www.ltgtr.inCheCk out the website now

As with most endeavours, ours too was borne more out of frustration with the existing state of things than anything else. LTGTR was literally created to “Let The Good Times Roll”. I still remember that

afternoon; me, Kartheik and Rajat were all fed up with the college and were bitching how no one took our opinions into the decision making process. And we decided we would change that!

The first LTGTR was a 10 page newsletter which we pasted on the doors of our mess. It was funny, sarcastic and most importantly an instant success. Okay maybe success is too big a word, but it certainly caught the imagination of the people. And ruffled quite a few feathers as well. It was followed by two more issues in the space of a month which focussed mostly on campus centric stuff. It was too good to last and it died out. And I honestly thought it was the end.

In the same summer of 2010, Kartheik suggested we start it again. We decided we would make it bigger, include more people and make it a lil more generic. The first issue was released in August 2010. The original idea was to have a separate LTGTR in every college in India. Yea we got caught up in our youth and idealism. Then we finally consolidated the idea to being a youth centric magazine without respect to any college or campus. But while we finally decided upon this, we had already reached December 2010 and hence you see some campus centric stuff in our earlier issues.

Anyways, it’s been one full year…almost to date since the first issue of LTGTR as you see now came about. We fell short of our planned 26 issues by half…but 13 issues in a year is not very bad, I’d say. In this time we have expanded out of the boundaries of our campus. We are proud to have tied up as media partners for a student NGO called The Guardian Circle. We have taken up challenging themes and tried our level best to do justice to them. Some of these themes and articles have talked about social problems in India. We’ve built up a team of people who brainstorm to come up with interesting articles for you, the esteemed reader. We’ve certainly innovated in the kind of columns we come up with even though some of them haven’t come off as well as we’d like. But there are two achievements which stand out for me

1. In 14 issues, we’ve had an incredible 71 people who have written for us. For me that’s a staggering number

2. We’ve received praise and encouragement from a lot of people who we don’t even personally know.

It’s not all rosy. LTGTR is certainly a work in progress. We’re nowhere close to what I had wanted it to become; a medium where the youth of this country connected and discussed various issues and tried to find solutions.

The Story So Far...1st Anniv

ersAry issue

A letter From the editor

We have fallen short of our target of readers by a long, long way. We should have put up a website a long time back, thankfully that has been corrected now. Like I said, compared to my vision for LTGTR, what we have now is like a tiny speck on the canvas. But in many ways that’s the beauty of LTGTR. I can have a vision for it and so can you. Neither is wrong, neither more strong. LTGTR is not supposed to be my magazine, or that of the other people who help make it. It is supposed to truly be a PEOPLE’s magazine. And one day hopefully we shall reach there.

It has been a long and often strenuous journey. While I hoped that it would become a household name, I didn’t believe that it would outlive the year. And there many times where I personally just wanted to shut it down and get on with my studies and personal life. And at this point I cannot thank one person enough, Vakul Mohanty. He has been an absolute rock at times. I remember there were a few issues where it was just the two of us working. It was hard work but we pulled through. Also at this point I cannot but thank Sayonee Ghosh Roy for her help. I wouldn’t know half my current team if not for her. I’d also like to thank all the other people who I work with Nishant, Vijay, Vidya, Rachina, Kartheik, SuryaTej, Sukanya, Pradeep. I’m sure I’ve missed a few names. My apologies and no offense intended. And finally I’d like to thank the hundreds and maybe thousands of you readers who have been with us till now.

Life comes full circle for us with this issue. And from the next issue we try and begin afresh with a wider range of content, hopefully with more humour and information than now. You can expect to see more innovative columns and some really weird stuff :P. Apart from that, we are also pleased to present our website www.ltgtr.in where you can find all our previous issues and news about what we’ll be doing. We’re adding more and more features everyday so keep checking it out regularly. Also planned is a concerted strategy to reach out to more and more people and not just reach out but also involve them in the making of the magazine to try and reflect the diversity of human thought.

As with everything that begins fresh, we do not know if we shall outlive this year either. And hence we could do with all the encouragement and help we could get it. If you don’t like something please criticize. You have no idea how highly we value your criticism. If you disagree with what has been published then please comment. And if you like the magazine, please share it with your friends, family and just random people.

Finally I shall conclude by saying that our commitment to providing you an incredibly good read has never been stronger. We’re still dedicated to keeping the good times rolling.

Cheers & Let the Good Times RollSahil Mehta

1st AnniversAry

issue

The American Society of Addiction Medicine has this definition for Addiction:

Addiction is a primary, chronic disease of brain reward, motivation, memory and related circuitry. Dysfunction in these circuits leads to characteristic biological, psychological, social and spiritual manifestations. This is reflected in the individual pursuing reward and/or relief by substance use and other behaviors. The addiction is characterized by impairment in behavioral control, craving, inability to consistently abstain, and diminished recognition of significant problems with one’s behaviors and interpersonal relationships. Like other chronic diseases, addiction can involve cycles of relapse and remission. Without treatment or engagement in recovery activities, addiction is progressive and can result in disability or premature death.

I have never been addicted to anything. Never. Nor do I drink or smoke. So when we decided Addictions as a theme I just knew I would be completely out of my depth in writing and hence I didn’t bother. Didn’t even think about writing until a couple of days back when I met a friend. This said friend of mine is addicted to

weed or something like that. Not that this is new knowledge for me. But when I talked to him a few days back I realised what addiction means.

This friend of mine has had a couple of very close shaves. Overdosed twice, hospitalised twice. He isn’t stupid. He isn’t in denial. He is trying very, very hard to let go. But he just can’t. It is so important for him to let go of it that he is willing to give up crucial years of his life. You know why that is? Coz he understands, as should you, that the life of an addict isn’t much of a life. But the one thing that stood out for me was the declaration that he just couldn’t control his urges in a hostel. And that got me thinking.

I always believed getting over an addiction or an obsession was just a simple case of mind over matter. If you wanted to give up something, you just need to muster the will-power to do it and you get over it. I stand corrected now. Addiction isn’t a matter of will. It’s a disease. A disease that needs to be cured through medicines and emotional and mental support! You don’t believe, go check on the net!

The medicine and rehab you can pay and get, but the emotional and mental support must come from the people around you. You need people around you to stop you and tell you to keep going. Instead what we do is joke about the problem and hand them that joint or bottle of booze and tell the poor soul to not be a wimp. At the least we never say NO!

That’s the problem with my generation. We can comment, criticize and bitch all we want but we won’t take responsibility. We just don’t care enough. And for that I shall always blame all of us, the inmates of these hostels for not being able to help my said friend.

All of you who are reading this issue, or this editorial at least. I want you to take away two things from this.

1. If you know someone who may have a problem, don’t chastise him. Don’t mock him and bitch about him. Don’t tell people he was a stupid idiot who should have known better. Coz he was and your repeating it doesn’t help him. If you can find it in your pitiless heart to care even the slightest about him then go to him when he’s on the verge of breaking down and tell him to keep going.

2. If you drink, smoke cigarettes or joints or even do hard drugs frequently and don’t think you’re an addict, please don’t be proud of it! You ARE still an idiot because these things are bad for you. And no argument you give to the contrary holds. Another thing, don’t ever brag that you’re mentally stronger then someone because he’s addicted and you’re not. It could just as easily have been you.

I don’t ask you to not drink or smoke at all. Do it occasionally. There is nothing wrong in it having the odd drink with friends. It actually helps in bonding. I do not, and will not, however advocate drugs of any sort in any manner whatsoever. They are bad shit!

The Editorial

Forever and For Always

It is one of the most elite clubs in the world. In all of history, no more than 47 members have had the privilege, the

woe, and the angst to be a part of it. The requirements are stringent, the rewards include being remembered forever as a person who could not fight his or her demons. To be a part of this club, you need to be all of the following- a talented, famous musician, regarded by most as genius You also have to suffer from an addiction, and be 27 years of age. And you have to die.

Simply put, this is the Forever 27 club. It’s members include legends like Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, Jim Morrison, Amy Winehouse and Janis Joplin. Factually, there is little I can tell you about their lives that a simple Wikipedia search cannot. This article isn’t about their fame, their notoriety or their mark in the field of music. From what I have gleaned from their music, I’ll strive to tell you who they were.

One fact is true of all these people. They were geniuses. Each one of them had a vision, an idea to change the music industry. More often than not, they managed it. And in the end, that was their curse. They were different. It’s odd that the very people who are elevated to the top of society, are never truly understood by the rest of them. These people yearned acceptance. Not in the social sense of the word. There was no event or party where they would not be recognized or even hero worshiped. They wanted true acceptance, understanding if you will, by the people who surrounded them. Their pain is all too visible. Just listen to their songs,focus on the lyrics, and you will see it as well.

Most of them came from humble beginnings, with an aim to change the world in a little way. I believe that they would have been perfectly happy without being touted as the leaders of the ‘new revolutions’ in music. They lived for their music, because it was all that made real sense to them. The only avenue where they could express all that worried them.

All that they were looking for was solace. As a society, we failed to give them that. So they turned to a less satisfactory substitute. One that could be found at the bottom of the whiskey bottle or the heart of the pills that they swallowed.

Kurt Cobain once said”I’m not afraid of dying. Total peace after death, becoming someone else is the best hope I’ve got.” This is essentially true of all the members of the Forever 27. To them, their own lives were so difficult to understand, that they yearned for one that was entirely different.

Needless to say, they did die. As odd as it may seem to rephrase a movie line- for them, peace was never an option. Even after death they are remembered . Sadly, they aren’t remembered as people who strove to be normal. They are remembered as addicts who could not resist temptation in the end, and finally succumbed.

They will go down in the annals of music as people who revolutionized the world. Would it be too hard for us to remember them as people who just wanted to get along?

Love them if you want. Hate them if you wish. Ignore them if you must. But never forget them. Not the people they wished to be remembered as.

Vijay narayan

RIP

can never be felt again. One can’t help but think why these legends were chosen to die at that age. I don’t believe in the dreaded curse bullshit. There are umpteen musicians who died at other ages, 27 just happens to be a number. The statistical spike is hokum. Jobless people like me wanting to write an article that would elicit responses from unsuspecting readers. But one thing is true, these characters, by dying young, have become immortal. Irony strikes.

I do hope no one adds on to the list, but who doesn’t like a big club? And there’s a drummer missing too. Anyone can apply. Adios.

I believe in God now. For that seems to be the only reason why some fulgent

musicians have been taken away. They must have formed a band in Heaven.

They were stars , yes, but what people failed to realise was that they were lost in the dark of the night. Reveling in their dreams, craving for Utopia, surrounded by fame and glory and yet shrouded by despair. They got what they wanted, but paid the ultimate price.

What Brian Jones founded became one of the leading bands in the 60s but he never did get a piece of his cake. Jimi Hendrix was regarded as the greatest electric guitar player

of his time and his guitar worked magic on the audience. And then everything was silent. Janis Joplin’s bluesy voice was a treat to everyone who heard her, then she was gone. Jim Morrison opened ‘The Doors’ to the whole world, but left through the window. Lauded as the Voice of a Generation, Kurt Cobain popularized the Grunge Rock genre and lost himself to heroin. Amy Winehouse was a promising star, and the promise is now broken. There are many more, nameless faceless entertainers who joined the dreaded club, the curse of 27.

The genius they possessed and the potential that got wasted can never be replaced. Those exotic flavors of music

Club 27 - Aditya bammidi

Most of us associate addiction with just smoking or drinking or doing drugs. But addiction

is a bigger problem than just this stereotyped image that we’ve given to it. Most of us are addicts in some way or the other without even realizing.

As a rule most of the older generations are addicted to tea. They just cant carry on with their normal routine without that one cup of hot steaming chai. Not even kidding. Seriously, there are millions of housewives you just can’t get through the day without it. The younger lot, that is me and you, are now slowly but steadily getting hooked on to caffeine.

Apologies for sounding frivolous but it is true and we need to understand that addiction isn’t restricted to a set of people with common characteristics but pervades the very essence of human nature. Almost all of us are addicted to our way of life. Deny us our way of doing things and we are all up in arms. This too is an addiction in a sense.

What you need to appreciate is that addiction is a common phenomenon but not a sin. You cannot dissociate yourselves from addicts but instead you need to accept them and try and make them realize it.

Over the course of this issue, you’ll find quite a few articles talking about addiction. Most of these are simply experiences of people. People who have accepted that they might be addicted to something and are telling you they came to realise it.

What’s funny is that this was not by design; people chose to write about their experiences. We have not attempted to cover the more serious addictions like smoking, drugs etc. because it is not possible to describe what people go through. It is not possible to put in words the intense craving.

Instead we want you to try and figure out if you might have a problem.

Forewordto addiction

Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotics be alcohol or morphine or idealism. --Carl Gustav Jung --

She had a group of really close friends. Seven months back, a new

member had joined her group. Miss Emma was now an integral part of their group. She was especially fond of Emma, and ever since their first introduction, they had become inseparable. Emma’s presence in her life had been nothing short of magical. Emma had always been there for her during all the bad times that she had faced in the last seven months. Emma always made her feel good, and she couldn’t imagine life without Emma.

Shortly after Emma’s introduction, the friends joined a business venture. Their choice paid dividends quite quickly. The business was running smoothly, customers weren’t much of a problem and the bucks kept rolling in. Being an indispensable part of the business, Emma deserved a fair share of this income. However,

they had run into trouble now. Hostile elements were on the prowl. The stakes were high. Emma wasn’t looking too helpful either, but the group thought of Emma as being too important to do without. She, especially, shuddered at the mere thought of their separation.

The bad times had begun. She was getting affected. She had become thinner, would have regular hallucinations and would often wake up in the middle of the night, soaked with sweat. Then she started having problems with breathing. She was going through painful times, and the hostile elements were also always around. When two of her group fell into the hands of the hostile elements, their business collapsed. She desperately tried to take control, but was unable to do so. She couldn’t take it any longer. The dream was over. But she knew that Emma was there for her.

Just like she had done so often before, she turned to Emma. It was as if Emma knew exactly what she needed; Emma was extremely generous in giving her the happiness she so desperately needed. As she surrendered herself to Emma’s presence, she thought that she would never again meet a friend so influential, so faithful. Little did she know that this very Emma would betray her quite shortly.

The next day, the police found her dead, with revolting syringe marks on her arm and a bottle of Emma, or morphine, solution. Miss Emma; her most trusted friend, till the very end.

...............................................

Miss Emma-roopak khandekarwww.ametaphor.blogspot.com

“How about that green shoe?”

“How much did you say that tee costs?”

“I think I’ll take that neon pink bag.”

“So, here’s three hundred bucks. I’m not giving a penny more for those flip-flops.”

Even with only a couple of thousand bucks in my sling bag, I felt like

the Queen of all that I laid my eyes upon. A pair of moss-green shoes, transparent fibre flip-flops, a neon pink saddle bag, an embossed Homer Simpson tee in burnished rose, and a fabulous Gucci knockoff in patent black leather; I felt like I had bought everything that I had craved.

But had I actually craved it? The question had started to buzz in my head long after the euphoria of my purchases had worn off.

My monthly budget was in tatters and my allowance had dwindled down to loose change clanging merrily inside my pocket. I hadn’t actually ‘planned’ on buying all that stuff. I wasn’t even in the mood to go to the market. I doubted if I would ever carry the garishly pink bag, or wear the green shoes. They just didn’t match with anything I had. Wait. I could buy myself a green outfit that would complement the shoes. Oh! And I could also get myself a similarly hued pair of pink ballerinas which when worn with classic blue jeans and

a white shirt would also afford some class to the bag.

I was getting carried away. Carried away by the mere thought of shopping. And this wasn’t the first time that this was happening to me. No, it wasn’t even the last. I have been struggling with this ‘addiction’ for nearly eight years now. I know the exact duration because it was the precise moment when I realised that I had the freedom to buy whatever I wanted to. It was the moment that I was handed my first allowance. There was no caveat as to how I should spend any of it, and that to me spelled AWESOMENESS. Financial freedom should have meant imbibing of wise saving habits for any right-minded

Confessions Of A Shopaholic

- namrata sehgal

adolescent, but for me, it meant an ‘all you can spend bonanza’.

Even if it was a measly sum, I was spending it faster than you could say ‘Thanks Mom’. Trinkets I had no use for, earrings that I would never wear, and clothes that looked good only on mannequins; I bought it all without a second

thought. And all I knew was that as soon as I would exchange money for commodity, I would be awash with a feeling of utter buoyancy. In my head it felt similar to a hundred percentile in my Board exams. This heady rush of emotions triggered my need to buy more, spend more, just shop and shop and shop till I dropped.

Down the years, my tastes changed. My eye became more discerning and my allowance increased exponentially. This only meant that I now went for a better brand than before. It only meant that I was buying more than earlier. And all because of

a compulsive need to shop. I just needed to feel the weight of shopping bags in my hands. I longed for the burning sensation in my shoulder blades when I walked around carrying goodies from the market. I craved for the warmth that washed over me when I tried on my stuff and peered into the mirror. Even a bad buy didn’t do much to

dampen my spirits. It just meant another visit to my Mecca.

Yes, it was Mecca for me. The single most pious place in the world. Be it a flea market, or a high-end mall, they all just sang to me. They sang a song which echoed in my veins and vibrated through my entire being. I was most alive when I was bargaining with a foul-mouthed hawker in Karol Bagh, or politely discussing palette options with the nice lady in the chic boutique in GK-I. It all just made sense to me. I sometimes thought that this was what I had been created for. That there was divinity in what I was doing. That it was a small part of God’s

big plan for me. And it all made sense. It still does.

But as is wont, with the passage of time, the thrill of the conquest faded into a deep and vivid feeling of guilt. ‘Why had I spent so much on a blouse that I would probably never look at again?’ ‘What had possessed me to buy this obnoxious fedora?’ ‘Did I really spend half of my month’s salary on this skirt?’

Doubts began to creep into my head. A feeling of remorse barged into my idyllic mindscape like an uninvited, creepy aunt. The euphoria was considerably shortened from those earlier days. It felt horrible.

But did that stop me? Did any of it curtail my shopping sprees?

No. It didn’t. Now I craved the sudden dip in my emotions. From euphoria to melancholy; from sublime happiness to wrenching guilt. I didn’t hesitate in splurging on even the most expensive and inconsequential commodities. And all because I needed the pleasure and the pain; the elation and the depression.

I recently purchased a Gucci scarf. I hate scarves.

But I cannot fight it.

I am a shopaholic.

...............................................

There’s a new disease in town. It’s been around for a while, slowly sneaking

up on us.

Starting out a mere addiction, (yes, we said MERE addiction), it’s a full-fledged fever, it rules our minds, except for those lucky enough to have escaped (read-those with lives).

We call it Interwebitis! No, we don’t. But it sounds more dramatic if it has a name. This deadly disease will take over your life if you are not careful. It starts out with trying to find information on anything in the world, read, watch, listen to anything-- oh the power! The exhilaration! Slowly, your nerves become one with the threads of the network, seamlessly intertwined with

them, when you are online, you feel connected to the world, and life is beautiful. When you’re not, you’re alone, the world is cold, and nothing matters anymore.

A special mention for Facebook here, for nothing since that fateful February in 2004 has revolutionized the world we live in as monumentally as this networking giant that swallowed us whole, stole our souls and locked them up in tiles of blue and white, while we were busy chatting and poking and tossing sheep at each other.

Addiction is a grand word with many implications. The simplest one is of excessive love. And what’s not to love about a place where the world is one big happy expressive family, where social

status and clique walls dissolve over games of Scrabulous and local gossip is a page away?

Facebook attempts to transfer our lives online-and that’s where the problem begins.

Warning flags however pop up as often as notifications nowadays. We discover amidst our brethren, many a closet Facebook lover, as they confess to having multiple tabs of their favourite website open all day at work, while on the bed and hold your collective breaths-at the dinner table!

The lure of complete social connectivity appears to be one that users would seemingly give their right hand for-and mark me you will (You might get Carpal’s or something, all that clicking, something’s gotta give!!!) it starts

InterWebitis

- Rachina Ahuja Vidya Ramamoorthy -

to look very real when you realize that Facebook addiction disorder or F.A.D is a term that’s casually thrown around cyberspace, punch line of jokes aplenty, beating Tiger Woods or even The Boy Who Lived.

We know that Facebook events and communities have united and rekindled many interests, revived lost friendships and helped popularize social outreach programs. Maybe the only way to live it online is to live it large, or maybe not. It’s down to your choice really.

Coming back to the pressing concerns of Interwebitis as a whole, while this disease is not contagious at all, it is very possible to spontaneously catch it.

Do you have it? Here is the list of symptoms -

1. You cannot go 20 min without checking your email. That sweet ting of the ‘You Got Mail’ sound makes you jump up to go and check.

2. Facebook comprises of pretty much your entire social life. You spend hours on crappy Facebook chat even though it is crappy. Redundant, we know, but Facebook chat really is crappy. Even more dangerous, you’re already active on Google+.

3. You don’t read books anymore, you read ‘fan fiction’ on the internet. You’ve almost forgotten what the original story was like.

4. You maintain a blog to chronicle your witticisms, which consist mostly of commentary on things you found on the...yep, internet.

5. You listen to music only on

Pandora or YouTube or another one of those music-streaming websites. You’re also familiar with the latest .viral videos. You probably heard of Rebecca Black in the first week she got infamous.

6. You only watch movies downloaded via torrents or on some extremely sketchy website on the internet.

7. Your parents complain that you don’t go out enough and you just can’t understand why.

8. If you have any time left over after going through your emails, Facebook, videos and listening to some music, you play some competitive/violent/both game over the internet with some strangers from around the world while cussing loudly in excitement.

9. If you’re a boy, we know what else you do and we’re frowning at you.

10. If the internet connection is down, you feel like curling up into a ball in the corner of your

room and rocking back and forth while babbling some incoherent nonsense to keep yourself distracted and calm so you don’t break something.

Did any of this sound familiar?

If it did, be careful, you may be infected.

This is only a short list. There are more horrors such as ‘Second Life’ out there.

It’s too late for us, but save yourselves! Go outdoors more, challenge yourself to a day without Internet. The first step is admitting you have a problem. And that Facebook chat is crappy. A wise and powerful man in tights once said, “With great power comes great responsibility.” What he really meant was, “Get off your ass and go outside and do something!”

This public service message brought to you by Two Concerned Citizens.

...................................................

“Addiction”

Well the dictionary would define it in two ways.

The first one says that an addiction is an abnormally strong craving. Craving in itself is an intense desire for a particular thing. This definition gives a moderate picture of an addiction.

The second one depicts a harsher reality. Addiction is being abnormally dependent on something that is psychologically or physically habit forming. This habituation or dependency is alarming.

Why am I thinking about this??

Well, today afternoon, I was disconnected from the online world for more than three hours - courtesy bsnl net. With nothing else to do, sleep not forthcoming and no one to talk to, the desire for connecting to the internet was getting onto me.

It made me think - Have I become addicted to the Internet??

Well most people say I actually am.

A few hours of disconnection shouldn’t have ideally mattered. But then when you don’t get something when you are really expecting it, the desires grow stronger and multiply into enormous proportions (after all I hadn’t replied to the friend who poked me on facebook chat :P.) errr it sounds like an addiction. Anyways I am addicted to texting too.

The first thing that I did a few hours later (not to mention my trials to get connected was on every five minutes) was to switch on the computer and get back online.

And this isn’t a good sign for someone who is online and connected to the net - more than fifteen hours a day(of course during these boring holidays), for at least 5 days a week. And for the remaining two days, its twelve hours a day.

What is more troubling is a small fact.

The number of websites that I most commonly surf do not exceed much. This includes - gmail, facebook, google,way2sms.com( when my msg pack gets over) and now I have

MAY BE I AM ADDICTED!

even applied for google+ . These days, it’s on a very rare occasion, that I go beyond these trusted companions.

It made me think - Is the addiction really worth it’s part??

But addictions have an habit of demonstrating themselves - so that you can introspect and take the required corrective action.

And what’s the signal??

A silly me, sitting up in a dark room just moments before sleeping, at half past twelve in the night, writing an article on the theme -addiction.and waoo I am the protagonist.

Was this really warranted??

I’m hoping to take some steps to reduce this mad desire for internet in the coming days. And I pray to God Almighty to help me succeed in my endeavor.

And this might become my wallpaper in the coming days. :-)

........................................................

- srishti Rani

And then everything went blank.

Clichéd beginning, did you say? Read on anyway.

I wouldn’t have remembered what had happened if not for my audience-a few hundred people in the marketplace-one of whom recounted the entire story to me in stark detail. For the past few days, all I can see is darkness. No, I don’t have blackouts if that’s what you are thinking. This is dark in a totally different shade, like saying, “no this isn’t black, it’s a shade of grey.” Smoke fills my very tiny private space and the soot chokes me into nothingness. And then everything goes blank.

Like everyone else, I have

felt pain-the pain of our little household accidents, the pain of a road trip’s messy consequences, the pain of someone’s wrath,

The pain of losing someone, the pain of losing many.

Or maybe not.

The thing is, in my case, no accident was exactly an accident. I let accidents happen to me. I opened myself to pain. When it hurt, I gave more of myself to it. Eventually, it consumed me so completely that I couldn’t live with pain, but I would surely die without it. All that is left now is my blood on everything around me, episodes of darkness and no memory of it later. What do you do when your addiction decides to kill you? Pain is a fatal thing to be addicted to.

But then again, what would the world be if we didn’t have our own little vices?

Note: When we think of addiction weed, alcohol and cocaine strike us first. We may name heroin and LSD later. There are several seemingly normal people in this world who suffer from their addiction to their own submissiveness to circumstances. Surprisingly, it never strikes us that prolonged depression, or the lack of it, is partly a personal choice.

I would like to thank this unnamed member at Sweekaar-Upkaar, whose story I hope I have recounted with as much detail as I would if it were my own.

..............................................

Painhasita krishna -

She was beautiful. She was cruel. She was a Creature of the Dark, in a disguise of

Light.

She could drive a man to the heights of happiness, drown him in the depths of depression, and push him to the edge of exhaustion all at the same time, only vaguely aware of the effect she had. Her mere existence was enough to drive men to the verge of insanity. They were all compelled to try and understand her, to find out her myriad masks, but each time time they thought they knew her, the enigma only deepened. Till they either gave up out of sheer exhaustion, or slowly descended into madness. They thirsted for her approval, inspite of knowing that anything she gave them was like the summer rain. Fleeting, yet so damned nirvanic.

Sometimes she was kind, and it was like the first breeze of autumn, and that made her

cruelty so much more difficult to endure. It was not an active, directed cruelty either. It was mere indifference, and that caused all the more damage.

It was not that her face inspired awe or envy. Those who did not know her wondered what on earth drew people to her like suicidal moths. Like a will-o’-the-wisp, her mind ensnared them before they knew it, and they found they could not but follow where she led.

No one was quite sure if she revelled in her ability to reduce the finest of minds to utter incoherence. It was quite possible that she was utterly oblivious to the power she held over them. Uncertainty was the essence of her life-force, and she left chaos in her wake.

Sometimes they loved her, sometimes they hated her. But one thing they all knew: they would never be free of her sway.

Her Cruelty

Looks can be deceptive,but I was addicted to Beauty.

I was depressed by my own Thoughts ,but I was addicted to

Memories.Reality made sense to me,but I was addicted to Imagination.I was floating in the ocean of

Pleasure,but I was addicted to Pain.

Fame called me to its side, but I was addicted to Loneliness.

Dreams were being fulfilled, but I was addicted to Nightmares.

I should’ve been Calm and Composed, but I was addicted to

Anger.I always had faith in my Abilities, but I was addicted to my Choices.

I was always full of Energy, but I was addicted to Lethargy.

Justice was right on my mind,but I was addicted to Prejudice.

Brilliance was the jewel in my crown, but I was addicted to

Mediocrity.Music was flowing through my

veins, but I was addicted to Noise.

Clarity was the need of the hour, but I was addicted to Confusion.I was craving for unfathomable

Love, but I was addicted to Hate.Completeness was about to be achieved, but I was addicted to

Emptiness.Life was about to become special,

but I was addicted to Death.....................................................

Addicted- “it is as Day”

Ivan Drago. A fictional character from the Rocky world though he may have been, was still a mountain

of a man. A man who is remembered for two things. 1- he had his arse handed to him on a platter by an old, washed out leftie named Rocky balboa. 2- He took copious amounts of nutritional supplements.

Nobody normally remembers the guy who finishes 2nd. Sports, as such, is driven by records. It’s a race, a struggle, even a battle at times, to be the best of the best. Sadly, when grit and determination just isn’t enough, athletes turn to performance enhancing drugs.

Cheating, you say? Perhaps not. Unethical? For sure. Sports is a dirty arena. Everybody knows that. It’s been like that since the Olympics( the old ones) . Competitors would try to get their rival teams intoxicated, just so that they would not be in any position to compete during the actual event. In more recent times, broken glass would be scattered on the road used by long distance runners or cyclists, just to slow them down.

But that’s all passé. Welcome to the 21st century. In sports, anything goes.

One can’t blame the athletes entirely though. Yes, we’ve already established that he wants to win for the glory and the fame. But you must also consider the outside pressure. Spectators want a good show. They want something unbelievable. Something that cannot be replicated at home. Inject The Venom

- Vijay narayan

Inject The Venom- Vijay narayan

One would expect things would have changed since the era of gladiators. But the sad truth is, that nothing has. People want to be entertained. They want their money’s worth. And it’s up to the athletes to deliver. Add sponsors and promoters to the mix and you’ve got a heady cocktail. It’s all about business for them. And as long as it goes unnoticed, anything goes in the corporate world. Everything including, but not limited to, sexual harassment! They expect the same from the athletes they sponsor. Anything goes, just give us good numbers. Give us something that will make us heroes in the eye of the shareholder. All this and yet the blame, more often than not falls squarely on the shoulders of the athletes.

Then again, it’s not always the athletes who are to be blamed. In the most recent doping scandal in India, some of the athletes claim that while they had been given unnamed supplements, they had no idea that they were illegal. In these cases, it’s the sporting authorities who are to answer. It’s not unheard of though. In countries like Russia, athletes are used as scapegoats. When the country itself is forcing their athletes to cross that slender line of morality, it’s rather hypocritical of the government to disgrace the athletes as well when the shit hits the fan (proverbially). It now becomes a contest of pride. Peaceful combat between

countries if you will.

And don’t for a second believe that these athletes

lives will remain the same. Not from the public abuse. Not from the shame. But from the drugs themselves, which ravage their bodies to a point that eventually, all they can do is pray for death to come swiftly. Let me elaborate by cashing in on the Harry Potter frenzy that seems to have swept the world. In the long run, drugs impact athletes and their bodies the same way horcruxes impacted Lord Voldemort’s facial features. I know Karnam Malleswari isn’t much of a looker but compared to Voldemort well....

There are innumerable facts to back up claims that these drugs can, in the long run, kill the users. But let’s leave facts aside. Perhaps look at it from a moral point of view.

Should taking supplements be illegal? That depends, of course, on whether you want a good show. If you don’t , go ahead. Ban the stuff. It’s not going to stop countries from wanting the gold. It hasn’t really stopped countries like China in the past either. Or you could blur the lines a bit, turn a blind eye to what’s going on, and get entertained when the team you root for wins. You think watching Chess is a snore? Wait till they have players on LSD. The chessboard is suddenly a death-maze and the pawns are in fact demons from the movie “Constantine”!

It all boils down to one simple question in the end-

“How badly do you want to win?”

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Well, half way there, standing stupid, thinking how about I stop hereLooking back, there’s noise, and a sober you and a million scares Orbiting your head, conscious throughout, of the easier way outHow about mind over matter, how about unraveling the pattern

Wondering, letting needles in your veins, might ease the painBut pleasure and pain, different-sames, really, acquired tastes

Chemicals and masks, reality-games, really, acquired tastes, babyThe light is always on you, herbs can only help shift blames

But don’t ask me how it feels, letting need take over Watching dreams take shape, building your own transient escape

The numbers finally add up, the words start to rhymeYou’ve been there before, haven’t you, this isn’t your first time

The gradually loudening sounds resonate and fill the surreal-silent-surrounds The ceiling, now, rests under your bed, as eyes traverse the insides of you headSubconscious rips open, the interiors now set free, to settle scores with realityThere’s Lucy in the sky, with diamonds, of course, and with infinite possibilities

But you know you’re fate, you’ve seen it all,Laughing all along, at the crystal ball

You’re an addict now, a creature of habit now,Do you remember your bicycle day?

Those inhibitions, those dictionary definitionsThat “no sunshine through the shade”

You were once only half way there, standing stupid, thinking how about I stop here

Now you look back and realize,Your whole life was theorized, at the point of no return

Haha, and you close your eyes,And let past and future coincide, at the point of no return

Point Of No Return

- Anuj suri

- Anuj suri

The year was 1670, According to the calendar that the

demographic of the day chose to ascribe themselves to.

The Lucasian professor of mathematics at Trinity college, Cambridge, walked out into the fresh, cold air, breathing deep to soothe his nerves. He had delivered yet one more lecture to a crowded class, filled with kids all obsessed with showing how intelligent they were, how full of understanding of the world’s inner, deeper concepts. Smatterers. How he abhorred them. But in the very least, all that was over, and the entire chattering bunch of imbeciles had dispersed at the end of their Michaelmas term,

to go back to their happy lives and their happy families and whatever hole they had come out of. Not that he particularly cared about any of them. He would finally get some days of his own.

‘prisca sapientia’

The professor swung his legs out of bed, awash with the first rays of the morning sun, the perfect morning, a divine occurrence. He dared not open his eyes, for that would mean accepting reality again. Vainly, he sought to preserve his foothold in the magnificent world of surreal projections that he had inhabited in the hours of nightfall, the world of logic beyond logicality,

and of such clarity of thought that his breath was swept away. Hours upon hours upon hours he could ruminate upon the intricacies of a merely mathematical problem when in an instant, the uberwurld offered answers, revelations, epiphanies that were out of reach of the mere mortal mind. He thought back, upon his ruminations of King Solomon’s temple, built by another like himself, with messages in its arches, its spires, and conic sections that were visible only to another of their sacred coven, only to him.

And yet, as is wont to happen with all that tends to be in a state of motive inertia, he could not sit forever as he was.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, and waited for his pupils to dilate and adjust to Blind To Externalities

kar

thei

k G

. iye

r

focus the scene in front of him. Naught did he know, as did the other people of his time, that this hypersensitivity to light was the first signs of mercury poisoning that he was beginning to exhibit, effects, perhaps, from his ministrations of the night afore, and the ones before that.

Dimly, the first thing that he noticed was his full chamberpot, and that its depth seemed less that what it ought to have been. Of course. That much was obvious, but why did that happen? Why, the light hitting the waterś surface got bent, of course, at the point whereupon contact was established. Struck by the absolute simplicity of what he had just realised, and its implications, that this must be true for any two transparent surfaces, he reached for his bedpost with an agility surprising of one so frail, and hoisted himself upright. Tottering to the writing stand, he picked up his quill, for he was one of the people who still preferred using one, and wet it with his tongue before dipping it in the bluish-black ink in front of him. And began to write.

‘manna’

It had been an year and a half since that day, and the nature and properties of light still held a grip over his waking hours in the manner of a greedy toddler towards a sugar candy. It had a divine role, one he had been chosen to fill, for after all, the interpretation of sacred

knowledge was not everyone’s cup of tea.

He had, more or less singlehandedly, constructed what he called a reflecting telescope, an instrument so unique that Royal Society asked to be shown on. He had ground his own mirrors and lenses, and used a method of his own to judge their quality, what would later be known as Newton’s rings. But all this mattered not, for he had discovered something much more fundamental.

Light, pure light, was not pure, but an iridescent mixture of every colour known to man, and those that he even dared not venture into putting into words. And yet, with the aid of nothing but a triangular piece of glass, this duplicity of light could be unmasked, brought before all to see. And these colours, once separated, stay unique, unchanging, regardless of how he manipulated them.

The world around him had changed. Objects, everyday objects, that he, and everyone else, had taken for granted, were not of those naturally occurring colours as he had earlier presumed,rather, it was only their interaction with the objects around them that they assumed the pretense of colour. The world was not what it was, merely a play of light, of shadows, of conniving chromatic aberrations hiding their infinite wisdom from the common peasant. And he meant to figure out why.

‘arbor dianae’

He took one last look at the Diana tree upon his windowsill, a wondrous creation of arising from mercury in a solution of sliver nitrate, a tree, nonetheless, that was proof of the fact that creation was in man’s will, all it required was a push. A push rather akin to what he was about to do now.

He looked up. At the clear sky, cornflower blue, cloudless, a bird or two. And at its summit of its journey across, the sun. He looked at the sun, the sun stared back, white light personified. A veritable spectrum inherent in its every ray. As his pupils contracted and every impulse in his body tried to make him veer away, or at least close his eyes, the sun began to dance in front of him, searing white, one moment, pitch black the next, and yet, no matter how hard he tried, the colours just wouldn’t separate, wouldn’t reveal their secrets. Maybe he wasn’t one of them, one of the people destined to receive the sacred knowledge. Maybe he was no one, a play of light conjured to relieve his consciousness of its foolish sentimentality towards physical existence. And that was the last thought he had, before the shock drove out the last dregs of his willpower and he crouched low, under his windowsill, holding his eyes and sobbing lightly.

A week had passed, and the darkness hadn’t lifted. Initially he had borne it akin to a divine

penance, but then it seemed like his vision would never come back. His other senses made themselves felt, but to no avail. Smell, sound, touch, they were all useless to him if he couldn’t see. How else could he perceive nature, or was that his punishment, that he had tried to unravel what should have been left alone, worshipped, not deciphered. Maybe there no trinity, after all. He appealed to ariane, futilely, for light, where no light was forthcoming.

HIs withdrawal needed naught a description. He was just so extremely sad, it hurt. It has taken over everything else, driving out all the other emotions, all feelings, thoughts and cognitive action out of his mind like so much dross. Now there was only sadness, deep, encompassing sadness, and its brother, pain.

He didn’t notice the pain, initially. maybe because it wasn’t there. maybe because he was simply too engrossed with feeling sad. whatever. But then it hit him, like a physical wave. Pain was the liquid that could find every chink in his armor. ever nook and unprotected cranny that his mind and body possesses, and then drive against it with a battering ram until it widens, gapes, and finally caves beneath the barrage of suffering, and fear and pain, and there exists naught else in the world at point, and the only thing he prayed for, is that

it goes away. It all goes away.

And then it’s gone. replaced by a vacuum,

Epilogue.

Newton regained his sight after about a month, and went on to do most of the illustrious work that the world remembers him for today. Maybe this incident changed his viewpoint towards the universe. Maybe it didn’t. We can only conjecture.

This is from a rather popular book, written a few hundred years after the incident.

“Newton was a decidedly odd figure—brilliant beyond measure, but solitary, joyless, prickly to the point of paranoia, famously distracted (upon swinging his feet out of bed in the morning he would reportedly sometimes sit for hours, immobilized by the sudden rush of thoughts to his head), and capable of the most riveting strangeness. He built his own laboratory, the first at Cambridge, but then engaged in the most bizarre experiments. Once he inserted a bodkin—

a long needle of the sort used for sewing leather—into his eye socket and rubbed it around “betwixt my eye and the bone as near to [the] backside of my eye as I could” just to see what would happen. What happened, miraculously, was nothing—at least nothing lasting. On another occasion, he stared at the Sun for as long as he could bear, to determine

what effect it would have upon his vision. Again he escaped lasting damage, though he had to spend somedays in a darkened room before his eyes forgave him.”

Disclaimer:

This work depicts only the sole opinion of the author as to Issac Newton’s nature, and neither endorses nor rejects it. The factuality of the incidents reported in this piece of fiction is more or less accurate, with links and citations available to confirm them.

Some references that have been used include:

Bill Bryson - A short history of nearly everything. p.69

R.Feynman - Six easy pieces. p.90

Gjertsen - The classics of science. p.219

Ferris - Coming of age in the Milky Way. p.106

Durant - The age of Louis XIV. p.538

Cropper - Great Physicists. p.31

http://en.wikipedia.org /wiki/Diana’s_Tree

http://en.wikipedia.org /wiki/Isaac_Newton

http://en.wikipedia.org /wiki/Isaac_Newton’s_occult_studies

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Military veteran Joshua Price, 26, was arrested in March after Police in a chicago suburb found child PornograPhy and 1,700 Photos of disMeMbered woMen on his coMPuter, but at a court hearing in May, Price exPlained that his PhotograPhs were a necessary escaPe froM war-related trauMa.

1) Ok first off, in what universe is a 26 year old a veteran by any stretch of imagination. He’s a veteran at taking a dump. Sure, we all are! He breathes and what not but a military veteran?

2) So to wipe away images of dismembered men on a battlefield he needed photos of dismembered women? How is that a step up? And how does child pornography help? I’m pretty sure Captain America doesn’t come home after a war and go - “ok where’s my 6-pack of beers and where are those naked kids?!”

3) That’s a dumb-ass cover up story Mr. Price.

4) The Price is not right.

5) Sorry the previous point was my bad. Couldn’t resist.

In fact, PrIce told Prosecutors that were It not for the dIstractIng Photos, hIs stress dIsorder would surely have caused hIm to kIll hIs wIfe and two daughters. (Prosecutors accePted that PrIce’s crIme was a “cry for helP,” but the judge, less ImPressed, quadruPled PrIce’s baIl, to $1 mIllIon.) [chIcago trIbune]

1) He’s not helping his case one bit. Should have just lied to the prosecutor.

2) Simulated fake conversion:

Price: Hello? Is this the Insurance company?

Insurance Company: Yes. Hence our call waiting message “your call is on wait. By the way, you’ve called an INSURANCE COMPANY”. How can I help you?

Price: I need $1 million for posting bail. Is there anything you guys can do to help me out?

IC: Well if your wife and two daughters die you’d get a million dollars.

Price: Wow I’d get a million dollars if I kill my wife and 2 daughters? Really?

IC: Wait, you’d really do that? Wow you’re messed up!

Moving on to current affairs:

the centre on thursday tabled the lokPal bIll In the ParlIament. the cIvIl socIety hIt the roads ProtestIng the government draft. they burnt the draft lokPal bIll, InvItIng crItIcIsm from the congress that they were InsultIng ParlIament.

1. It’s actually the other way around. It is in fact the Parliament that’s insulting the collective intelligence of the entire nation!

2. That’s not all the parliament does though. They also embarrass the nation. BIG TIME.

4. Seriously, if being embarrassed were to be an Olympic sport Indians would romp home with Gold coached ably by our Parliamentarians.

5. When droughts and farmer suicides were pressing issues, Parliament was busy talking about why Ganguly was dropped from the Indian side.

iDLE oBSERVER

iDLE oBSERVER

PrIme mInIster manmohan sIngh on thursday saId chIna has gIven an assurance that the dam It was buIldIng on the brahmaPutra rIver In tIbet wIll not harm IndIa’s Interest and “we trust” Its statement.

This was China’s actual statement: “ 诶 诶诶

‘sex and the cIty’ dIrector says no to Prequel

1. Isn’t a prequel supposed be the story that precedes the story of the original? How can they make a sequel when the original movie had no story?

2. You know as well as I do that given a chance, they would kill to cash in on the franchise and make a prequel. Sadly though, it’s hard enough making those 40s and 50 something women look their age, a prequel would by that logic demand an Avatar like production budget for special effects alone.

3. Girls I know tell me this movie is about women empowerment and sexual liberation of womankind.

4. First of all enough with the word “womankind”. It’s been thrown around by women for more than a decade and it’s still not a thing!

5. Secondly (weird that the 5th point starts off with the word secondly) if a woman is 50 years old and still hasn’t found means to empowerment and is still on the lookout for sexual liberation it’s time to stop! Marry Hugh Hefner, at least that’ll get you a truckload of property within a week!

6. Yeah you read that right. These days Hefner has the life expectancy of a Mayfly!

I’m nervous about my tv debut: sanjay dutt

1. If it helps, I’m nervous about his TV debut too.

2. That’s all I have to say about this.

aniMal Protection grouPs Protest against “Khatron Ke Khiladi”. fiaPo shot off a letter to naresh chahal, director (finance) of the broadcasting content coMPlaints council (bccc), on how the show has been airing stunts involving leoPards, lions, crocodiles and ostriches.

1. So it’s ok to have humans jumping bikes through fire but if a horse is made to sit on a stool all hell breaks loose.

2. Given a chance these activists will demand low fat juice to be included in the lunch menu of the horse.

3. It’s a horse! There is no “lunch menu”. We have grass and a pale of water. No not water that was bottled at the source in the himalayas, water that somehow found its way through the plumbing at the studio.

4. Low fat juice? Animal rights groups, if you’re listening I assure you the horse isn’t watching it’s weight. The horse isn’t crazy like you. It didn’t grow up thinking Sex and the City and Legally Blonde are classics.

5. No horse alive has read Black Beauty. They don’t give a shit about ethical treatment. They just want 4 square meals of whatever grass is around.

DiSCLaiMERS:

* Headlines were taken from various websites across the internet.

* I mentioned horses eating grass a lot. If that’s not all they eat then I apologize for my ignorance and any hurt sentiments.

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- nishant boorla

TGC’s Amity Delhi Chapter recently organised an event at the Gurukul

School in Delhi on the 6th of August. Gurukul School is run by Arya Samaj Mandir Trust. It is a boarding school and orphanage. There are more than a hundred students across all age groups in Gurukul. 26 members from TGC Amity were present on Saturday, the 6th of August, at the school. The objective of the event was to build a long term relationship with this school so that they can arrange workshops for these students on a regular basis. When asked as to why that particular school was chosen, the TCG

Amity Team Head Vineet Singh said “Even though Gurukul is putting its best efforts to provide them with best possible ways to gain knowledge, these students in future may face difficulty in surviving the competitive world. Our aim is to lessen the gap between the regular students and the orphanage students so that they can support themselves and live a good life and return something back to society.”

As part of the event the TGC members pooled in their own money and sponsored lunch for about 110 students. They followed it up by having an educative and interactive session

with the kids. They organised a “Pick A Chit” session for the kids above 13 where questions on general awareness were asked. The younger ones were invited for singing,dancing, poem or Sanskrit shlok recitation etc. “It was fantastic. Everyone enjoyed that session. We were fully into it and the spirit was mindblowing. Students were shy at first but after some time they gave an excellent response.” said Vineet.

Their effort has received a very positive response from Mr. Ashok Gulati, the President of Gurukul and they plan to follow it up by organizing workshops on a variety of topics such as communication

Meet The GuardiansAlways wanted to make a difference but never knew how? Learn from the young men and women at The Guardian Circle’s Amity Team (Delhi Chapter) who recently organised an interactive session at the Gurukul school in Delhi.

skills, personality development, etiquette classes etc. While the event was a success, Vineet admits being nervous beforehand. “All the members were in doubt that will we be able to organise this event or not? Most of them were taking it as a casual group. But when we ended this event as a success,everyone was speechless. It was truly a great satisfaction to be initiating something for a noble cause and we’ll continue this work. It’s an achievement for me.”

abouT ThE GuaRDian CiRCLE

The Guardian Circle is an initiative taken by students to help give back to society. It is an NGO which fully understands the importance of education. However, they are also aware that some children cannot afford it. TGC strives to fund such financially handicapped children so that they too can have the opportunities rendered unaffordable by their financial state of affairs.

The Amity Team itself has 108 members and the Delhi Chapter is now present in 7 major colleges in Delhi namely Amity University, Jaypee Institute Of Information Technology - Noida, MSIT, CBS, Delhi School Of Biotechnology, NSIT and IIT-Delhi.

For further information please visit – http://www.theguardiancircle.co.cc

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RaTinG: 4.5/5Director: Abhinay DeoProduction: UTV Motion Pictures,Aamir Khan Productions Pvt. LimitedMusic & Background Score: Ram SampathWriter: Akshat Verma

- surya tej borraStarring: Imran Khan, Vir Das, Kunal Roy Kapur, Shehnaz Treasurywala, Poorna JagannathanSpecialities : Aamir Khan’s debut in the item number genreControversy with a capital C!

weren’t brave when they took on their parts.

Technically, this movie is heavily inspired by Hollywood but its individual brilliance shines through. Music and Background score take the major share of credit with some stunning work. All the songs by Ram Sampath have been very artistic in their very own genre with my favorite being ” I Hate you ( Like I love you)” Adding to it, is the item song-like picturisation on Aamir. Cinematography by Jason West is top notch and Akshat Verma proves that his pen has sensible stories to tell. Bold and intelligent writing with crisp, witty twists in the story is the take-home

message.

This film also shows their responsibility and commitment towards film making. FYI Aamir himself opted for an A certificate by choice, just to protect the interests of people’s sensibilities. In a nutshell, the movie is a perfect flick in all senses. Because if I start criticising this marvel, I am afraid that the argumentative Indian in me gets exposed. However

this film strongly appeals to the multiplex crowds and the youth and will not get good reception from the single screens. However, success is guaranteed. Go for it. It is a wonderful movie and the best I have seen this year. Hats off to Aamir and his whole production team.

P.S. : I have delayed this review till I watched it twice, so that I can write it with more conviction and content.

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ourselves. You may be ashamed but remember the legendary former president APJ Abdul Kalam’s legendary words - “We Indians exclude ourselves when we mention the word Indians.”

Coming to the movie, it is strictly for those above 18 years of age (strongly recommended). If you don’t believe me, then go ahead but you must be prepared to hear the F word used as various parts of speech, all the time. But frankly speaking, the script needed it. The dialogues and the characters are characteristic of rom-com flicks and all the protagonists have done a wonderful job. But the real heroes and heroines of this movie

are the technicians because Delhi Belly is a technical wonder which amuses you every moment.

Imran Khan has evolved as an actor with this movie and is slowly inching towards the top brass. Vir Das and Kunal Roy Kapur did a fantastic job commanding more screen presence than their previous ventures. Shehnaz Treasurywala is gorgeous and a special mention to Poorna Jagannathan who plays a pivotal role - kudos to this girl for assaying such a brave role. Of course, not to say that the others

Delhi Belly is the story of three bachelors and roommates residing in

Delhi who live life on the edge when a mysterious packet makes an entry. The movie is a perfect representation of the selfish, foul mouthed and the mediocre country with more than 1 billion opinions. When it was announced as a 96 minute feature with no interval, they had an idea -to give people a nonstop entertainer and a laugh riot. Delhi Belly is a flick which cannot be liked by all but is backed by a brilliant writing and an honest intent to deliver a quality film from its makers. It is sired by Aamir Khan Productions Pvt. Ltd. which produced magnum opus flicks like Lagaan and Taare Zameen Par.

A must watch for every Indian, it is a series of deadpan comedy sequences which makes you laugh till your throat chokes. It is a tale which relates to each and every Indian who inhabits his share of this chaotic nation. Right from a normal middle class man to a high profile jewel merchant, the story brilliantly covers anyone and everyone. Delhi Belly is not just a story, I would see it as a refreshing break from the regular commercial flicks. Even though it raised a lot of eyebrows as well as hackles, it managed to keep its head above water and all the credit goes to the director Abhinay and his team who did a marvelous job. Well, Delhi Belly is not a satire in true sense but is a comedy which is derived out of the lifestyle and mindsets of this nation’s population. It is like taking a good-humored dig at

It slowly, agonizingly… almost shyly slides down the cheek. Shining, glistening… there’s a melancholy

beauty in watching someone’s pain manifest itself physically, not as a torrent of uncontained emotion, but as a silent testament to the helplessness within.

But my reflection in the mirror would beg to disagree. All he can feel is the sadness, so the haunting beauty of the scene escapes him. Clutching the corner of the basin, he lets known his grief. Too much of a man to show it to the world, he hides within himself, refusing to acknowledge to anyone but his own image before him how he feels. He bares his heart to the one person who cannot save him from his anguish. Himself.

And so he watches the drop slide down, tracing its path with tormented eyes, seeking solace in its journey but finding none. Quivering on the edge, it threatens to fall at the slightest provocation, to fall inexorably to its destruction… and he just stares. Perhaps if it had a voice, a heart, it could explain how it feels at the end, because it would be exactly what he is… broken.

And yet the drop trembles on the brink, almost as if it harbors a final hope that this is not the end. With a casual flick, he sends it to its doom, reveling in its fall, watching it all the while until it shatters.

As he watches it fall, more flow to join it. A torrent of droplets course their way through their existence, doomed as his creation, offering him both comfort and suffering. But as each one plummets, he admires them as I do now, the sculpted shapes and beautiful reflections, watchful witnesses of his torment, who will never live to tell another

being of what they have seen.

Finally, the drops slow, and cease their ponderous fall into the depths… for even they cannot ease his pain, merely giving it form and substance temporarily. He stares at what they have become, fallen from splendor and broken to bits… but notices that the shards are still of the same sculpted shape. Still they make the same beautiful reflections, and slowly start to join together to form as a whole again.

Then, he starts to think as I do now… starts to dream of hope and of rebuilding that which was lost, for it is only truly lost to us if we let it go, truly destroyed only if we acknowledge its end. He looks up at me, with a fire in his eyes that has been missing for a while, and the determination of a man who has hope and something to live and fight for, and I now know what to do.

I turn my back to him, and walk out to the world. Still I will hide my grief, this time not out of a misplaced sense of pride, but because to show it would be to accept it, and thus make it real. I turn away from him because he needs me no longer, and I must use what I have learned.

Perhaps the pure light of happiness shall not be mine yet, but I shall act as the broken shards of the drop do, and reflect the light to others. My salvation will lie in the joy of others and, as is the course of nature, my pieces shall be mended, my shards joined to unite me with myself, the world, and all that I desire.

Then I shall again face myself in the mirror, smile at my image and say “I told you so”.

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The Tear

- Pradeep Damodara

Q. What ’s the story behind the name CORRODE?A: When the band was first formed, we went by the name Atharva. Later on, Sidharth our former vocalist decided on the name Corrode, for a more ‘metallic’ feel. We were fine with the name change and it stuck.

Q. anD ThE CuRREnT LinE-uP oF THE BAND IS?A: Aditya Rajan on vocals and guitars, Vinay Ganesh (Goldy) on guitars, Nikil Kumar on bass and Ashwin Alexander on drums.

Q. How did you guys meet? How long have you known each other?A: That’s a very complicated answer to be honest. Goldy, Nikil and Aditya have known each other for a little over a year, but

Ashwin has known each of them individually at different points in his life. Ashwin was Nikil’s junior in school and was Aditya’s junior in college. Ashwin and Goldy have known each other for three years now, i.e. since he joined Corrode in late 2008. The way we all met is another story altogether. Ashwin and Nikil were in a band called Macabre Intent together since 2008. Macabre Intent and the old line up of Corrode had headlined a gig in Mysore’s Purple Haze. That’s when they met Goldy.

Q. If you had to pick a genre for your music, what would it be? And who are your major influences?A: Melodic Death Metal. Plain and simple. Our individual influences are varied. The band as a whole is influenced by bands

like Arch Enemy, Opeth, Ensiferum, Wintersun, Dark Tranquility, Insomnium, Inflames and the likes although we abstain from using keyboards in our music like they do.Q. When did you form the band? What inspires you to make music together?A: Corrode was formed in late 2007. Goldy and then vocalist, Sidharth were in engineering college together and spent their free time jamming and making music. Sid was more of a Black Metal guy. He did play the keyboards for the band at one point but only on cover songs.

Q. How do you go about writing & composing songs?A: Well, for a long time it was Goldy who’d write the skeleton riffs to which we would all add our

own parts. If there was something amiss, we’d change it. Now, all the work starts and ends in the jam room. Everyone brings ideas to the table and we collectively take decisions on what to keep and what to discard.

Q.What are the main themes or topics for your songs?A: By and large all our songs have a fundamental base on themes dealing with despondency and melancholy, although some songs like The Others, Hecatomb

deal with more abstract thought processes but still retains the element of melancholy.

Q. Which songs do you perform most frequently? Do you play any covers?A: Back when we first started off, almost every gig we played had a 15 minute time limit. We’d barely get to play two songs which was usually the title track Corrode and The Others. Of late, almost every show we play gives us a good 45- 50 minutes of stage time, excluding set up time. This allows us to play our entire set, sometimes even including a cover. There are three songs we perform most frequently - Laconic, Casting Shadows and Corrode. Hecatomb

is more of a tentative song, which we love playing but there are times when on stage we decide to just go ahead with it.

Q. How do you guys rehearse and practice?A: Like most bands in Bangalore (and probably India) we don’t have the luxury of our own jam room. So what we do is rent out jam rooms that are well equipped with amps, drums and a mixer and jam there. Jam Hut in Hennur is our favourite place to jam.

Q. WhaT haS bEEn YouR biGGEST ChaLLEnGE aS an UPCOMING BAND IN INDIA?A: We as a band have faced tremendous challenges as an upcoming band in India. Firstly, metal is not a genre that sells so well here. People don’t readily take to our music and there have always been biased opinions of metal bands in the competition circuits. But what we feel is most ironic is that we spend THOUSANDS of rupees renting out jam rooms in order to practice and till date, there hasn’t been even ONE show that we have been paid to play. What’s worse is that there have been times when we have had to pay

money to play shows. We think its high time Indian bands get paid to play.

Q. How long have you been playing your respective instruments (leave the vocalist :P) ?A: Haha, the joke’s on you, because our vocalist handles both vocals and guitars. Well, Goldy has been playing guitars for close to a decade now. Nikil and Ashwin have been playing bass and drums respectively for four years now. Aditya has been ‘experimenting’ with his strings for close to three years, but has picked up quite a bit during his tenure with Corrode.

Q. What’s your take on the present day music scene in India ?A: Well, to reiterate, I think we give more than we take. (Haha) Honestly though, the Western music scene in India is absolutely brilliant. There are numerous bands out there with such

amazing music that is on par and sometimes even better than those of their Western counterparts. Bands like Eccentric Pendulum (who very recently performed at Wacken), Motherjane, Avial, Kryptos, Inner Sanctum, Infernal Wrath, Junkyard Groove, and various other alternative/rock, funk and metal acts have put India on the map. People can criticize all they want but the fact is that this country does have a lot of talent in it, much understated and what we need to do as Indian music enthusiasts is start supporting them, if not financially, then at least by listening to and spreading their music. It is very rare to find an Indian band that does not offer its music for free or dirt cheap rates so you can’t really complain. All they want to do is be heard and be recognized for the time and effort they put into their music whilst handling both academic and parental pressures.

Q. What do you have to say about the rise of pop music or “easy sweet mix music”? A: As long as you are listening to that music with conviction then by all means go ahead. What I don’t understand is how someone can listen to songs like I Wanna Fuck You, sing along to it at dance bars and then take feminist stand points and call all males sick and chauvinistic. But yeah, if you identify with that kind of music, then you don’t require our sanction to listen to it.

Q. FINDING ONE’S OWN SOUND IS A LONG GONE-BY THING , IN TODAY’S GENRE-PLAGUED SCENE . Do You GuYS ThinK You haVE YOUR OWN SOUND ? WHAT DOES iT TaKE To FinD YouR oWn SOUND?A: I think we’re still in the process of finding our sound. On so many occasions we as a band have had hour long discussions on this exact

same topic and have ended up nowhere. I think people tend to over-intellectualize ‘sound’ and ‘genre’. As long as our music is made with conviction and as long as we are able to connect to it, I think our music will continue to evolve.

Q. ANY LAST WORDS?A: I can think of a barrage of platitudes to make your evening meal, but enough with that. We as a band would like to use this opportunity to thank our fans who we call Corrodepathis, for their unending support and all Indian bands out there that are fighting the good fight. And before we sign off, we would like to inform you that our debut album will be released shortly and the process is well underway.

Funny that drug addicts and computer aficionados are both called users!

there, there!