohead is welcome

7) a Blojob is NOT similar to the derogatory terms that humans use

8) I still haven't decided what to use instead of the term in blogspeak though

9) aah now i am bored and tired

10) THe above point is not there by mistake but is very much related to those of us who have creators using relentlessly. (like this friend of my creators uses one of our borhters evne while shagging...i mean come on give me a break!!!!!!)


Sigh!!!! now that i have come up with some things i need to leave something's up with my blogirlfriend...she wishes me to accompany her for a nonsensical showing of the popular "bloup"
Stupid blo i tell you but one has to please the female species everywhere in the universe like this other time an anthropide was telling me that his wife......aah well no time now some other time i guess

Thousands Splendid Suns- A Review

Figure this- 2 women, a chronicle of 3 decades, and a stunning style of writing. This is what Hosseini provides us in his latest venture. A Thousand Splendid Suns is exactly what it tells you Splendid. Set against the background of not-yet-torn Afghanistan it begins with the story of Mariam, a girl living in her own world of beauty and some breathless awestruck moments spent with her father ; a world which is later shattered by her own misgivings or fate. Married of to a man who strictly adheres to the rule that women are not to progress she remains at various points in the book unhappy credulously astounded and amazingly shattered by the antics and behaviour of her husband. Here the story is cut short to Laila and Tariq and their childhood romance reminiscent of all our first encounter with love. This world is happily broken down when tariq moves to Pakistan leaving Laila alone with a moaning mother and a hapless father. However this torture too seems better than what she begins to endure when left orphaned by her a bomb and becoming Mariam’s sister. After this her whole life is set in the bonds set up alternatively by rasheed and the Taliban, that is till Tariq comes to her rescue. The book ends with all the special effects worthy of a movie with a murder and a trial that would shock the world at large.

Chronicling 3 decades of a Nation at reckless and yet an unassuming speed with all its implausible high and lows Khaled Hosseini has kept his word with us, a word that he had to give at the end of Kite Runner- of being a great if not the best Human Interest story writer in recent times. Stupendous in his style of hooking the reader and almost making the make-believe characters and the world real is probably one of the best attributes that one can applaud this writer of. One of the many migrant writers he makes us fall in love with Afghanistan almost making us belittle and curse the Soviets and then the Afghanistanis for fooling around and destroying a land so beautiful in culture and tradition. One can almost hear the pleas and the moans of the Buddha Monuments they were being torn apart. An intrinsic view of the Taliban rule puts all our thought process in limbo at the rate at which the rulers had wanted to take the country back in time. Imbibing this medieval attitude into the storyline and crafting it this well almost makes us compare Hosseini in the same league as Pamuk.

Any overwritten parts in the narration are looked over as one really doesn’t notice these overdrawn periods assuming them to be in sync and indeed necessary for the storyline to progress. If however something disappoints it is that pattern of writing doesn’t change. Thus one has this mistaken feeling of returning to the Kite Runner every now and then. However if that is the price we have to pay then this book or must I say an abridged version of the story of a country long forgotten by the world, is a read. If not for anything for but the heart wrenching emotions it builds up in you not for anyone but for a land and people who would have been at some other place hadn’t destiny had something else in store for them.

Death at her Hands

1 pair of windows,

A door of passions

2 hearts of love,

20 downing street

And you were born

2 pairs of hands and feet

Bobbing mahogany dark heads

Long inimitable hours of wait

Incomparable periods of morning sickness

And dreams were born

A new renovated house

Crowded groaning celebrations

Squealing tiny carriages

And moments of utter desperation

A family was born

Moments of Irrefutable hope

Followed by hours of Plunging despair

The small uttering of a powerful word

Followed by decades of happy bliss

Treasures were nurtured.

Small dreams Small Hopes

Concrete words and powerful gestures

The first fall, initial moments of malady

A flash of helplessness and the surrender to ecstasy

We were re-born.

Initial symptoms that tricked

Pain that turned into unchanging agony

Bliss that flipped to fear then paranoia

Worry etched in our lives

We still lived

Dreams turned to despair

Emptiness that took control

A dark looming future

That was changing our lives

And yet we clung on.

The hours of interminable hospital waits

The sickly pungent repelling odor

The monotone of white-washed walls

The pearly white bed with beeps

It was now life

Hours turned to weeks to months

Despair ever nurtured now family

Hope the elusive lantern at the tunnel-end

We waited, we hoped, we prayed.

Past never ceases present haunts

And the mist ahead serves to frighten

And yet a hollow world we aphorized

Filled with misery and pain

An unceasing wait to regain life

To Faint and yet live.

Life is but a series of pathways now

Its meaning lost in the labyrinth of mazes

A moving train to a nameless journey

A death more anticipated

We will be born again….

Blogspeak

Hi! I am swati's blog and though i am not very proficient in the art of conveying my message to the world i am now hoping that this message reaches the people especially my creator who is on the verge of becoming the most laziest person on blogspeak.(which by the way is my own language under which i am trying to get other blogs). Anyways let me not diverge from my topic of essential conversation which is that I am now going to write about myself on myself and from myself. If any of you didn't get the meaning of this efficient method of speaking i suggest that you again but your own copy of blogspeak dictionary (extremely beneficial especially to the basically illiterate users of blogging) the reason of i me myself inventing blogspeak is none other than the wish to speak about myself but of course i already mentioned that. But the real reason has to be kept covert for none other than the fact that my extremely stupid and yet overtly profound creator might just might check on her now supposedly defunct blog and find that someone is using it and might get all hyped up and start another series of boring profoundly confusing poems about her unimportant state of mind. Now we all know that none of us are pretty much interested in reading the same things over and over again so we best let her think that this blog is defunct and therefore all our actions and motto will now be spoken in extreme terms of blogspeak security(the list of which will be appearing in rather covert language in further posts) till then my friends and other other not-so-good-friends and outright enemies........

*&&%%#$$%#*(*(

achievement, opines, perspire and bleed!
success commands, bow down and serve
spirits athirst deny this call, and suffer when freedbut
create anew,
through heavy heart, and flayed nerve.

Karthik Balsubramanium

Some moments are not the best and yet they are the ones that stay with you alwayz...
this statement made by a friend of mine struck me the most odd... you see we often characterize out best moments as the ones that would be with us and yet those are not the ones that one goes back to in time of need...when i mention need i mean those ephemeral times when one feels crushed by everything around (nowadays those times are no longer brief i must add). How do these tiny moments help us..what is their influence in our life?? Why do we give emotions, moments so much importance in our lives...i often find people around me talking about so much that i would find unnecessary to to discuss especially when the world around keeps behaving strangely like the court passing unnecessary decisions just to generate controversy as if the current scenario wasn't enough. diverting my thought here minority and Reservations seem to be the hot topic of this season just like last year and with tamil nadu wanting to provide reservations for even Catholics and Muslims may the One to whom we all humble down save us... It would then seem that only the intellectual fools stay within the bracket of majority.... Anyway comming back to my rant yeah so it was till sometime back that i realized that probably i was really looking down on these people with a very biased view.. Because you see just cause one sets a high standard for oneself dosen't mean that the rest of the world has to follow you..and also i noticed one thing i might not continually talk about those so-called time waster but yes there were times when i needed to relieve one's chest of those packs and yes again friends seem to be the best places to....So was i being a hypocrite? or was i just considering my self superior..is it acceptable to do it..consider oneself superior..isn't every individual unique in their own way..ohh no there i start with the cliche bull crap as a friend of mine would say...you c its extremely to keep one's emotions out of a particular subject... Coz even when one does work it has to deal with passion coz you do something only which will hold us to it not because it was meant to be done...


set has the orange ball
in quietude the birds rest
calm is the ocean
and turbulent are my thoughts....

turbulent wisps of longing this may be
confusion may hover the soul
loneliness or presence is not the concern
content and dissatisfaction were after all omnipresent...



swats

It's really suprising when my head is bursting with ideas n yet the words fail to impress upon me the importance to put down these ideas. this is what exactly happening... some call it writer's block, others woiuld call it an excuse but what do i cal it??? never mind here i am attempting to break these barriers that have imprisioned me...

Forgotten Streaks

I crave for sanctity
for freedom and soul
I miss the moments
of lonely quietude
of mischievous wonders
at fruits forbidden

Achieved have i
those spellbound incantations
that would lead me to believe
that the path i walk upon
be fells none of the trauma
i have thought of

and yet i wonder
of those forks that
led me, hold me
and guide me
was it sanity i looked for?
was it calmness that answered
my quest for adventure

Have i forgotten my glory?
those moments of unspoken triumph
all through woods unexplored
those ephemeral motions that go by
widout notice and yet
those that yearn for mention through heady days
of stability, peace and mobility

I have lost what i have wanted
I have regained that which i didnt expect
the path which holds me is one i cant leave
and yet is this what those unspoken triumphs
were supposed to perish with?
have i forgotton those ribbons which led me
to forests unknown and the myths which became reality?

Do i want to let the path lead me?
Do i want to let the forks decide my future?
or must i choose the stray streak of light
that crosses this path and go into innate darkness
and yet to astounding glory be answerable
for i chose to choose the dark and not be led into beauty

Ach ohh Luthien i admire thy courage and beauty
I so hold that i may follw thee too.......

The funnier part of Life

Achievement through discipline is one of your keynotes in this lifetime. To fulfill your soul purpose you will need much patience, tenacity, endurance, and most likely a long period of apprenticeship or labor. You are equipped by nature to withstand the periods of self-denial, austerity, grueling study, repetitive practice, or "doing without" that your path in life requires. Serious about your aims and, above all, a realist, you are willing to pay your dues in order to get where you want to go, and whether your goal is spiritual attainment, development of a talent, or material success, you want to go to the top. Some degree of rigorous training or hardship (inner or outer) is apt to be a prerequisite to your eventual achievement, swati, and unlike apparently "luckier" souls, you have to work hard and pull your own weight early in life. Often, too, you have to wait, to delay gratification, and plan your strategies very carefully and shrewdly in order to gain your desired ends. Through this, you develop a certain toughness and firmness, emotional detachment, inner resourcefulness and self-determination, which keeps you going when the road gets a little rocky on the way to the pinnacle you are aiming for. One pitfall you need to beware of is your tendency to become hardened and cynical, secretly envious of those whose way is less orduous or whose outlook and attitude is more trusting and carefree (irresponsible and immature, to your way of thinking). You seem to be given more "tests", frustration, responsibilities, restrictions than others, and as a result, tend to view the world as an unfriendly place or life as a struggle. It is important for you not to become bitter because of this, or to try to take shortcuts, as these will almost certainly come back to haunt you later. The first half of your life, in particular, may seem heavy or hard, while the fruits of your steady efforts come to you later

The essence of this lifetime is that you must prove yourself, swati, and this you know at a deep level, and feel as a sort of inner pressure. (it can be next to impossible to get you to relax and enjoy yourself, to waste time or money or anything frivolous, or to gamble on anything you are not certain will yield real, tangible benefits). Because of your very strong (even if undefined) sense of purpose. Even your recreation is apt to be done in a calculated manner. You weigh the potential risks involved, and usually on the side of safety, for you have a very strong head to know where you are going and to be in control. Thus, the true experience of play tends to elude you, since it requires letting go of control, a certain indifference to results in preference for a free flowing openness to the moment. You do have a rather dry, ironic sense of humor, and it is important for you to keep that side of you alive as it gives you balance and a healthy perspective on things.

The modern world has often heard of the inferior status of women in society during the dark middle ages (as they were called). Female infanticide common then repulses us; the so-called modern generation with thoughts of upliftment occupying foremost place in our minds. And yet I question you... Is this attitude only escapist in nature? Because though we the women in city consider ourselves free form the yoke of oppression of female inequality do our sisters in the rural illiterate consider themselves as lucky and as free?

This is the question that that Jha’s film tries to answer for us. A world without women, without the female support a world full of animals and the behavior of animals after catching a glance of the forbidden fruit which they succeeded in destroying- this forms the essence of Jha’s movie. Any secquence for mthe movie is worth a watch—whether it is the first glance of Kalki, or her rape the first time or the birth of a child admist caste war. These spine chilling movies sort of exposes the truth that many have chosen to ignore or probably are afraid to admit.

However some scenes like kalki getting raped time and again while being tied to the pole at the cowshed which were probably meant to evoke repulsion succeed in going a step futher. They evoke numbness after the initial shock of brutality wears off. Having chosen an excellent subject after his last venture (A very very Silent Movie) and having a great storyline Jha’s direction somehow misleads us to espect something more than rapes and more rapes on the screen. However if the intent with which the movie was shot was to create an awareness in the society about the treatment meted out to womenfolk in villages and also to enthrall international audiences with the true horror of the quintessential Indian rural social stigma faced by these same women; the effect is well executed and above felt.

One cannot find words for the Kalki( tulip Joshi) for the experience that she has undergone while shooting the movie. If today her people refuse to speak to the movie maker one can bery well understand their feeling. However the intentions of the maker and the movie were supposed to be repulsive, forceful and glaring. They have very well succeeded in this.

One thus would find it difficult to believe a life without women. After this drama it would be nigh impossible to contemplate the prospect about life at all without those whom be consider to be inferior and meant to be trodden upon. Without a past or a future Matrubhoomi truly remains in our midst with Kalki in our minds.