The Blabberwocky

Making Money

2010-09-15T12:29:00.004+05:30

Position: Telephone Relationship Manager

Company Profile:

UrbanZing.com(Launching in October)

UrbanZing.com will be a completely free website where users can find and review Restaurants, Night Clubs, Pubs, Fitness Centers, Salons, Movie Theaters and many more. UrbanZing.com will also provide additional features to help users stay connected and to better manage their social lives.

Job description:

Call up businesses and introduce UrbanZing.com

Talk about all the services we offer and verify their information for UrbanZing.com's free listing.

Office:

5/1A Keyatala Road, Kolkata 29

Hours:

1:30pm - 5:30pm

Compensation:

Rs. 2500/month

PERFORMANCE TEXT EVENT

2010-01-27T21:31:00.000+05:30

DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH, JADAVPUR UNIVERSITY

UGC-ASIHSS PROGRAMME

ALL INDIA STUDENTS’ SEMINAR 2010

PERFORMANCE TEXT EVENT

16 & 17 March, 2010

CALL FOR PAPERS

Literature and performance are inextricably linked. From Plato’s dialogues to Walcott’s Omeros, from Tagore’s dance dramas to Bob Dylan’s lyrics, from Shakespeare’s plays to Agha Shahid Ali’s ghazals, the interplay of the oral/aural, the performative and the written has deeply enriched cultural and philosophical thought. Written forms of poetry, fiction and non-fiction have strong dramatic elements and traces of orality embedded in them. On the other hand, the reception of the written text, be it in Chaucer’s England or contemporary India, has involved not just silent reading but also telling, hearing, seeing, adapting. While we expect ‘theatre’ to be ‘performance,’ that is, the display and movement of human bodies in space, ‘drama’ has been appropriated by ‘literature.’ The re-emergence of spoken/sung poetry alongside established forms of written poetry marks the increasing traffic between the page, the stage and the audio/visual image.

Clearly, the notion of ‘performance’ extends far beyond theatre to a whole range of ‘performance events,’ ancient and modern, such as sports, ritual, political action and resistance, music concerts and so on. Factors such as class, location, ideology and gender shape the narrative forms of these events and the cultural texts they spawn. It is worth examining how textuality and performativity develop and reflect different ways of thinking about identity and place, especially with the emergence of new technologies of communication and recording. This seminar hopes to closely scrutinize the interplay between text, sound, spectacle, image and performance through the analysis of specific texts (printed, spoken, audio-visual) and/or performance events.

ABSTRACTS OF ABOUT 300 WORDS DEALING WITH ANY OF THE ABOVE ISSUES, AND PREFERABLY LINKED TO SPECIFIC TEXTS/EVENTS, ARE INVITED FROM B.A. AND M.A. STUDENTS. THE DEADLINE FOR SUBMISSION OF ABSTRACTS IS 14TH FEBRUARY, 2010.
PLEASE EMAIL ABSTRACTS WITH YOUR NAME, INSTITUTION AND CONTACT DETAILS TO nilanjanadeb@yahoo.com. PLEASE TYPE ‘J.U. STUDENT SEMINAR 2010 ABSTRACT’ AS THE SUBJECT OF THE EMAIL.
NOTE: ACCOMMODATION AND RAIL FARE (SLEEPER CLASS) WILL BE PROVIDED TO A LIMITED NUMBER OF DESERVING OUTSTATION PARTICIPANTS ONLY.

THE EXPANDING UNIVERSE: SCIENCE AND LITERATURE IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

2010-01-27T09:22:00.003+05:30

DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH, JADAVPUR UNIVERSITY
INTERNATIONAL CONFERENCE ON ‘THE EXPANDING UNIVERSE:
SCIENCE AND LITERATURE IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY’
6TH – 8TH FEBRUARY, 2010
VENUE: H. L. ROY AUDITORIUM (GATE NO. 3)

6 FEBRUARY 2010 (SATURDAY):
10.00 – 10.30: Registration
INAUGURAL SESSION
10.30 – 11.00: Inauguration by Professor Ashoke Ranjan Thakur, Vice-Chancellor, West Bengal State University
11.00 – 12.00: Keynote Address: Professor Gillian Beer (University of Cambridge): ‘“The Backbone Shiver”: Darwin and the Arts’
12.00 – 12.15: COFFEE
SESSION II
12.15 – 1.00: Samantak Das (Department of Comparative Literature, Jadavapur University): ‘Written on the Body’
1.00 – 2.00: LUNCH
SESSION III
2.00 – 2.30: Christel R. Devadawson (University of Delhi): ‘Sherlock Holmes and the Darwinian Legacy’
2.30 – 3.00: Shilpy Malhotra (Miranda House, Delhi): ‘Science and Literature in the
Nineteenth Century: The Case of Sherlock Holmes’
3.00 – 3.20: Shantanu Majee (PG 2, Jadavpur University): ‘On the Origin of the New Woman: Reading Darwin’s Influence on Sarah Grand’s The Beth Book’
3.20 – 3.30: TEA
SESSION III
3.30 – 4.00: Debarati Bandyopadhyay (Visva-Bharati, Santiniketan): ‘Science and Crime: “Recognizable Realities” of the 19th Century in the Novels of Wilkie Collins’
4.00 – 4.30: Prodosh Bhattacharya (Jadavpur University): ‘Bestseller Science: Some novels of Marie Corelli’

7 FEBRUARY 2010 (SUNDAY):
SESSION I
10.00 – 10.30: Phillip Mallett (University of St Andrews, Edinburgh): Thomas Hardy
10.30 – 11.10: Gowan Dawson (University of Leicester): ‘Literary Megatheriums and loose baggy monsters: Palaeontology and the Victorian Novel’
11.10 – 11.50: Sambudha Sen (University of Delhi): ‘Visuality, Technology and the Making of a Modern Urban Imaginary’
11.50 – 12.00: COFFEE
SESSION II
12.00 – 12.30: Nivedita Basu (St Stephen’s College, Delhi): ‘Staging Technology:
Nineteenth Century Melodrama and the Modern’
12.30 – 1.00: Nishi Pulugurtha (Brahmananda Keshab Chandra College, Kolkata):
‘Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Early Nineteenth Century Science’
1.00 - 2.00: LUNCH
SESSION III
2.00 – 2.30: Rimi B. Chatterjee (Jadavpur University): ‘The New Great Work: Frankenstein and the Transmutation of Alchemy’
2.30 – 3.00: Dhrubajyoti Sarkar (Vidyasagar College, Nabadwip): ‘Hind Swaraj to
Copenhagen: John Ruskin’s Lasting Legacy’
3.00 – 3.20: Pusapati Teja Varma (MPhil, University of Delhi): ‘Prescribing/ Proscribing Reform: Gender Prejudice and Medical Knowledge in Middlemarch’
3.20 – 3.30: TEA
SESSION IV
3.30 – 4.00: Saswati Halder (Jadavpur University): ‘“Ascendancy of a New Order”: The Rise of Professional Science in Elizabeth Gaskell’s Wives and Daughters’
4.00 – 4.30: Shanta Dutta (Jadavpur University): ‘The “Terrible Muses” and Victorian Fiction’

8 FEBRUARY 2010 (MONDAY):
SESSION I
10.30 – 11.10: Madhav Gadgil (Agharakar Research Institute, Pune): ‘Genes, memes and machines: Samuel Butler’s evolutionary insights’
11.10 – 11.50: Jayanta Bhattacharjee (S. N. Bose Centre for Basic Sciences, Kolkata): ‘The Story of Light’
11.50 – 12.00: COFFEE
SESSION II
12.00 – 12.40: Carlo Vecce (University of Naples): ‘The rediscovery of Leonardo da
Vinci’s manuscripts in the nineteenth century’
12.40 – 1.00: Anirban Ray (MPhil, Jadavpur University): ‘Exploring the Heavens: Space-Travels in the works of Jules Verne’
1.00 – 2.00: LUNCH
SESSION III
2.00 – 2.30: Abhijit Gupta (Jadavpur University): ‘Scientific Publishing in 19th century Bengal: an overview’
2.30 – 3.00: Arpa Ghosh (Vivekananda College for Women, Barisha, Kolkata): ‘Bankim Chandra Chattopadhay’s Krishnacharitra and Jagadish Chandra Bose’s Obyakta: The correlation between Science and Literature in two 19th century texts’
3.00 – 3.20: Abhishek Sarkar (JRF, Jadavpur University): ‘Thematizing Science on the 19th-century Kolkata Stage: Girish Chandra Ghosh’s Mayabasan’
3.20 – 3.30: TEA
SESSION IV
3.30 – 3.50: Ramit Samaddar (MPhil, Jadavpur University): ‘Ambivalence in Constance Naden: Science, Gender and “Evolutional Erotics”’
3.50 – 4.20: Chandreyee Niyogi (Jadavpur University): ‘Some call it Imagination and others call it God: dream, trance, and spirit communication in Victorian women’s battle for the soul of man’
4.20 – 4.45: VALEDICTORY

Editpub Course 2010

2009-11-09T16:40:00.001+05:30

Applications are invited from Honours Graduates in any discipline for a PG Certificate Course in Editing and Publishing to be conducted by the School of Cultural Texts and Records, Jadavpur University, from 4 January to 9 April 2010. Classes will normally be held four days a week from 6-8 p.m. Applicants have to appear for a screening test on 21 December 2009, at 5 p.m., to be held on the first floor of the UG Arts Building. Course fee: Rs 6,000. Applications may be made on plain paper or by email to culture@school.jdvu.ac.in, addressed to the Director, School of Cultural Texts and Records. Paper applications should be submitted to the School of Cultural Texts and Records, (UG Arts/ Science Building, 3rd floor, near Film Studies Department) between 11 a.m. and 4 p.m. on working days. Last date for receipt of applications: 18 December 2009. Photocopies of graduation certificate and mark-sheets must be produced on the day of screening test.

Sukanta Chaudhuri
Director, School of Cultural Texts and Records
Jadavpur University

9 November 2010

Lexicographers wanted

2009-10-22T15:50:00.002+05:30

Wordster Inc., an online dictionary company, is looking for lexicographers. The position is in Kolkata.
They require people with a post graduate degree in English/Comparative Literature/Linguistics.
If anyone is interested please get in touch with Prajnaparamita Padhi (antevasini@gmail.com)

2009-09-08T17:06:00.003+05:30

ON THE ROAD: WRITING TRAVEL AND TRAVELLERS

2008-10-26T20:51:00.003+05:30

6-8 November 2008
CENTRE OF ADVANCED STUDY IN ENGLISH
JADAVPUR UNIVERSITY
K.P. Basu Memorial Hall, Engineering Science Building
& Anita Banerjee Memorial Hall, Undergraduate Arts Building
(Registration and all plenary sessions in K.P. Basu Memorial Hall)

6 November 2008

10 -10.30 Registration
10.30-11 Welcome address
11-11.45 Session 1 (Plenary: K.P. Basu Memorial Hall)
Stephen Muecke (Transforming Cultures Centre, University of Technology, Sydney), Travel Writing: Postcolonial Writing Strategies
Chair: Sukanta Chaudhuri
11.45-12 Tea
12-1:15 Session 2 (Plenary: K.P. Basu Memorial Hall)
Graham Shaw (British Library), The 'Other' Gazes Back
Supriya Chaudhuri (Jadavpur University), India Recognita: The Travels of Niccolo de' Conti
Chair: Sarbani Chaudhuri
1.15-2.15 Lunch
2.15-3.20 Session 3 (K.P. Basu Memorial Hall)
Andrew Elliott (Kyoto University) Shooting and Survival of the Fittest in Henry Craven's Saint John's Notes and Sketches from the Wild Coasts of Nipon
Dhrubajyoti Sarkar (Vidyasagar College, Nabadwip) A Jetsetter's Pilgrimage: Pico Iyer's Four Seasons in Kyoto
Chair: Abhijit Mukherjee
2.15-3.20 Session 4 (Anita Banerjee Memorial Hall)
Paromita Chakraborti (Jadavpur University), Madness and Mobility in the Early Modern Age
Sonia Sahoo (Jadavpur University), ‘Walking-Morts and Upright Men’: Reading Harman’s Caveat as Anti-Travel Literature
Chair: Shantanu Biswas
3.20-3.40 Coffee
4-5.15 Session 5 (K.P Basu Memorial Hall)
Ahona Panda (Jadavpur University), A Journey to Africa: Exploring colonial identity in Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay's Chander Pahar
Bimbabati Sen and Suchismita Basu (Jadavpur University), Deshe Bideshe: The Musafir Syed Mujtaba Ali
Diganta Bhattacharya (Jadavpur University), Project Cook
Chair: Prodosh Bhattacharya
4-5.45 Session 6 (Anita Banerjee Memorial Hall)
Trina Nilina Banerjee (Centre for Studies in Social Sciences, Calcutta), Journeys of No Return: Exile and Travel in the Films of Ritwik Ghatak
Akshya Saxena and Vebhuti (Jawaharlal Nehru University), Unpacking 'Metro'-geneites: The Delhi Metro and the Daily Commuter
Avishek Ray (Jadavpur University), The Aporia in Representation and the Economy of Romanticization: Dichotomy in Vagabondage as Shown in Some Popular Films
Parichay Patra (Jadavpur University), Defining the Nation: Travelling through Nation
Chair: Madhuja Mukherjee

7 November 2008

10.30-11.40 Session 7 (Plenary: K.P. Basu Memorial Hall)
Sacchidananda Mohanty (University of Hyderabad), Travel, Hybridity and Counter-Memory: William Dalrymple's In Xanadu: A Quest
Radhika Seshan (Pune University), Of Fabled Lands and Fabulous Wealth: Travel Accounts from the 14th-18th Centuries
Chair: Malabika Sarkar
1140-12 Tea
12-1.15 Session 8 (K.P. Basu Memorial Hall)
Sukanya Dasgupta (Loreto College, Calcutta), An 'Englishman' in Seventeenth Century Russia: Guy Miege and the Writings of Identity
Rafat Ali (Jadavpur University), Crusade, Commerce and Co-existence with the Saracens in The Book of John Mandeville.
Chair: Supriya Chaudhuri
Session 9 (Anita Banerjee Memorial Hall)
Jeanine Diego Medina (Instituto De Estudios Críticos, Mexico City), Mysteries of Faith and the System
Nilanjana Deb (Jadavpur University), ‘Land as Shrine, Lakes as Scripture’: Travel as Spiritual Quest in Books and Visions in Ojibwe Country
Chair: TBA
1.15-2.15 Lunch
2.15-4 Session 10 (K.P. Basu Memorial Hall)
Arun Gupto (Tribhuvan University, Kathmandu), Tirtha Package and Trekking Baggage: Journey into Natural Spaces through Maoist Checkposts
Nandana Dutta (Gauhati University), Nineteenth Century Travel Culture and Ideas of Modernity: John Butler's Travels and Adventures in the Province of Assam
- Arnab Dasgupta and Vaibhav Parel (University of Delhi), Expanding the Frontier: Travel Writing and Knowledge Generation in Early-Colonial Assam
- Chair: Samantak Das
Session 11 (Anita Banerjee Memorial Hall)
Louise Harrington (School of Oriental and African Studies, London), Travelling without Moving: The Existence of Place in The Shadow Lines and A Golden Age
Samrat Sengupta (University of Kalyani), Until They Think Warm Days Will Never Cease: How Journey Supplants Diaspora in Sea of Poppies
Dhrubajyoti Banerjee (New Alipore College, Kolkata), Travelling Through a ‘World Which is Intrinsically Displaced’: Ghosh’s In an Antique Land
Chair: Shanta Datta
4-4.15 Tea
4.15-5.30 Session 12 (K.P. Basu Memorial Hall)
Sneha Kar-Chaudhuri (Jadavpur University) ‘Our History is Truly Broken’: Slave-ocracy and Caryl Phillips's Travel Text The Atlantic Sound
Ramit Samaddar (Jadavpur University), In an Antique Land: Amelia Edwards's A Thousand Miles up the Nile
Ayushman Chakraborty (Jadavpur University), Oriental Annuals: Travel, Culture and Politics
Chair: Sobha Chattopadhyay
4.15-5.30 Session 13 (Anita Banerjee Memorial Hall)
Abhishek Sarkar (Jadavpur University), Kemp's Nine Days' Wonder: Travelling Performance, Performing Travel
Subhadeep Paul (Jadavpur University), Not Tired Of Tyres: The Culture of Uncertainty and the Uncertainty Of Culture(s) In ‘Che’ Guevera’s The Motorcycle Diaries
Uttaran Dasgupta (Jadavpur University), Escape from ‘Civilization’: Travelling Through The Americas With Guevara And Kerouac
Chair: Rimi B. Chatterjee

8 November 2008

10.30-11.40 Session 14 (K.P. Basu Memorial Hall)
Catherine Watson (Travel Writer and Independent Scholar), ‘A Tale Told by a Stranger’: Examining the Bond Between Writer and Audience In Contemporary American Travel Writing
Alexis Tadie (University of Paris VII-Denis Diderot), Is a Theory of Travel Writing Possible?
Chair: Stephen Muecke
1140-12 Tea
12-1.15
Session 15 (K.P. Basu Memorial Hall)
Vishnupriya Sengupta (Independent Scholar), Out of Africa: V.S. Naipaul's Journeys Without Maps
Sreemati Mukherjee (Basanti Devi College, Calcutta), The Aesthetics of Otherness in V.S. Naipaul's India: A Million Mutinies Now
Chair: Nilanjana Deb
Session 16 (Anita Banerjee Memorial Hall)
Sudev Pratim Basu (Visva-Bharati University), ‘The Unholy Entente’: Race and White Hunting in British India
Sumita Banerjee (Loreto College, Calcutta), Hearing the Earth Speak: On the Green Trails of Women Wanderers
Chair: Sheila Lahiri-Choudhury
1.15-2.15 Lunch
2.15-4 Session 18 (K.P. Basu Memorial Hall)
Amrit Sen (Visva-Bharati University), The Travels of a Scientist: Acharya Prafulla Chandra Ray and his Life and Experiences of a Bengali Chemist (1932)
Sipra Mukherjee (Bhairab Ganguly College, Calcutta), The Road Back: the 'Preaching' Tours of Rev. Lal Behari Day
Arpa Ghosh (Vivekananda College for Women, Calcutta), Sharatchandra and Kalkut (Samaresh Basu): Travel as a Mode of Fashioning Bengali Identity
Chair: Abhijit Gupta
Session 19 (Anita Banerjee Memorial Hall)
Sreenath Muraleedharan K (University of Hyderabad), Vartam?mapustakam
Abir Lal Mitra (Jadavpur University, Kolkata), A Precolonial Encounter with the Church of the East in India: The Topographia Christiana of Cosmas Indicopleustes
Nilanjan Das (Jadavpur University, Kolkata), Two Senses of ‘Tirtha’
Chair: Amlan Dasgupta
4- 4.15 : Tea
4.15-5.15 Session 20 (K.P. Basu Memorial Hall)
Wes Williams (St Edmund Hall, Oxford), Companions and Others: Cross-Cultural Connections in Early Modern Pilgrimage
Jayati Gupta (Presidency College, Calcutta), Aesthetics and Religiosity in Pilgrimage Texts
Chair: Sajni Mukherjee
5.15-5.30 VALEDICTORY

Arani and the Dinosaurs

2008-09-13T22:57:00.004+05:30

[Bowing to public pressure, here is an unpublished, never-before-seen, one-off story from the Arani cycle. This was written for the third coming of the Jabberwocky--which never happened--by RBC, who now wants to disown the story, but finally gave reluctant permission for it to be posted here. As ever, apologies to Arani. And many, many thanks to Luv for keying the damn thing in.]

Arani and the Dinosaurs

It is noon. Not a breath of air stirs the lycopodia. The cycads are still. Equiseti wave gently to and fro in the languid air. Their movement is not atmospheric; it is impelled by a life-force: a brontosaurus stops scratching its neck on the rough stem to bite off one shaggy head the size of a diesel locomotive; the primordial swamp fills with noises of champing at which Emily Post would have squirmed. Luckily for her she is little more than a gleam in a cynodont’s eye: the precursors of Albert Einstein are scuttling about being cute and furry, while Tweety Pie’s forebears are slugging it out on the mudflats of a younger globe. Yet as through wizard windows Arani gazes on life as it was, he notes how wrong the savants were. These are no ponderous behemoths, big, stupid, loud-mouthed and pea-brained; they are highly sophisticated runners, walkers, and jumpers – and thinkers. And speakers. The spaces in their skulls that have long puzzled scientists are resonating chambers, far more efficient than the human voice, producing a deep hum reminiscent of Winston Churchill. Arani cannot doubt that with a little effort they will speak to him, “though”, he thought, “I do not think that they will sing to me.” He watches as the brontosaur lumbers off into the jungle, then conceives the sudden notion of calling it back.

Arani purses his lips to whistle, then realises suddenly that he is dreaming. Why else would he be engaged in the ridiculous manoeuvre of trying to summon a retreating brontosaurus to his side? He unpurses his lips and laughs ruefully. At which an Archaeopteryx perches just above his left shoulder pecks his ear, snaps “Shut that noise, I have a headache!” and flaps off irritably.

Aghast, Arani claps his handkerchief to his ear. Words fail him. Then a residue of his recent reading creeps into his mind. Chronoclasm! As John Wyndham pointed out, the fatal fallacy of the time warp. Arani realises he is in gravest danger. One false move and he could end up marrying his grandmother. Or even worse from the cosmic point of view – stepping on some obscure ancestor of the human race and finishing the whole species – pouf. One small step for man, the California Quickstep for mankind.

Trembling, Arani faces facts. He has been transported somewhere into the Jurassic. The question now is what is he to do about it? “I must be careful.” He mutters to himself. “I must do nothing to tangle the workings of the cosmos…”

”Sir,” says a deep voice as a huge claw taps him on the shoulder, “Kindly desist from profaning the Name.”

Arani whirls and is met by the sight of the ugliest face he has ever seen. The primordial forest swims before his eyes. Dimly he feels himself falling, then he is caught in a grasp like the wings of butterflies. Using its ten-inch-claw-loaded fingers as daintily as a Chinese Mandarin, the creature props him against a fern root and squats beside him.

“Listen, nonscaletwolegs,” it says kindly, “You must be one of the newly evolved species, or you’d know the rules, and you’d mention my favourite program with a little more respect.”

“P… Program?”

“You mean you don’t know about the voices in the sky?” Arani gapes. “The messages? The flashing lights? Ah,” the creature sadly shook its head, “How strange it must feel to have come brand new straight out of the melting pot of evolution. Tell me, is your species good to eat?”

“I’ve never eaten any,” says Arani sarcastically, “so I wouldn’t know.”

“Ah, what a pity. But since you’re here, I suppose I could find out in the interests of science. If you’ll just step this way…”

“I’m inedible!” Arani shrieks. “I’m not really here at all! I’m an illusion created by a warp in space-time. If you swallowed me you’d turn into a black hole! You’d have to go on swallowing the universe till there was nothing left. You’d…”

“How peculiar,” says the creature thoughtfully, “I never heard of a meal disrupting one’s strong and weak nuclear forces.”

“Whatever you do,” chokes Arani, sweating, “don’t eat me.”

“Not even if you were a stegosaurus,” agrees the other, picking his teeth. “In any case, you’re so puny you’re not even up to a light snack. I daresay your species won’t amount to much.”

“Not much!” yelps Arani. “In ten million years, mammals will be ruling the world!”

The creature bristles. “Fool! The race is immortal. Be certain, weakclawfleshpiece, that WE are the rulers of the universe. We have voices from the sky to guide us, of Saganosaur, Reaganosaur, Krushohevosaur…”

“Oh my God!” cries Arani in horror. “You’re getting all our TV programs reflected back through the gravity lens of Sirius’ twin singularity! This is disastrous! What on earth will the copyright lawyers say?”

“Blasphemy! Dare you suggest that they are not gods?”

Caution, caution, Arani thinks. Remember the Inquisition. “Look, dino, your only problem is ignorance of the world. You can fix…”

“Bronto-shit!” snaps the other. “That’s no way to talk to an eight million year old vertebrate species.”

“Well, then, surely you won’t object to a few questions, eh?”

“Over my dead eggcase.”

“It can’t hurt you. And you’ve no idea how it’ll clear your mind, once you’ve answered some. Besides, you can show off to your friends.”

“Hm.” Irritably the creature gnaws at a hangnail. “Ask away.” Sweating, Arani offers an incoherent appeal to the daemons of quizzing, tosses the question bag of his mind and pounces avidly on the first scrap so decanted: “What is parabiosis?”

“Prabby what?”

“Oh Lord. It’s when twins get desensitized to each other’s tissue…”

“What in the manic mudflats are you talking about?”

“… Before they’re born they’re…”

“Born? Hatch, you mean.”

“They don’t hatch, you twit. They come out fully formed from their mother’s body.”

Shocked silence. The creature’s eyes are wide, their triangular pupils pulsing spasmodically. In their coruscating depths is a look of the most profound horror Arani has ever been privileged to see.

“You…mean…they…come…out…like…that?”

“Why yes. They…”

“Arghh!”

“But…”

“SACRILEGE!”

“But…”

“You have sullied the pristine purity of HOLIDY EGGHOOD. You will be JUDGED!”

“But…”

“COME!” Helplessly Arani is flung through the air to land squarely on the creature’s back. “To the Saur Kraut!”

Arani clings to the leather surface, finding to his surprise that it is soft and supple, like suede, even though its softly glowing ridges look like they could take the skin off him in one rasp. The sky jerks as though he were riding a bouncing Ferris wheel; Arani’s head spins. Desperately he finds what he reasons to be the creature’s earhole and shouts “You stupid hidebound REPTILE! Just because you happen to be oviparous you needn’t disparage the validity of alternative forms of reproduction!”

“Stop breathing down my nose and shut up, creature! You will be judged!”

Arani gives up and resigns himself to watching the universe disappear down the throat of an irate dinosaur.

A sudden brilliant flash of colour distracts him and dazzles his eyes. A moment later he sees its source; a massive leg, the size of one of the pillars of Brooklyn Bridge, towering above him to support a body like a zeppelin and aglow with all the flashing iridescences of a multiprismatic rainbow. It rises high into the air and he winces as he sees the huge truck-sized shockpads on its sole, grey, carnuculated, and mudstained, bits of mashed fern as long as himself trapped in the crevices. The foot descends with a mighty crash some distance off: the creature has taken a step. It heaves itself onto one haunch, lifts the other foot and tucks it over its knee, to delicately pick out the debris with its forepaws; an expression of fastidious distaste in its purple bulging eyes.

He is aware that he has stopped. A high-pitched screech is emanating from his incensed bearer, apparently a testimonial of his mental state. He is answered with a massive boom, seeming to come straight from the stratosphere.
”What the crunching eggshells are you whining about now, Ssnorr? And what’s that piece of offal on your back? Put it down! You never know what you might catch from it.”

“O Great Kraut,” says Ssnorr, trembling. “It’s a little something that appeared in a puff of smoke a while back, and its been talking to me ever since. I… I think I’m going crazy. I could have sworn… it said… it said…”

“Yes?”

“Ssnorr’s pupils are equilateral with wonder. “That it’s a Mammalosaur!”

“Bah! Humbug! They don’t exist. Even if they did it was in the remote past. The voices in the sky speak of their destruction in a holocaust. Was it the Waste Land..? Anyway, they lost all their guts and became Hollow Men.”

”But I swear this one’s alive! He’s haunting me. What’s that poem, how’s it go…? Macavosaur, Macavosaur, there’s no one like Macavosaur…”

”Pull yourself together Ssnorr, you are talking pteroshit.” Ssnorr throws himself flat on the ground, knocking Arani into the mud.

“O Great Kraut, save me! My hear aches, and a drowsy numbness pains…”

“Indigestion! Now bring that thing to me.”

Arani, somewhat dishevelled from the Saurian manhandling, is raised to his feet. All he can see of the Saur Kraut is four massive legs and a ponderous belly, covered with jet black scales each with a rim of brilliant red that sparkles in the sun, making each one look like a live coal. The scales ripple like fire with Saur Kraut’s every movement As he watches, a head like a house swoops down to inspect him out of bright black orange-centred eyes.

“Did you poke him in the belly, Ssnorr?”

“Ssnorr chokes. “I didn’t touch him,” he sobs. “They’re Born like that. Mammalsss! They come out… they come out…” He is unable to continue.

“Hurry up, I’m getting a neckache,” says the Kraut.

“…like…that…”

“Huh! Surely they hatch…?”

“Eugh! No.” says Arani.

Immediately a huge Krautian eye is thrust into his face, or rather he is thrust into the eye. “Mammal,” he snaps crisply. “Till further notice, pipe down and dry up.”

“He won’t, he won’t,” moans Ssnorr. “He’ll ask you questions that will warp your mind. He’ll…”

They eye comes uncomfortably close again. “What questions, mammal?”

“Oh… er… I’m sure they’ll be too… er… abstruse. I’ll just quietly…”

“Silence! You will do as you are told. I want to hear these questions. Ask them.”

“Er…” Arani’s brain squeaks desperately into high gear. “Which poem did Lewis Carroll spoof in:-

‘How doth the little crocodile

Improve his shining tail

And pour the waters of the Nile

On every golden scale!

‘How cheerfully he seems to grin

How neatly spreads his claws

And welcomes little fishes in

With gently smiling jaws!’?”

A few moments of reverent silence, then the Kraut’s cliff-like face splits into two. Arani jumps violently, then realises he is looking into gently smiling jaws.

“I like it,” says the Saur Kraut dreamily.

“But… don’t you want to hear the answer?”

“Anssswer?” the Kraut waves a claw dismissively. “I want to hear more questions.”

“Then let’s at least do it properly. If you want to quiz, you must have…”

“Kwizzz?”

“Quiz. That’s what it’s called.”

“What is called?”

“The art of answering what oft was asked but ne’er so well blind guessed.”

“Kwizzz, huh?” says the Kraut. “Kwizzz.”

“Hah!” snorts another behemoth, sitting on his haunches and setting his crest at a rakish angle. “What do quizzards use to stir their champagne?”

“Quizzle sticks! If you met something dark, shaggy and quizophiliac, what would you meet?”

“What?”

“A quizzly bear! What…”

“SHUT UP AND START LEARNING TO KWIZZZ!”

This galvanises them into action. In the next few days, led by the indefatigable Sinha, they rapidly learn the tricks of the trade. From his encyclopaedic memory they are supplied with funda. Their seer, a saur who claims he can hear the voices in the sky (though the Kraut scornfully and in private maintains that all he hears is FM radio waves) supplies them with more. Soon the quizzing circuit is established. We have the Olde Iguandons, the TNT Smears, the Klay Kicktis, the Sphagnum, the Neckniks, the Nicknacks and the Shameless Four. Ssnorr is in charge of the annual Ssnorrth Star Quiz as well as Argghus Plate and the Dinosaur’s International Open. In less than a year Sinha is a celebrity. He is a special guest of the Saur Kraut at all quiz dinners, though he finds dinosaur meat a little tough on the stomach and has sudden fits of longing for Gariahat rolls. All in all, to snitch a phrase from one of the seer’s poetry sessions, it was sporangiophores, sporangiophores all the way.

But Sinha is not peaceful in his mind. Though he is convinced to a religious plane of the sanctity of quizzing, he has a furtive, secret suspicion that the lizards are overdoing it. For some reason it hits the tall ones much harder than the short, which means the Saur Kraut gets it worst of all. He and his compatriots become more and more glassy-eyed as time goes by. They start going to the seedier quizzes – Blobelia, RA Mental, Saurian’s Hysteric Home, Cambrian Strife-Craving Society. The look of the fanatic overlays their scales: they are chasing the ten second barrier to knowledge of the universe. They are seeking that sole felicity and perfect bliss, the sweet fruition of a triple win. Their minds are spinning and contracting, lessening reaction times, speeding retrieval, striving always to the last goal, the transformation of consciousness into a transcendental bonus profit. And Arani is worried. He sees the Saur Kraut getting thin. He is worried about the lacklustre look of his scales, and the pronounced stoop in his spine is developing. He is suffering from CQS, or Cancerous Quiz Syndrome, a deadly disease of unbelievable virulence. It is characterised by hypertrophy of the mind at the expense of the body, leading to excessive strain on the spine, aggravated in the Saur Kraut’s case by inflamed sinuses brought on by listening to too much heavy metal. Ironic though this must seem, all pleasures are pain to the Kraut now that quizzing is his life, even eating and sleeping. He is trapped in a ratchet-like progression of hubris.

Arani is puzzled. To a certain extent, he believes that symptoms like these are the inevitable price of quizzing and must be paid by the serious devotee, but… there is a limit to everything, even for Arani. He resolves to have a talk with the Kraut.

He is shocked when, granted the audience, he is finally face to face with the King of Saurs (he has to climb an equisetum to do this). The Kraut’s brilliant red piping is dark and dull like dried blood. There are hollows above his temples, and his breathing rasps. Arani notices that one of his teeth is broken, which happened while trying to pronounce floccinaucinihilipilification in a quiz. The Kraut regards him with soulful eyes.

“Ah, little human, is it true that power corrupts?”

“Yes… but… there are many types of power. Not all of them are… evil.”

The Kraut snorts. “That’s what my hearer-of-voices says. But its typical of him that when faced with a crisis he goes up and down like a seer saur. Besides, he’s gone to Saureto House for the Shield. A year ago all the young bloods used to fight for a chance to go. But not any more. Lost interest in the Archaeopteryxes and the Pterodactyls, they have. All they think about is quizzing…” he is seized with a hacking cough.

“But… Darwinism will make you die out if you don’t stop quizzing and start living.”

The Kraut’s eyes blaze. “When we have the ultimate answers, we shall be gods! Nothing will stop us then. Knowledge is power, said Hobbesosaur. We will prove it here, now. Do you understand, human? We will control the universe. We will no longer stand by and let it control us. We will show the impossibilities we have struggled with the Old Harvey Smith. We will make history. We will…”

“Dammit!” shouts Arani. “You’re dying!”

“Nuts,” mutters the Kraut. “I’m just sick and tired of the stupid cloacae in my team. They missed a sitter yesterday. What was the relation between Ben Jonson and Inigo Jones. I ask you.”

“You won’t listen, will you?”

“Mammalosaur, I intend to go out in a blaze of glory, if I’m going anywhere at all. Continuation of the species? What a bore. Why should I spend my life hunting just to hatch eggs? There are more things in heaven and earth, human. If I could but have 24 years of perfect knowledge…”

“But quizzing isn’t everything.”

“It’s a bloody great deal.”

Arani sighs. There is nothing more stubborn than a psychotic quizzard, dinosaur or otherwise. He opens his mouth to speak again, but closes it as the Kraut’s orange pupils contract, sure sign that his patience is fraying. Sadly Sinha climbs down from the equisetum.

It was a week later when he heard the news. Six dinosaurs had died of heart failure at the Aesdroolapia Quiz. Apparently they had all tried to answer the same question at once, among them were to of Kraut’s teammates. Arani rushed to Kraut’s glade.

Kraut, squinting painfully, was reading a book on fashions through the ages. He looked up as Arani climbs his equisetum.

“Ah, there you are. Damned awkward. I have to learn all Ssnorr’s stuff along with my own.”

“You mean Ssnorr’s dead?”

“Nah. He’s gone to a funeral service. Says he won’t quiz anymore. That’s what they all say,” he chuckles. “But they come back. They can’t get the power out of their systems. Don’t look shocked, Sinha. I’m not sorry for those six quizzosaurs. They died with their boots on and their hands on the buzzer. Though I must admit this is the twelfth mass extinction this month. Things are getting a bit thick.”

“Kraut, save yourself. Leave quizzing!”

“And do what? Admire the sunset? Go back to mudstomping? Gorge on thenodonts? Plant spores and watch my garden grow? Pastoral pleasures are too bland for the likes of us now. We want the higher heights.”

“It’s overheating your blood.”

“Kraut! Kraut!” screams a panic-stricken voice. Only in direst emergencies were dinosaurs allowed to drop the honorific. “Oh Ssnorr, Got the willies again?”

“Kraut! You won’t believe it! Sskritch was reading a book on Zen Buddhism when suddenly he started to laugh! There was nothing I could do. And no sooner had he stopped twitching than the others started. They’re going mad! What do we do?”

“Er… give them a holiday, will you? I guess they’re overstrained.”

“Too late, Kraut,” says Sinha. “This is the terminal stage of CQS. Hysteric high-pitched laughter, followed by coma and death. Your time is up. This is the final round.”

Ssnorr turns purple and falls flat on his face.

“Requiescat in pace,” says Kraut, and yawns. “Well Sinha, I guess this is goodbye. It’s been fun. I wouldn’t have missed it for a thousand aeons, and neither would they. We find little to laugh about here. It’s nice to die laughing. Makes it all worthwhile. Ahhh!” He sinks to his knees, and emits a satisfied giggle. “It’s starting,” he says complacently. “Tickle me, Sinha.”

Arani eyes him warily. “If you fall on me and I die, you’ll turn into a black hole and…”

“Hee Hee! Tell me another.”

“Look, Kraut…”

“No. Tell me that bit of poem. You know, ‘Those who have crossed…’”

“’…with direct eyes…’ That one?”

“Yes, yes.”

“’Those who have crossed

With direct eyes to death’s other kingdom

Remember us – if at all – not as lost

Violent souls, but only

As the hollow men,

The stuffed men.’”

“Yesss, yes… ‘Eyes I dare not meet in dreams. In death’s dream kingdom…’ But how does it start? ‘We are the…’ Say it.”

Sinha swallows. Though he hates to admit it, he is very sentimental. In a trembling voice, he quotes:

“’We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men

Leaning together

Headpiece stuffed with straw. Alas!

Our dried voices, when

We whisper together

Are quiet and meaningless

As wind in dry grass

Or rat’s feet over broken glass

In our dry cellar.

Shape without form, shade without colour

Paralysed force, gesture without motion…’”

* * *

Arani opens his eyes as the voices slip softly from his ear, feeling the lightness drain away from him, mass returning to his body. Slowly, with infinite pain as though the world were remaking itself, he focuses on the familiar whitewashed wall, with its so-well-known posters. He realises he is looking at one of them, a big blowup from the Smithsonian Institute. It shows one of their exhibits, done in the drab colours that are all that human artists will grant to the kings of the ancient jungles, its proud neck swooping into the galleries, its feet huge, yet flaccid without the ripple of muscle, its triangular head poised gracefully, its beady eyes, glittering brilliantly, uncannily, lifelessly, betraying that it is…

Stuffed.

Gone to the dogs

2008-07-22T15:49:00.007+05:30

Recently there has been a lot of opposition against the presence of dogs in the department. For those who believe that dogs are not allowed on campus in eminent universities please take a look at the documents (i'll send you the links if you want me to) now gracing the Blabberboard (JUDE corridor) and the comments spawned by the said yellowing sheets of paper. As i said, the departmental/university dogs are not pets--they are strays. The only way to stop them rummaging in the bins for food is to control their ever increasing population. This post is to inform you that thanks to the enterprising UG2 students, we are probably soon gonna have all dogs spayed /neutered and vaccinated. I will personally vaccinate PMD this Thursday (he has been de-wormed last week). Please let's not divide the department into camps of pro and against. All that is asked for is a little patience (since we have undertaken to pay for said sterilization and vaccination of the dogs). Thank you.

Madhura, PG II

Links:
http://media.www.thespartandaily.com/media/storage/paper852/news/2004/02/27/CampusNews/Dogs-On.Campus.Not.A.Problem.Upd.Says-1498268.shtml

http://observer.case.edu/Archives/Volume_40/Issue_21/Story_2562/

http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~cdog/history.html

http://media.www.quakercampus.org/media/storage/paper1281/news/2008/05/01/CampusLife/Dog-Gone.Campus-3360436.shtml

http://communications.uwo.ca/com/western_news/features/pets_on_campus_20040325436228/

http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/china/2008-07/01/content_6807626.htm

http://www.elon.edu/e-web/pendulum/Issues/2006/03_02/features/dogs.xhtml

http://yalebulldogs.cstv.com/trads/mascot.html

Quiizing in JU

2008-06-29T09:58:00.002+05:30

I wrote this article a couple of years ago for a Washington webzine run by JU alums and though it might amuse a few old-timeres. Or not. Whatever.

I joined JU as an undergraduate student exactly 20 years ago, in 1986. By then, I was already a seasoned quizzard, having first cut my teeth in the Chuchura-Chandannagar circuit and then as a member of the St Lawrence school team during the Higher Secondary years. As a school team we did not fare very well in the festival circuit but all that was to change dramatically at university.

One of the first quizzing events I remember from university was the freshers’ quiz, organized by the Arts Faculty Students’ Union. I teamed up with Saurav Sen from the history department and we won with ridiculous ease. Saurav Sen was then easily the most formidable database of recondite information on both sides of the jheel. At IIT Kharagpur’s Spring Fest the following year, he reduced keen engineers to tears by describing the workings of the Wankel Rotary Engine in merciless detail, and by his perorations on the push-pull amplifier.

Like India and Pakistan at cricket, there were then two great quizzing nations in the university, the Arts-Science and the Engineering. While Arts-Science were dominated by English, Economics and Mathematics, Engineering drew its strength from Electrical, Electronics and Mechanical. In those early years of jheel-side rivalry, the Arts-Science faction would pour scorn on the engineers for being of the ‘rock handbook’ school of quizzing—implying that their of knowledge of western music was derived not from hours of dedicated listening but from handbooks and encyclopedia. The engineers did not take this lying down and jeered the Arts-Science camp for knowing next to nothing about sports. In the fullness of time, these rivalries would be forgotten as friendships flourished across the great divide and the two camps united in the common goal of preventing the SFI from taking over the Debating Society and Quiz Forum (DSQF).

The DSQF—then as now—was the official face of quizzing in the campus. Quizzing comprised 100 % and debating approximately 0 % of its activities. Arup Ghosh (currently head honcho at ITC) of the English department ran it like a mafia boss, and we merrily stringed along. One of its yearly events was the Ranajoy Karlekar Memorial Inter-Departmental Quiz, usually held on the basketball court. There was a shield for the event, though no one now knows where it is. (For those of a post-Eighties vintage, Ranajoy Karlekar of the English department was one of the most legendary teachers of his generation and died prematurely in 1985).

But the most intense rivalry was reserved for the college festival quizzes, where there were cash prizes to be won. I still remember winning the princely sum of Rs 151 at one such quiz and the subsequent immortal comment made by teammate Vinay Rao (Math): ‘Ah, a square meal at last’. The math team was probably the strongest in the university, with Vinay being partnered by basketball-team captain Joy Bhattacharya and ancient mariner Debkumar Mitra, aka Debuda. Joy and Debu-da were probably the first quizzards ever to make a career in quizzing post-university—Joy, particularly, during his ESPN years. Debuda on the other hand was widely rumoured to have being around since the Flood and we would probably not have been surprised if the university vice-chancellor also chose to call him Debuda.

But I digress. College quizzes soon became as predictable as Left Front victories in West Bengal, as JU swept first, second and third places in most of them. Alarmed, fest organizers said that they would allow only two teams from JU to participate. Armageddon ensued: which were the two best teams in the university? To ascertain this, a dark and barbaric ritual known as ‘seeding quiz’ [more popularly known as bi(n)chi quiz] was instituted. Every Friday, the tribe would gather at the now-demolished Gandhi Bhaban (yes, you read right, GB has been torn down to make way for a modern auditorium) and one of the competing teams would act as the quizmasters. A complicated percentile system was devised to keep scores which no one other than the mathematicians understood. Quizzes went on for 10, 20, 30 rounds and till late evening, with an audience of one scorer, one timekeeper and somebody’s bored girlfriend (quizzing was then, alas, a ruthlessly male bastion). Some of the most difficult questions in the history of humankind were asked at these quizzes, as teams sought to undo each other in esoterica.

The seeding quizzes also saw the birth of two of the brightest stars of the Engineering faculty, Aniruddha Bhattacharya and Amitava Banerjee (currently a colleague in the Electronics department). Their knowledge of Hindi film funda—and particularly film music—was frightening: I still believe that there is nothing that they did not know about the Bombay film industry. But as far as star billing went, it was Arani Sinha of Electrical who shone the brightest (Arani, if you are reading this, please forgive me once more). He was the most talismanic of engineering quizzards, taking slow boats to Shibpur if necessary to reach a quiz on time. Along with his trusty comrade Kalidas Ghosh of Mechanical (currently a hotshot banker with Citibank), Arani went forth to give battle wherever there was a whiff of quizzing in the air. Such mundane matters as floods, insurrections and fall of governments completely failed to deter his quest for the final answer to the life, the universe and everything.

It was not inappropriate, therefore, that the only novel ever to be begun on quizzing was called Arani Quizzed. Four chapters of this incomplete novel were co-written by yours truly and Rimi Chatterjee (novelist, English teacher at JU) in the summer of 1990. The first chapter was ‘published’ (photocopied and sold to quizzards) on the first day of AGON, the fest of Calcutta National Medical College. Three more chapters were inflicted upon an unsuspecting world before Arani got wise to what was happening (he had by then shifted to ISI) and threatened the authors with dire consequences if they did not stop writing novels about him. For those interested, the first chapter may be found at http://theblabberwocky.blogspot.com/2006/03/arani-quizzed.html

Roundabout this time, quizzards made common cause to prevent the SFI from taking over the DSQF, which was about the only club in the campus it did not control. This was attempted by the very simple expedient of enrolling a large number of students (who were innocent of any quiz-ly act in all their lives) and voting a new committee in. One morning at nine, we (Kalidas Ghosh, Rajsekhar Mitra and I) met the vice-chancellor and requested him to intervene. This he did and the crisis was averted for the nonce. However, there was nothing we could do when similar tactics were employed by the SFI the following year. In fairness, it must also be said that we ran DSQF like a para club and did little to increase membership rolls.

By 1991, most of the students of my generation were on their way out and a brave new breed set their sights on the open quizzing circuit. Names like Rathindra Basu (Electrical) and Jaideep Mukherjee (International Relations) began to do the rounds; happily, a number of women quizzards from the English Department began to challenge the male hegemony. The early 90s also saw a brief period of what can only be described as militant trade unionism on part of university quizzards. There were repeated boycotts of festival quizzes to protest organizational high-handedness, or incompetent quizmasters. Parallel quizzes would be held at the festival venue at very short notice, and the actual event would have to be cancelled by the organizers. The first of these ‘rebel’ quizzes were held at Xavotsab, followed by Dental College, Presidency College and JU itself—in the latter case to protest the quiz mastership of Krishnendu Banik at the Arts Sanskriti.

Twenty years on, the DSQF still exists and a new bunch of enthusiasts—mercifully unmolested by any political outfit—runs the club from the first floor of the Amenities Centre. I do not know whether they write novels about themselves or hatch plans of world domination in their little room. But sometimes, when I walk across the campus at dusk, with the sun setting over Bengal Lamp, I can see a light burning on the first floor of the AC Canteen. And I like to imagine that they are engaged in some completely useless research about the name of Attila the Hun’s pet dog or Bill Clinton’s brand of cigar, a comforting thought in a world which has little time for the irrelevant, the unproductive and the downright silly.

2008-03-29T02:27:00.000+05:30

exploring masculinities
ju, 27 and 28 march 2008

2008-03-26T15:19:00.001+05:30

dead white males
by david williamson,
that was on 14 march 2008

Pune based website looking for Editor cum Communications Manager

2008-03-01T20:38:00.003+05:30

Starting pay would be anywhere between Rs. 20,000 and Rs. 25,000 for the right person.

www.LordsOfOdds.com

1. What do we do?

We are developing a fantasy betting portal (www.LordsOfOdds.com) where users can bet on Sports, Entertainment, (and soon) Current Affairs and Business events using virtual currency.
Along with the game the portal will also have typical social networking features (like Orkut) built around the game.
Users can also play the game in private / public groups on events of their choice e.g. you just want to play with your circle of friends and only on cricket.

2. Who are we? - Management Team at MindHive Labs

• Rajesh Kallidumbil, Co-Founder - A Computer Science engineer from Cochin University, Rajesh has worked in the IT services industry for 3 years between Covansys and Kanbay before doing his MBA from IIM Lucknow (2006). Post-MBA, he was working as a trader with ICICI Bank's Treasury Dept. in London. Currently, he is responsible for managing the Technical Development and Finances at MindHive Labs.

• Siddhartha Saha, Co-Founder - Siddhartha is an Electronics and Telecomm Engineer from PICT, Pune University. He worked for a year and a half with Kanbay before going for his MBA to IIM Calcutta (2006). He has also attended a term at Copenhagen Business School where he studied International Entrepreneuship. He was working as a management consultant with Feedback Ventures' Infrastructure Advisory Division after his MBA. Currently, he is in charge of Marketing and Business Development at MindHive Labs.

• Hariharan K, Co-Founder - Hari is a Mechanical Engineer from R.E.C. Suratkal and was working with IBM for three years before doing MBA from IIM Calcutta (2006). Post-MBA, he was working as an Equity Research Analyst with Irrevna prior to joining MindHive Labs. Hari, is an active sports
enthusiast and was the Sports Secretary in the Student's Council at IIM Calcutta. He is responsible for Product Management at MindHive Labs

• Sunil Jain (Design and Architecture Consultant) - Sunil hold’s a Bachelor’s degree in Computer Science & Engineering from IIT Kanpur, with 8+ years of experience in developing Enterprise Software. He has been involved in all stages of software development lifecycle, from requirement analysis to customer support. He has worked with cross-geographical teams, and handled
multiple projects simultaneously. He is advising us on technical design and architecture issues.

• Prashant Gupta, Independant Advisor - Prashant is working as a Principal Product Manager with Microsoft India. Prior to joining Microsoft Prashant was a Vice President with Sequoia Capital India. Before Sequoia, Prashant worked extensively in the field of software product development at Microsoft Corporation and i2 Technologies. His area of expertise is Business Solutions including Transaction Management, Supply Chain Management and CRM applications. Prior to i2, Prashant worked at McKinsey & Co. advising clients in the areas of strategy, operations management and performance improvement in airline and banking industries. Prashant received an MBA from IIM Calcutta where he was awarded the President's Gold Medal. He also holds a Bachelor's degree in Computer Science from IIT Kanpur where he was awarded a Special Award for Academic Excellence.

3. Where are we located?

We are based out Pune. Currently we are working out of an apartment close to Kalyaninagar.
Exact Address: MindHive Labs Solution Pvt. Ltd.
9 / F-9, Hermes Heritage Phase 2
Shastrinagar, Yerawada
Pune – 411006
Contact No: 020-26690448
Email id: sidsaha@lordsofodds.com / hariharan@lordsofodds.com

4. What are we looking for? - The job profile

Looking for an Editor-cum-communications manager who can catch the pulse of the nation and come up with interesting and popular / controversial bets for our users to speculate on. He/she should be in tune with what makes the nation tick. The idea is to constantly come up with bets that would attract people’s attention.
The person would also be a part of our marketing team and would help in preparing our marketing communication and come up with creative ideas.

More specifically the job would include -
• Taking strategic editorial policy decisions – i.e. decide on what kind of events we should cover and what not; what kind of bets to have.
• Generating interesting bets, monitoring them, and settling the bets – we have a backend system for this, you just need to do the job!
• Preparing all our key marketing communications – mailers, posters, content on the site, any kind of creative; viral communication etc.

We would not
• bind you by processes
• promote you every 2 years
• send you to class for trainings
• give you a fancy designation
• provide cab for pick and drop

You can expect
• quality work
• respect for your ideas & creative freedom
• responsibility and accountability
• wearing 'multiple hats'
• your contributions reflecting in company's progress
• high rewards and shared ownership of company through stock options

2008-02-04T23:19:00.000+05:30

talks.
[using a differently named account, having run out of space on my own.]

2008-01-23T01:42:00.000+05:30

first show. good fun.

The Proof

2008-01-21T23:18:00.000+05:30

Good Theatre for Good Cause:

The Red Curtain presents
THE PROOF
in aid of Operation Smile
Gyan Manch. Sunday 27 Jan, 7 PM.
Be there. Change a smile, Change a life.

US-based Operation Smile is in Kolkata now, operating on poor kids with facial deformaties; all proceeds from tickets go to helping these kids.

Spread the word please.

Tickets are priced Rs. 50 up.

2008-01-19T23:56:00.000+05:30

week.

The Dover Bitch

2007-12-20T14:27:00.000+05:30

By Anthony Hecht

The Dover Bitch

So there stood Matthew Arnold and this girl
With the cliffs of England crumbling away behind them,
And he said to her, 'Try to be true to me,
And I'll do the same for you, for things are bad
All over, etc., etc.'
Well now, I knew this girl. It's true she had read
Sophocles in a fairly good translation
And caught that bitter allusion to the sea,
But all the time he was talking she had in mind
The notion of what his whiskers would feel like
On the back of her neck. She told me later on
That after a while she got to looking out
At the lights across the channel, and really felt sad,
Thinking of all the wine and enormous beds
And blandishments in French and the perfumes.
And then she got really angry. To have been brought
All the way down from London, and then be addressed
As a sort of mournful cosmic last resort
Is really tough on a girl, and she was pretty.
Anyway, she watched him pace the room
And finger his watch-chain and seem to sweat a bit,
And then she said one or two unprintable things.
But you mustn't judge her by that.
What I mean to say is, She's really all right.
I still see her once in a while
And she always treats me right.
We have a drink
And I give her a good time, and perhaps it's a year
Before I see her again, but there she is,
Running to fat, but dependable as they come.
And sometimes I bring her a bottle of Nuit d' Amour.

Words and paper cups

2007-12-19T07:51:00.000+05:30

1. Professor Jacqueline Rose of the University of London will be speaking on 'The Political Edge of Fiction' (on Edward Said and Palestinian fiction) in Vivekananda Hall, JU (opposite Milan's Canteen) at 3 pm on 7th January

2. Professor James Simpson of Harvard University will be giving a lecture on 'Six Dark, Dynamic and Demeaning Paradoxes of Sixteenth-Century Evangelical Bible Reading' at 3 pm on Wednesday 9th January in Anita Banerji Memorial Auditorium, UG Arts Bldg JU

3. Professor John Kerrigan of the University of Cambridge will be speaking on Macbeth and the notion of 'archipelagizing' literature on Tuesday 15th January at 3 pm in Anita Banerji Memorial Auditorium, UG Arts Bldg JU

Milton in his Time

International Milton Quatercentenary Conference
Department of English
Jadavpur University,
Kolkata 700032, India

Phone/Fax: 91-33-24146681

Conference dates 16-18 January 2008

Venue: HL Roy Auditorium
Institute of Chemical Engineers
Jadavpur University

Tentative Schedule of Speakers
16.1.2008
10.00 am :Registration
10.30 am: Inauguration,
11.00 am: Coffee
11.15 am – 1 am: Academic Session I

James Simpson, Harvard University 11.15-12.15 To be announced
Prasanta Chakravarty, Centre for the Study of Culture and Society, Bangalore 12.15-1.00:
A Trimme Paradox: The Good Old Cause and the Nature of Republican Liberty in the late 1650s
1.00 pm: Lunch
2 pm – 5.00 pm: Academic Session II
Student Papers: Abirlal Mitra, Jadavpur University, 2.00-2.15: The Pneumatology of John Milton ; Somnath Basu, Jadavpur University, 2.15-2.30: The Absence of Erasmus in The Works of John Milton
C. S. Lim, University of Malaya 2.30-3.15: The Golden Chersonese in Paradise Lost: Milton In & Out of His Time
Niranjan Goswami, Presidency College, Kolkata 3.15-4.00 To be announced
Tea, 4.00 pm
Supriya Chaudhuri, Jadavpur University 4.15-5.00 To be announced
_______________________________________________________________________
DAY II: 17.1.2008

10.00 am: - 1 pm: Academic Session III
John Kerrigan, Cambridge University 10.00-11.00: The Archipelago Enlarged: Milton and Marvell to 1660
Coffee, 11 am
Malabika Sarkar, Jadavpur University 11.15-12.00: Milton's Raphael and Seventeenth Century Curiosity
Samya Seth, Jadavpur University 12.00-12.30: The Secret of Samson Agonistes: Act and Encounter
Sharmistha Mitra, Bidhannagar College, Kolkata 2.45-3.15 The Genesis Account and Paradise Lost

1 pm: Lunch
DAY II 17.1.2008 (continued)
2 pm – 5.00 pm: Academic Session IV
Alexandra Dumitrescu, University of Otago 2.00-2.45: Milton's Inheritance: Between Paradise Lost (1667) and Milton (1804)
Sriparna Ghoshal, Vivekananda College, Kolkata 12.30- 1.00
Blake and Milton – Visual Interpretations
Sneha Kar Chaudhuri, Jadavpur University 3.15-3.45
The Afterlife of John Milton in British New Historical Fiction: A.S.Byatt's "Morpho Eugenia" and Peter Ackroyd's Milton in America
Student Paper 3.45-4.00: Poushali Bhadury, Jadavpur University: Milton and Pullman
Tea, 4.00 pm
Swapan Kumar Chakravorty, Jadavpur University 4.15-5.00 To be announced

___________________________________________________________________________
DAY III: 18.1.2008

10:00– 1 pm: Academic Session V
David Hawkes, Arizona State University 10.00-11.00
Milton and Usury
Coffee, 11 am
Rupin Desai, formerly of Delhi University 11.15-12.00: The Paradox of Sexuality in Books IV and IX of Paradise Lost
Sukanya Dasgupta, Loreto College, Kolkata 12.00-12.45 To be announced
Student Paper 12.45 – 1.00: Hrileena Ghosh (Jadavpur University): Dream not of other worlds: Politics and the rhetoric of "new science" in Paradise Lost
1 pm: Lunch
2 pm – 5.15 pm Academic Session VI
Student Paper 2.00-2.15: Avishek Parui (Calcutta University): Author, Authority and The Judge: "Samson Agonistes" and the voice of John Milton
Amrita Dhar, Jadavpur University 2.15-2.45 "Milton and 'his great duel':Paradise Regained
Mou Banerjee, Jadavpur University 2.45-3.15 To be announced
Nandini Bhattacharya, Bethune College, Kolkata. 3.15-3.45 On Ugliness: A Reading of Paradise Lost and Samsom Agonistes".
Tea, 3.45 pm
Amlan Das Gupta, Jadavpur University 4.00- 4.45 On Misunderstanding God's Will

4.45 pm: Valediction

CERTIFICATE COURSE IN EDITING AND PUBLISHING

2007-12-10T21:17:00.000+05:30

Applications are invited from Honours Graduates in any discipline for a PG Certificate Course in Editing and Publishing to be conducted by the School of Cultural Texts and Records, Jadavpur University, in collaboration with the Editing as a Skills Programme, from 7 January 2008-11 April 2008. Classes will normally be held four days a week from 6-8 p.m. Applicants must be below 35 years of age, and have to appear for a screening test on 28 December 2007, at 5 p.m., to be held on the first floor of the UG Arts Building. Course fee: Rs 5,500. Applications may be made on plain paper or by email to culture@school.jdvu.ac.in, addressed to Prof. Swapan Chakraborty, Coordinator, Editing as a Skill Programme, Jadavpur University, Kolkata 700 032. Paper applications should be submitted to the School of Cultural Texts and Records, (UG Arts/ Science Building, 3^rd floor, near Film Studies Department) between 11-4 p.m. on working days. Closing date: 26 December. 2007. Photocopies of graduation certificate and mark-sheets must be produced on the day of screening test.

Prof. Swapan Chakraborty
Coordinator, Editing as a Skill Programme, Jadavpur University

A word of Ad-vice

2007-12-10T02:53:00.001+05:30

Wokay so this blog is becoming less and less about the blabberbots and more about photographs and finicky questions.

Dear people who are about to depart... GET A HOLD ON YOURSELF. I SURVIVED IT, and YOU GUYS WILL TOO.

Get over the farewell bit. You people are bound to come back and smoke up outside the classrooms and make out inside them and get sloshed in random places.

My advice to the departing Seniors : TEACH THE KIDS THE SALIENT ART OF Lyaeding.

Very important, that. It makes a mind philosophical. It brings out odd quirks about oneself... from detesting chocolate sauce to being the next masochist.... Anything is possible between one ring of cigarette smoke and another.

On another note, LISSEN PEOPLE WE LOVE YOU BUT WE KNOW THAT OUTSIDE JUDE IS A BIG WORLD. And we are not afraid to shove you guys into it. We have muscles. And we have Oomph. We can bust you with either. Or both. Take your pick.

And ok, yes. For Deep. Sit on anyone's face for all we care but don't repeat that song during your own farewell.... Decomposing composers is much better. You can even try the loony bun one. It helps if you sing it while hanging from a tree gracing Milan Da's and attempt to have sex with the black-evolution-monkey-turned-Michael-Jackson dustbin that we have. It clearly states on it : USE ME.

Now Sandy, stop grinning that little I-Know-What-You-Did-On-Friday-The-Thirteenth-At-Princeton -and-I'm-not-Afraid-to-Use-It grin that you possess. Its just plain mean. Makes us lesser mortals feel even more less (And yes I have heard the Curveball Jokes and still think Less is More)....

Auritro and Somnath. Please Assign another set of Ook Ooks {read Tweedledee and Tweedledum(b)} in your place. In case you guys have found them already, I would say.... I always trusted your eff-iciency. If you have not... What the Ef are you two doing hanging around?

Dyuti... Find someone who can do the farewell video. Find someone who can be the general Collector and Editor and Organiser extraordinaire... We need one. Assign more than one people because you're like a one man army. Please Please Please.

Um.

Disclaimer : In small prints, I would like to mention that this is all relevant, but uh, my blog account has been hacked recently so it can be anyone who wrote this. If people come after me with coffee cups I shall not drink from it. I readily declare that my mother is a hamster and my father smells of elderberries. Actually he smells of rum, but no one's coming over to my house to smell him... so there!!

2007-10-14T22:42:00.000+05:30

Nature Oriented Venturous Association thanks the generous support extended by the Department of English, Jadavpur University, to the Jogin I (21,205 ft) and III (20,060 ft) Expedition in the post-monsoon climbing season of 2007.

A thorough decontamination from non-biodegradable wastes was achieved at both Base Camp (Kedartal, 15,523 ft) and Advanced Base Camp (16,122 ft) areas. Owing to very heavy snowfall and very strong winds over six continuous days, neither peak was scaled, and we were able to physically remove and carry down far less of the non-biodegradables than we would have liked. However, I am happy to report that all the members and HAPs (High Altitude Porters) of the eleven-strong team have returned to their homes safely. Several other teams in the area were not as fortunate, and more than a hundred trekkers and climbers are still missing and feared lost. It is our deepest wish that the stranded return home safe and whole.

We were in very beautiful lands, and were exposed to great power. I have uploaded some of the photographs here.

Cute Words(Sniglets)

2007-09-28T19:44:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time,on a rainy morning ,when most of Kolkata was dripping wet,I decided to google cute words and add them to my list of already cute words.Whether you find them cute,"bisgusting"or downright silly,is of course,a matter of perspective,but here are the words that I found:

Now, Sniglets are words which are "supposed to be found in the dictionary,but aren't".For instance,IF Beyonce Knowles's famous "Bootylicious"wasn't included in the English Dictionary(now it is)it would probably be classified as a 'Sniglet'Comedian Rich Hall is the 'inventor'if I may say so or conjuror(because I think Sniglets are MAGIC!)of the word "Sniglet".

So here's my mini-list of 'Sniglets'

Biscuits that taste disgusting:Bisgusting
the odour that emanates from you after a LENGTHY aerobics exercise:Aeroma
A combination of scrumptious and delicious:Scrumptilicious(I'm sorry,I can't seem to be thinking of ANYTHING but food lately)(This one's from Enid Blyton-more specifically-Secret Seven)
The loose strand of spagetti that beats one around the chin and whiskers:Spagellum
Aquadextrous-the ability to turn off water with both toes)
Fonesia:Forgetting to dial the entire phone number of a particular person while you were almost About to finish dialling it.
Captain Kirk,in his famous Sniglet Blog,defines 'Optograviphobia'as "The Unreasoning fear that a man's eyeglasses will slide off his face into some unpleasent(sic)"

Okay,in a pathetic attempt I've come up with my own 'Sniglets'

Here goes

Dlowning:Drowning while attempting to be funny(this is a 'mule'really-a cross between clown and drowning)

Kiwisitosis:Addiction to kiwi fruit

Assfixation:the disease which ABSOLUTELY forces you to remain err...TRANSFIXED to a person's posterior for the longest time

Bloggerbitosis:People that unnecessarily bite bloggers...

Can you come up with any more 'Sniglets?'

When comes such another?

2007-09-27T23:52:00.000+05:30

People have been wondering "After Sandy leaves who will take care of the forum?" "After Deep leaves, who will take care of The Blabberwocky?" but people One important question...

"After Mahadyuti leaves, Who will collect money and organise stuff???"

Who will be the next bakra of JUDE? Who will attempt to fill Mahadyuti's jeans?
Who will it be?

Anyone willing to take in a month-old kitten?

2007-09-03T19:49:00.000+05:30

http://ushmi.blogspot.com/2007/09/are-any-of-you-willing-to-take-in-month.html

Jude Tshirt - Order Listing

2007-08-18T12:12:00.000+05:30

Blank Noise Kolkata

2007-07-17T00:52:00.000+05:30

The Blank Noise Project has started its Kolkata chapter. Five meetings have been held so far, and we are inviting anybody who may be interested for the next meeting, due to be held this weekend.

If street sexual harassment has ever ruined your day, perhaps it is time you took a stand against it.

Contact shuktara.lal@gmail.com or anuj.dasgupta@yahoo.co.in for further information.

Attention, Job-Seekers!

2007-05-27T13:40:00.000+05:30

The Telegraph Young Metro is looking for writers. Those interested, call Sayoni at 9836548508.

(From Erythrocyte, whose broadband has unfortunately tanked.)

PS: There won't be any money involved, so only go for this if you want bylines/writing practice.

Research course 11 to 15 June for ex-PGs

2007-05-14T13:45:00.000+05:30

The School of Cultural Texts and Records is holding a course for postgraduates in research methods from 11 to 15 June 2007 in the Project Room. Anyone who's finished their MA (ie PG2) can apply. This is being run for the fellows of the school to give them a grounding in research skills, bibliography, archival research, electronic techniques and book history, but 20 outside applicants will be selected.

You need to have passed your MA with 55%(B+) or have given your finals with 55% average in your other sems. The age limit is 25 years. The course fee is Rs 250/-

Please apply on plain paper with a copy of your marksheet or grade card with full contact details including email, phone no and address. Leave the application, addressed to the Director, SCTR, in the project room on the fourth floor next to film studies on any working day from 11.30 am and 4.30 pm. The last date is 18 May.

Courses for next sem

2007-05-14T13:29:00.000+05:30

List of Courses to be Offered in the First Semester 2006-07

Here they are! PGs will sign up in the beginning of next sem, to allow PG1 a chance. UG2, UG3 have already signed up, but there may be a few slots available. If you haven't already signed, get in touch with us now.

UG Core
Course Title Course Coordinator
UG1 English Literature 1760-1830 Rafat Ali
UG1 English Literature 1830-1900 Abhijit Gupta
UG2 History of Language, and Old and Middle English Literature Prodosh Bhattacharya
UG2 English Literature 1500-1630 Paromita Chakraborty
UG3 English Literature 1900-2000 Sonia Shahoo

PG Core
Course Title Course Coordinator
PG1 Medieval and Renaissance Literature Sukanta Chaudhuri
PG1 English Literature 1830-1900 Shanta Dutta
PG2 English Literature 1900-2000 Shobha M. Chattopadhyay
PG2 Literary Theory and Culture Studies Supriya Chaudhuri

Extra Departmental Courses
Course Title Course Coordinator
UG1 English Skills A Saswati Haldar
UG1 English Literature and Culture A (Reading Practice) Paromita Chakraborty

UG Optionals
Cluster A
Course Title Course Coordinator
Chaucer and Langland Sajni Mukherji
Renaissance Drama Excluding Shakespeare Swapan Chakravarty

Cluster B
Course Title Course Coordinator
Literature of the English Revolution (UG 3 only) Amlan Dasgupta
British Romantic Women Poets Malabika Sarkar
The Age of Enlightenment Chandreyee Niyogi

Cluster C
Course Title Course Coordinator
Drama in Practice UG2 only Ananda Lal
Writing in Practice UG3 only Rimi B. Chatterjee
Modernist Prose Santanu Biswas
American Novels Shobha M. Chattopadhyay
Tragedy Shanta Dutta
Settler Colony Literature Nilanjana Deb

PG Optionals
Course Title Course Coordinator
Drama in Practice PG1 only Ananda Lal
Writing in Practice PG2 only Rimi B. Chatterjee
Linguistics Sonia Shahoo
Shelley Rimi B. Chatterjee
Foucault Chandreyee Niyogi
Milton Amlan Dasgupta
Old English Prodosh Bhattacharya
Poetry, Politics and Society, 1660-1760 Malabika Sarkar
Caribbean Literature Nilanjana Deb
Special author: R.L Stevenson Abhijit Gupta
Post Modern Fictions Nilanjana Gupta
Science and Victorian Poetry Saswati Haldar
Structure, Sign and Play Santanu Biswas

Comparative Literature Cross-listed Courses (PG)
Course Title Course Coordinator
Comparative Cultural Studies TBA
Area Studies (Canada/Bangladesh/Latin America/Africa) TBA

Za Don

2007-03-24T09:03:00.000+05:30

Swapan da

Photograph taken by Amrita Dhar during the Food seminar in 2006

One of the most self-reflexive songs 'bout performing musicians that i know of ...

2007-03-13T00:31:00.000+05:30

All The Roadrunning
written by: Mark Knopfler
performed by: Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris
from: All the Roadrunning, Knopfler and Harris

A million miles our vagabond heels
Clocked up beneath the clouds,
They're counting down to show time
When we do it for real with the crowds.
Air miles are owing, but they don't come for free
And they don't give you any for pain -

But if it's all for nothing,
All the roadrunning's
Been in vain.

The rimshots come down like cannon fire
And thunder off the wall,
There's a man in every corner
And each one is giving his all,
This is my fife, this is my drum
So you never will hear me complain -

And if it's all for nothing,
All the roadrunning's
Been in vain

All the roadrunning, all the roadrunning...

Well if you're inclined to go up on the wall
It can only be fast and high
And those who don't like the danger soon find
Something different to try.
When there's only a ringin' in your ears and
An echo down memory lane -

But if it's all for nothing,
All the roadrunning's
Been in vain.

All the roadrunning, all the roadrunning...

The show's packing up, I sit and watch
The convoy leaving town
There's no pretending I'm not a fool for
Riding around and around.
Like the pictures you keep of your old wall of death
You showed me one time on the plane -

But if it's all for nothing,
All the roadrunning's
Been in vain.

A million miles of vagabond sky
Clocked up above the clouds,
I'm still your man for the roaming
For as long as there's roamin' allowed.
There'll be a rider, and there'll be a wall
As long as the dreamer remains -

And if it's all for nothing,
All the roadrunning's
Been in vain.

All the roadrunning, all the roadrunning...
All the roadrunning, all the roadrunning...

2006-12-19T13:20:00.001+05:30

as we know, the campus trees are being rather strangely 'pruned'. in the name of pruning, the contractors are lopping off huge and very unoffending branches from many very old trees, thus damaging them to the extent that they will soon die, and then, of course, they can with legitimate haste chop the whole thing off and take away the wood.

a letter to the registrar is being drafted right now, and awaits as many physical signatures as possible. tintinda or nilanjanadi have copies of where we are to sign.

online, a mail with a chain of signatures may well be sent directly to the registrar and the vice chancellor at the official j.u. address (look here for the addresses). this original dinosaur of computers requests the administrator of this site to please take up from here for the online thingummy.

American cogfest comes to orkut

2006-12-10T00:00:00.000+05:30

The horror, the horror.

Natural Born Killers

2006-12-03T06:15:00.000+05:30

With the current events in Singur, not to speak of so many current events the world over thats being fed to us in authorized versions for so many yrs now, especially the last five-ten odd ones, not having watched this can leave you with a state of shame for your overlook, at least it did for me. Being a film freak, and someone interested in the political shape of this world (jus' like many other armchair thinking good-for-nothigs I'm sure), I now admit it's been a crime I haven't seen this film so long. It is by far the greatest love story and political film I've ever seen. Period. Yes one of the most fucking perceptive political statements to be put on film ever, right up there with Costa-Gavras' "Z" and Pasolini's "Salo", if not higher, which would be tantamount to saying the highest.

"Give me back my broken night, my mirrored room, my secret life
it's lonely here, there's no one left to torture
Give me absolute control over every living soul
And lie beside me, baby, that's an order!
Give me crack and anal sex, take the only tree that's left
and stuff it up the hole in your culture
Give me back the Berlin wall give me Stalin and St Paul
I've seen the future, brother: it is murder.

Things are going to slide, slide in all directions
Won't be nothing Nothing you can measure anymore
The blizzard, the blizzard of the world has crossed the threshold
and it has overturned the order of the soul
When they said REPENT
I wonder what they meant
When they said REPENT
I wonder what they meant."

- Leonard Cohen, 'The Future'

Well the direction is Oliver Stone, and yet the script is Tarantino, and I think that's equally important for this movie. And I'd like to quote from a comment made on IMDB about this angle: "Quentin Tarantino, the reigning postmodernist "King of Cool" who plays with pastiche of pop culture genres, wrote the script for Stone's Natural Born Killers, but then criticized the way the film was directed. Ironically, Tarantino then copied several formal film techniques and innovations straight out of NBK for his later "Kill Bill" films. -- with the key exception that Tarantino continues the tradition of glamorizing violence. The Tarantino crowd sees itself as properly aesthetic and cool, far above the ham-fisted Stone! Creepy isn't it?" That's not really so much a statement on Tarantino the lovably obsessive intertextualising film-geek that he is, as on our publicly accepted perceptions about the medium concerned.

But I can't pin it down to who are the great minds at work and who does what with what degree of honourable mention yadayadayada like we do with most creative outputs, thereby making an individualistic hogwash of it all and insulating it in a real tight candy-shell so it's safe and fit for the world's consumption. Cos it's far more than that, and it reaches you at your junked-up, twisted, by-now-shoulda'-been-apathetic-n-jaded nerves like a baby's first blink, and it hits such a right chord. If anything we can talk about, it's the music, cos it sums up the the visual content. you got Bob Dylan singin' "You Belong To Me" (and he can make you forget Dean "cool" Martin just like that), you got Peter Gabriel and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, and most of all like a running refrain, you got four amazing prophecies from the great Leonard Cohen's "The Future." It's easier to talk bout such things, than to talk bout things which we are all in a consensus to be silent about. I'm jus wondering, how the hell did they ever get this released, and how did consumerism and the 'empty time-bubble of capital' manage to digest even this (and this digestion has been well-covered, both by the print media and the academia), and yet not Salo? And yet this speaks far more direct and brutal. I jus wished I'd seen this many many times already.

"We asked for signs, the signs were sent:
the birth betrayed, the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood of every government --
signs for all to see.

You can add up the parts, but you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march, there is no drum
Every heart, every heart to love will come
but like a refugee.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in."

- Leonard Cohen, 'Anthem'

[credit for the quote: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0110632/]

Just something I had to say

2006-11-18T01:48:00.000+05:30

Sometimes, perhaps as rarely or as frequently as in fiction/literature/yada-yada, theoretical passages too can give you that slight chill at the pit of your stomach, that fleeting illicit delight in the sudden curfew down the well-lit streets of reason. You are about to step inside the red circle.

'There is always a surprise in store for the anatomy or physiology of any criticism that might think it had mastered the game, surveyed all the threads at once, deluding itself, too, in wanting to look at the text without touching it, without laying a hand on the “object,” without risking – which is the only chance of entering the game, by getting a few fingers caught – the addition of some new thread. Adding, here, is nothing other than giving to read. One must manage to think this out: that this is not a question of embroidering upon a text, unless one considers that to know how to embroider still means to have the ability to follow the given thread. That is, if you follow me, the hidden thread. If reading and writing are one, as is easily thought these days, if reading is writing, this oneness designates neither undifferentiated (con)fusion nor identity at perfect rest; the is that couples reading with writing must rip apart.

One must then, in a single gesture, but doubled, read and write. And that person would have understood nothing of the game who … would feel himself authorized merely to add on; that is, to add any old thing. He would add nothing: the seam wouldn’t hold. Reciprocally, he who through “methodological prudence,” “norms of objectivity,” or “safeguards of knowledge” would refrain form committing anything of himself, would not read at all. The same foolishness, the same sterility, obtains in the “not serious” as in the “serious.” The reading or writing supplement must be rigorously prescribed, but by the necessities of game, by the logic of play, signs to which the system of all textual powers must be accorded and attuned.'

- Jacques Derrida, introductory matter prefacing ‘Plato’s Pharmacy,’ Dissemination.

And then comes the startlingly honest confession. We all know, when we trudge through piles of academic bullshit that’s poured on us every day (since that’s what we are supposed to put up with and speak knowledgably about for the sake of our credits/paychecks at the end of the day), that the best of arguments need no more than a few pages to lay out. The rest is of course the froth, the clerical and mechanical collection of piles of data that create an enormous web of inter-referential excreta manufactured with professional perseverance from the all-too-familiar Societies of Bibliographic Per(e)versions – that permanent fixture along university corridors. But Derrida, in his characteristic irreverence, takes the game up like a challenge, refusing to wear the uniform of disguised academic detachment. He goes on:

'To a considerable degree, we have already said all we meant to say. Our lexicon at any rate is not far from being exhausted. With the exception of this or that supplement, our questions will have nothing more to name but the texture of the text, reading and writing, mastery and play, the paradoxes of supplementarity, and the graphic relations between the living and the dead: within the textual, the textile, and the histological. […]

Since we have already said everything. The reader must bear with us if we continue a while. If we extend ourselves by force of play. If we then write a bit: on Plato, who already said in the Phaedrus that writing can only repeat (itself), that it “always signifies (sēmainei) the same” and that it is a “game” (paidia).'

And then follows the essay proper, ‘Plato’s Pharmacy,’ not as a mere illustrative adjunct, but as the matter proper - the play on the above argument, the game that can take over the rules of the game.

For fans of anime and manga:

2006-11-08T22:12:00.000+05:30

In case someone is a fan of Fushigi Yuugi(Curious Play)/Inu Yasha/UHK/Full Metal Alchemist/Ghost in the shell:SAC/Get Backers/Ragnarok(anime)/Lilim Kiss/RanmaHalf/any other God-forsaken anime or manga worshipped by humanity, please consider sending me a li'l scrap on orkut!!!

This is as serious as it gets: What is Being?

2006-09-14T00:14:00.000+05:30

Being is a primordial non-being's 'want-to-be'. Non-being's very wanting to come into being constitutes the being as the being of non-being which is the only form in which being can be. Thus, we can give various names to the Lacanian Being:
1. A being lacking in being.
2. Lack-of being's want-to-be.
3. Being in want-of-being where the being is in the wanting.

- Shantanuda, in the first Psychoanalysis class I attended after a month. Poor irregular me!

Profquote

2006-08-26T12:04:00.000+05:30

"the MONALISA is a famous sculpture..."---

---------Prof. *******(Eminem)

***this poor soul awaits the day when another 'Dan Brownish masterpiece' (titled The 'Mana'-lisa Code or The 'Mono'-lisa Code perhaps) would hit the stores!!!

Be This Destiny?

2006-08-17T23:59:00.000+05:30

Pardon my ignorance, I do not consider it bliss. Has the Blabberwocky finally reverted to what appears to be its destined online abode, that is, Blogspot?

The first post must never go empty, but with a cerebrum that seriously needs a reboot, I am finally at a glaring loss for words. In case this blessed sanctuary for inanity has been turned into a formal gathering (thankfully, without my knowledge), I shall proceed to demonstrate the symptoms that turn up when the Dog-star rages. So if you all would pardon me, I shall rack my rusted Random Access Memory and pray for a bit of randomness.

The Blabberwocky

2006-08-15T23:06:00.000+05:30

The Blabberwocky

Well, people sometimes ask, from where did man evolve? The Bible says God created Man and Woman in His image..... Darwin professed that Man evolved from apes. Hmmm.... pretty interesting huh? Imagine us wandering through the dense foliage searching indignantly for prey and stalking all those good looking females around.... trying to win their hearts by posing as "Alpha Male".... I guess that's the reason why we, such "advanced" creatures, have rightfully remained the stupidest on the planet.I can't reason as to why mankind, never realises that his purpose of being on earth is not to enjoy its luxury and overuse its resources, but also to be sympathetic to his Mother, who gives, but never gets back! We are nothing but a lousy set of humanoid apes, groping our way through the jungle we call "Life"... and we are lacking the basic amenity for survival, COMMONSENSE!
Still, man moves on, breaking technological boundaries, in search of the perfect answer to his being on this empty and desolate planet.... But hey, what the hell was the question? I won't be going deep into the matter but would love to say that the answer to the question lies deeply embedded in the book by Douglas Adams, The Hitch Hikers' Guide to the Galaxy, where the opening lines blurt out a very perceptive statement which has quizzed the human brain for ages -- DON'T PANIC!
You see, man invented language in an odd way. Probably one day a talking ape comes up to a human and says "Phiii... aaaaaah rrrrr!" and the bloke says "Where?", the bloke gets instantly proud of his ability to speak, since before this if anyone in their group had to say "I have to pee" they wouldn't have had the balls to say so! But incidentally, the man realised he was travelling back in time, in a Time Machine and so figured out that he was actually talking to his great-great-great-great...... great-great-great-great grandfather, who had just invented fire and hadn't realised that his hand got fried in the process! Huh.... so much as to brain power in the Old ages! What this guy couldn't do was to help his great-great-great-great..........great-great-great-great grandfather and his burnt finger, so his ape-like granddad just dipped it in a pot of hot mulligatawny soup and felt relieved, only to take it out and appear shocked at the loss of his sixth finger! The man from now pondered, and finally came to the conclusion that this five finger combination wasn't merely a genetic disposition, but was rather a wrong move by someone who claimed to be his ancestor.
Thankfully the ape died out and a new more evolved species of monkeys became dominant. These beings lived their life in utter grief, since by the time they evolved, half of them realised they took the wrong turn at the Evolution Square! Why was this so? They were brainy guys, and by studying their own kind, they discovered the flaw. They discovered that their skull was excessively big as a result of which the fluid inside the cranium began being soaked by their overtly sized brain, which meant that a few sections of their supercomputer began showing defects and finally a circuit went "poof" and then another and another and so on.... till they realised that only one of their kind was left, that too, a gay one! Unfortunately enough, he cracked his skull, out of sheer boredom in an age of icy weather, with no sign of friends around! Poor guy!
Man evolved again, this time in a successful fashion. This guy produced foodgrains in his backyard, lived in a farmhouse of his own, and had his own pets. What he didn't have was a wife, a car, and a very own currency, because, if he's the only one of his kind, where would he get others to buy it from him? Well, this guy was clever. He called the Women's Suffrage in London and asked for a "single, white female, with no strings attached"! The delivery man came in late as usual, much to the frustration of this patient fellow. Now finally, the story of man's final voyage begins....(Well, sorry for such a detailed INTRODUCTION to the faces(not "faeces"... like the man in the Time Machine's great-great-great-great.... great-great-great-great granddad would have had said) of man's timeless goofups in the journey up to the final descent of Mankind's Latest Developments, a daily, published by Heavenly Express Publications Private Limited, read by the boss of all men, a bearded old fellow we nowadays call God!).

(To be continued.... a several issue story on how and why man "evolved")

The Necessity of Hedonism

2006-08-13T13:10:00.000+05:30

Ok, since a certain Erythrocyte seems to be getting bored out here, and no one else has anything to say, and since the same Erythrocyte made me a member here, I thought I'd post something, just to break the silence. So this is my philosophy of life (forgive my pompous bullshittyness):

There are moments when it all feels gray. When you can't tell where dreaming ends and waking begins. Life feels like a hazy swirl of certain uncertainty, and one's existence is like the lonely buzzing of a fly, in the languid heat of summer. When the faces in the crowd are all the same, and you don't know your place in the world. When hours flow like the water in a river, steadily away, into the dark horizon of meaninglessness.

And you see it in the flickering light of the candle, in the endless swirling of rainclouds outside the window, in the incoherant babble of words written in books. The truth staring you in the face- YOU DON'T EXIST. The fact is, that right now, if I ceased to exist, it would change nothing. The sun would still rise, the world would still turn and the mindless rabble that calls itself humanity would still eat, sleep, and procreate like rabbits. Who am I? NO-ONE. How many lives would I change, by dissapearing forever? NONE. A few would know, fewer would care. Ten years later, my best friend will be married with children nonetheless. So I came to ask myself, "Do I really exist, or is my existence merely a function of my mind, which refuses to accept the grim truth, and drowns itself in a deluge of self-satisfying imagery. ."

People die everyday. Their mortal remains are washed into the Ganges. The particles that were once a part of their living, breathing bodies, sink down to the bottom of the sea. How much do their deaths change? Their loved ones' lives goes on.. they, laugh and joke and go back to life as all the living do..People say that great men change lives, but I ask, will the grand-children of those people whose 'lives were changed' even know that the great life-changer even existed?

The ripples of an indivigual's existence fade away into the pool of time. We are infinitessimally insignificant to the course of time. If time is infinitely long, is it not also true that any single moment in time is infinitely small?

So what then is the meaning of it all? If we don't make a damn difference to the world, why exist at all? And I answer myself- WE DO EXIST, BUT ONLY IN OURSELVES. All that matters is one thing- Oneself. Life is as temporary as a drop of water in the Sahara, so the only purpose I can see in life is pleasure. Dont bother with fame, don't bother with glory and the promise of being eternally remembered. Nothing is eternal except eternity itself. So fill your life. Fill it with as much joy as can be squeezed into the time your given. Who gives a flying rat's ass about being remembered in the minds of other men; if we are unable to reap the benefits. Man's existence is defined by himself, and there is absolutely nothing beyond the self. Solipsistic as I may sound, and selfish as this may seem, revel in yourself- 'coz nothing else matters'.. Time is short, as Edgar Allen Poe says:-

"Grains of the golden sand,
How few yet how they creep,
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep! While I weep!
Oh God, can I not grasp,
Them with a tighter clasp?
Oh God! Can I not save,
One from the piteous wave?"

So we must live for pleasure, because beyond that, and beyond oneself- is NOTHING.

Ps: I hope this kind of personal and not-too-serious ranting is allowed here? If not, please inform me, authorities.

Call for Papers, in case any of you are feeling scholarly

2006-07-17T17:48:00.000+05:30

Jadavpur University Essays and Studies
Call for Papers
No deadline
Anyone can submit, but it must be proper scholarly work.
Please especially tell any M.Phil, Ph.D. people you might know.
We are desperately looking for papers. This is a good opportunity to get published early if you're thinking of an academic career.

Jadavpur University Essays and Studies is the journal of the Department of English, Jadavpur University. Published once a year, the journal is broadly concerned with scholarship and research in literatures in English, and their relation to other literatures, literary theory, literary history, and language. It does not publish fiction, poetry and plays or their translations, and does not, as a rule, carry notes, letters and reviews. The editors may, however, invite and publish any material deemed appropriate. All original material published is copyright of the publishers. All submissions and commercial enquiries should be addressed to the Head of the Department of English, Jadavpur University, Kolkata 700 032, India. Contributions will go through a process of referral. Unsolicited manuscripts will not be returned unless accompanied by return postage.

A few broad guidelines for contributors are given below:

1. Contributors need to provide two hard copies of the text and a virus-free soft copy (preferably in editable MS Word 97 or later, or Rich Text Format) by email or on removable media. Please do not send PDF files. Also send a separate file containing a copy-paste of the endnote text in the correct numbered sequence, for reference. We will not accept hand-written or manually typed articles.
2. The title of the article should be in capitals.
3. Since articles will be refereed, contributors are advised not to sign the hard copies but to put their names in capitals on a detachable title-sheet along with their institutional affiliation, address for correspondence, telephone, fax numbers and email address.
4. All of the above information should be in the soft copy file before the body of the article (it will be cut-pasted into a separate file before refereeing.)
5. The text of the article including all quotations should be double-spaced. Endnotes, as brief as possible, should also be double-spaced and printed on a separate sheet in the hard copy. Do not run them on with the body of the article.
6. Details should be given in the following order when a work is cited for the first time: Author’s name, comma, Title (italicised) open parenthesis, place of publication, colon, publisher, comma, year of publication, end parenthesis, comma, p(p). page number(s).
Example: Kitty W. Scoular, Natural Magic: Studies in the Presentation of Nature in English Poetry from Spenser to Marvell (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965), pp.65-7.
In case of a reprint or subsequent edition, open parenthesis, give the date of the first edition, followed by a semi-colon, reprint or edition details, place of publication, colon, publisher, comma, year of publication, end parenthesis, comma, p(p). page no(s).
Example: Colin Watson, Snobbery with Violence, (1971, corr. repr. London: Eyre Methuen, 1987) p.123.
Subsequent mentions may use the abbreviated form as shown below:
Scoular, Natural Magic, p. 64.
7. For references to articles in journals, collections and anthologies, the following style may be used:
Huston, Diehl, ‘Horrid Image, Sorry Sight, Fatal Vision: The Visual Rhetoric in Macbeth’, Shakespeare Studies 16(1983): 191-203.
Please do not abbreviate journal titles.
8. Anthologies should be cited by title, followed by names of editor(s), translators if any, and publication details as for a book.
9. Full citation details are to be provided for other sources such as facsimiles, newspaper articles, interviews, material on microfilm, websites (page title, stable URL, date accessed), etc.
10. For act, scene and line references to plays, the italicised title should be followed by a comma, act no., in capital roman numerals, stop, scene no in lower case roman numerals, stop, line no(s) in arabic numerals. Example: Macbeth, III.iii.3.
11. Titles of constituent sections of larger works, or essays, or poems, or short stand-alone fiction, should be placed within single quotation marks. As a rule, single quotation marks should be used in all cases except for quotations within quotations which should be within double quotation marks.
12. Quotations not exceeding 25 words may be run on with the text and be put within single quotation marks. Other quotations should be displayed in blocks with right and left indents. All quotations should follow the original exactly in respect of spelling, capitalisation, italicisation, punctuation etc.
13. Charts, tables, figures and illustrations should be placed in a separate file and on a separate page. Authors will be responsible for negotiating permission if and where necessary for reproducing illustrations etc.
14. British spellings are preferred to American alternatives. Quotations should follow the spellings in the sources.

Send email submissions to rimibchatterjee@yahoo.co.in or offog1@gmail.com

Anything but a moment of shame

2006-07-12T11:28:00.000+05:30

[Seeing that The Blab blog is now reserved for serious discussions only, I still venture to post this here rather than in the forum, 'cuz I'd consider this a serious post. If the blog is not to be used for anything but academic discussions, the admins please feel free to remove the post or provide a link to this permalink to the origuinal post on my blog on the forum if you please.]

While the self-righteous world-audience seems unanimous in condemning Zidane's head-butt, with occasional apologetic consolatory offerings of peace in talking about how Materazzi had exactly provoked the French great, I find this debate rather fruitless to carry on. And repulsive.

Can't you see? This is not the common unsporting tactics of teams that we've been barraged with throughout this cup! Here is one man, a great footballer and one who takes his stature and his game seriously (some would even say, too seriously) - and in full glare of tv cameras he goes ahead and commits a foul which he's not interested in trying to hide. He knows what he's doing, and he was ready to face the consequences. The second he had the Italian on the ground, he was also taking off his captain's armband, fully aware of the end he has chosen for his unbelievably colourful career. It was a moment of honest rage, of righteous anger - the kind we rarely see these days, and it was directed purely and unapologetically at the other style of commiting fouls - the insulting whisper, the carefully executed illegal tackle hoping the ref wouldn't notice (or even hoping the ref might be conned to book the other guy for diving), and of course, the nonchalant dives which seem to be an integral part of the tactical armour of any modern soccer team.

When you have almost accepted diving and conning and succesfully executed illegal play as special skills that enhance an international player's worth, what moral right do you have to sit and judge a man who openly and publicly expresses his anger at being abused and takes on the consequences of his act without a word of protest? If the football officials and the moral pundits were a li'l more self-respecting, they should be burying their foul mouths in shame after this.

And then, when the world is happily viliying the courageous gesture of Zidane, here comes Materazzi, openly telling the world that he had indeed insulted Zidane, quite vilely at that, first pinching his left nipple and pulling his shirt, and when being offered the shirt after the match by Zinedine, he proudly states that he merely wanted to take the shirt off Zidane's wife. The implication being - I have not called him a terrorist, I have not abused him by bringing in his mother (two other rumours going around) and therefore it is quite okay if i was asking his permission to undress his wife. Bah!

The saddest part of the deal is that the Italians, with their ugly and monotonous defensive style, would now be grinning away to glory. Cuz they have won the world cup not by playing the best football out there, not even nearly the best. For sure they were given undue preference aginst Australia, and it was a match they looked quite sure of losing. But what has paid off for them is the traditional Italian club weapon of foul-mouthing your oppponent and taking his case and provoking him to retribute and therefore get sent off or warned. It's common tactics in all major Italian clubs (well, it's no wonder match-fixing scandals keep resurfacing there once so often) and is proudly referred to as "cunning" play. It's really sad to see this paid off against Zidane.

Indeed, provocations have paid off against the great Frenchman quite a few times in his career. He is a very quiet guy, used to bottling his reactions, but prone to losing his temper and going completely off the hook when he does finally react. This was such a moment. But in a World Cup marred by half as many bookings for divings as for fouls, and with its array of illegally won pivotal penalties, this was a moment of difference. I would choose to read this as a moment of open condemnation of the system which has all but officially taken such illegal tactics as part of the colour and nature of the "physical" game.

He didn't try to con anybody. He didn't claim innocence. He didn't even protest and say that he was abused and hence his reaction. He did what he wanted to do, what he felt he was justified in doing, he wanted retribution for the insults of Materazzi, for FIFA would surely be ignoring the Italian's provocations but for the drama that has come to surround them now. Zidane has forced us to look straight into the rather disconcerting contrast between genuine anger and violence produced through hurt on one side, and clever and vain dirty-play on the other. He was indeed abused (whatever the abuse was) and he just spoke with his action. He didn't try to hide his anger. He didn't try to justify his anger either. It was the most befitting way he could have said goodbye to a system which allows temperamental but basically quiet and honest players like Zidane to suffer through the dirty tactics of cleverly planned professional provocateurs.

Even if Zidane was not a genius, and I hadn't been witness to some of the most enduring moments of football magic thanks to him, even then I would have remembered him and honoured him for this one single gesture. It was brave and honest, and that a great professional like Zidane can risk his reputation and his national stature to stand up and react this way - it was a moment of freshness for me, and a great moment of pride. If Zidane had provided some exquisite football moments in a World Cup that had not been continuously rivetting by any means, he has also provided a proud and unapologetic counterpoint to the great tradition of cheating and conning that we've seen being showcased throughout this World Cup. I feel no need to be ashamed of such a gesture. It was a moment of real pride for the sport, if only it would get its priorities right.

And the rant goes on...

2006-06-19T19:15:00.000+05:30

To continue my post on how to read and write in an academic way, starting with what to leave out when you're writing an answer to a question:

You have to be selective when using information about a text in an answer; you have to choose, out of the store of what you know, the most relevant points or facts. Please, please don’t vomit out everything you know about something. Yes, I know that’s how they taught you in school. It worked back then because the amount of information you were working with was very small: you could deal with the whole of it without getting swamped. But you’re now out in the adult world where there is no one rationing your information input; that responsibility now lies with you and no one else. When you read, you must organize in your mind the information you collect. I find a good way to do this is to read the book once for the story, or the general argument, then red it again to see how the points are developed (or the effects are made). The second reading is analytical, and helps when you are asked about something in particular, say gender in Little Dorrit. You will then automatically think about the women characters, their fates, and particular incidents that brought out in stark relief their position. You might also think about the gendering of the male characters. In each person’s response to this topic, there will be some broadly similar features, since they all rest on the same text. But within that similarity, there will be sharp differences in interpretation and evaluation. These will depend on who it is that’s holding the opinion. Unlike in school, there is no longer ONE right answer: there are an infinite number, PROVIDED they can be upheld with supporting evidence. If you can get the supporting evidence, and it’s fairly hole-proof, then voila! You have an opinion. Seen in that light, what the teachers tell you in class is also a collection of opinions. They’re usually the ones that rest most solidly on evidence, but they aren’t any kind of gospel, and we WANT you to take issue with them. With time and between institutions, and even between teachers (or especially between teachers) this body of opinions varies. This is no longer table d’hote: this is a la carte.

This reminds me of a story Swapanda tells. A fairly bright girl came and sat for the interview (this was way back when selection was on the basis of interviews). When asked what she read, she named various textbooks in her syllabus. Somewhat taken aback, the interview board asked her if she ever read anything else. She proudly said, ‘Ami out boi pori na’ (I do not read ‘out’ books). In other words, she never read anything unless required to do so by the system. Needless to say, if you follow this method you will be in deep shit.

Well, in college, as I was saying, you have to be selective about what you put in your academic writing. I often see (though I see less of it these days) that regardless of what the question is, people giving an exam invariably preface their answers with a summary of the entire plot. In gross detail. This usually leaves them with one paragraph at the end in which to answer the question. Do NOT do that. Think first, then start answering the question from the beginning, and stick in the evidence as you go along. In truth all that is worthwhile in the vomitatious answer is the last paragraph, and it’s seldom worth the full mark weightage of the answer. Really, if that is what we wanted of you, we wouldn’t bother to ask questions in the first place. We ask questions because art is long, and life and exams are rather short. If you have studied even a little, you will know far more about a text than can fit in a 40 minute answer. The question is there to narrow it down.

When you answer a question, you are expected to show acquaintance with the text. What does that mean? Well, of course you must refer to, paraphrase and if necessary quote from it, but your instances should be geared to your answer. You must choose them to bolster your argument, or to make points about the text. Your selection of the most appropriate and telling bits of text earn you credit. You will not get credit for mugging up huge chunks and spewing them like carpet bombs over the terrain. But this is something that people seem to have worked out these days, it was more of a problem in my time when huge, four-hour tests gave people the leisure to talk an infinite deal of rot. The plot summary was practically de rigueur then, but these days of lightning-fast exams seem to have killed them. However, term papers still get waylaid by them, but I would like to point out that if you are doing your term paper on a fairly obscure text, and it is a major part of your argument, then you will need to give a fairly full description. Use your common sense, and if you haven’t any, use a teacher’s (after asking politely).

I’d also like to point out to you that most scholarly books follow these simple rules. In other words, most of the texts you read in the ordinary course of your studies embody these principles. However, you must read them not only for content but also for ‘meta data’ i.e. the way the texts are put together, the values that inform them, the techniques they use, in order to appreciate this. Give it some thought next time you read a book.

A hit! a very palpable hit!

2006-06-13T00:17:00.000+05:30

A most wonderfully valid point, O Panu! I am glad you made it. This brings me to the topic of academic detachment, which I was going to take up a bit later, but what the hell. The question also comes up in a slightly different way: some kid accosts me in the corridor and says why is Blah di Blah on the course it’s horrible, it makes me puke, IT IS THE PITS!!!!!!! I say, yes of course, dearie, but it’s there for your own good. This usually floors ‘em.

OK, one of the first things you learn as a lit student is how to read as an academic. That means that although your personal likes and dislikes matter (they are after all the fuel of your academic curiosity) you are also an impartial judge of the worth of an individual text. You begin to acquire a historical perspective on how literature as a whole has developed, and you start to see texts in the context of their time and of their themes. That’s one of the prime objectives of making you write answers and essays. Now a good academic will never let their personal feelings get in the way of assessing a text. Or to be more exact, will be able to do the industry-standard assessment without flinching, but will probably complain if asked to write a seminar paper on a cordially disliked work.

Most of the works in your syllabus are NOT there because they are great literature (and you are NOT expected to bang on about how the work is chock full of genius and proves that Shaw is god’s gift to world culture or whatever). They are there either because (a) they were pivotal in changing the trends of their time, or (b) because they stand for a common and important genre of their time. They don’t necessarily have to be good as well (though it’s always a welcome bonus). If you personally dislike a work, you are of course at liberty to say so. But you must FIRST place the work in its time and place and give it due credit for (a) and/or (b). You can then move to your opinion of it, and then back up your opinion with instances from the text. You won’t be allowed to say ‘This sucks, because ….!’ Because that’s childish and irresponsible. But if you can say, ‘I consider Sade morally depraved because of his eagerness to turn people into things, as he does in chapter x where he uses three young girls as mobile chess tables… ‘ then you’re on to something. Yes, we will even accept repugnant opinions if you can back them up. We have even had proto-fascists in this dept, and we never penalized them for their opinions, only where applicable for sloppy thinking, and in this they were not unique. In fact give me someone full of weird opinions who’s willing to fight for them over some docile mugpot any day.

In an ideal world, the problem you refer to doesn’t arise. I CAN’T be revolted by your opinions of Sade, if you present them sanely. Now I don’t deny that there are teachers who fall foul of this (not so) lofty ideal. But as far as I know, we don’t have any such in this Department (correct me if I’m wrong).

Hope this clears up what ‘contextualisation’ means.

A thought

2006-06-12T21:02:00.000+05:30

This post is not a very coherent one; I apologise sincerely to the readers for that. But I believe that there is one concept that I have been giving a lot of thought upon, and though very cliched and all that it might seem, it is important for me to get this out.

First, I would like to talk about the point that RBC comprehensively explained. We must feel a text before commenting on it, we must understand it, and in the process, place ourselves in the context of the text and experience it, and our replies to the text should be from us and us alone, not from any other person.

But then we are faced with a problem. What if, despite all our efforts otherwise, we fail to contextualize the text???? What if, while responding to it, we do not do so in the way we are required to, by others.? What if, our contextualization is directly in contrast to that what is wanted from us??

I shall give an example here. Both PG and UG groups had Marquis de Sade in one of their optionals (UG in Censorship and PG in Queer theory).

Lets just say, maybe I found Sade to be extremely enlivening and thoroughly delightful (well, lets just think of me as a perv). That contrasted directly with what someone else thought.... that is, lets say you, a teacher, is absolutely revolted by the ideas that Sade dwelt in. And therefore, though perhaps brilliant, my response to Sade will not be seen as favourably by you (brilliant it may be) because of your preconstructed response towards Sade.

Therefore I shall end here, leaving the question with you.... To What EXTENT can this reader-response theory be open? To what extent can it be repressed?

*incoherent, incoherent.... but still, I think I got you thinking*

Rant number three

2006-06-12T18:29:00.000+05:30

Why put in references? Any work of scholarship, however humble, is a contribution to knowledge. As such, the path you followed to produce it should be retraceable, so that other scholars can follow your thread of reasoning and come to their own conclusions about what you say. If not, your piece is not a work of scholarship: it might qualify as creative writing, but it just won’t do in an academic context. The references are a map telling those who come after you where to put their feet, i.e. where and how to find the data you used in making your argument. You therefore have to refer to concrete things, like pages in books that actually exist. I’ve seen people write things like ‘Enid Blyton’ or ‘Wikipedia’ in their reference lists. This makes no sense: how is one supposed to follow in your footsteps over these vast trackless deserts? You have to refer to actual books/sites that exist as concrete entities, if possible mentioning the page numbers where relevant.

When you read for an essay, keep a notebook by you, and when you come to a point you want to use, quickly jot down the page number and a few words on the point in your notebook. When you take a book out of the library, before you sit down to read them, note down the author(s), editor(s) if any, full title, series title if any, publisher, place of publication and year of publication. If it’s an article, note the author, title, journal name, volume number, serial number, page range. Also jot down the accession number and shelf-mark: this will help you find the book easily again. This may sound very cumbersome, but believe me, habits like this will stand you in good stead in any research-based field, including journalism. Try and make this as close to second nature as you can; it’ll save you a lot of trouble and heartbreak later on.

A point that has been confusing people is how to balance your own opinions with those you read from others. The essential trick is to see the whole thing as a dialogue. You MUST react to what you read, whether it’s primary or secondary material. You must engage imaginatively with the text. Remember that all texts are produced by people, and therefore there is nothing ‘given’ about the way they are: someone chose to make them that way, and you can inquire into the reasons. If you are puzzled, or unsatisfied, or annoyed or irked by something, that’s a good place to start thinking about it. First look for the reasons behind your feeling, then check out the secondary material to see if anyone else feels like that. If no one does, then quite probably you’re on to something new. If someone has, read what they’ve written and see if it exhausts everything there is to say on the subject. If not, then again you’re in business.

OK, we are losing the thread here. My next post will be on selection from texts for an answer/ essay/term paper.

On plagiarism and more...

2006-06-04T18:55:00.000+05:30

Arundhati in the comments on the previous post has very succinctly summed up the essence of avoiding plagiarism, but for the hard-of-thinking I'll go over it again.
Firstly, plagiarism is just a fancy word for COPYING. It means both copying verbatim and passing it off as your own work (which is illegal) and copying the ideas and vomiting them out as your own (which is not always illegal but is definitely damaging to your reputation). Now wait a minute, you say. Isn't that what we're taught to do all through school and even in college? True. It's all part of the process of teaching.

Teaching is paradoxical. We fill you up with facts and figures that we already know, and ask you to 'learn' them ie repeat them back to us, but what you don't get told at the outset is WHY we do this and WHAT its supposed to do for you. You figure the purpose of it all slowly as you go along, and college is where it should start to dawn on you. Eventually, when you've climbed the mountain of the syllabus and internalised as much of it as you can hold, we want you to step off the map. College is where you take your first tentative steps into the unknown, by thinking for yourself, by asking questions, by adding to what's known and evaluating, interpreting it. Of course, we hold your hand while you're doing it, and we weigh what you bring back from the edge, but the point is, you have to know where the edge is.

This is where the rules change. Now we still want you to go out there and read secondary material (that is books about books, books of criticism, books that you might call meta-texts) as well as primary material (novels, poems, biographies, etc) but we also want you to begin in a small way adding to what's known. You are now required to start pulling your weight in the academic world. You might say, well, these people we're reading are such bosses, they've covered everything, I can't find something original to say about Paradise Lost!!!! The answer to that is, of course there is something original to say about PL. There always will be. The state of the art today hasn't even scratched the surface of that text, or of any text.
So how do you do it? Read the critics to map the edge. Then hammer them. Ask where they haven't gone far enough, where they've gone too far, where they haven't gone at all. Disagree with them: have a dialogue with them in your head. Then put it on paper. Do the same with the primary text: in fact do it more with the primary text. Your reactions to a text are uniquely your own: they are original without your having to sweat it. You will do this successfully if your school education as yet hasn't dulled you to the point where you no longer react to what you read. Schools mostly try to turn people into buckets full of 'facts': we want you to be crucibles in which facts are transformed. You still have to fill the crucible, but you also have to light the fire underneath.

Now do you see why copying term papers is such a missed opportunity? we give you term papers to do so that you can, in a controlled environment, start to form your own opinions about texts and genres. Finding the material on the web is only the first part of the process. Then you have a dialogue with it, which you report by quoting bits of the material either in quote marks (for small bits) or in stand alone blocks for large bits, with references in both cases, and intermesh them with your own comments and interpretations. Look in any work of criticism worth its salt to see how it's done. Yes, and you have to reference EVERY TIME you quote. You can't just have a sloppy list at the back, huddled away after your name and cool downloaded pictures. If that means you mention a site fifty times, so be it. Also be alert to subpages in sites: your browser bar will tell you when you've followed a link to a sub page. You also have to give the date accessed along with the stable URL. You don't need to mention your browser or OS. Images also have to be referenced.

This is becoming a very long post. I'll let you chew this bit, and continue my rant next time....

Big bad RANT

2006-05-29T23:50:00.000+05:30

I am shocked.
There has been wholesale downloading and cut-and-pasting for term papers for at least two courses taken by the present UG1s. Lots of people who deserved better have had to be penalised because of shameless and pathetic plagiarising. I want to know: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE??? Granted, that given the wholesale nature of the problem it's a systemic failure: we haven't learned you good how to use material and quote/adapt in academic work. Only one or two people had any idea how to write a bibliography. Practically no one cited complete URLs for websites. 'The adventures of Tintin' is not a text and doesn't exist in any recognisable bibliographical sense. Listing five websites does NOT excuse lifting huge chunks from each of them and cut-and-pasting them into an essay. That is (read my lips) PLAGIARISM. Someone called Kaavya got caught, remember? I bet she produced term papers using exactly the methods you seem to think so cool. I also want to know: DO YOU THINK WE (THE PROFS) DON'T KNOW HOW TO USE THE INTERNET? Do you think we've never heard of Google string search? Do you think we'll give you marks for having broadband? I repeat: I really don't understand what's got into you. Even in my benighted UG1 I had some dim sense that if I copied stuff I'd look very dumb indeed. Hey, do you think just because your parents haven't a clue how to rip off wikipedia that we're the same? It's really sad because many of you chose really sexy topics that you could have had a ball with. Instead you found some obscure article on a uchicago website (say) and cooked it up. Removing lines like 'And I'll come back to this point later on in the lecture' does NOT (a) make it your own work or (b) stop us from finding the source on the web. And all this in spite of your having been warned repeatedly in class against doing exactly that.
Wise Up!
But there is HOPE (for the next batch at least). Having been collectively appalled we are changing the UG1 format. From now on, you won't have any options in your Sem 2. Instead in the optional slot you will have a core course called PRINCIPLES OF ACADEMIC WRITING (PAW). Hopefully this will teach you guys how to use on- and offline sources, edit stuff, quote, make notes and references, organise an essay, set up an academic argument, all that basic stuff. Sheeesh.

Lest Auld Acquaintance....

2006-05-20T20:08:00.000+05:30

Well, it looks like I'm blogging in solitary splendour here, for which I guess the exams are mostly to blame. BTW, does anyone know where the board for the meatspace blab has gone? It was used during the MAdmission but I can't find it anywhere.
People, do you want this to go the way of the other defunct JUDE blogs, or shall we continue to bless it with posts? For one thing, it's a useful directory to everyone's blogs, and still gets used as such. PLus, it could be a space for people (like myself) who have a blog presence but don't want to take on a whole blog, since most of the time I (to take a sample case) don't have enough to say to prop up a full time blog. Plus the thought of pontificating in solitary splendour is kind of off-putting. Also JUDE newcomers to blogs and their habits can start off posting here and graduate to their own blogs if they wish.
Since JU Arts has been deprived by dastardly conspiracy of the lobby, this is as close to a virtual lobby we'll ever get. As most of the people reading this blog have no idea what the lobby was, let me try to explain. It was kind of like the late-lamented bridge, except that khuchro prem/subs. ab./pnpc were only part of the lobby menu. There was also plenty of serious, heated discussion and idea-swapping. Of course, in those days JU was a very different place. Nearly all the faculty we have today had not shown up, with the exception of Supriyadi. We followed the annual system, in as must as we followed any system at all. JU was NOT a trendy place to be, that was reserved for Presi or maybe Xaviers. Presi was the ideological hotspot: people there aspired to be thinkers. JU English and Comp. Lit. (which were much more sister depts then than now) were more oriented towards doing, esp. Comp. Lit. which still had the shadow of Buddhadev Basu on it and turned out many accomplished actors, directors, dancers and creative people. English was the oddballs' haven (diluted somewhat by the homely convent-educated ujjol shyambornos) with lots of moffusil-refugees and people with no background whatsoever. Anyone who turned up in a car was subjected to long, slow scrutiny. The faculty were mostly either nice, flustered incompetents or completely insane, once again with the exception of Supriyadi who is and will always be in a class of her own (yes she's my favourite teacher: Swapanda was in England). Of course, I didn't experience JU as an undergrad since I went to Brabourne (yet managed to spend most of my third year in the lobby). To the credit of the Brabourne teachers, they quickly identified me as a nutcase and left me benevolently to my own devices, a privilege I would not have got at Loreto or even Xaviers. I even managed to act in a JUDE play in my third year (this was before DIP and ALal). Hence the importance of the lobby and the people in it: they and the old British Council Library are largely responsible for my education (in so far as anyone apart from me can be blamed for it).
But things have changed. The stuff we bootlegged on the lobby steps is now part of the syllabus. The annual system is history. People who do NOT turn up in cars are subjected to fast, incredulous scrutiny (not). Most of the Presi faculty has been lifted Noah's ark-like into JUDE (no don't even attempt to pair them off). And we have blogs. Perhaps the lobby would have died anyway, under the mounting pressure of the new dispensation. Or perhaps not. I shall at this point resist the urge to quote Malory via Tennyson.

Have been tarting up the old blab

2006-05-16T22:02:00.000+05:30

theees are my not very successful attempts to refurbish the old hangout. pliss to help out, html hotshots

Where have all the people gone?

2006-05-15T18:06:00.000+05:30

Why is this excellent forum languishing? While the new blab is no doubt a heap of fun, it somehow lacks a certain je ne sais quoi. Let's not lose this one: it can still fill a need for the JUDE community. And admin people, could you freshen up the decor? The place looks a bit scruffy and tired.
The other place is great to chat and muck about in. Can we have the serious stuff here?
Please?

girls' loo(boys too must know!!)it's serious

2006-03-18T20:38:00.000+05:30

it's horrid...in the past it was only the stink that tormented us...but now...add to it..the visual torment we, all loo-goers encounter everyday. Some honest soul in the dept regularly purges herself of all bodily sins(and wastes-- solid, semi-solid and liquid) and never bothers to wash them off the white tiled floor!! And wait...there's more...a door without a latch...so everytime a girl has to respond to Nature's call, she has to get another girl so that latter locks the door from outside and faithfully guards it with her might till the unfortunate loo-goer is done with her job; Or else one has to rush to the other loos on the other floors even if she has an important lecture to attend and she is late!! So the conclusion is: either the one who commits such nuisance in the girls' loo is illiterate, or the photocopied posters, with such threatening words, so carefully glued to the dirty door, are absolutely mute...and we remain passive onlookers/loogoers...

Hunger

2006-03-16T21:20:00.000+05:30

So it struck me one day that I was paying about 20 bucks for crap. No choice, unfortunately. Little did I realise how contaminated the crap was. Manida's fried rice had pink colour on the pieces of chicken. When the objectionable pieces were waved in front of the noses of those honest workers of the establishment they said the colour had probably come off us or someone else. However I had no colour on me and the canteen had been surprisingly empty. And then the old guy- the one with specs, don't know his name, came out and washed his very pink hands. It probably hadn't occured to him that washing his hands before serving would have been 'the thing to do.' There are brave souls out here eating chicken inspite of the flu but the thing is, if people can't wash their hands before shredding the bird then i guess we might as well stop. But then what do we eat and where do we eat? And I'm talking about something that comes close to qualifying as a meal-type thing. Not even asking for meals here. Snacks dont' count. Until then i guess it's the contaminated stuff at Manida's for me. Oh, and lets play football.

LATE-IN for LATIN

2006-03-09T23:37:00.000+05:30

latin classes started today...
the proffesor in question was a minuite or two LATE-IN for LATIN

ARANI QUIZZED

2006-03-09T17:27:00.000+05:30

ARANI QUIZZED

This is the story of one man who said he’d stop the quizzing of the world—and did.

Is he a destroyer or a liberator?

Why does he have to fight his battle not against his enemies but against those who quiz with him most? Why does he fight his hardest battle against his own quiz-hungry soul?

You will find the answers to these sitters when you discover the reasons behind the baffling rounds that play havoc with the lives of quizzards in this book. You will discover the connection between quizzing and world power—the mysterious revival of the Incas—the tragedy of the dinosaurs—the extraordinary thesis behind the observation that when quizzards die they go to JNU—why Mario Vargas Llosa has to lose the next Peruvian election—and lastly, the solution to the universe, the ultimate ball-breaker.

Tremendous in scope, breathtaking in its suspense, Arani Quizzed is unlike any other book you have read. It is mystery story—not about the identity of the next North Star winner—but the quizzing of man’s soul.

(Authors’ note: This unfinished four-chapter definitive novel on college quizzing was co-written by RBC and AG in 1991, with RBC doing most of the writing and AG ‘supplying ideas’—in other words, doing nothing. Photocopies of the chapters were sold to quizzers at various college quizzes. The plot is hideously complicated and a prize will be given to anyone able to work out the identities of Khatam Cetebos in chapter 2 and Leo Lignus Serpentarius in chapter 3. A helpful key at the end identifies the various characters in the first chapter who need introduction—some have become quite famous/ infamous in their chosen fields).

Chapter one

CNMC smelt of carbolic acid.

Why carbolic acid? Why should C6H5OH in colloidal suspension through the air permeate the vicinity? Because the medical profession cannot thrive without it. Like Martians from an alien world, they must have place of their own from which to view the earth, their own tiny pungent biosphere. Into this tranquil gas-jar are suddenly inducted several new species: engineers, hausfraus, eggheads, femmes fatale, bookworms, slideworms and flickworms, not to mention tape(?)worms. All, however, addicted to (ah goddess!) quizzing. Though with agonized shrieks they all strive to make it clear that they only do it for money—the doctors, at least, should know better. Take a quizzard away from his quiz, and watch him outgobble the coldest turkey on the mesas of Antarctica. Though crestfallen they will be at this harsh observation, no flights of fancy will disguise the winged victories hovering over their heads, urging them on to their cocksure triumphs and their foul fluffs. We have noted this while gliding over our phenylated cockpit; let us now swoop in for a closer look.

Before the befogged atmosphere causes us to crash squawking into the podium, we are arrested by the sight of a strange specimen: mild, inscrutable with an equivocally bearded face, dreamy eyes and mare’s nest hair. This, believe it or not, is Arani Sinha. A specimen wo studied till late in that den of iniquity known as Jadavpur University, now deserted for ISI, but stray mentions of him still have the power to curdle the tea at Ashirvad. Though his name is variously pronounced, most versions of it being received with a sharp wince by the so called, we hereby declare our intention to pronounce it Or-o-ni. If anyone demurs, let them quote law—the oronus of proof is on their heads. As for his surname, it is pronounced Sin-ha, though whether this is aranical or not, we shall not comment.

Our hero this brave August morning is engaged in a dark and barbarous rite, to wit: the 1990 Agon General Quiz at National Medical College, the latest congregation of the formidable quiz talent of Calcutta. One big family of animated databases, all under one roof, sawing away at life in all its quizzicality. Is it an accident that the word ‘quiz’ originally meant oddball? That it was coined by a drunk Irish theatre manager on 1798 for a bet? Is there, could there be, a Plan behind it all? An Immovable Mover? A presence that heats with intellectual wine the livers of these men and women, here to quiz with all the energy and ambition of ten Caesars pursuing Cleopatra. Yet do we see in the feverish cigarette smoke curling above their heads the cryptic words ‘Cui Bono?’ Who benefits? The answer to that will bring the cosmos to its knees.

We cast our eyes about amid the bewildering brilliant ribaldry of quiz foreplay. We notice several desiccated specimens, all with the mark of Cain on their foreheads, put there by hard self-slaps when they missed a question. Here we find a tall basketball player, one of the few quizzards who has other talents beside a mind like a steel trap, and whose life, like that of the 1857 revolutionaries, revolves in a planar spiral around the haj to the capital, with occasional lapses into paraplanetoidal spheres. There is a third year Presidency history student, rivalling one JU-ite only in Hindi film funda, currently a victim of JNU blues, about which more later. Another pair from Presi, vying with each other in mass, are prone to have sudden fierce arguments about who is heavier. Saurav Sen, a JU specimen whose knowledge of ancient Rome, especially the food habits of Roman vermin and the number of calories the lions got from each Christian in the Circus Maximus, has always disturbed Arani to the depth of his database.

Now a voice like a foghorn distracts our attention, and a startled look thitherwards shows that it emanates from a frame to suit. Alu (Arithmetic Log Unit?) has arrived to represent NRS, along with Rito Mitra and a decrepit old crock from way back called K. Mullick. Next to them is Jhantu Burman who has a veekness for wine, women and song: when the public’s around he stops singing. We pass lightly over a group of doctors, noting a baby-faced Parsi by the unlikely name of Battiwala, a PharstOarldRetarned quizzard cum debater cum extempore speech maker from Calcutta Medical, with an equally baby-faced IIM specimen who is doctor by name and not nature and who is unfortunate enough to possess the initials V.D. We see a gaggle of Presi types, over all of whom broods the shadow of Sinha’s frustration, especially over the Gang of Four known as Presi Blacks, presided over by a repository of sports statistics whose interest in current politics may be more than an accident.

Those within the hearing of Bhow bells are said to be Cockneys, or alternatively come to life singing ‘I Bhow to thee my country’ or ‘Bhow, Bhow, the winter wind’ though this makes them sound like bloodhounds being given a bhow job. Strange to tell, but this curious four-letter word is the appellation of a bhow-legged doctor from CMC whose questions are exceptionally schizophrenic and who is acknowledged to be a gone case by all hands. Another gone case is now sub-editor of The Statesman who with the deputy editor of the Calcutta Skyline is part of the manic old guard. Other lines also run from here to the world, to Patna, to southern Mississippi, to XLRI, and of course to Delhi. Speaking of Patna, we have a rail-thin, hawk-nosed expert on terrorism, female sibling of our Patna resident, who has a tendency to shock Loreto nuns with sudden mentions of syphilis. Next to her is the matronly and quizbitten MRs J., whose presence shows that the bug knows no barriers, infesting without mercy all classes, tribes and nations, irrespective of caste, creed or marital status (witness Debuda). Also shown by the presence of the O’Briens, reputed by their name to be descended from Brian Boru, king of Connaught, though this may be a typical Irish tall story. And while on Ireland, we notice a specimen who has had the luck to be born in the land of Guinness but who has long since shakes its dust off her baby booties and is now involved in the perpetual steely-eyed quest for a team.

Closer in, we notice a pint-sized specimen by the name of Tintin. This is not the name by which various harassed officials have him tagged in their individual rogue’s galleries, but it is the name by which he is best known in quizzing circles. It is he who has now cast a suspicious glance at the Sinha, for the Sinha’s mind is in a spin: he did dream of moneybags tonight, and the questions of the universe are drawing breath to blow their bugles in his being. Unbeknownst to him, fate with the abhorred shears and galley-proofs is approaching, the golden gates of peace are closing; soon he will be locked in a dream-nightmare that will rack his soul.

The quiz prelims are over in a flurry of scribbled sheets like snowflakes; though the atmosphere through which they float in serene drifts is far from cold; it crackles with all the tension of an Ascot Opening Meet. Volunteers pounce on the errant testimonials or engage in undignified tugs-of-war with the more tenacious quizzards. ‘Time’s up!’ shouts our QM, the usually suave and self-possessed J. Ghosh from NRS, who shares perpetual youth with the other Ghosh from CNMC, and who is the only living person who can handle unruly quizzards without mussing his hair. This capacity of his is being nevertheless being severely being tried at this instant, as Jhantu suddenly wakes up to the fact that he has forgotten to write his team’s name on his sheet, and insists on chasing it all over the room. Order is restored presently; the Ghosh surreptitiously mops his brow, and those quizzards who are not pretending unconcern on the balcony outside wait with bated breath for the results. Arani (sigh of relief) qualifies.

The quiz begins. Fast and furious fly the challenges to the rationality of the universe. Which household appliance is modelled on the human arm? Answer: the Terry Anglepoise lamp. What was the first standarised commodity to be mass-produced? Answer: Books. What does the word Manhattah mean in Naragansett? Answer: the place of the great booze-up. Anxious faces and sweaty palms prevail on the stage—not entirely because of the quiz, but over the nagging question of when the food will arrive. Unwary quizzards who eat too much have to eat crow as questions pass by their full mouths. But quizzards’ digestions, both of funda and dhop-chop are phenomenal. They thrive on both.

Halfway through the quiz Arani is gnashing his teeth. The situation is bad: CMC and Presi Blacks (aargh!) are ahead of him. CMC leads by five points, with Presi two pints behind them. JU ‘A’ are ard on Arani’s heels, though their anchorman Joy Bhattacharya has disappeared into the wings. Saurav Sen anxiously strains his atlanto-axial articulation in the cause of peering uneasily over his shoulder thitherwards, but to no avail, for the Ghosh and their direct pass over them like a South Sea Island thunderstorm, the Bhattacharya arrives 2.3867 seconds too late, and Joy & Co. are left with the proverbial cold shower to console themselves with. Arani piously thanks the Sphinx of Thebes, who was the first recorded quizzard in history, and picks up the question. He is now one point behind the leaders.

The tension mounts. CMC fluffs a sitter on stock market slang. Alu picks up a question on Edgar Rice Burroughs by the skin of his teeth. Joy makes a brilliant comeback in the audio round, identifying three out of four voices in an extended remix by an amateur group of a Dylan number that flopped in 1964. Arani gets one of Mendelssohn’s ‘Songs Without Words’ and curses his luck. Bleakly, he watches Devdaan pick it up, reflecting bitterly that Devdaan has had advantages he never had. But then three bonuses come to him one after another and restore the tattered remains of his morale to working order.

Yet no! the visual round casts him down again, Ranjan Raichowdhury identifies the view from the eastern corner of Eiffel Tower. Anup unravels a question of horrible obscurity on South Indian dance forms, to the disappointment of Mrs J. who lies in wait in the audience for just such funda. Benjamin Zacchariah boosts JU ‘A’ with a youthful picture of Jimi Hendrix. Pagla of NRS rises magnificently to the occasion and not only gets his direct but also cuts off two bonus points that were heading for Arani. Our hero is destitute. Mutely he turns to Tintin for help, but Tintin is busy stuffing himself with sandwiches—this quizzing Weltlust never gets to him. Arani muses over his chances of getting a gastric ulcer in the next half hour. He picks disconsolately at his food and loses his appetite when Presi answers something abstruse about John Maynard Keynes. It is now his direct.

J. Ghosh approaches, tilting his head to one side as he always does when about to deliver a stinker. Tintin’s sandwich drops from a nerveless hand. The Ghosh speaks:

“One of the wonders of the ancient world was the Colossus of Rhodes, a statute of the sun-god built from the bronze of the captured cannons of Antigonus of Macedon who lost the siege of Rhodes. It was 105 ft. high and beacon fires lit in its eyes at night. Question: WHO OR WHAT WAS THE MODEL?

Tintin chokes. Arani is unaware that he is trying, unsuccessfully, to chew his abortive beard. Jaideep Mukherjee turns a pinker shade of pink. Only Debkumar is calm, convinced of his total inability to answer the question. Five precious seconds are wasted reviving Tintin, but Arani has a strange feeling that time has stopped. Something is struggling to get free inside him: he is suffering from the exquisite agony of being visited by an inspired bhat. But five ephemeral seconds are not enough for the birth of an universal truth, and the question passes (fickle world!) leaving Sinha writhing in agony. They say opportunity is bald on the back of her head and can only be caught by the forelock, a question which has not occurred to a quizmaster yet, showing that they don’t know everything. Through a haze of thwarted funda, he watches it go around…”Yes Keshta? Marcus Aurleius? No, no, not old Marcus…What? Caligula? No. No emperors, please...No Jhantu, it was not Cecil Rhodes….What, Minoo? Speak up, can’t you?…Philip of Macedon? No, you’re on the wrong side of the war…”

He wakes to find the question back with the quizmaster. Ghosh looks around with a pained expression. “Can anyone in the audience try it?’ Dead silence. People inspect their fingernails with great assiduity. Arani’s teeth are chattering. To stop them, he bites into Tintin’s sandwich.

Ghosh flashes a brilliant smile. “It was a little statue of Apollo that was dug up on the bech by a one-eyed beggarboy on the fifth feast of Saturn just after the siege was broken, taken for a portent by the priests of Rhodes.”

Arani chokes. THIS CAN NOT BE! He knows, he KNOWS in his blood that this is WRONG! In a sandwich-blocked voice, he croaks. No, no. Debkumar pats him paternally on the back as his eyes roll heavenwards. But the ultimate indignity for a quizzard is to faint after missing a question. So with a superhuman display of cali he saves himself, though he is now exhausted, bewildered and bemused at the violence of his reaction to this vague funda. What’s Colossus to him or he to Colossus? But he has no time to think about it, as through miles of cotton wool he hears the quiz continuing…why were hatter mad?…what is measured in ankars, tunlets and runs?…what liqueur is made out of rotten orange peel?…what is the origin of the word slob?…what is the common name for crystalline mercuric sulphide?…and so on and on. Ad infinitum et ad nauseum. He is feeling distinctly queasy when it finishes. CMC and Presi tie for first place, followed by JU ‘A’ and a jaali team composed of one JU engineer, one IIM cat, one out of work journalist and somebody’s sister from JD Birla. Arani finds he is somewhere neat the end, saved only by the poor show of NRS who are demoralised by the lack of Ghosh. Even CNMC beats him.

The quiz is over. Tintin dashes off, muttering something about the writing the next instalment of his quiz saga. Debkumar and Jaideep Mukherjee have a friendly argument over who missed the most questions. They appeal to Arani to arbitrate, but he is in no mood. Dodging Saurav Sen and Ashok Malik who are busy thrashing out the vagaries of the Macedonian succession to their own satisfaction, he stumbles out into the pale discouraging monsoon daylight to hail a passing S14, smarting over the injustice of fate and resolving passionately to get his own back on Lachesis, Clotho and Atropos at the nearest opportunity.

The S14, clanking musically, bears him away from the scene of the fiasco and into the future.

Key
Arani Sinha—legendary quizzard from JU Engg. C1986-90. present whereabouts—somewhere in darkest America
Tall basketball player—Joy Bhattacharya (JU, Maths.), formerly with ESPN, now with History Channel
Saurav Sen (JU History, 1986-89)—probably the most knowledgeable man alive on the Wankel Rotary Engine (don’t even ask)
Jhantu aka Aveek Barman—currently head of NDTV Profit
K. Mallick, K. Ghosh, Meher Battiwala, Ranjan Roychoudury—all docs
Vikram Doctor—Doc by name but not profession (IIM, Cal); currently doing something media-ish
Koushik Bhowmik aka KouBhow—doctor turned French student turned film historian (CMC, JNU, Oxford)
Debuda aka Debkumar Mitra (JU, Maths)—the granddaddy of Calcutta quizzing; currently with Big Ideas
Devdaan Mitra—senior journo at Telegraph and giver of jobs to many JUDE alumni; be nice to him
Ashok Malik—(Presi. History), superb quizzard turned sangh parivar apologist journo. Sigh!

2006-03-07T23:36:00.000+05:30

BLANK NOISE PROJECT

If you have time enough, please read through the link list on this blog. I am apalled at how universal these experiences are. It seems to have happened to everybody and everybody has had the same things said to them, about dressing modestly and being careful and not attracting attention and nobody is ever encouraged to do anything about it.
Please read the blog. If the injustice of it all manages to make you angry enough you just might go out and do something about it.

The Way to Dusty Death

2006-03-03T03:14:00.000+05:30

I know it's not the cool thing to bring texts to class. I assure you this is not a cool course. It is a singularly unfashionable course.

- Sukantada, on his Macbeth course.

Ouch.

see you on the 10th

2006-03-02T19:43:00.000+05:30

“We have to wait”
“Whether we like it or not.”

We’re all waiting. All of us. I’m waiting for to be the next big thing in the Copywriting world. You are waiting for this play to be staged. The person next to you is possibly waiting to get back home. The person in front is waiting for a big wad of cash.

Didi and Gogo, two unidentifiable people are waiting for Godot.

But what happens when Godot dies? What happens when I know for certain that I will never get what I want? What will you do when you suddenly hear that this play will never begin? What will the person next to you do when he finds out his house has been burnt to ashes?

Do we stop waiting? Or do we wait for something else? Someone else?

The PlayMakers present Death of a Godot. A take off from Samuel Becket’s Waiting for Godot. A deconstruction if you will. It is through this play that you will see two very different people. Didi and Gogo. Didi, the somewhat dumb, but all knowing man and Gogo, the innocent and yet wise woman.

They are pilgrims. Like you and me. Dying to get back to their home. Like you. What they need are the keys. The keys of course, are with Godot. And that is why they must wait for him to come.

One wonders. WHY are Didi and Gogo homeless? Why don’t they have a home? Why do they sleep on this bench every night and why do they talk themselves to sleep? Did they have a home before? And if they did, why were they thrown out? Had someone committed a sin?
Only one man can answer these questions. Godot.

“He said that he would come today.”
Yes, he did. Or they think he did. But either way, the arrival never takes place. For reasons unknown, Godot dies.

The keys have not been left behind, so Didi and Gogo find themselves doing the inevitable. Waiting. Yet again.

However, Godot is not the only one who is killed. Pozzo is killed too. That just leaves Didi, Gogo and Lucky.

And you, the audience. The “Them”.
You who will come to watch not a play but glimpses of life. You, who “hold hands in the dark.” You who “kiss in the dark.” You who “talk in the dark”.

You become a bond, a fellowship, a brotherhood – but in the dark.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we present to you Death of a Godot. Sit back, relax and watch some people who are as lost as you or me.

It’s shocking.

Tickets are on sale. Rs 50.

Night Whispers

2006-02-26T20:03:00.000+05:30

This is one of the stories that I'd written for RBC's Writing in Practice course last semester.Its a dialogue really.I thought I'd put it up.

-Is that you, Maya?
-Hello sweetheart.
-You don’t sound like yourself.
-That’s because I fell asleep waiting for you. What time is it?
-Just past twelve. I won’t disturb you in that case. Go back to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.
-No no. It’s perfectly alright. I’m awake now anyway. But I was pretty tired before. Considering all the late nights we’ve been having…
-Okay. Then let me hang up now so you can go to sleep.
-No. I’d much rather talk to you than sleep.
-Aww baby. You’re too sweet.
-Thank you [She giggles]. So are you. You’re really sweet. And cute. And handsome.
-Ahem. [An embarrassed clearing of the throat on the other side]
-No I am serious. I find you extremely attractive!
-Okay. Stop now. I’m already flying high.
[She laughs]-The party last night was fun though.
-Yes. It was amazing.
-And my friends have been teasing me endlessly since yesterday.
-Really? But what do they know? Did they see us err…you know…
-Yes! And they asked me about it. I denied it, but what’s the use?
-Oh my God! This is so embarrassing. How will I show them my face now?
-Just the way you showed them your face after I told them about our kinky phone conversation!
-Yes. That was really mean of you.
-But they are my closest friends. And it’s not like we were doing it- just talking about it. We just got a bit…carried away…that’s all.
-Hey, do you want to sleep with me?
-What!! We-e-e-ll…do you?
- Yes. I want to. But you know we can’t.
-I know honey. But I’m flattered that you would want to.
[A pause. She continues.]
-We got carried away yesterday. It wasn’t right. But the fact is, it was also amazing.
-I know. I…I wish we could do it again. It’s so tempting.
-So do I. It was such a beautiful kiss. It was like the whole world was going round us in a circle, and we were still. I wish the others hadn’t seen us though. Now we’ll never hear the end of it.
-Look, as long as our intentions are clear, and we are honest with each other, I think we are fine. As long as it isn’t harmful.
-So, darling, you mean to tell me that all this is harmless?
-Yeah sure.
[They both laugh. She continues.]
-Oh dear. This is such a crazy situation isn’t it?
-Yes it is. But I’m so glad I met you and found such a good friend in you.
-We’ll always be friends won’t we? I won’t ever let you leave me.
-I never imagined you and I could have something going. I’ve never done this sort of thing with anyone before.
-You think I have? I never imagined I could be the other woman in someone’s life. That is morally so wrong to me. But I can’t help it. I just let myself get carried away. Do you think that makes me a bad person?
- Of course not. You are a wonderful person. And we are just close friends
-Close friends who are attracted to each other and kiss as a result?
- But we both know what we are doing, right, so it will be fine. Relax.
-Its just that this is the first time in my life that I’m genuinely following my heart and not my mind. I’m being impractical by doing something morally incorrect, letting myself get carried away- and not doing a thing about it.
-You’ll be alright sweetheart. I won’t let you get hurt.
-Hmm. That’s what he used to say as well. That’s what they all say. I’m never going to have a serious relationship with anyone. I think the short flings are much more exciting.
-Like ours.
-It always comes down to the same thing, doesn’t it?
-Yes it does.
-I wonder why.
-Don’t. You had better go to sleep now, my dear.
-Yes. I supposed I should. Call me tomorrow, won’t you?
-Don’t I always, sweetheart?
-Yes you do. Goodnight.
-Sweet dreams.
The phones clicked, the bedside lamps were switched off, and a girl slept alone, dreaming of a man who slept in another woman’s arms.

And now for something completely different!

2006-02-26T02:42:00.000+05:30

Click here

Ami likhi ni

2006-02-25T01:10:00.000+05:30

There's a very tenuous link between insanity and sanity . My boro pishi Beli was very beautiful and given to the luxuries of life like fine sarees ( I have a few) and velvet mules and imported perfumes and cosmetics ( snow powder ?). Now Beli had been married at 12 and was a widow by 14 because her crook of a father in law had not told my grandfather that his son was on his last legs - with what I never could fathom out , despite my wicked ferreting ways as a child , and those who could tell me are all dead and gone , except Mili who's in her second childhod and far far away , both geographically and in her mind ...but I did glean this , she married a second time , this time , a widower with 2 daughters , he was a zamindar 's son with their ancestral house at Jongsherpur (??) and his mother would not allow her to have a child - since she was a widow and therefore maybe not a virgin (this was in the early 40s maybe) . So evertime Beli was pregnant her mother in law drugged her and got the dai to abort the foetus . She did this thrice before Mili got wise to what was going on and raised Cain . But by then the psyche , a little brittle perhaps had started to crumble ...she died mad in Lumbini Park many years later ... because her husband was dead and she was psychotic and it was not safe to keep her in a house which had kids ...
Shefali was scatty and glamorous and beautiful and hopelessly in love with one of the Panth boys who was a pilot ( he was another mad bugger, but thats another story ) - he used to fly his VTs over her house and drop flowers and scatty Shefali who never poured herself a glass of water so long she was in Dada's house had to sit with a ghunghat up to her belly button, rolling endless chapatis in Hari's mother's house - that was till Mili went, saw her and raised Cain (of course Mili raised Cain in her Mom in law's house, too). From rolling out of shape chapatis to giving birth to Khuku/Niru and then upping and dying suddenly, leaving a host of beautiful memories behind like heaps of rose petals ... that was Shefali. Indelible marker memories in her brothers' sisters' and mother's minds who filled my childhood with talk about Shefali, so that when I used to pore over her mother's Joy-scented photographs (yes Moni ma used to keep an open bottle of Joy in her trunk in one corner, I swear that trunk still smells of Joy after all these years) and open her copy of some poetry book,( forget the name, but it had a blue leather cover and was a longman's edition, pristine without ever a pencil scratch (which means she only mooned about Hari all the time)) I used to imagine I knew her.
My second pishi Mili was like Jo of Little Women. She looked after the house, and her assorted brothers, one younger sister and the older one, Beli. She married Pishamoshai who was the best Pisha anyone could ever have - I adored him, my husband adored him, and my girls loved him.
All of them were a bit wonky, that's what AG says - but they were terrific, brave people - all the men handsome and charming, all the women ,beautiful, - all with a tenuous hold on reality - one died young, one died in Lumbini Park, hopelessly insane and the other is old and frail, far far away, still guarding whatever memories she has and living in them far away from reality ... because that is all she has now that everyone is dead. Wherever you all are and that includes you, Ma, I'm raising a toast ... Prosit!

Bhwot In JUDE

2006-02-23T01:26:00.000+05:30

The Charge of the Heavy Brigand:
An excerpt from my latesht blog post.... read all about it...
............"Then the Don entered the room. Everyone was silent, watching the fearful symmetry of the pointy beard.

Don: Shoi korle?? (Did you sign?)

Panu: ah.. yessir!!

Don: Sabai? (All?)

Panu: yessir!!

Don: Kata Jaal korle?? (How many did you copy??)

Panu: I-Uhhhhh…."

And other BHWOTing experiences as well ... Features rigging, pulling, singing, et al.

The Alluder of Alliterations is here

2006-02-21T23:06:00.000+05:30

I an impertinent UG1 have shamelessly and blatantly managed to cadge an invitation from Pradipta and forced myself into this hallowed company.. let the blogosphere beware.. The Alluder of Alliterations... is here

Anybody?

2006-02-21T00:07:00.000+05:30

What say we get a yearbook? I'm willing to work...anybody interested?
And lets get some new t-shirts shall we?

The Sickened Coming

2006-02-18T22:02:00.000+05:30

Turning and turning the webspaceless gyre,

The Blabberbots cannot hear the Editors...

Blogs fall apart, Mere Templates cannot hold...

Abhijit Gupta is loosed upon this world.

Inspired by the Post made by our dear teacher.
We all love you Sir, really!! Welcome to our humble blog...

2006-02-17T00:34:00.000+05:30

I think the idea of the Literature and Censorship blog is so cool...we should have things like that for our other courses as well!

All mimsey were the borogoves

2006-02-16T23:41:00.000+05:30

All please observe a minute's silence in memory of the passing of Jabberwocky Redivivus, the second avatar of the departmental magazine. 'Twas in the year 1989 that the then editor, in order to express solidarily with Salman Rushdie (who had been fatwa'd on Valentine Day 1989) also decided to close down his magazine and retire to an undisclosed place, with armed guards. There has since been no Jabberwocky...

train catching

2006-02-16T09:43:00.000+05:30

few things to do when you miss your train:

never thought you'd need this huh? well you never know which bond flick script you might be writing next, so go on, take a look.

1. look for a auto driver who does NOT have a f****** cellphone. and even if he does have one, pray to god he does not use it when your rushing to catch the bloody train. ps: why does every soul down south have a frigging phone on them?!!!! were'nt we supposed to be a 3rd world country or something like that? news-flash: it's a totally different world that the south indian (read: bangalorean) auto drivers live in.

2. when you near the station and see a train at the platform from the auto, do not shout (with any form of conviction) "that's a local train". reasons? a) local trains don't have ac sleeper class coaches. b) they don't leave at the exact moment when your train is supposed to leave.

3. if you have any friends already on the train, they must NOT pull the chain. yes i know it looks tempting, but the 1000 rs. fine, especially when you're returning from a financially taxing trip, along with a month's imprisonment is not the ideal solution. go ahead and scream at them, but that red chain is a massive "no no".

4. oh by the way, if you're talking to those very friends on your phone dont ever say "no no, oh shit no!". the line might just get cut and even though you dont want the chain pulled, this could lead to a lot of very heated souls. a better choice? "pull, pull, yes, yes!" (and no, im not running a porno blog.)

5. this one's a beauty. look around for some nutcase who tells you "you're too early for tomorrow's train". boy, all that temper really gets the adrenalin rushing, and trust me, you need that for the rest of the pre-train journey.

6. suddenly see an apparition of a cabbie who's willing to drive you to the next junction for 600 bucks. (you cant be too sure if it's the same bugger who made that guiness record-winning joke). make a dash for it. dump you luggage and yourselves into some squishy omni and pray very hard. your back, butt, knees and leg might ache away to glory. but on the bright side, you won't realize that your whole body is aching. i dunno, but it's one of those crazy tricks tough situations pull on you.

7. looking for a variation? here's one. have one friend call his/her parents 5 mins before train's supposed to leave and say they've not reached station yet, and then have the line cut abruptly. then mistake their no. for your own parent's and actually take that damn call. after that i leave it to your imagination. i'd ideally tell them that we're safely on the train and then hope to high heavens they dont really figure out that no self respecting train ever has a blaring car horn.

8. now comes the interesting bit. look out for all the red lights. sigh. get furious, coz nothing's below 72 secs. then voila! you're past it! zooming ahead of those dumbjock drivers. try counting the number of lights you jump. but take my advice, dont try it. it's way more fun just looking outside open mouthed and thinking "boy, bond must've had one heck of a time!" but this one's seriously not for the faint-hearted. count on having lost at least a few years of your life on that ride. oh and, i know you'll not have the time, try and get the cabbie's address, just in case you want to post him a x-mas card. it's worth it. or better still, keep in touch coz you never know when you'll be late again.

9. once at the other station, run like crazy, bag and all. now you'll know why everyone tells you tyo travel light. but never mind, too late for regrets, just run. ok, when you're throwing your bag on to the tracks to run across the blessed train, never jump before bag. those things are bizarrely designed. even the devil could'nt pull them off the platform without yanking off his arms.

10. anyways, now next to the train. safe, right? wrong. indian railways is one of those things which just might not want your happiness, let alone have you go back home in one piece. they have these dastardly things called general sections. (once described very aptly as "general sex" compartments where the only criteria is that you have to keep up with the sex. think there are no takers for this theory? try contacting JU 3rd year english and ask for chicko.) so you haul yourself and your blessed bags onto this crazy contraption and look around. lo behold! there arent any passages between coaches! why? coz these damn things are'nt connected at all! so off you go again, this time looking for a familiar looking coach. by the time you locate one and are up, bags and all, the trains off again, chugging like a little ol' lady. but thankfully this time you're on it.

11. the last part's easy. just lug everything behind you and go on a cross-train sprint, looking for your compartment. now you know what the members of the fellowship felt like. you also know that once on the train there's no need to run any more, but somehow your body doesn't seem to respond to that logic. and that running with luggage between people who, lets' just say, love their inertia of rest, is a task that would challenge even hercules.

so now that you know what to do, try it sometimes. you could always reach on time, but hey this one's fun too. almost like a movie. especially so when im not in it.

ps: variation: after all this you're still adventurous? go into the next coach for a smoke late at night. finish, come out, and what do you see? you just saw a passage, now you don't. why? coz some jackass just wanted to shut the bloody connecting door. now, dont panic. if you're lucky, the train will have stopped at a station, you'll find some one willing to open the train door for you. a short jump, a quick jog, another jump up and you're home safe! see, it was'nt so difficult now, was it? now if you go into all the possibilities...the train not stopping at a station till say the wee hours of the morning...spending a night with perfect strangers...the train leaving without you on it...again...ah well life's a miracle, aint it!

2006-02-16T00:25:00.000+05:30

Going South?

2006-02-14T22:14:00.001+05:30

Wait, no. We went south. As far as supposedly cool Bangalore only to find it quite warm. It's a loooong train journey. You may want to amuse yourself with mp3 enabled mobile phones, handycams, handycam enabled phones, jokes, bad jokes, worse jokes and stuff that's still worse- but it's a long ride.Remember that. Always.
But then you get to Bangalore and things aren't that bad. You watch Jethro Tull, live in concert from behind the stage. I mean, everyone does watch it from in front so why would you do that?
Then you realise Ian Anderson's staying on the same floor (2 doors away from your's in fact.) So you generally listen to him practice in his room, chat with him, take snaps, get autographs and grin and sing praises...
One could also go to a Bryan Adams concert there. It's a lot of fun and well worth the money...
Oh, and watch out for the forthcoming documentary that may or may not be called 'Bangtrip.'No? How about 'Bangotrip' or 'Bangatrip?'And we wish we had read those very helpful hints on train catching posted on
http://thatsbecauseofthefanandeverything.blogspot.com/ . We might have been a little more relaxed.

Going South?

2006-02-14T22:14:00.000+05:30

scandal in the dept

2006-02-12T12:39:00.000+05:30

"i need two boys tonight...ah...don't u worry"
--------MM( to poor abhinandan and samby)

2006-02-08T20:59:00.000+05:30

YOU THOUGHT HE WAS COMING.
(HE TOLD YOU HE WAS)

MAYBE HE MEANT TO.

MAYBE HE DID NOT.

TOO BAD HE'S GOING TO DIE.

WATCH THIS SPACE.

Fancy That!

2006-01-18T16:14:00.000+05:30

Yesterday I went to Fancy. You know, the shopping complex (?!) in Kidderpore. I went there because I had bought a Play Station a few months back, and the lense had got spoilt. It had been lying at home for all these months, and I thought I should do something about it.

If anyone, in their fit of madness has played on a Sony Play Station, you would know why it was so important to me.

So anyway, I land up there and the inevitable happens. I get completely boggled by the gizmos around me. I almost bought myself an mp3 player, but I stopped myself just in time when I remembered that if I did buy it, I would have no money for the rest of the month.

The people at fancy have a strategy. A pretty advanced strategy if I may add. I have enumerated them below so that it can remind me next time when I go and so that it may give you an idea of the real shit that goes on.

The come hither look:

The come hither look is the one which is the most common. Most shopkeepers adopt this strategy. They do nothing and say even less. However, it is impossible to pass by their shop without stopping. Imagine a golden retriever with a “I am so sad, pet me” expression. That, multiplied by hundred is exactly what they have. One feels pity. One does not need to by blue sunglasses or electric pink shoes with blue polka dots. But one must. One must out of sheer pity.

The dance and shout strategy

This, if not perfected can cause disaster. One must have practiced this all his life to lure a customer into his lair. What the shopkeeper does is he sort of prances about and shouts at the top of his lungs. His whole life needs to be dedicated to this because he cannot smoke, has to exercise regularly and he probably talked with marbles in his mouth as a kid. And all of that just so that he could shout and enunciate the varied commodities and services his shop offers.
You are walking down a lane of shops when suddenly out of the woodwork, out jumps this person waving his arms about like an actor rehearsing for Macbeth. What is one to do? You cannot avoid him. His oration is too great for that. You cannot walk past him. His presence is slightly on the over-bearing side. So you do what everyone does. You go to his lair and buy his stuff.

Come, I shall help you strategy

This strategy is perhaps the most difficult. It needs psychology, tactic and immense patience. Not many can do it, and the ones who can cannot do it very well. Very few have actually perfected it.
This strategy is something like this: You go to a shop selling music stuff. You want to buy a CD (just for argument’s sake) You can see that he has lots of them. But he says that he does not. But he says that he will surely look around with you for the CD that you are looking for.
He takes you around the complex. You visit more than thirty shops, and by some bizarre coincidence, the CD is not there. Finally, when you are about to fall dead, he leads you back into his shop and announces that he in fact has the CD, but the price for it is Rs 500, when you knew it was actually 30. You really cannot look around any further. The sun has set and your home beckons to you. SO you fish out 500 and buy something which is tremendously over-priced and which you could get for 50 in the next shop.

Hahaha. I am not fooled. I didn’t buy ANYTHING yesterday.

On the different note, Suchi threatened to yank my Converse sneakers off. Raka looked like she had murdered someone or was going to murder someone. Ragini brought these weird biscuits which had three sides. Anc has changed his nick to Death of an Anc. Arunobho is in love again, and he eats like he has not eaten in thirty years. JU has begun to get interesting again.

Srin is having a birthday party on Friday.

Thought of the Day

2006-01-18T01:48:00.000+05:30

Hmmm... H.E. Bates must have had a enlightening childhood... being called "MASTER BATES" all the time.

callousness of college-goers? i think not.

2006-01-13T22:36:00.000+05:30

walk into any calcutta college campus, and what is the one thing that you are absolutely certain to be greeted by? yes, hold your breath for it - litter! you are also sure to meet students, yes - but it's very unlikely that they'll greet you. so if that was your answer, i am not at all sorry to say that you're wrong. but the incipient hostility of the average calcutta college student is a different matter altogether - specialist, in fact - so we shall leave well alone.
anyway. i shall pontificate further based on personal experience on a certain eminent campus, and generalise about the rest. and since i admit i am generalising, you are welcome (with open arms, no less) to disagree with whatever i am about to say.
the eminent campus that i talk about, has many, many bins all across it. now, it is true that they may sometimes be tucked away into rather discreet corners - we wouldn't want to look shabby with random bins strewn here and there, would we? - but still, it is impossible to walk across campus for five minutes without seeing a bin. and yet, everywhere that you go, you meet litter. especially, in close proximity to the said bins.
it is this last incident that i want to draw your attention to - litter near and around bins. in fact, oftentimes, it is a circle of litter that defines the perimeter of the bin. one of the greatest quiz questions of all times, that nobody ever asks because everybody knows the answer to it, is where are you most likely to find an empty bin? and yes, the answer is, indeed, right next to where all the garbage is.
remarkable as it is, why does this happen? you may ask. and i shall explain to you - you, who have been pushed into a state of sheer witlessness and supplication by this inscrutably mysterious phenomenon!
repression.
that's what it is. a simple ten letter word. and the reason behind this enigmatic occurence. yes, i understand you are not convinced, but please let me explicate further.
you see, the average calcutta young man has been brought up in an atmosphere of deep, deep repression. they have spent their childhood and adolescence in a society where the three letter word beginning with s and ending in x, and with a vowel (which is not a, i, o or u) pinioned in between, is cloaked in an air and a layer of deepest dirt and slimiest sleaze. and therefore, engaging in something with such obvious sexual connotations as putting litter in a bin (taking something. then putting it into something else. get it?), and that too, in broad daylight, and in public, is just...vile. i mean, consciously of course, they know that there's nothing wrong with sex. but all those years and years of picking up on subliminal messages imparted by moralistic grandmothers, pompous principals, and others of the ilk - it's bound to have some kind of an impact on the subconscious of these young men, isn't it?
they try. they are acutely conscious of the evils of not thinking about the environment and ecology. but it's not in their hands. it's ingrained. repression shrouds their psyche. still, they really, really do try - which is why they get so close to the bins. logic and consciousness impels them on towards the bins, and they take what they have to trash, and prepare for the final act. but the harsh voice of thamma shrieking aei bablu, tumi ki korchho? somewhere in the deep recesses of the brain intervenes, and the little bit of trash flutters helplessly down to the ground, just outside the bin. and with red ears, shamefacedly, they retreat.
and if the bold young men have it this bad, can you even begin to imagine the tragedy of the demure young woman? i mean, think about it. public opinion has it that girls are even more repressed than boys. can you then, with a clear conscience, ever expect them to publicly engage in an act that is so terribly masturbatory?
i rest my case.

disclaimer: my sincerest apologies to all who actually do use dustbins. you are clearly not repressed.

copyright: http://ruinsoftheday.blogspot.com/2005/12/callousness-of-college-goers-i-think.html

2006-01-11T15:35:00.000+05:30

And Now…

Hugs and kisses galore to Neelini, Ugh 3, who will shortly become Neelini, Oxon. So, since you are going to St.Hilda’s and we aren’t, we decided to knock our heads together and think of what we want you to bring back for us. Take a deep breath –

1. A piece of the Quad (we don’t care which Quad, as long as it’s the Quad. Hell’s bells, we don’t even know what the Quad is, but we’ve heard of it and we know it’s there, so no funny business),
2. the stone slab on which Wordsworth was sick (or is that Cambridge?),
3. a boat,
4. a policeman’s helmet,
5. an Oxford Blue (preferably tall, buxom and female),
6. a dictionary,
7. a head porter,
8. an uninhibited desire to invite all (and in particular the prettier ones) your fellow Hildans?/ Hildites?/ Hilfigers? home for the holidays.

Enjoy.

love, logistics and psychoanalysis!

2006-01-08T17:27:00.000+05:30

[...]

[from Foucault's Pendulum, Umberto Eco.]

[the excerpts were originally part of this post on my blog.]

Exodus

2006-01-01T21:50:00.000+05:30

THE BLABBERWOCKY HAS MOVED!

Click here to go directly to the New Blab
(You no longer need an invite...you only need to register on the New Blab)

Just incase you're wondering WHY?!?!?!

'TIS TRUE...READ ON...

The Ancient scriptures tell us that...In the End...Man makes a Mess.

And this usually upsets the Gods.

So, Man left the Mess behind and moved to greener pastures.
(Honestly, it does look greener under the magnifying glass!)

Unfortunately, he found that it had already been occupied.
Even still, he tried to conquer the land.

However...on closer inspection, he found it to be an even Bigger Mess.
So he was forced to look elsewhere.

The answer loomed upon the horizon!

...and he hired a proffessional to lead him there.

As always...there were those who refused to budge.

Things soon turned ugly for them.

The Gods made an example of one of them.
68,000 stared on in horror.

So...right at The End...everyone made the journey to Paradise.
( Even though they had to work harder! )

And some took their dogs along.

There were places to go...things to see. It was a whole new experience.

And now they're calling you to join them at a place they call home...

Click here to go to the new Blab.
(You no longer need an invite...you need to register on the New Blab)

Lo and Behold The Blabberwocky

2005-12-31T23:12:00.000+05:30

Er...A message from Goscinny and Uderzo?

Welcome to the BlabberWocky!

HEY JUDE!

2005-12-30T00:58:00.000+05:30

Welcome Blabberbots!

Introduce yourselves!

Help Caesar!

Knab The Jude Bard!

2005-12-29T21:40:00.000+05:30

Attention Blabberbots - Please post your comments inside the 'Comments' section of the relevant post. Feel free to post any of your creative work on the main blog however. - AFSDU

Tis The Season to be Ugly

2005-12-24T02:16:00.000+05:30

Tis The Season to be Ugly

A Chirstmas Disco-bhaari!!! Read All About IT!!!

Presenting to you a piece of Panu-Type sensetionalism that will knock this generally peacefully nonsensical blog out of its seat and into MAYHEM.

A research on the nature of Christ's Conception and the CONSEQUENCE on Mankind.

Here's a little sample below:
......I mean, what was Joseph doing with his wife… family planning? And even if he was, why was he not popping the damn fruit, for Christ’s sake? Was he waiting for Christmas to unravel that particular present? (Oops, I think he was…)"

Read and be Amazed!!

Read and be Shocked!!

Read all about the weepy side-effects of writing this particular thing on "aibbappsss!!!"

The Myth of Sisyphus

2005-12-22T23:49:00.000+05:30

Sisyphus...

dragging to the end, only to start back again from the bottom

Virginia Woolf might actually be fun!

2005-12-09T17:38:00.000+05:30

“And so Eliot ends with this great Sanskrit chant, which is wrong anyway… the Sanskrit’s all wrong.”
- PC, on “The Wasteland”

“Bertrand Russell’s third wife – he had many wives and girlfriends – he really really did believe in free love.”
- PC, on sexual lib

“Has anyone here, in a fit of madness, read any Proust?”
- PC, on Modernism

INSPIRED BY THE FRATERNITY (and the Hair-do)

2005-12-06T00:08:00.000+05:30

Okay, okay... I know I am supposed to study through the exams, but suddenly my career thoughts have taken a nosedive and I am Hung up between Madonna's a**cheeks ("puh-leeze" to those who will critique me as sexual..."as if you people don't..."). Anyway, I was going through my course material, and found something that just might be the first Instruction manual for sound mixing and DJs, RJs, VJs, and AJs..(cant remember any more Js). Read through the following exerpt... its pretty neat, though might be a tad boring.

............."We have also sound-houses, where we practise and demonstrate all sounds, and their generation. We have harmonies which you have not, of quarter-sounds, and lesser slides of sounds. Divers instruments of music likewise to you unknown, some sweeter than any you have, together with bells and rings that are dainty and sweet. We represent small sounds as great and deep; likewise great sounds extenuate and sharp; we make divers tremblings and warblings of sounds, which in their original are entire. We represent and imitate all articulate sounds and letters, and the voices and notes of beasts and birds. We have certain helps which set to the ear do further the hearing greatly. We have also divers strange and artificial echoes, reflecting the voice many times, and as it were tossing it: and some that give back the voice louder than it came, some shriller, and some deeper; yea, some rendering the voice differing in the letters or articulate sound from that they receive. We have also means to convey sounds in trunksand pipes, in strange lines and distances.
SIR FRANCIS BACON --- THE NEW ATLANTIS

Ramon's World Famous Frittata Fraternity

2005-12-01T19:56:00.000+05:30

That which inspired Kanti's hairdo!

Where is our infamous editor anyway?

Another story

2005-11-24T22:27:00.000+05:30

Just put up the story that took me to (and that i took to) the writing workshop conducted my amitav ghosh on azeemhussain.blogspot.com

A Story

2005-11-23T20:40:00.000+05:30

If anybody is interested in reading my story for the writing in practice presentation it's on my blog - azeemhussain.blogspot.com
Warning: Positive feedback (if any) might induce me to put up more stories.

Has Anyone seen Godot?

2005-11-21T23:25:00.000+05:30

I'm assuming (yes i know. One should not assume any such thing), but I AM assuming most of you'll have read Waiting for Godot. I have written a play called "death of a Godot". I plan to put this up around the end of Dec or early Jan.

Just for the record, roles are open. I need 4 actors. That is, If I decide NOT to act, for some reason. So if you feel like some acting, do let me know. I dont think we need any auditions. I have faith in JU.

DO let me know.

I Con - Ruud Van Nistelrooy's Alternative Homepage

2005-11-14T09:47:00.000+05:30

"Another player who liked to go down as quick as Roy Keane's Mum"

Lots more at...

http://www.arsenalshorts.com/rvncheat/

On Blabbermouth

2005-11-09T01:08:00.000+05:30

“A compelling tour-de-bore from a major new and big mouth.”
- Butt Seriously

A Letter to the Author

Dear Mr. Dasgupta,
First of all, Blabberwocky is somewhat disturbed at this turn of events. Your brilliantly-researched new expose of life in JUDE – using material gathered while dating all of five women to write a “book” (HO HO HO… ahem) is inspired. We at Blabberwocky could never have thought of this act of imaginative innovation – your expose, as we were saying, while being compelling (several readers have been compelled to keep pillows at hand while reading it), is guilty of an act of gross negligence. You have failed to acknowledge the seminal influence of Blabberwocky apropos of the nomenclature of your “book” (HO HO HO… ahem). We at Blabberwocky hereby inform you that we have as yet received no royalty for your use of the term “blabber” in your title. According to our calculations, you owe us exactly 25p – @ 1% royalty on every title sold, you seem to have sold precisely one title, at the discounted rate of Rs. 25. (Between us, while this shows a great love for your fellow human being, it might not be such a sound business proposition). We would also be obliged if you could forward us the name and address of this carbon-based biped of reduced noetic abilities that bought your “book” (HO HO HO… ahem) as we are looking to test our newly-developed nerve gas on somebody stupid enough to let us.
We shall be grateful for an early receipt.

Thanking you,
Yours faithfully,
Blabberwocky.

P.S. A minor suggestion, if you will? We recommend you remain anonymous if a second edition comes out. Or perhaps a pseudonym? Egotistical Haverer seems apt to us, but of course it’s your call.

(This is the latest Blab on the Board)

2005-11-06T22:45:00.000+05:30

Well, the puja is finally over and college starts again tomorrow.It will be great to be back and see everyone...however,I dread the classes that UG3 will be having for the rest of the month.Tests, term papers, exams...shudder shudder.Not to mention waking up early.I guess all of us feel the same na?As Teleute mentioned today, it would have been fun if we had college during vacation, which would be college but no college.
And maybe you guys cld do something about the actual Blab, the one on the wall I mean.

Will the real dude please stand up?

2005-11-03T11:32:00.000+05:30

The world is full of shit. That, whether you choose to ignore it or believe it, is the fact. There is shit all around us.

And the shittiest part is that we walk on it. The shit has become a world. There is no walking space left in our sad lives. We find ourselves walking in a quicksand of shit.

Of mirthless muck.

The more we try and get out of it, the more smelly we become. The more disgusted we get with ourselves. But the funny, and almost ironical thing is that we dont want to get out of it. Habit? Maybe. Maybe we've just got used to being in this mess. We've gotten used to being disgusted. Nothing disgusts us any more.

No one stands up and shouts. There is a multitude. There is a throng. But there is no ONE who stands up and says that he doesnt belong here. That he wants to change anything. Everyone has got used to it. Everyone has become everything he sees.

Shit.

And yet, the most funniest part, I think is WHY people dont speak out. Because, by speaking out, they would be breaking one of the most fundamental rules of society. The unwritten rule of being a hypochrite.

If they speak out, if they stand up among the throng, they will be expelled from an exile they didnt belong to in the first place.

Why does no one speak out?

Has everyone reconciled themselves to everything?

WHy does no one stand up?

Speak out. It matters.

Blabbermouth OUT on CD NoW!

2005-11-02T20:26:00.000+05:30

NOW LADIES AND GENTS. BLABBERMOUTH OUT ON CD.

get your copy now.

blabbermouth-an expose'.

Don't be caught without it.

blabbermouth.

Dont be caught doing it.

BLABBERMOUTH.

2005-10-31T21:17:00.000+05:30

Checking mail? Surfing? Getting bored right? Want some gossip? Need some scandal in your vein? Need that rush of blood?

Find out who's who. Who's wearing what? Who's doing what where.

Which chick has the tatoo, who got caught in the loo, who gets his arse spanked publicly.

blabbermouth-an expose'.

Don't be caught without it. Dont be caught doing it.

blabbermouth.

Get your copy now.

Contact me at 98312 34091.
Introductory offer: Rs 40.

Who watches over the Watchmen?

2005-10-28T02:44:00.000+05:30

It is the oldest ironies that are still most satisfying: man, when preparing for bloody war, will orate loudly and most eloquently in the name of peace. This dichotomy is not an invention of the twentieth century, yet it is in this century that the most striking examples of the phenomena have appeared. Never before has man persued global harmony more vocally while amassing stockpiles of weapons so devastating in their effect. The second world war - we were told - was The War To End Wars. The development of the atomic bomb is The Weapon To End Wars.

And yet wars continue. Currently, no nation on this planet is not involved in some form of armed struggle, if not against its neighbours, then against internal forces. Furthermore, as ever-escalating amounts of money are poured into the pursuit of the specific weapon or conflict that will bring lasting peace, the drain on our economies creates a run-down urban landscape where crime flourishes and people are concerned less with national security than with the simple personal security needed to stop at the store late at night for a quart of milk without being mugged. The places we struggled so viciously to keep safe are becoming increasingly dangerous. These wars to end wars, the weapons to end wars, these things have failed us.

Now we have a man to end wars.

Since my association with Dr. Jonathan Osterman and the being he eventually became are well documented elsewhere, I feel I need only recap them briefly here. In 1959, in an accident that was certainly unplanned and just as certainly unrepeatable, a young American man was completely disintegrated, at least in a physical sense. Despite the absence of a body, a form of electromagnetic pattern resembling consciousness survived, and was able, in time, to rebuild an approximation of the body it had lost.

Perhaps in the process of reconstructing its corporeal form, this new and wholly original entity achieved a complete mastery of all matter; able to shape reality by the manipulation of its basic building blocks. When news of this being's phenomenal genesis was first released to the world, a certain phrase was used that has - at varying times - been attributed both to me and to others. On the newsflashes coming over our tvs on that fateful night, one sentence was repeated over and over again: 'The superman exists and he's American.'

I never said that, although I do recall saying something similar to a persistent reporter who would not leave without a quote. I presume the remark was edited or toned down so as not to offend public sensibilities; in any event I never said 'The superman exists and he's American.' What I said was "God exists and he's American.'

- Alan Moore, in Watchmen (1986-87).

[Refer to my other Watchmen post for more links.]

[the pic: a page from Watchmen, Alan Moore]

Respect

2005-10-15T10:54:00.000+05:30

Though I am posting this on Blabberwocky, this is serious. I just thought I would be able to reach out to a lot of poeple through Blabberwocky. This is for all self-respecting indivuals. All of you must have heard about a pony-tailed guy called Arindam Chaudhuri who runs an institute called IIPM and has written some rotten book. Beware! He is like Parnab.
Quizzers might have heard about Gaurav Sabnis. He USED to work for IBM. He pointed out some of the hilarious claims of IIPM on his blog.This resulted in him resigning from his job and being slapped with a 125 CRORE lawsuit. IIPM are filing suits against all bloggers who "defame" their institution. A 21 year old girl who came out in support of Gaurav has also been threatened with a 175 crore lawsuit.
My ignorance prevents me from doing something. Will better informed indivuals please chalk out a plan so that we can prevent Gaurav from getting into further trouble.