Staring,
At the lone flame.
Bereft of color,
It burns out,
It's will to live
and breathes out
swirling smoke
that smells of dolor.
December creeps in
Like a snake,
With bare fangs
Pours cold poison,
Freezes the heart,
Between flickers
And beats.
The flames goes out
As chill sets in.
The warm smoke
relieved of memory,
untethered to flame,
flies away free.
Also available at: https://allpoetry.com/poem/17612497-When-December-Sets-In-by-Abhijit-Chatterjee#share
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The painting titled "Ophelia" was painted by Sir John Everett Millais sometime between 1851 and 1852. He was one of the founding members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood along with William Holman Hunt and Dante Gabriel Rosetti. The group believed that mimesis or the imitation of nature is the central purpose of art. Hence, they sought a return to a "pre-raphaelian" age of art before the mannerist style of painting took over from Raphael and Michelangelo.
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The Olympic Games, a celebration of athletic prowess and international unity, have grown into one of the most prestigious and widely watched events in the world. Since their modern inception in 1896, the Olympics have transformed from a modest sporting event into a massive spectacle that commands the attention of billions. However, this transformation has come at a significant cost. The financial burden of hosting the Olympics has escalated to unsustainable levels, raising concerns about the long-term viability of the Games. This essay explores how hosting the Olympics has become a financially untenable undertaking, leading to severe economic, social, and environmental repercussions for host cities and countries.
I left the inhibitions behind,
He punched the ticket on the turnstile,
These tired eyes once opened to find
Zigzagged streets and crisscrossed lanes,Brick walls and stained window panes,Flaneuring down alleys in vain,Strewn with human follies and pains.
Through the dusty yellowed street
Whipped cream clouds rain down from high,through velvet winds in vanilla sky,through crimson dawn and orange dusk,the mind wanders for the soul to lusk.Perfumed smiles beneath street lamps.fairgrounds full of kids and tramps,the lights and sounds engulf and dazeas feet tumble through the human haze.The air is thick with bells that peal,devotees throng the streets in zeal,midst electric warmth and incensed breezethe cutpurse operates with fluent ease.The lucent faces come and go,some from slums, some homes highbrow.life saunters home, those faces yawnas radiant night gives way to dawn.
When the sky's about to fall,Paint the stars fiery and bright,So, when the heavens do crashYou will be decked in starlight.Smile when the wounds festerAnd release a sighed breath,Cry at a violent birth,And hope for a peaceful death.
Of ancient lands and mythical streams,Sweeping pastures where starlight gleams.The vibrant green and marine blue,Between them a thousand wondrous hue.This is the glorious world we lost,Our present on future has rendered a cost.A world now only in dreams entrapped,The pastures, the streams and lands unmapped.Marvels only the night can unlock,Of lives beyond time and ticking clock.A splendid genesis of quaint mystery,Fables and lores forged in prehistory.Beyond the distant pelagic climes,Far where the wedgebill chimes,Deep forests where tigers prowl,On moonlit nights the grey wolves howl.Of sublime design this dream I dared,In chains of pedantry is ensnared.The strict straight lines of daily reality,Perpendicular lanes in perfect symmetry,Harsh street lights and electric wires,Astray cynics in dull attires.Air thick with doubt, fear and smog,And noxious vocables of the demagogue.Away from this daily strife and brawl,And sights that invoke thoughts banal,Lies the silver land of visions eternal,Where breezes blow melodies of songs vernal.There, hopes germinate into abundant flora,With method shrouded in obscure anaphora.But the trees turn ashen and the sky grows dark,The land once resplendent is now stark.As grey morning dawns the alarm clock sounds,The dream breaks and the vision drowns.I wake up drowsy on my austere wooden bed,And start to plan my dreary day ahead.
How would you know?Did you step outOn to the gravel or snowAnd aimlessly wander about?From your hawkish perchYou watch us abidePrecepts of your amoral church,And you, our bootless guideLead us down this endless strait,As you use words as verbal bait.
You are the dawn of hope,
A sight none to behold,
The blazing sunSets earth afire.Melts ice,Hardens loam,Rivers dissipate,In arid despair.
The Matrix has always been hailed as one the most accurate celluloid adaptation of the “Dream Argument” of Descartes, but people mostly overlook the Cartesian parallels in Nolan's Inception (2010). Nolan is a storyteller. He engrosses us so much with the plot at hand that the audience forgets to engage with the philosophy of the film while enjoying the film. It was only later after I finished watching the film that I began to understand how Descartes might have influenced Nolan's philosophy. The film begins in a dream and slowly rises up to the level of reality on-board the Shinkansen in Japan.
There can be little doubt in the fact the Vishal Bhardwaj has established himself in the last few years as one of the foremost imaginative and nuanced film-maker in India. Much of his success can be attributed to his adaptations of Shakespeare's greatest tragedies. The Indian-ness of Mr Bhardwaj's adaptations is what makes the movies so critically and commercially successful in the Indian milieu. This points to the fact that something is universal with Shakespeare's tragedies and with tragedies in general.
It's a bird!...No, it's a plane!...No, it's Bezos and Branson in their game of one-upmanship of who would become the world's first bonafide private astronaut (sounds a lot like private pilots). And, guess what? It is still not clear even after their respective successful flights. A lot of the controversy depends on definitions and technicalities and who's defining them. One of the technical terms that are doing the rounds after their flights is "Karman Line". Named after Hungarian-American engineer Theodore von Karman, it is defined as the boundary between atmosphere and space. The Fédération Aéronautique Internationale sets it at roughly 100 kilometres above mean sea level. Now, some aeronautical agencies often do not recognize the Karman Line as the valid definition for 'edge of space' and many have their own respective boundaries set for defining the edge of space. NASA, for example, sets it at 50 miles (80 kilometres) above mean sea level. Any flight above 80 kilometres is considered by NASA to be a spaceflight. However, even within NASA, this metric has often stayed inconsistent and sometimes its definition was motivated by Soviet and American achievements during the space race in the early 1960s. But, most of the world followed (and still follows) the Karman Line as the defined boundary between space and atmosphere.
I do not necessarily devote time to writing articles on the effects of urbanization on ecology because it would take a lot of painstaking research and consume a lot of time without any prospect of attracting the attention of the concerned authorities who bear the responsibility of sustaining the environment. Scores of research papers have been written on the topic with no effect. But a Prime Time report aired on NDTV on 20th June 2019 about the water crisis last year got me thinking. The report is available on youtube. In that report, anchor Ravish Kumar alleges that in Bihar water reservoirs and public ponds are being taken over by land-mafias for illegal construction. Now, 'illegal' in this case might be considered a relative term since Ravish Kumar reports that proper documentation of those wetlands and ponds are being altered in government land registry offices by the land-mafia (obviously working in cahoots with the local political system) to remove any evidence of a wetland being present at the site of the development project and thus the property is legally acquired by the land-mafia. Hence, if some concerned citizen files a PIL (Public Interest Litigation) against the 'developers' or 'promoters', it is virtually impossible to prove a pond being present at the site prior to the construction (as the records have been altered).
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