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

Returning Souvenirs

  You say you can only offer friendship for my love,  I say l don't want it.  I want love,  love in big forms,  love that fills every atom around me,  Love that challenges every equation.  I thought you are the one,  the one with whom they would define people.  I'm just fine to ask you to return everything,  Everything that I gave as souvenirs of my love,  Which you received as a friend.  Starting from my starings and nights waiting for your responses.  I turned to be someone I was not, for you,  I spent my time, analysing and making hypotheses on you.  So return my brain cells used for that,  the blood that rushed to my veins,  Every time I saw you.  I want my health and thoughts that I wasted for you,  The souvenirs of my love.  I have murdered my love for you,  One fine night,  I have buried the carcass of my love  In the gardens of hopelessly wandering ghosts.  The...

Dear Gretta

  Dear Gretta,     Your songs are like a poem that was long forgotten, that gives a dejavu everytime I listen to it. It  reminds me of New York City where you felt alone, where you were ditched by Dave and where you found yourself through Dan. You were never ready to compromise, you  were fully conscious of what you were doing and never doubted your own instincts. Even when you felt a connection with Dan, you helped Violet to reconnect with him, bringing out the beautiful guitarist in her, which eventually got him back to his family. Yet you smiled for being the reason behind reuniting Dan with his family, you smiled even when you knew that this would leave you all alone again. You gave yourself truly into your songs that you could not tolerate the loss of its essence, the mere commercialization of it.  You breathed music, danced and walked with it. Even when you knew that those are fleeting moments, the moments in New York City where every song in you...

The Ugly Duckling!

I was the ugly duckling you don't know. I built my own shelter inside my shell. I schemed it with hopes and dreams. But never had I knew that the shell has to be broken, Never had I tried. At times I heard someone knocking at my shell. Knock knock. But I didn't mind open. I kept on looking at my illuminated dreams and hopes. I feared the collapse of them with the shell opening. I sharpened my ears and listened to the voices outside. I heard someone laughing at me , someone sympathising, yet another sobbing. None minded to break my shell. I was comfortable and cozy inside , I slept tight. But they said I lacked something. What was it? I didn't know. Day by day the hopes and dreams increased. I should find space to occupy some more. At times I bullied myself. And made my shell more strong. I  longed to see the world outside, But something prevented me and the shell was still closed. They called me ugly, coward, and many more names, my shel...