Monday, September 02, 2013

Last few days only! Download FREE! Laughing Stock Productions

Weekends are for love! @juliadutta's Laughing Stock Productions read it, review it, win $$$ @storycartel http://storycartel.com/books/265/laughing-stock-productions/… #FREE


Share! Read together! laugh together! 

's Laughing Stock Productions read it, review it, win $$$

(1) My publisher says: "My publisher says, " Get a taste of #India in @juliadutta's Laughing Stock Productions read it, review it, win $$$ @storycartelhttp://storycartel.com/books/265/laughing-stock-productions/ … … Huh!!!

(2) Just received on email: I downloaded and read the first story on the computer. Will leave the next till later... bedtime treat maybe. So well done... good stories with references to places and people I recognize!
Lots of love Jillix from Cornwall, England.


(3) Just received from publisher a delightful note:

We at XYNOBOOKS want to let you know that we appreciate your participation in the pre-launch of Julia Dutta's wonderful new novel Laughing Stock Productions.

Recently, one of our eagle-eyed readers spotted some typographical mistakes in the drafts available on StoryCartel. We quickly put Inspector Sawant on the case, and we've uploaded an updated version of the book. Please, take the opportunity to download a fresh copy, and accept our apologies. We hope this hasn't detracted from your enjoyment of Julia's novel.

As always, should you have any issues with any of our books, contact us at this email address, ( info@xynobooks.com ) , and Inspector Sawant will go to work.
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Read 's Laughing Stock Productions for free on & then review it on Amazon: storycartel.com/books/265/laug

For those who do not possess a Kindle, Download Free Kindle apps from Amazon.com on your computer and then proceed to download Free Laughing Stock Productions.

Here is the link to Amazon.com Free Kindle download to your computer.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html?ie=UTF8&docId=1000493771

Book review: Solitude and other poems by Rajender Krishan

There is a whir of emotions sitting at the threshold of the poet’s mind, longing to unite with that which is beyond time and space; much beyond the temporal. Like poets of yesteryears appealing to the Divine, the language used was that which could be understood by mere mortal, and yet on reading the lines, the same unrest to unite with the celestial caught fire in the readers mind. Until, I took Solitude and other poems, by Rajender Krishan in my hand, and read without once stopping to take my eyes off the pages, I had forgotten the feeling, the stir of emotions in my mind too, which has for long been sitting at the same threshold, the gate, as it were, that transports the mortal to become the divine.

He is the poet and the muse, the dreamer and the inspiration, the watcher and the watched. “The ethereal/ apparently caged/ behind the skin/ remains forever free - / The indestructible Atman” – Core of the onion pg. 2

In fact, it is this quality, where the reader joins the poet in his quest of the divine and whirls his dervish as he longs to unite, where the watcher and the watched become one, which proves to be the pivotal point on which this book stands.

No, it is not a book crying out like a crazed mortal gone wild; indeed, the lines, what we every day experience, in our lives and our loves, the many masks we wear, like onion skin, which help us stand outside ourselves and question – “What I am? …A naked Self/ clothed by masks/ of thoughts, relationships/ projections, emotions/ attachments, detachments/ aversions, diversions/ the dual of opposite!/ What really I am?” pg.27

“I have a Twin/ -Wanderer-/ reveling in absolute freedom/ moment by moment/ painless of the dead yesterday/ carefree of the unborn tomorrow/ unaffected by laws/ merrily being/ with a singular belief/ Transient Must Pass.” Pg 40

As previewer, Dr. Amitabh Mitra, Poet, Artist and Trauma Surgeon said, “Rajender Krishan’s poetic words form images conforming to identities that unequivocally relate to India. Mystic as Dervish of Nizammudin, he writes on mythic patterns, congruent to contemporary thoughts.”

This said, the reader must not presume that the poet is not concerned with the temporal. Indeed he is. From environment, to issues facing the modern man, the workforce, politics, or the death in the kindergarten, inspired by the killings in the US kindergarten, to the hopelessness of the lingering case in court of Nirbhaya, overpopulation, he leaves no stone unturned.

Rajender Krishan, was born in India and studied in Punjab University and spent many years working in India until in 1989, he moved to the US. In 1999, perhaps one of the first of Indians in the US, he started his very famous website, Boloji.com, which for the last fourteen years has remained an open platform, showcasing the works of eminent novelists, journalists, playwrights, artists, photographers and a large community of poets. The vibrant website is a storehouse of information and research because of the authors it supports, from world over.

The poet’s style is free flowing. He is not caught in the mesh of rhyme and rhythm, a full sentence might be only one word, but I can assure you of one thing, the work appeals to all – you don’t have to be a critique of poetry, nor one who wears the mask of being a poet yourself; the real joy lies in the fact that the simple poems can be read by all and yet, the lines will evoke the same emotions, longing, craving and desire, as it does for the poet himself. In that sense the poet and the reader become a mirror unto each other.

Let me explain and leave you, kind reader, with one that touched me most.


“I have known her for forty four years
she’s known my wife for thirty eight years;
we last met fifteen years ago…..

I picked up the phone and called her
the other day….

“Hello….at last you called!”

Haan is all I could say

Our six words discourse
lingered for fifteen long minutes
in tranquil silence

….Wonder
what I actually aspired to say?
Curious,
if she expected anything else to hear?      Pg 86
 

With a forward by PCK Prem, beautiful illustrations from Simi Nallaseth, and editing done by Boloji poetry Editor − Aparna Chatterjee, the 135 pages of Solitude and other poems, is dedicated to his wife, Meera Chowdhry, Simi Nallaseth, Aparna Chatterjee, PCK Prem and to Life itself, the eternal teacher.

A book, well worth a read ….and read again! Come, my Beloved come!

Author: Rajender Krishan
Publisher: Cyberwit.net
Pages: 135
Price: Rs 225/ $ 17

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Film review: Listen...Amaya


Director Avinash Kumar Singh was bold to pick a subject close to perhaps many hearts in India – can two people who have lost their partners/husband/wife marry and start a life once again?
In his film Listen.. Amaya, featuring Farooq Shaikh, Deepti Naval, Swara Bhaskar, he dealt with this subject quite efficiently although, he finally tucked his tail under him and fled out, making a statement, that ill disposes women and men in such situation.
Farooq Shaikh is a widower, and photographer. Deepti Naval is a widow who runs a beautiful café called Book A Café. Swara Bhaskar is her daughter, perhaps in the last years of her teens. They both share a very close relationship, until of course Deepti and Farooq develop a liking for each other. The relationship is mature, calm and mellow. However, for Swara ( Amaya ) it is not. She is obsessed with the growing relationship between her mother and the photographer, and is adding a lot of anger and negative emotions to the relationship, by causing her mother a lot of anxiety. Amaya, won’t have her mother have a love life of her own, despite the fact that together with Farooq Shaikh, she has written a Coffee Table Book (Oh! It is such a done thing in 2013, when all and everyone is a writer/author!!) ready for publication. It takes a Chitti ( peternal ) to come from Chennai to make Amaya understand, that there is absolutely no problem, if Deepti moves on. This does not mean that she loves her less, or that Deepti has forgotten Amaya’s father! Amaya suddenly consents to the relationship.
But wait a minute! Director Avinash Kumar Singh, must play spoil sport! He is afraid that the masses will reject the film and so, guess what? He has suddenly made poor Farooq Shaikh a victim of Alzheimer’s and now, Deepti Naval is rendered another blow – she must live with a love that may not ever remember who she is, in time. She is back with the ‘dead to the world of beautiful memories and love’.
The Indian audience loved it. The film received The Best Film (NJISACF), Best Director (NJISACF), Best Director (DCSAFF), Best Actress (NYIFF). India’s age old widows and widowers have been positioned to maintain status quo. No love life, after the death of one or the other!
I say damn! Can’t a director show more mettle? Is his research not complete? If he can make a film, in modern unban India ( Delhi), then has he forgotten that urban India behaves differently. And if you talk of rural India, they too are moving forward. Why should a man/woman, who has lost their partners, live the rest of their lives as widow/er? Communities in India, like Maharashtrians, re-marry with three months of the passing away of the partner. It is a practical step taken. Life is paradise gained, why do directors of films have to preserve dead leaves from regressive social practices of yesteryears?
Films are supposed to affect change. They create a shake- up and a good film such as this one made, could win the hearts of people, and make them think otherwise.
I advocate happiness, I celebrate the will to create your own future and I say, Love and Life are synonymous. When we reject one, we reject the other. And vice versa.
I wish the Director a stronger nerve, next time!

Film: Listen... Amaya
Directed by : Avinash Kumar Singh
Produced by: Ashok Sawhny
Written by: Geeta Singh, Avinash Kumar Singh, Vikas Chandra
Story by: Geeta Singh
Starring: Farooq Shaikh, Deepti Naval, Swara Bhaskar
Music by:  Indraneel Hariharan, Punam Hariharan (lyrics)
Cinematography:  Ramshreyas Rao
Editing by: Geeta Singh
Studio   Turtle on a Hammock Films
Distributed by   Turtle on a Hammock Films
Release date(s)               
February 1, 2013 (India)
Running time     108 min
Country                India
Language: Hindi



Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Whose children are these?


Children live in their own fancy world and dream up their own realities around the world they live in. Many a times, this world is punctured by adults with their desires which are very jarring for the child. In India, the girl child is attacked from even before she is born to the entire period of her life, in many ways, physical or psychological. While we acknowledge, and have laws to protect, the girl child/adult, many a time, these laws are there in paper and never followed up with action.
One of the heinous crimes against children is Child Sexual Abuse. This crime always, almost takes place within families, among friends of the family, people who the child trusts as does the family.

In a story told by a 78 year old lady from an elite background in Bengal, she recalled how, when she was a little girl, their home was frequently visited by her maternal uncle who lived in a town near Kolkata. During this visit, he molested and performed odd acts of sexual nature, forcing himself on the lady, then only a child and made her do things to him, which her child mind could not comprehend but was hugely disturbed to participate in. She did not have words for it at that time, however, at a later stage; she did open her mouth and tell her mother. Her mother refused to believe her and confronted her brother, whereupon, he denied it completely. The matter was put away, as if the lady had lied. When, in later years, she was found to resist her husband’s approaches, which lead him to leave the marriage, and she develop cancer of the uterus, out of the enormous amount of unresolved negative emotions she harboured around sex, it is only as a cancer survivor, speaking up her truth as a means to come to terms with the happenings of her childhood, and rid herself of the guilt and shame she suffered all her life, for no fault of hers, did she find listeners, who were a family of cancer survivors, quite far from her own.

This story is only one among dozens of cases of Child Sexual Abuse that happen on a daily basis, across all sections of society in India. The crime, least acknowledged as one, inside the family is quickly hidden away or covered up. At best the abuser is asked not to visit any more. But what if the abuser is the own father? Where can we send this person? Our imagination may not want to accept this reality, but the fact is, this too is a glaring fact in India and elsewhere in the world.

The abuser never admits to the crime. Nobody goes to law for this. There are as little cases in the Police Stations in India on this issue – who will go? What will happen to the name of the family? What will the family do, if the abuser is the bread winner in the family?

We need laws to protect children, from heinous crimes of this nature, if not in their homes, then it becomes a moral responsibility of schools they go to, to keep a strong eye watching out for children who might be showing signs of stress. Teachers, adults at home and in places where the child visits, like Tuition Classes and wherever, have to be sensitized. Not only that, stricter rules must come in place and where the Public Legal System have to be empowered to visit dysfunctional homes or schools where any child suspected to be violated sexually must be contacted and parents brought under stricter vigilance and punishment. Since Child Sexual Abuse, more than often, happens in the family, there must be means and ways to intervene, even within the family, for this is true, that the family hides the truth.

Older than perhaps the institution of prostitution, Child Sexual Abuse is not a problem that has come up now, or affects only the rich or the people living in the Metros, it is as old as human interaction between a child and pathological adults are concerned.

What are we as a government or law makers doing about it? Why must we as a society take so little cognition of this crime or hide it or just go about saying that it probably is a story told by a child from her own dream world?

If you are someone who has gone through CSA or know of someone who is undergoing one, it is time to raise alarm. You can reach out to # 100 anywhere in India; you do not need the family’s permission to do that.

The question I am leaving you with is: Why must we have so much respect for this institution called family, when, it is unable to protect children?



Monday, August 05, 2013

Naturally, in love!

The Duke's Nose, Lonavla, India
The heart of silence lies in Almora, India. There, you don’t have to do anything to be drawn into that space. Whether you are in the middle of a market place or sitting by yourself, the environment sucks you into yourself. Peace! To experience what I did many years ago, click on this link: 


Very recently, I was back with nature, on an Ashram right beneath The Duke’s Nose (the hill one can see from far on the way to Mumbai-Pune-Mumbai, as the train is close to Lonavla. The Rishi Vana Ashram, at Dehari, a small village far away from civilization, is where you learn Siddha Samadhi Yoga. 

Nestled in the lap of nature, away from all activities of a busy life, the Ashram offers a real retreat from the grey, glassy life of metropolitan India, the hurry-worry way of life to a life with nature, natural food and people who are loving and kind and contribute to your happiness quotient going high up. Naturally, your inner self shines out again, as if it was waiting in the wings to do so. Encouraged by the beauty of the surroundings, the let go happens and one is child-like again – ready to love and trust. Indeed, these emotions are always there, but covered by a thick shield of duty, expectations, must-dos and don’t dos. Once, these are shed, like clothes, over-worn and heavy on the shoulders, the original face of our self stares at us. 

The week long retreat I engaged in, made me come face to face with this realization that I need these breaks with nature ever so often, because, in the rough of a life, enjoyed but too fast lived, I forget my original face – the face that loves and trusts irrevocably. The food served for the entire length of the retreat was natural, uncooked fruits, vegetables, nuts, juices etc. We slept on the floor, did yoga and pranayama on the same floor, we played and prayed, all on the same floor. 

The feeling of love is very close to my heart. When I am with the feeling of love within me, I am happy and when I am happy, I trust easily. My mind is at ease. So, while there is love that we know is caused because of the ‘other’, really, there is much nectar in the one that overflows from within, without any reason at all. The ‘other’ is absent in this case. It tastes so sweet when we surrender to ourselves.

So if you happen to see me on The Way, smiling to myself, know, I have left the defense behind. I am surrendered, at least for as long as it lasts. 

Until, I am back in the lap of nature once again.




See photos
of Rishi Vana Ashram:
More about Siddha Samadhi Yoga:

More on raw juices and fruits:

Sunday, July 14, 2013

WATCH - Chitraganda, the full film by Rituparno Ghosh

Many people may be interested in watching this path breaking film by Rituparno Ghosh. So go ahead and enjoy!



Watch the full film on:








Also read:
My interview with Rituparno Gosh on 9th February, 2013

My perspective of the film:
 

Friday, July 12, 2013

The challenge of One



Reality stares you in the face, when you least expect it. 

An afternoon siesta, which is a luxury for only a few in urban India today, lead, Nandita, to wake with a dream she least expected to have. In her dream, she found herself in a different state of being, surrounded by nothing except a feeling of oneness with herself. She had around her, her mother, father, brothers and sisters, her partner of many long years and yet she knew that they had no meaning to her life. It was strangely liberating! Waking up, in a state of deep solitude and aloneness, she recollected her dream and instantly was bound once again to all her relations, with a sense of bewilderment as to why this dream appeared at all.

Recently, I fell ill with very high fever and was bed-ridden for two days burning in hell. As part of my self-healing body process, for the last three years I have not been to a Doctor for Cold and cough, fever and runny stomach, because, I firmly believe that these are the body’s own reaction to throwing out toxins from inside and in reality, they are good for the overall cleansing. So I depend on Crocin for fever, steam inhalation for cold and lots of water and mattha ( curd with a lot of water) for runny stomach. It has worked wonders for me. Given time and rest, I revive, fresh as the early morning flower in bloom. 

But the small family which is mine gathered around me panicking.  My partner called friends I am deeply attached to who in turn called me and pleaded I must see the family doctor right away. I promised but of course did not. My sister called from Kolkata and flew into a rage – how dare I be so cheeky to not listen to anyone?! Soon my elderly aunt followed with call from Kolkata, to say the same, only she tried to cajole me to see the doctor.

Of course I stood my ground and did not go! Next day, I was fine. The Crocin had done its work but I was washed out. I lay limp in bed for another day, then stood up on my feet and did what I love to do – went to work! My sister called my partner and said – “We are so far from her; I am so happy, you are there for her.”

Rubbish! Finally, we are all alone. There were many years I lived alone in Mumbai, absolutely alone. In one such time, I developed malaria and was “flying high” in the air with such high fever that when I stood up, I could not feel the ground. My neighbor, who had the keys to my flat, having not seen me over the weekend, turned the key to my flat to find, I was burning with fever. Along with her husband, she carried me literally to a Doctor and had my blood tested. I had malaria. For the next three days, they both took care of me, feeding me, bathing me, etc. They were the angels who helped me up again.

As such, like Nandita’s dream, one is actually alone, all the time. The connections we make in life, come and go. What we think permanent is constantly changing. What we do not expect shows up in moments when we do need them. Thus, the reality is permanent that nothing and nobody in our lives are there forever. Yet, we would find it hard to live, if we knew and accepted that we are, actually all alone.

There is a story, which is the last one in my collection of short stories called One. The book is called Until death do us part. The dilemma of being single, alone as it were in a society where we are never alone, so to say, is the theme of the story. Yet, even in a crowd we are alone; by ourselves, too, we are alone. But, when we think about it, it is difficult to put ourselves in such an isolated space. It challenges our thoughts and shakes our very being.
It only takes a shift in our thought process that makes a reality, more acceptable. I wonder what you think is the “sense of aloneness” from your perspective, from where you are in your life’s journey?




Until death do us part
is available on: