Skip to main content

To The High Priest Of Literature...


Dear Nagesh Sir,

You are a legend who taught me to fight to bring honor to our family even by rejecting man's law like Antigone, who taught me that like Lysistrata, the very effort of women can put an end to great wars, to face the existential crisis with Berenger, to forsee how I will be remembered  after my death through Elegy, to visit the Renaissance Italy with Andrea del sarto and Fra Lippo Lippi, to be in gay and keep moving on with Gunn's motorcyclists and to ride the waves with the surfers. Sir, you are the one who took me to the very beginning of the evolution of the language of cinema with Bazin ,who helped me to know the third cinema , to experience a chill down my spine with Marion Crane, to go in search of the stolen bicycle with Antonio Ricci and Bruno to prevent poverty in the family. The Sage who taught us to look into the thoughts of others with Saleem Sinai, to be compassionate to the 'other' with Gustad, to break the silence with Marikatani's mother, to be that innocent girl of Okita who doesn't know the impending horror, to see and know the Invisible people around me with Ellison and to suffer with John.
  I wish you could have taught us to lament over the modern world with Eliot, to go into the darkness of the heart with Conrad, to know the metaphysical poets, to learn Irony and Archetypes of Literature, to understand the impacts of modern horrors with Auden and Lowell and to be in conflict with nature and civilization with Morrison's creations.
But time changes, season changes and you can't be always the same you. As Mehmet Murat ildan rightly said, "When you are leaving someone, leave like the sun leaves the earth with a magnificent elegance!" and I believe this is how you leave Devagiri.
  Love you Sir and will definitely miss you.I wish you a happy and healthy retirement life.
  With lots of love , prayers and reverence,
A Student who was wonderstruck by your classes.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Women of Rifle Club

Over the decades, Malayalam cinema has often used female characters to uphold male protagonists, reinforcing the power dynamics in favor of men. This pattern, normalized and celebrated as long as the hero “wins” the situation, has shaped narratives for years. However, in recent times, audiences have begun to unlearn this ingrained bias, recognizing it as something that needs to be critiqued rather than celebrated.  Aashiq Abu’s Rifle Club breaks away from this mold, igniting the fiery tension of a wild war in the Western Ghats. What sets this film apart is its portrayal of women— each female character is uniquely strong and layered, claiming her identity with confidence. From being mocked for being “just a woman” to owning the scene, characterisations of women in Malayalam cinema are beginning to emerge as unstoppable forces. Society often perpetuates the stereotype that women, being emotional, are inherently weaker or less stable in grave situations. Instead, the movie shows that ...

I Let Myself Sink Into You

  I let myself sink into you,  Taking deep dips,  Not letting myself float.  You kept the rhythm of ocean Calm and said the waves To come another day.  I got lost in the tranquility of your arms,  Seeking an abode for eternity,  Reaching out in bliss.  Maybe If I could live here forever,  I would dance at a different pace,  guided by the warmth of your heart. I see no lines seperating us,  Shutting down the little fragments of overthinking,  I place you close to my bosom,  Never to let you go.  Making all the falsities disappear,  I'm riveted by the hold of your hands,  the sheer joy on your face  At the movement of my eyelashes,  Making me fall all over again.  You asked me if you could join in my agony,  If you could make me think of  Things of joy, Checking my pulse and it's  dramas,  You dived deep into me,  Untangling the mysterious cords,  that encircled me....

One Pathetic Little Heart

  Black and white photographs Hanging on the wall, behind me,  Dance at the company Of sheer curtains.  Fresh coffee rings on the table Cuddle with the lacquer crying for my attention.  The chandelier wonder  At the brightness of daylight,  And my little heart  Wonders at the lies I heard.  I feel nauseous at how I  Put up with all those lies.  I'm just so tired of the notion of truth.  what a pathetic little heart! What naivety and vulnerability has Consumed you.  You made me think I own  the autumn,  That I can have him all for myself  In my private abode.  That spurious affection was Afterall nothing but a lie,  And my foolish heart  created fake scenarios,  with every word of Autumn,  who would give a peck on the neck,  With a pat on the back.  What a pathetic little heart!  You never understood What seasons meant,  You never realized they belong to  each othe...