| |
|
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Gloria
Orenstein - Eye
on Eritrea (Essay) - An
evaluation of the work of Betty LaDuke, seen as a prayer for peace
in the form of art. |
| |
Amartya
Sen - Games, people, play (Essay)
- The gagged and bound find their voice in fun and play. |
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Shohini
Ghosh - While you were sleeping (Essay)
-
The queering of the straight Indian family happened in fiction long
before Deepa Mehta thought of Fire, and lesbianism has been a constant
feature of literature and film. |
| |
Nabaneeta
Dev Sen - Flowering of the poison tree (Essay)
- Rama the perfect hero? Not in the counterculture, going by a number
of women's retellings of the epic dating from the 16th century to
the present day. |
| |
Tanika
Sarkar - Pure voice, bare words (Essay) -
Communal ideology finds its most perfect expression in the speeches
of Sadhvi Rithambhara. |
| |
Rahul
Sagar - You don't say!
(Essay) - Does
security really call for all that secrecy? Some disturbing questions
that every citizen of a nuclear state should be asking. |
| |
Nirupama
Dutt
- The persistence of memory (Review
essay ) - A retrospective look at the life and
poetry of Lal Singh Dil, tea vendor, sometime wage-labourer and the
voice of Spring Thunder. |
| |
Saadat
Hasan Manto - 1919 (Fiction, translated from the
Urdu)
- "Well, Bhaijan, some sycophant toady made mention of
the sisters to the British Army officers. Among the White people killed
was a mem. What was the witch's name... yes Miss Sherwood.
The White officers decided to summon the two sisters for some... you
understand what I am saying, Bhaijan?" |
| |
Shyamal
Gangopadhyay - The search (Fiction, translated
from the Bengali)
- '"Are you clean? Hands and feet washed? You can't just go into
the fields. The farmers too clean themselves before they enter this
green jungle." Amrita's belief soared high. Was the whole field
really a temple?' |
| |
K.
Satchidanandan - Cactus (Poetry, translated from
the Malayalam)
- 'Thorns are my language. /I announce my existence/ with a bleeding
touch.' |
| |
Subhash
Mukhopadhyay - A face in the procession (Poetry, translated
from the Bengali) -
'I had seen a face in the procession/ A hand like a whetted sword,
its fist tightly closed,/ Pointing to the sky.' |
| |
Sahir
Ludhianvi - Torchbearers (Poetry, translated from
the Urdu) -
'We lived and not once/ did we bow our heads/ We lived and not once/
did we lower our gaze' |
| |
PLUS:
Mapping India- Tracking
the figures for gender, education and health. Pratik
Kanjilal rants irrelevantly about bombs, bombshells and
the relentless violence of life in Delhi. Unni
Rajen Shanker draws his usual conclusions. |