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Written by Akhil Katyal
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Saturday, 17 October 2009 15:48 |
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In an issue about place, to talk about placelessness is about the most obvious thing I could have done, and the most boring. But this is just what I am going to do, and like most things, it has an odd reason. A few years back at my Rhodes scholarship interview which was an absolute disaster, I remember being asked about my ‘academic interests’. Girish Karnad, the playwright, was the one who asked the question. Now the least that he could have been sure of was that a third year literature undergraduate might have passions and ambitions, and a heart to reach them, but he does not have this stale thing called ‘academic interests’. But my answer was as rehearsed as his question. Indian writing in English, specifically the novel, I offered. I had an excellent teacher for Amitav Ghosh’s The Shadow Lines, I could not have said anything else. But Karnad smiled menacingly. Shit, I should have said drama, Indian drama. Give him what he wants, what he does. He went on to say: ‘So you are interested in the Indian English novel, so let us ask you about poetry.’ Blast! What? Is he kidding me? Poetry? But I just said…! Anyway, that was when the downward spiral began. My answers were as stupid as his question was sly. Talking about placelessness when I should be talking about its opposite is my childish revenge on Karnad. I am going to be as obvious and as unimaginative as he was. If this piece is a disaster, I would have succeeded.
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Last Updated on Saturday, 17 October 2009 16:52 |
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Written by Zaheer Alam Kidvai
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Sunday, 18 October 2009 04:46 |
ہم پہ جو ہنستے ہیں ہم ان پہ ہنسائیں سب کو
آؤ، نکلو، ذرا آئینہ دکھائیں سب کو
آج بے خوف و خطر کیوں نہ سرِ عام ہم لوگ
سارے راز اپنی محبت کے بتائیں سب کو
دین و دنیا کے ستم ہم نے بہت جھیل لیے
بیچ بازار میں اب آگ لگائیں سب کو
چھپ کے اِس عشق کا دم کھُٹنے نہ پائے عالمؔ
کھل کے منبر سے یہ پیغام سنائیں سب کو |
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Last Updated on Sunday, 18 October 2009 13:11 |
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Written by Fabiano Alborghetti
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Sunday, 18 October 2009 04:25 |
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Canto 1
Order in dressing is needed, coherence in deceit. He repeated this
smoothing with his hands the edge of his jacket, the lapels,
the shirt untouched around the collar
too tight and yet just right for the image in the mirror.
A sweeping gesture, a touch to his hair perfectly groomed
and all the rest: perfection, he repeated
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Last Updated on Sunday, 18 October 2009 04:43 |
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Written by Hira Nabi
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Sunday, 18 October 2009 03:17 |
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On July 2nd, 2009, the Delhi High Court ruled that the law outlawing homosexual acts was discriminatory and a “violation of fundamental rights.” The ruling overturns a 148-year-old colonial law, which describes a same-sex relationship as an “unnatural offence.” The recent ruling decriminalising homosexuality in India, being touted as India’s Stonewall, is generating debate and controversy. This ruling comes at a time when there is much unrest and agitation around the notorious Proposition 81 and other lesser-known rulings around hate crimes and non-discrimination acts and marriage rights.
A piece of legislation insofar as it remains encoded in legality is not of much use. Granted, it provides recourse to law and aims to safeguard rights and protect from vulnerability those whose rights have been dispossessed. In this case, homosexuals and transgendered peoples, who have been Other-ed by the draconian laws written into existence by bigotry and privileged intolerance. Securing human rights, however, remains a process. New rulings and laws must be accompanied by social campaigns that must explain and create acceptance and understanding around new unprecedented pieces of legislation. The judicial framework even remains inaccessible to many. How can this ruling be extended beyond red tape bureaucracy and provide a real solution to the queers and non-straight-identifying people of India?
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Last Updated on Sunday, 18 October 2009 03:32 |
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Written by Fatimah Ihsan
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Saturday, 17 October 2009 17:03 |
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Sun-dried cherry moist
deaths in gold sun-lit day
dancing warm shadows
baked in your wet clay
Before you, then I writhe
in cherry-coloured taste
paint me you in red ink
drawn blood in haste
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Last Updated on Saturday, 17 October 2009 17:08 |
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Written by Qalandar Memon
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Sunday, 13 September 2009 19:49 |
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The sun, I saw, setting with its orange haze – it was past. I watched, collecting in my mind the colours that the night was to throw at me - blues, indigo tinted with orange, all kinds of blues, layered with black now – a Van Gogh night.
With these colors in the periphery but nonetheless active I sit, waiting at Café Prague. Waiting? For whom? I guess I am waiting for an enigma, an imaginative sapping who I or destiny has called Sophia.
And it is my relation to this Sophia that bothers me – I wear a blue coat and yellow vest coat and on the brink of expectance I am to consider in words with ink (red) on paper, and through paper, my relation – in language – to Sophia.
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Last Updated on Saturday, 17 October 2009 17:03 |
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