Besan Ka Halwa

Beef Speaks On this strangely hot autumn noon, I lay my pale being. 'Soon I hope this agony would rest.' Moo, the dry teats in pot-holes nest. The left broken horn doesn't hurt anymore. The scar on the neck- the bell I never wore. Masticating on my own saliva I lay on the dingy street. 'Moo, not a Tuesday!' Saffron on the nose is blinding my eyes. Graffiti on my right horn- gheraoed by flies. People with hands joined come and flee. I stare amazed- they let me be. Moo, I wish this futility to end, As I wait on that filthy market bend. Deepen the neck-scar! To the starving poor, feed me. The panacea for both's misery.

FIFA 16: Snowballing Feminism into Football Ignoring the ‘fratricidal’ FIFA wars over Sepp Blatter, the officials at EA Sports gave the masses something unprecedented earlier this June. The internet woke up (as if it ever sleeps) to witness gaming spheres and women activists, sportswomen and feminist leaders brawl over the inclusion of 12 international women’s football teams in the upcoming FIFA 16. FIFA has been one of the most played videogame since its launch and after the introduction of improved game-play and graphics in FIFA 12, its sales have sky rocketed. Due its increasing popularity it was bound to face many critical arguments- one regarding its exclusively male character. Despite Ubisoft’s claims that women are too hard to render, EA Sports has somehow done the impossible and digitally modeled more than 200 of them, “each a recognizable simulacrum of a real human person who is very good at playing football”. The female football World Cup is currently bein

Der wasn’t one of them. He pondered over plots that would be despised by the people who read them. Plots that would be deemed scum by the critics. Plots that would make him a joke among the publishing circles of the city. Plots that might raze all his chances of being read. Plots that would perhaps shackle his only prospective livelihood. He was young and rather bright- in the unconventional way of course. And he wasn’t one of them.   He pledged he would write what would never be read. Except for a handful of imbeciles who feigned intelligence and considered themselves as some kind of ‘literati-whisperers’. They will of course not publish him. They would insult him and tell him to never try that again. Or if he were a little lucky, they might admonish him to never pick up a pen again in life. Even luckier would be the case if his work got banished. Life was an adventure with ink on paper. It would be a greater adventure if he got exiled. Commoners demanding liberty of speech would st

The Theory of Everything The film's no doubt the weakest contender for the best film Oscar. It is a very average biopic and has numerous aberrations from the turn of events of Hawking's life to his body condition and physiognomy post-ALS. More than Hawking i think this film's focused on his first wife's character which has been decently portrayed by Felicity Jones. You get a profound feeling of 'A Beautiful Mind' playing. Eddie Redmayne completely fits the role courtesy his resemblance to hawking. The background music is perhaps the only outstanding feature of it that makes it seem like a fairy tale of some sort. Over all, a mediocre biopic. RATING: 3 / 5 Nightcrawler The film hasn't been nominated for the best film Oscar. Jake Gyllenhaal has been completely ignored by the academy which actually surprises me. As per me this flick's almost at par with the Imitation Game and American Sniper. It is excessively consistent; never loses the pl

From the Desk of: a Terrorist After years of violence- a life devastated By the sinister intention of harm screaming inside my troubled brain- I now stare in the face of silence. Endless days of shelling innocence And unending nights of ear-splitting noise Made by whizzing bullets And diabolical calls from vicious men Seem to embrace their closure. The inhuman hand that held a weapon capable of proving human mortality Now holds a pen Realizing the inevitability of the same. The ink in the pot Desiccated During all this time due to its futility Has been rejuvenated by hope And spoonful of water. And so I make the most of this moment of sheer bliss. Hello. I am a Terrorist. My name holds the least importance As do the names of others Of my breed. The world around me doesn’t seem much ‘intriguing’. Men women children: Potential targets condensed in flesh and blood- Bear the most important weapon of mine. Fear. The teeny drop

Red Earth An Essay on Terrorism Part 2 First and foremost, I wish a very happy new year to all the people of the Earth! Also if you are reading this, let me congratulate you for surviving perhaps the deadliest year of this century. I’ll try to be a little sanguine over here and would like to point out by doing so that the year that just bid us adieu was the year of the terrorists. 2014 witnessed terrorist incidents almost every single day in its calendar. This statement may not have been apt a decade or two ago but in the world of today I may safely say that the world is ‘unsafe’. Least oxymoronish as it sounds. 2014 saw the rise of ISIS, escalation of the Israel-Palestine conflict, Syrian war, daily car bombings in Africa, village raids, ceasefire violations, suicide bombings, abductions, assassinations, aerial attacks et cetera et cetera. The Sri Lankan genocide controversy continued. The dreadful year culminated with the most horrifying act of terrorism of them a