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Inheritance

By Vakul Mohanty

The future is bleak. Most of my friends are away at their final year internships, and the precious few of us left on campus have been having a hard time keeping from wasting away. Boredom can drive you insane, add the pressure of the end sems to the equation and well, life is hell. Typically, around this time of the year I contemplate suicide (alright no, I’m a narcissist, but I sincerely hope that someone nukes the academic block). However this time around I see hope in the wintery November.

The memory is vague, but I guess I was introduced to the Inheritance Cycle when I was in my 9^th. My dad had just flown in from Banglore and with him came my copy of Eragon. And here I’m now, three books and eight years later, waiting for the last book of the cycle, Inheritance.

Well dragons, magic and elves (not the ugly Harry Potter ones, actual elves) most sane kids would find any book with the combo interesting. The insane ones settle for shiny vampires( hint: Twilight). So it’s no surprise that I got hooked to the series. The concept of Dragon Riders was in itself very attractive. Added to this were a host of intriguing characters and a beautifully sculpted plot, naïve at times but beautiful all the same. To top it all, Christopher Paolini was just 18 when the first book was published. Well, I don’t know about you but I sure was impressed. My taste of literature has changed over these years, a lot has been pruned away leaving behind what I like to think of as a taste for fine, meaningful literature (you could call me a arrogant bastard). In this process of refinement a lot of books that I used to like, or maybe even cherished, in the past have been shelved permanently. Eragon, Eldest and Brisingr, however, still hold my interest.

In every genre of literature a particular book functions as a yard stick against which all others works are measured. My yard stick in fantasy-fiction is “The Lord of The Rings” and measured against it, Paolini’s Inheritance cycle did surprising well. LOTR is a masterpiece. Tolkien created a whole alternate universe, crafted a century’s worth of history, and traced the path of several races through the sands of time. This was just his creative brilliance, the only reason all this found its way onto paper was because Tolkien was a true master of English with an extraordinary attention to detail. No book I have read so far quiet matches the description of events, emotions and places that I have seen in LOTR. Paolini’s work doesn’t compare to the brilliance of LOTR, but his work is one that shows much promise. His writing style, though still amateur in comparison, has a lot in common with Tolkien’s own style. And though Alagaesia’s history is rather sparse in comparison to Middle Earth’s, it’s still enough to tingle your interest.

The Inheritance may be seen as a tale about Eragon, his struggle to rid Alagaesia of the tyrant king and resurrect the order of Dragon Riders but ample space has been give to other characters. Nasuada and Roran are characters of immense strength, characters that deserve their own space away from the overwhelming shadow of Eragon and Saphira. It’s beautiful how Paolini has developed these characters away from the central character, giving them the space they deserve and adding an extra dimension to the tale. The way he keeps switches between Eragon’s and their tales may be irritating but I believe that it makes for a better read, sans the initial irritation.

At the end of the third book Brisingr, Eragon is left without a guide and teacher, with both Oromis and Brom dead. There is nowhere the young man can look for guidance. However the revelation about the Eldunari is a glimmer of hope in these dark times. It will be interesting to see how the Eldunari and the power of the dragons trapped with them mold the course of events in Algaesia. I also have a gut feel that Roran will be the next rider, which should be rather interesting, a man of Roran’s character in possession with the power of the riders will be a force to reckon with. I also sincerely hope to see more of Murtagh this time around, it’s a pity that a character like him hasn’t found much place since the first book. Also I’m extremely interested to see what fate has in-store for him, is his future as dark as his past or is there still hope…

True the books have been predictable to a certain extent, but you have to agree that Paolini has been able to catch us by surprise more than once. I hope that Inheritance will turn out to be a masterpiece, better than any of the first three, it’s the only way to say farewell to an amazing tale.

Atra esterní ono thelduin. Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr. Un du evarínya ono varda.

Book 4, Inheritance, releases worldwide on November 5.

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Vakul Mohanty
A metal-head who's wants to do pursue a Ph.D Currently studying Biology & Comp Sc. at BITS,Pilani - Hyderabad Campus, his life-long ambition is to become a professor and wear shorts to work.

Let Them Work

By Vakul Mohanty

The freedom of expression is a beautiful thing. I can blabber all I want, spew out all the bullshit I believe in and you can’t do a thing about it (yes, you can passively resist by refusing to read or listen to my point of view, but there isn’t much you can do about the fact that I’m putting it out into the world for every intelligent organism to view) Also in the same spirit, you are entitled to have your own views and I can do nothing but crib and argue my point of view! It’s this freedom of expression and enforced tolerance that gives me the courage to write this little article. I will draw the wrath of people holding very conservative views on this subject, but all I need to do, is stick my tongue at them and walk away unscathed. Ahh…I love democracy.

Now getting down to the point - let’s just start off with a general look at the problem of child labour. Indian society is perhaps the most populous in the world. Our concrete jungles and prehistoric villages (yes, it’s an exaggeration, but I let it stand for the effect) are crawling, milling with uneducated masses. In such a society, it’s not really surprising that children have to bear the brunt of poverty that comes crashing upon people when too little has to be shared by too many. It’s not uncommon for us to see children working in factories, construction sites amongst other places. I wouldn’t deny that a child younger than me once worked at my home, she sent to school and all that, but she still worked while I lounged around watching TV. The very scenario leaves a very bad taste in my mouth. In these situations a rather grim disturbing picture slithers into my mind’s eye - my comfortable existence is sculpted by the sweat and blood of little hands, I stomp on their delicate bare backs by just existing.

Every year around Diwali this guilt boils over when a bunch of kids and activists go around trying to convince people not to burn fire-crackers made by children and contribute in their little way to abolishing child labour. The government of India has also banned child labour and every now and then there are flashes of news about how the police saved a group of teens working in horrendous conditions and set them free. But set them free where? In the barren street s of India? With no food, because of your gracious heroics. The government’s present policy is just a punch in the kid’s stomach. Yes, there was this policy that every child who attends government school would get a meal or two, well, I know for a fact that half the food grains meant for the schools are swindled and sold off, so that strategy isn’t going to work, Sir! It’s about time you put in a little thought the next time you go barging into a factory and rob a child of his only way of finding his next meal.

I can already feel the glares and the fingers pointing at me. I don’t care, I will buy those crackers, I will employ that child, and I rather have him earn his meal with dignity rather than steal or beg for it. True, the conditions that these children work under are no water, no shelter? Set them free under the treacherous sun of India to burn in the heat? The guys up there are great policy makers, but in India, policy is rarely, if ever, effectively translated into action and when the policy itself is so flawed then there is really no hope left. The Indian government’s policy of abolishing child labour and making it a punishable crime for the employer really serves no purpose other than sow seeds of chaos in our already fragile social structure. You take these kids off their jobs and jail the man who employed them and feel good about the hard justice you have brought down upon evil. But did you wait for a second to consider that fate of the children you supposedly saved? Many of them are the sole providers of their family of tiny siblings, all of whom will die of hunger horrendous, so if you can’t save them, at least make the conditions tolerable. The only solution I see with the weak social system we have is to reach a middle ground where children aren’t allowed to take up extremely dangerous jobs, but they can take other jobs. It’s a strategy that is already in practice but if made a law, it might have a far more profound effect.

True, my esteemed reader, I’m a kid from the Indian middle class; the suffering of the poor homeless children of India is alien to me. I will not even say I can empathize with them, understand their problem - all I have is sympathy. But I refuse to be blinded by guilt and sympathy. I stand by my point of view that simply abolishing child labour and preventing children from working isn’t a solution to this heinous problem.

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Insanity

By Vakul Mohanty

He lay flat on his back, the back of jeep open to the velvet black sky. The moonlight drenched him, the wind howled over him and occasionally slipped under to touch him. He was counting the stars, he knew it was an impossibility, but long ago he had noticed the subtle order in the chaotic expanse of the cosmos. He had noticed the peculiar nature of the universe; behind the cloak of chaos was an underlying order and order always hid a subtle chaos under its structured ambiance. One never existed without the other. Order in chaos and chaos in order were the foundation on which every phenomenon, idea and philosophy of the universe stood.

As the jeep came to a halt, he reordered his thoughts and jumped out to walk back home with his parents. In the soft moonlight his serene face was clearly visible. Everyone presumed a stable, quiet mind from his calm face… but behind the façade lay a mind in chaos. A tempest of contradictions and confusion raged within the confines of his cranium. A feral instinct twisted his thoughts leading him down terrifying alley of the human psyche. Behind the angelic demeanor was a demonic mind.

He walked into the kitchen as quiet as a tiger and stood behind his mother. A frenzy of thoughts churned in his mind and from it rose a single idea, a single primitive craving… he wanted to see blood, he wanted to see someone squirm in pain. A thrill of anticipation ran through his spine as he pictured the scene, his heart raced as the adrenaline rushed through his veins. The urge was inciting; he picked up a knife and tested it on his finger. A single line of blood erupted from the wound that the knife had carved out on his smooth skin and with it a wave of sweet pain washed over him. Along with the pain came guilt and disgust. He hated himself for what he was and what he could become. Overwhelmed by the emotion he let go of the knife and embraced his mother. He needed her warmth, her love. He needed to hold on to sanity.

During the day a host of worldly stimuli diverted his thoughts, never giving him an opportunity to wander into to the dark corners of his mind. It was the solitude of night that he feared. He lay in bed staring at the fan circling sluggishly overhead. He concentrated on its motion, hoping that it would have a hypnotic effect or the effort would bore him to sleep. But sleep wasn’t a refuge either. His dreams were punctuated by grotesque scenes.

He stared at the naked form on the table. She was bound, spread out like the Vitruvian man. Her naked form struggled desperately against the ropes. She looked so beautiful, her figure tense with the effort, her bosom rose and fell with her strained breathing .Her desperate helplessness had a strange erotic appeal. He looked at her pale face. He saw a spectre draw a line around her thin white neck. He bent down until he felt her warm breath on his face, he stared into her pale blue eyes. It was as if he could see her soul, laid bare, unobstructed by emotions or lies. She shivered and turned away. He sighed and ran a finger along her flushed cheek. He wrapped his fingers around her neck. She screamed…

He woke up screaming… it was a dream, just a dream… he fell back onto his pillow, drenched in sweat. A moment ago he was drenched in blood. The blood wasn’t there, but he could smell its faint metallic odour. He was slipping away, his sanity was being washed away in the brutal current of madness. He quietly slipped out of bed and walked to the wash basin. He splashed some water on his face and stared into the mirror. His face was pale with horror, but there was a strange twinkle in his eyes.

He was walking through the milling crowd, searching for a face, a mask that hid the insanity beneath. He was searching for a path to sanity.

EPILOGUE:

Order is chaos, chaos is order. This is the truth of the universe. Behind the façade of humanity there is a beast in every man. We can deny the truth, forget it, ignore it but it’s always there in the bizarre depth of our mind, lurking, waiting for an opportunity to surface. We can chain the beast and fight a losing battle to suppress it… but we can never eliminate it, for out very nature is bound to it. Our basic instincts and emotions are rooted in this beast. The only way to eliminate is to eliminate yourself. It is only in the void that we are freed from our own nature. Rather than suppress my very self, I choose to let it run wild every now and then confine it with my sanity, restricting its immense destructive power, channeling it harmlessly away from society. Why do I do so, you ask? A caged, frustrated beast is infinitely more dangerous than a free one. I do so in hope that if one day I lose all restraints over my inner beast, it will not unleash its full horror. I have found my outlet after struggle and strife. We all must… or humanity will be consumed by its own insanity.

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Moral Policing - Get Over Yourself People

By Vakul Mohanty

Love between the sexes has had an important place in Indian philosophy. Neither did Ancient Indian society nor the Hindu religion, in its most basic un-corrupted form, shun the erotic nature of love. Several scriptures like “Kamasutra” and carvings on various ancient temples are testimony to this fact. So to see the severe moral policing that couples are put under during Valentine’s Day in the name of Indian culture is preposterous. Many would agree with me, others would disagree…but well, that’s not the point. The question is, is the display of love on a particular day against our culture? Is holding hands and huddling close together a sin? Let us take a look at the whole scenario that is prevalent in our country today.

Saint Valentine’s Day is celebrated every year on 14th of February (you can look up the details on wiki, they will be way more factual than I can ever dream of being). Well the concept is European, but it’s a small world, and a young India also enthusiastically celebrates the occasion. Gifts, chocolates and cards are exchanged, couples confess their affection for one another again and again, red roses and hearts decorate every restaurant, café (well, every place a couple may visit), parks are jam packed, each obscure corner occupied by a couple. And all this is interrupted by a small group of people bent upon destroying the ambience and peace-of-mind of lovers. Well if it was just burning of Valentine’s Day cards and a little shouting, it would have been tolerable (you could just run away and spend your special day somewhere quiet) but these guys have taken things a step too far. Shiv Sena, RSS etc. take their actions to a completely different level. What they do is rob us of our choice of expression. They do all this on the pretext of conserving Indian tradition. According to them, celebration of valentine’s day tarnishes our glorious culture. Imagine you’re at a café with your girlfriend having the cuddly clichéd talk, when a bunch of angry youngsters surround you, drag you to a mandap and marry both of you. Preposterous, isn’t it? Well along with this you have the regular; beat the guy up, insult the girl and accuse them of destroying Indian culture… blah blah blah. All this in a country that advocates tolerance and understanding.

A big word of advice to you extremists; it’s the 21st century for god’s sake; people are free to do as they please within the boundaries of decency. Love and dating are as much a part of Indian culture as is marriage. Though the scene has become much more liberal that it used to be, isn’t that the whole point of a progressive society? What happens on Valentine’s Day is in no way immoral or indecent. My advice: get a girlfriend, you seriously need to chill out, and also read up on some history if you can… there is something fundamentally wrong with your education.

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You Hypocrite

By Vakul Mohanty

15th August 1947, India emerged from the colonial rule of the British Empire. The struggle for independence had lasted 2 centuries, countless men and women laid down their lives to ensure that we could live and breathe in a free nation. The struggle to reform the grotesque society that was prevalent during those times ran hand in hand with the struggle for freedom. More than sixty years have passed since that fateful day, and India as a country and a society has progressed immensely since then, however the social reforms that the makers of our country had started are far from over. Blinded by our general progress we refuse to see the malignant practices and norms that are still prevalent in our society. The hypocrisy of Indians society is truly remarkable and is worth a mention:

Women
For centuries women have been respected and revered in Indian society. The two great epics Ramayana and Mahabharata are a clear depiction of the important role that women play in society. However their status as equals (to men i.e.) has been stripped. Though our present society no longer openly discriminates against women, a sense of inequality still prevails. Female feticide, rapes, eve teasing, dowry related crimes are still common place. Progressive women today live in fear of society’s wrath. For a country where basic dictum demands that we hold women in reverence and protect their dignity and interests, this hypocrisy is unforgivable.

Equality:

Our constitution was written on the foundation of liberty, equality and fraternity. I still don’t see equality, not even in the slightest measure, in our society. True, it is naïve to presume that everyone is equal in all aspects, some people are born stronger, others with greater intelligence etc. It isn’t possible to ignore a person’s remarkable talent in a particular field and in the name of equality hinder his progress so that everyone may grow at the same rate. In the court of law everyone is equal. In India however, dear sir, the general philosophy isn’t true. The rich and the powerful never get convicted. The common man rots away in his attempt to find justice. The law truly is blind here.

Atithi Devo Bhava:
‘My Guest is my God’, a doctrine that has been a part of Indian social decorum. We treat even enemies who are our guests as gods. Off late however the doctrine seems to have been lost. Foreigners are murdered, extorted and miss treated in several ways. The ads off the department of tourism department are nothing but empty promises. If you’re ever visiting India please watch out. I don’t say we are all thugs, but there are a few amongst us, and the biggest problem is most decent Indians are so preoccupied with own inferno of problems they might not notice your distress.

Corruption:
You’re an Indian right? Well then I don’t think I need to address this issue.

Education

Well the education scene has improved, (I’m a hypocrite too but I can’t deny progress that I see with my own eyes now, can I?) but there is something fundamentally wrong in the way we are going about making progress. The Indian government has randomly set a whole bunch of new IITs, given loads of people reservation, spent a fortune to try and pull this preposterous plan off , but in the process they have forgotten the roots of the education system. As a student I vouch that the system is rotten: primary education is poor at the very best and university level education is archaic (the syllabus, the instruments etc etc everything is so ancient that we learn nothing that we can practically apply once we are done with our education)

You must be thinking I’m a pessimistic prick, I beg to differ, I’m doing nothing but communicating what I have seen and heard. I’m not blind to the amazing progress that India has made, but most of you know all about that. You think I’m a stupid teen? Maybe I’m but all the same open your eyes, see the suffering around you, and then maybe- maybe all of us together can make a difference.

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The Editorial

By Vakul Mohanty

The jobless haven’t been jobless for the last few days, what with exams breathing down our backs it has been really difficult for us to pay as much attention as we would have liked to this issue. However thanks to my friend Pradeep Damodara, we were able to pull it off. He is responsible for most of the editing this time, one of the prime reasons some of us won’t be flunking our endsems. Anyway, here we are with LTGTR’s 7th issue, dedicated to travel. Considering that the holidays are fast approaching its more than apt that this be the underlying theme.

Now getting down to the editorial… Well this time around I’ll let you explore the contents. It should be more than helpful in assisting you on your endeavor of reading the magazine. I’ll go ahead and dedicate the editorial to explaining our notion of travel.

The mind is a wanderer, unable to linger on one thought or idea for more than a few moments. This fickle nature has manifested itself in our love for travel. Travel has for eons been associated to adventure. Every epic adventure, be it real life or in literature, has been a journey through the wilderness to an uncertain destination. There is nothing strange about this considering that there can be no greater adventure than tramping through the unknown, the unseen. There is always the immense satisfaction of seeing new places and meeting new people that makes travel so alluring.

But then what about people like me, who find it impossible to uproot themselves from their little niche? Well, one might say I’m a dull person by nature, incapable of heading out on a true adventure. But I will have to disagree on that, for I have seen Paris, London and, for that matter, ancient Greece… the power of human imagination is truly remarkable. I know my words seem vague and unclear, and I don’t really have the words to express myself. Here’s my suggestion: Read through ‘The Shadow Line’ by Amitav Ghosh. Then maybe you’ll understand what I’m trying to convey.

Anyway, adios. We hope you enjoy this issue of LTGTR.

Cheers and Keep The Good Times Rolling.

Silence Is Golden

By Vakul Mohanty

( Inspired by an article of the same name written by my father, posted on his blog Mokatha )

“Speech is silver, but silence is golden”.

For centuries silence has been the hallmark of a controlled, self assured person. A person detached from the mundane chitter-chatter of daily life, contemplating on the greater aspects of life. Indian mythology perfectly chronicles the virtues of silence, holy men engaged in centuries of meditation, in silent harmony with nature searching for enlightenment - searching for the answer to everything. In a more modern scenario, individuals like me have to constantly listen to stuff like - “Look at him, he’s so silent and composed, learn to concentrate like him.”

Even under the threat of being called a hypocrite I have to agree. Silence is truly a virtue. The ability to detach oneself from the bitching about anything and everything around us truly is the mark of a genius. But is the silence we see a virtue, or do we sometimes mistake an escapist attitude for a virtue? We Indians have been considered silent people by many westerners, engaged in our continuous struggle for excellence so that we can survive in a world on continuous strife and struggle. But what about our silence regarding subjects like terrorism, corruption, etc.?

Take, for example, the municipality - you want a construction permit. You go about all the formalities religiously and wait… and wait… and wait… damn it takes forever. Now you shove 500 bucks down the pocket of the clerks and presto… your job is done in a matter of a few hours. And what do we do about this grand abuse of position?? Oh nothing - “My work’s done for just 500 bucks so why should I give a damn?” Our silent acceptance is what we have to blame for the rampart corruption in India, not the government (not that the government is absolutely innocent though)

This attitude isn’t limited to just corruption, we have over the course of several centuries ignored and turned a blind eye to social practices like sati, child marriages, untouchability… the list isn’t short. As a result a society that 2 millennia ago was considered to be one of the greatest civilizations to have existed was degraded to a barbaric hoard. And if wasn’t for people like Raja Ram Mohan Roy we wouldn’t be any better now. Silence and inaction has been beaten into our very soul and existence. We refuse to stand up to injustice, we refuse to stand up and defend our dignity, our country... How the hell are we so damn proud of our society and culture??

To conclude I just one thing to say, silence is golden, true, but only when speech is just a waste of words. But silence is a sin if we refuse to stand up to the injustice around us. Raise your voice against evil, act against it, there is no virtue in cowardly silence.

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The Editorial

By Vakul Mohanty

Hello! The jobless are back again. It’s about time too, I guess. Anyway this time’s issue was really challenging. The team met up (and it’s more than just a bunch of friends now!) in the mess to decide on the general structure of this issue about 2 weeks ago and courtesy Sahil, some good arguments and some even better dictatorship, the theme is ‘The Seven Sins’. *Drum roll and background music*. We have tried to rally the content of the issue around this central theme, the design and the choice of articles makes this self-evident. It certainly wasn’t easy to pull off, it was the toughest issue till date and because of that I now have a new found respect for the seven sins. But challenging is good, it means we’re able to stretch the limits of our work spheres and I hope that your comments, suggestions and contributions will make LTGTR only more exciting.

A regular reader of LTGTR is in for some surprises this time. First we have two new columns. I have wanted to publish a book review for some time now, and at last LTGTR has its first book review “To Kill A Mocking Bird”. This classic by Harper Lee is already a well-documented book, however it was perfect for the present issue-a look into the pride in human nature-and it doesn’t really hurt to refresh our memories does it? Next we have a column that gives a character sketch of pop literature characters. Literature buffs should really watch out for these columns as the writer handling these columns, I assure you, will keep dishing out really quality reviews. The biggest surprise will however be our collaboration with OTR (On The Rocks) - the editorial board of BPHC (BITS Pilani Hyderabad Campus). The collaboration was forged on the request of OTR. We have provided them with space to publish some of their works in this issue. Among the OTR articles I would personally suggest ‘Atlas Shrugged’ and ‘Wrath’. The first a modern take on Greek mythology, the second ‘Wrath’ is an excellent piece of writing in which the author delves into the human psyche to understand wrath.

But now back to LTGTR. We have a comic description of college life in which the author tries to depict the sloth that he is. We have more (dry) humor in a well written article ‘What’s In a Number’ the author argues about why she relates so deeply to the number 3 (p.s. Douglas Adams fans are going to love the ending of this one. I would also like to mention the freewheeling verse the ‘8th sin’ which redefines our idea of sin.

And before I sign off, as always watch out for the Jobless column (You shall laugh you’re a***s off), ‘Best of FB’ etc. Happy reading, please do join our Facebook page and send in your suggestions. Your support and feedback will drive us to perfection, if there is such a thing as perfection.

The Death Of Kyros

By Vakul Mohanty

He rolled the cigar between his slim long fingers. He twirled it around twice and slipped it between his lips. He walked to the window and lit the cigar. He took a luxurious drag, a spark of fire leapt into his cold brown eyes as he watched the pandemonium on earth. It had been told that a confrontation would ensue. Now, it was time.

Fire rained upon the dry earth, parched it, razed all and sundry. Blood flowed as rivers. Mankind was bent on obliterating itself; with it rip the fabric of creation. God’s greatest creation was now the devil’s to toy with. Man’s free will had taken him to the brink of destruction and beyond. Judgment day was upon man.

He trotted into the blinding brilliance of the haven. The exotic life all around withered at his very touch. His a aura of triumph and malice cast a shadow over the paradise, distorting the very existence of divinity. He slithered to the abode of the creator. He had decimated his father’s creation; now all that was left was to savor the nectar of triumph.

“How have you been son?”

“Oh! Very well actually, banishment from your paradise has been an interesting experience and I have to say I have come to like the warmth of the lake of fire. Also twisting and corrupting men has been a very amusing task, pathetic creatures that they are.”

“I see you have sown the seeds of chaos on earth.”

“Chaos would be an understatement. My flames are the fires that consume earth; I have raised the lake of fire from the very depths of hell to destroy your imitation of paradise. I figured expanding out would really help, it getting cramped down there.”

“You seen to believe that the race of men has decayed beyond salvation. I have to say you remain a naïve little brat.”

“That might be true, but man was doomed the very day Adam fell to my whispers and defied the one restriction you placed on him. “

An awkward silence ensued, as two mighty powers inspected each other with an inexplicable air of ease. There was no real hostility, but the silence would have weighed heavy on any bystander crushing him with an incomprehensible fear. Satan broke the silence.

“If you’re wondering why I’m bent upon destroying man, it has got nothing to do with your little test of loyalty. I have long transcended the realm of vengeance, surpassed the humiliation of being asked to bow down to a lump of clay. I know I’m superior to man in all aspects and that what really matters to me now. Now it’s all just senseless destruction unshackled by chains of reason and logic, it is my most artistic creation.”

“Burn son, burn the race of men, and every time they will rise from the ashes purified by your flame.”

“Don’t kid yourself. My flames are now mine. They are no longer the holy flame from which you conceived me. They are now the flames of my malice. It’s the flame that will char humanity, and shred it of its very reason and will. My flames are now my tool of destruction, not your test of loyalty and perseverance.”

“You speak as if you have traversed beyond my perception of the universe. You speak as if you have now the ability to create from your own will, to conjure everything from nothing.”

“Creation is an act of independent thought, of free will, of all the things pure and naïve that you stand for. You faith in man, faith of the fact that his faith in you will persevere, is my loophole. Banal, mundane, fear driven social creature that he is, all that he needs to be shown is that there is a power more potent that his ‘almighty’. And then my flames will rise to consume your utopian havens, and I will drag you to the depths of my hell, to an exile far worse that my own. So wait father, wait patiently for your son to surpass you.”

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The Editorial

By Vakul Mohanty

To a regular reader of LTGTR it must be pretty clear that a bunch of vela people are the master minds behind every issue. So it just turned out that in one of our little casual chattering sessions Iyer suggested that we dedicate this issue to food, nothing really strange there, he totally digs food ( potatoes and cheese). Now the actual intent was really childish, food lovers attempting to show their love for the culinary wonder of good food. Reflecting back at that moment and pondering over the articles we have received from writers for this issue, it seems that we have actually picked up a topic of great social importance.

Food is a basic necessity for survival (fornication, intimacy, friendship, philosophy and all that stuff seems really trivial on an empty stomach). Come to think of it we, the common populous of the hostels, never tire from complaining about the crappy food that is dished out to us every day. And in the process of our redundant chitter chatter we forget about the millions (if not billions) starving to death on the roads. The irony of the situation is amusing. We have progressed so far in the realm of science that the birth of the universe is slowly ceasing to be a mystery, yet we fail to alleviate the hunger of our fellow men. “GASTRONOMICAL DESIRES OF ASTRONOMICAL MAGNITUDES” and “Please sir, I want some more” take up these issues and to a large extent have done justice to it.

Now leaving all the serious discussion behind we come down to the lighter side of the issue. We have tried to dish out some interesting trivia about food and restaurants here. We also feature an intriguing article about the transition of the US from a beer drinking to a wine drinking nation.

Also along with the entire section on food, we have a few articles pertaining to fiction, music, Durga Pooja etc., all of which should be an interesting read along with a cup of hot coffee on a rainy day. plus we have a new column “One of India’s billion”, we might not have been able to do justice to the subject so bear with us. We sincerely hope you like this issue of LTGTR, and if you do please go ahead and join our Facebook page, also a few comments (criticisms) would help us a lot. Your appreciation and criticism will provide us the much needed support and motivation to continue with our work.

So until next time…happy reading and binging…

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The Ocean

By Vakul Mohanty

Dangling from her fathers figure she walked to the center of the rickety old bridge. She climbed onto him and gazed at the ocean drenched in moon light. The beauty of the sight held her gaze, drawing it towards the endless mysteries of the ocean. Nestling in her fathers bosom she wondered what lay beyond the vast stretch of water, did the ocean truly merge with the havens, overflowing into the abode of the gods?

She was to be married soon. With a cascaded blur of emotions she walked up to the very spot where years ago her dream had taken shape. She stared at the serene ocean, inviting her, calling her. Her journey was about to begin. Time had come for her to cross the ocean and see what destiny had in store for her.

Life rarely flows the way you wish it . And her life never even hinted to become the fairy tale she had wished for. Her husband turned out to be a drunken degenerate. He came back late in the evening stinking like the sewer. Tortured by circumstances and hard work, he took out all his frustration on her. He pounded her to the ground. Her soft delicate form changed into a grotesque monstrosity. Her face was swollen from the abuse, her eyes sunk into purple patches, and her nose shattered- held together by a bloodied piece of cloth. She worked gingerly, unable to use her twisted hands. She silently tolerated the torture hoping, hoping for light in the darkness. But even hope was beyond her reach; she was barren and would never bear a child. Her husband married another woman, and her torture continued.

Pain, pain was all she felt now. Her anger was drowned by her agony; she felt no happiness, no hate, just pain. She walked in along the sandy beach trying, hoping to sink her anguish in to depths of the ocean. But the ocean washed her steps away as if ashamed that she was even there. Her beautiful vision was no longer real; the ocean was no longer a refuge from reality. She had been abandoned to the reality of her life, to her pain.

A storm raged, but it was nothing compared to the storm that raged within her. She was torn between the pain of her reality and the comfort of death. She was torn between pain and sin; between hell during life and hell after death. She walked to the same spot on the bridge and stared at the ocean- pitch black, its surface torn by the storm. Tortured and mulled….far from the serenity she had once seen. She drowned herself in her dreams, shunned reality. For reality meant only pain, and pain she wanted no more….!!

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