a terrible painter, a dreamer, a rebel , a feminist and a self certified bisexual Witch. Who is always trying to visualize whats on the other side of the canvas she paints,just another human- Living alive Life. Now also a green tea addict.

Monday, 31 March 2014

The Frustrated me

When I was taught the first alphabets I had realised that education and me we would never be on friendly terms. I learned words, forgot half of them and eventually I was put to most elite school of the city. Among elites I was the fool, I struggled with words their pronunciation and spellings which I still do. I got scolded in class for being inattentive, beaten up in home for returning with half done work. I would get pointed out by teachers for my shitty handwriting which in polite language would be illegible. I always got the highest rank from bottom which often provoked me to hide my marksheets and report card; over all my education life has been a pathetic one except for my wonderful two year stay at BRPL Vid. If I had my way I would erase all my memories till grade fifth.

In less than three months I shall be graduating, if my calculations are right with an average of 8.2 GPA and most probably having a place in top three in my department. When I joined English Honours I dreamt of reading novels and plays and gain some firsthand idea of the basics of literature. Now three years later I feel the dumbest person on earth who had been induced with history without its glamour, stories without its flavour and ideas without its honour. With Masters Entrances knocking at door, my zeal to study has flown away from the window, for last one month I have survived on Anime and stupid useless novels. My creative juices have dried up, my overactive mind has suddenly lost its power supply.

 Why the, in general optimistic me has gone so down the hill. Honestly, I cannot cope up with this faulty curriculum of my stupid university. The idea had been very noble, to experiment on us with Semester System and introducing GPA system which is yet to be explained to us properly. Our course was to be divided to help us in better understanding of the text. Well here we go wrong; our course was to make us feel like the donkey who was lashed everyday for being slow yet was given the load more than he could perceive. In six semesters years of my education our course prescribed us ten plays and five novels and truck load of poems without actually making us learn the ideas and theories first. I don’t find books, if they have prescribed some texts, it costs me a fortune as I am forced to buy every book for one or two chapters, some books are only found in imported edition, by the time I collect all materials two months have died. Now in sixth semester I am bombarded with  miscellaneous ideas from Plato to Culler and I am to evaluate them and write answers for a sixty mark question paper which wastes seven marks deliberately giving us minutely churned out questions which we fail to register as we get so overwhelmed by the size of pregnant course who when goes in her labour will burst her water on me and drown me.

Why am I angry? Now after almost three years the old geezers in the university have realised that our GPA system has some ingrained flaws. First of all, compared to national level my education has not provided me to develop my perspective but to live like a parasite on NOTES. I cannot identify a modern poem from a metaphysical; I get confused with the word Jacobean. What it is the meaning of this education which has made me so dull that it has slowly killed my zeal for literature and different perspective? In their quest to make us tiny Samuel Johnsons they have made us Adam and Eve, who don’t know where to put the use of this so called knowledge.

I am frustrated and it has actually compelled me think of an alternate career plan. But how does one feel when there is no goal to thrive for. Right now my goal is missing and its empty and I don't know what I want any more. To study English Literature was my dream, get graduated with decent degree, than follow it with a Masters from a reputed university and finally perusing my Ph.D. in Queer Literature.  But all this sandcastle dreams I have made are being washed away with the stark reality of the national level competition. When I look at myself three years back I find the dumbest and stupidest person on earth who in fear of wasting one academic year wasted a life time of opportunities by studying in a college she could never come to respect. 

P.S- I have never been so frustrated, confused and alone in my life. I just want to rip out guts of those course makers who think I have brains imported from Krypton. 

thanking you to bear with me

Saturday, 15 March 2014

Really all for Thy Name?

(Was written on 8th March 2014, but due to internet problem I am publishing it today. So I won't change the unrefined mood in this piece of writing its the first hand chronicle of my feelings. Warning may sound repetitive and boring to few so don't scroll down {Yes Elder Sister Its meant for you, so don't read} )

I who had refrained from having any emotional attachment with my Pink College was dragged to college today by my walking mate. In this hateful relationship with my college I had taken the side of ignorance and remained in home, so after one month of abandoning my college life and zero attendance I was forced to attend my classes since last Wednesday. Today for first time in history of our college, Pink College had done something exceptional and has earned my rare appriciation.  On the occasion of International Women’s Day, our college celebrated this so called special day by screening an American-Persian collaborated Film The Stoning of Soraya M. based on the French novel La Femme Lapidée.

So after attending one class my major mates and I we all rushed to the renovated Auditorium, to find it filled with hues of pink. So we grabbed our seats and I off course took a seat which helped my short height to see from a distance. Half of the auditorium was filled with girls of college which secretly made me happy that girls were willing to watch something related her own gender.  The film was being screened by a guest professor from Gujarat who had lectured us on Indian Literature the previous day. Soon our projector was being focused on the white screen that somehow hanged above the dais.  We thanked that the screen was clean one without stains of tea like previous day. Soon all the doors were closed and lights shut and we reclined to our seats. As soon as the projector began exposing the film we found our White Screen was covered with infinite spots of bright light like a night sky without moon. The silent room again broke in to giggles and whispers. At last after some difficulties the infinite spots were somehow diluted to an extent and our film began to roll and chattering died down.

The film opens on the angry, frustrated and hopeless face of our Protagonist Soraya’s aunt Zahra. Zahra tries to shoo away the dogs who are trying to eat flesh of what appears to have been a body. She washes the bones and digs out the earth buries what is left of the body. She approaches a journalist whose car has broken down and throws a bone wrapped in paper with direction to her home. The journalist then visits her to record the story of Zahra’s niece Soraya. The story tells us about Ali the corrupt prison guard who he is talking to Mullah of the town and blackmailing him to force Soraya to divorce him. Ali wants to marry the fourteen year old daughter of a prisoner in lieu of saving him from execution. We find the Mullah trying to convince Sorya into becoming his temporary wife and offers her various compromising suggestions to raise her two girls alone. Soon a woman dies and the Mayor, Mullah and Ali suggest Soraya works for the widower Hashem. Zahra tells Soraya will only work if she is paid. Meanwhile Ali’s frustration to marry the teen drives him crazy and he finds Soraya unconsciously touching the Widower’s hand while giving him the sewing machine back. This sprouts a plan in which Ali defames Soraya of committing adultery and gossip-mongers help to spread humours.  Ali eventually blackmails Hashem to say that Soraya slept with him and Ali drags and publicly abuses Soraya. Soraya is asked to prove her innocence but she tells how she could, the mayor tells if a wife accuses her husband of adultery she must prove his guilt and if a wife is accused of adultery she must prove her innocence. Soon a trail takes place and she is declared a sinner and Zahra tries to run away with her but the rebel police shut them in. Soon Soraya’s two sons visit her and the elder shows disgust towards her. She is taken to Public Square and half buried. Zahra tries to save her, when Soraya’s father  fails to hit her with stone fellow village woman yells she is innocent but Ali hits her and it is followed by the mullah and her sons her forced too. When the widower is given stones he runs away in guilt. Eventually she is covered in blood and dies people leave her, she is covered by the travelling carnival, who later burry her near the river. Ali fails to marry the teen girl as her father is executed and Hashem confesses to the mayor that he was forced to lie. The journalist is raided by the mullah and mayor and rebel police. His tape is destroyed, he leaves them and at the end of the city Zahra hands him the tape and stops the Mullah, Mayor saying everyone one will learn her niece’s story.

The movie left us spell bound, despite a horrible screen my eyes were glued to it. The essential question it raises is what role religion plays in people’s life. In name of Islam women around the world are stoned to death, executed publicly all in name of God’s justice. The most striking scenes in the film were when Soraya breaks the glasses in frustration, then when she wonders in the fields with her little girls, but the most epic scene was when Soraya is standing in the execution ground and asking how could people who knew her did this to her. The most pathetic and horrifying scenes will be the young boys collecting stones without knowing the meaning of adultery and the stoning scenes shivers ones soul. It chokes one inside and twists one’s thoughts on brutality. Even if a person commits adultery is it justified to stone them to death? The movie not only explores the position of women but the condition of god fearing good men like Hashem  who are exploited by the sellers of god. Ali and Mullah present the very corrupt face of religion. Soraya’s death is not death of a woman in man’s world but it is the death of purity of religion in hands of beasts. But Soraya is not the victim at men’s hand, she is equally victimised by her own gender which the character of Leila proves. Leila gossips in the town and cheers when Soraya is hit with the stone. This film also raises a question are women willing to help each other? The film explores the multilayer complexities of a woman, a woman with two daughters, a woman and her demonised role in front of religion.

The film makes me suggest to my reader friends to read and watch Kite Runner and read A Thousand Splendid Suns. We find the same fates in this two novels of  Khaled Hosseini. Now I want to read this French Novel too.  

Sadly when film got over I turned around to find the auditorium nearly empty. I was so engrossed in the film that I failed to see people leaving. In the end it was just my major mates and me and two or three boys sitting. The guest lecturer told us that its men’s duty to protect and respect the better half as everything comes from her. But so much for women’s day the fairer sex were missing from the auditorium and her own cause didn't anchor her to the seats.

P.S- Seriously do we really need a women’s day if the women are blind to her own cause? Or do we need self awareness day instead?  

thanking you to bear with me