THE PUPIL OF LITERATURE

I am a man born into a family  To which I owe my blood and sweat.  My father did the same and so did his father’s father.   In the natural process of evolution  I grew up believing  That everyone around owes me.  I am a twenty-first century man  But I find it harmless  In oscillating between  Stereotype and modernity. I love to please myself with girls around. Now, I have my eyes glued to one But unlike every other man I ‘chose’ to be kind to her You see, she should know  How important my clan is to me!  She is an outsider Who has yet to win my trust  To become an insider.  I am constantly at war with the world In bringing food to the table My battle scars need to be caressed  For I put the divine plan into motion.  I am the protector, the liberator  I protect her for she is naive I liberate her of her delusions.  I know what’s good for her So I chain her from time to time.  I know how the world works  So I have my way with her.  My sway over her is so vital That she no longer identifi

 1. The Greek Philosopher Plato in his work Republic presented the Allegory of the Cave or Plato's Cave to compare how education changes us for the good and effect of the lack of the same on human nature. It is narrated by Socrates and the dialogue is between Plato's brother Glaucon and his mentor, who is Socrates- the narrator. 2. An Essay on Man , written by Alexander Pope in 1733-34 was dedicated to Lord Bolingbroke . The poem was written in heroic couplets of Iambic Pentameter. It was an effort to 'vindicate' rather than 'justify' unlike Milton in the opening of Paradise Lost. (PAPER 2, Q14, 2004) 3. Containing four epistles, An Essay on Man is a philosophical work and has been praised by writers in Europe like Voltaire, Rousseau, and others. 4. TheVanity of Human Wishes by Samuel Johnson is based on the tenth satire of Juvenal. Its full title is The Vanity of Human Wishes: The Tenth Satire of Juvenal Imitated. It was published in 1749. (PAPER 2, Q15,

 INTRODUCTION On my WhatsApp status, I often share a lot on various topics. It’s an ambivert's way of staying in touch with those who are away, without the cognitive load. More so, it’s a space to voice my thoughts and opinions often peppered with chili and dark humor. So, a day arrived when a Hindu festival ‘Vat Savitri’ is going to get celebrated. For those, who belong to different parts of India, ‘ Vat Savitri’ is a regional festival, celebrated mostly in Bihar and Jharkhand by ‘ suhagans’ ( married woman) for the long life of their ‘suhags’( husband). A woman adorned in colorful traditional attire, covering their head in red bridal chunri visit the nearest Banyan Tree to worship and tie a sacred thread around it. It marks a ‘suhagan’s’ devotion and love for their ‘suhag’.  THE DAY BEFORE Now, my mother wanted to keep it simple, but I pushed her to dress up. With age, the enthusiasm subsides, but the essential rituals of the festival are observed with all devotion in my house. A

INTRODUCTION Feminism encapsulates a wide range of social and political movements as well as ideologies that aim to establish sexual equality at the social, political, economic and individual front. It highlights the importance of equal access to opportunities, resources and participation in decision-making including economic.   Continuing with this line of thought, the presentation of women in the mainstream media often comes in handy in learning the suppressed records of female experience as well as in combatting the stereotypical   portrayal of women.  The study of the female characters from the series comes as a sharp reaction to the cultural mindset perpetuated over the years. This article studies three female characters in the lead: First, Dhriti- a teenage; Second, Suchi-Sri’s wife, and Third, Raji-a militant.  DHRITI T ender love blooms amidst rebellion, troubled yet sheltered bitter-sweet honeycomb of Srikant Tiwari- The Family Man.  A teenage gets drawn to a boy who is older,

 INTRODUCTION A question had appeared in Paper 3- December 2012 NET exam; it was question 1 on V.S Naipaul. It asked what the subtitle of  'The Caribbean Revisited ' was. Back in the college days, when I was in a graduate program, I hadn't even heard of the competitive exam. My only motivation to go for English Hons. was the love for reading, though my reading list wasn't worth boasting. Soon, the truth dawned on me that love for reading only wasn't enough! It was during the early days of the graduate program that one of my professors threw a question to the class on V.S NAIPUAL; that was the first time, I heard of him. By that time, I had been rebuffed by the high-brows; I was not worthy to be called an English graduate. I was already under a deluge. There was no end to the reading list. That's when love was tested and got separated from pleasure. Love required sweat; it became a task. In the anxiety to meet the current deadline, I didn't even Google Naipau

  When I climbed the stairs of my terrace, to watch the dark grey clouds gather, growling with howling winds, waiting to wash away the streets while brushing my tresses, touching the side of my neck and reaching the ears, it would send a tingle down my spine. The big drops touched my parched skin, the cool imposing wind made it difficult to stand firm.   Today, when I am confined to bed, looking at the wide open windows tossing right to left, curtains billowing ; hostile raindrops soiled in dust, enter through the window touching my feet. My toes curl looking for cover. Thunder, spluttering noise invade my room, causing my warm body to cover in goosebumps. I touch the tender dots and then rub to make it even.  My sweaty tangles, smell of salt. As I raise my hand to brush it aside for the pillow to dry; I call my mum to open the windows again as the sound of slowed down fan running on backup is jarring.  The flashback of half-satiated roads crosses my mind, when I covered the distance f

It was Teacher’s Day. Many girls huddled around their favourite professor to touch his feet and take his blessings. I was one of them.  “Girls shouldn’t touch our feet!” We all looked at him upright.  “ I don’t believe in girls touching feet. I believe in gender justice.”  In the smaller pockets of India, such mind carried ideas that nurtured entire generation to recognise their birth and gender to realise the lives that were laid and the movements that were started to bring more and more girl child closer to literacy and accessible education.  Overcoming a personal loss, that ripped him apart to no lesser degree, he submitted himself to literature and the purpose it served in interpreting life. The grief in his heart, made the words come to life. The lines of his poetry and numerous publications gave art the direction where it was merely a means to be served.  The magnetic personality carried the aura of English Department wherever he went. I caught glimpses of him more at the crowds