DUM PHUKT – AWADHI MASTERY

Food  possesses the most noteworthy position in many societies and religions. A most exceptional illustration of mysticism showed in a physical structure. The confirmation of the bounties of God and human inspiration for existence.

It was 137 years ago that the last of the kings of Awadh walked on the land of their beloved Lucknow . While these monarchs sat on the throne of Awadh, there was nothing that they left untouched, thankfully, for their touch was like the proverbial magic wand. It could raise the most mundane of activities into the realm of art and to unattainable heights of excellence. Little wonder that even bawarchis became master creator of culinary delights . Powerful courts all over India vied with each other to wean away a cook who had either worked or was trained in Lucknow. To belong to Lucknow was the highest qualification a cook could hold. The ruler of Awadh engaged in peaceful pursuits since the battle of Buxar, and laid the foundation of a culture which dazzled the world. Under their patronage developed a cuisine which did not remain the prerogative of royalty alone. Recipes traveled from the royal kitchens of the nobles and from there, to the kitchens of ordinary people.All the while, research and innovation proceeded unabated in the bawarchi khanas of the royalty and aristocracy where money was no constraint, neither was time. In the mid 18th century, in the personal bawarchi khana of Nawab Shuja-Ud-Daula, Rs. 60,000 was spent per month or Rs. 7.2 lakhs.

Dum phukt or slow oven cooking is a cooking technique associated with the Awadh region of India, in which meat and vegetables are cooked over a very low flame, generally in sealed containers. The technique may be based on earlier Persian cooking methods introduced to India, but tradition assigns its origin in India to the reign of Nawab Asaf-Ud-Daulah (1748–97). Historically Awadhi, it is now also commonly used in other cuisines like Mughlai, Hyderabadi and Punjabi Recipes.

In 1783, Nawab Asaf-ud-Daulah re-introduced Dum cooking during the construction of Bara Imam Bara Mosque. For construction workers, food was par-cooked in large clay Handis. The mouth of the Handi was covered with clay saucer and sealed with a paste of flour to prevent the steam from escaping.

At present, Dum cooking is in vogue. High priced restaurants offer Dum cooked food in Handi for parties. Large manufacturers in India are introducing Handi style cookware and food service ware.
This is a slow-cooking method dating back to early sixteenth century Dum cooking was introduced to India by Mughal. Handi is the cookware used for Dum cooking. Dumpukht is derived from Persian meaning 'air-cooked' or 'baked'. The earliest documented recipe can be found in Ain-I-Akbar
Par-cooked food is kept in Handi with minimal amount of water. The lid is placed and sealed with a paste of flour and water. The flames are put out, leaving a bed of hot coals. The heat creates the steam, the steam condenses and rolls down the curved walls. In other words, the steam is choked before it can escape, leading to the term 'Dum Pukht'.

For some of the dishes, the coals may also be placed on the lid to distribute heat evenly.
Dum intends to 'take in' and pukht to 'cook'. Dum pukht cooking utilizes a round, overwhelming bottomed pot, a handi, in which sustenance is firmly fixed and cooked over a moderate flame. There are two principle angles to this style of cooking; bhunao and dum, or "broiling" and "developing" of a readied dish. In this style of cooking, herbs and flavors assume an imperative part. The procedure of moderate broiling delicately convinces each to discharge most extreme flavor. The fixing of the cover of the handi with mixture accomplishes developing. Cooking gradually in its squeezes, the sustenance holds all its common fragrances and gets to be pervaded with the lavishness of flavors that recognizes the dish.

At times, cooking mixture is spread over the compartment, similar to a cover, to seal the sustenance. This is known as purdah (cloak), however on cooking turns into a bread which has retained the kinds of the nourishment and the two are best eaten together. At last, dum pukht sustenance is about smell, when the seal is broken on the table and the aroma of an Awadhi repast coasts noticeable all around.

Some of the most relished dishes cooked with the help of this method and served in almost all the top restaurant and hotel brands of India are:

• Kachche Gosht ki Biryani -  raw meat is stir fried with spices(masalas) for couple of minutes and then covered with rice and put in the Dum Phukt (slow oven).

Kachche Gosht ki Biryani

• Hyderabadi Zafrani Biryani -  Saffron is soaked and mixed with the rice at the time it is put in the Dum Pukht.

Hyderabadi Zafrani Biryani

• Keema ki khichidi- Keema is marinated in yogurt, green chilli paste, spices for a couple of hours and cooked. Then cooked on slow flames with layers of rice and keema mixture alternating.

Keema ki khichidi

• Kalyani Biryani- Beef is used in preparing the Kalyani biryani. This meal was started after Kalyani Nawabs of Bidar came to Hyderabad sometime in the 18th century. The Kalyani biryani is made with small cubes of beef, regular spices, onions and lots of tomatoes. It has a distinct tomato, jeera, dhania flavour

Kalyani Biryani

• Dum phukt Biryani

 

Dum phukt Biryani

• Gobi Musallam

 

Gobi Musallam

 ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

 

The author Anurag Sengupta is a first year B.Sc. student in hospitality management from Institute Of Hotel Management, New Delhi, Pusa. In his free time he likes reading books and going through blogs. He is a blogger himself and a freelance photographer and a guitarist.

 

Also read: 

Village India - A New Concept in Tourism

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Symbiosis University and their Fluffy Recruits

Representational Image

Throughout the globe as most students fret and bicker about the monotony of lives in college or university hostels, Symbiosis University opened their gates as well as their hearts to four little fellas who could sniff and lick everyone to happiness.

Four labrador puppies have been officially adopted as a part of Symbiosis Institute of Media and Communication(SIMC)'s pet therapy initiative to enhance and encourage the morale of students and rod them of their homesickness. While two labrador pups named Dollar and Pound have found their new home in the Lavale Campus of SIMC, the other two fluffy lads Yen and Euro have been embraced with open arms to the Vimannagar Campus.

Source :- The Indian Express

Vidya Yeravdekar,the director of Symbiosis International University stated to Indian Express," I have two labs at home and I know how they can positively boost one's well being by showering love and warmth. After a tiring say, when one reaches home, one feels wanted and loved. I know that though students walk into the campus with a lot of dreams, somewhere they do miss their family and feel homesick. Sometimes, due to loneliness and fear of being in a new city, they also get into addiction. Thus, I decided to try pet therapy as an experiment."

The ones referred to as man's best friend since ages have charmed the college students already and Symbiosis students are on the seventh heaven savouring the mirth.

Sourabh Dubey, a student at SIMC shared with Indian Express," There's a lot of good energy flowing, the atmosphere has become chirpy and positive. Unlike earlier, when everyone stuck to their work, studies and assignments or their small group of friends, now we are bumping into each other more often when we are playing with the puppies, cuddling them and pampering them."

Another student recounts how fortunately the puppies have been accepted well by all students and shares how other than conventional academic learning, this experience would remain with them and would be cherished by them years later. He even told Indian Express that all other universities should adopt a pet therapy to encourage and motivate young minds.

P.U.D.L.S ( SOURCE :- THE TELEGRAPH )

  While in the city, we do have a few campuses where dogs are found wagging their tails in campuses rather than being shooed away as perilous. Presidency University's Dog Lover's Society (P.U.D.L.S) where abused and injured dogs are rescued, given proper treatment and adopted to live among the students shows the way. Jadavpur University's friendly campus also needs considerable mention.

No doubt it's time we admit once again, " A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself."


About the author :- 

 Gargi Ghosal is pursuing her graduation in English from  Presidency University, Kolkata. Besides being a debater,She is a voracious reader. A feminist at heart, Gargi Ghoshal is one of the chief columnists for ExPRESS MAGAZINE. Also read :- 

The Brook


In love with the idea? Make sure you re-blog this until its an academic custom. Thank you for your time! 

Neerja : A common hero with an extraordinary courage

A woman of 23 years,who could have led a simple life,but instead chose to do something daring.She was someone ordinary,yet extraordinary.Neerja Bhanot,the name, had almost disappeared with the passing of years,until director Ram Madhvani brought her into the limelight,once again through his extremely tight gripping box office release ‘Neerja’.The story of Neerja is a story of courage which we definitely need to know.This heroic individual actually moved on this Earth, 30 years ago,and what she did in her small lifetime,makes her a role model  for all.

A girl next door. 

An ardent fan of Rajesh Khanna.

From the left, Sonam Kapoor as Neerja Bhanot, and the latter herself!

She is in love with her profession of an air hostess, and refuses to let go of the job, despite it being tedious. Her mother is an ordinary Indian household mom,who thinks life for her daughter will be comfortable if she resigns from the airline job and pursues just her modelling career. Neerja,had  a troubled past, broken arranged marriage to be precise,but that in no ways reduces her desire to lead a happy life. She is not a damsel in distress. She is an ordinary woman with an extraordinary charm. Everything seems to be perfect  in her life. Loving parents and a prince charming waiting for her to accept his proposal, to start life afresh with him. But not all stories are well written. Her story had been sealed with a curse.

Director Ram Madhvani

Had she known that the Pan Am Flight of which she was the head stewardess that day, would be hijacked, she would have definitely skipped boarding it. Future is unpredictable and so she accepted her fate and moved on.When the terrorists of the Abu Nidal Organisation, hijacked the 350 passenger plane,she was the one who informed the pilots and gave them scope to escape. She was not doing a favour, she proudly  stated, when the terrorists tried to crush her intrepidity. She was just doing her job, just like the terrorists whose job was to free their clan men. Neerja can be aptly called a beauty with brains. She not only knew how to win over anyone with her smile, but also knew how to overcome her fears and tackle a circumstance where death was just a few metres away. For the next 17 hours after the hijack, Neerja single handedly controlled the situation inside the Pan Am Flight, while the terrorists continued to create havoc.

This 122 minute thriller inspired from true incidents, perfectly showcases how the brave girl was just performing her duty and not being  a hero. From consoling the panic stricken passengers to hiding the passports of the targeted American passengers, she gathered courage from her deadly past and managed it all. Someone has rightly said –‘We learn from our pasts and write the future’. Her failed marriage, previously used to haunt her, but in this phase of life and death, when her fears were challenging her, she successfully overcame it and saved the lives of hundred innocent souls.

Director, Ram Madhvani, uses his directorial skills quite efficiently at certain aspects.He juxtaposes the lady’s past and present in the proper places. This elucidates the heroic valour of this 23 year old, girl next door. Needless to say,the hijack scenes could have been more terrifying, but this is no way lessens the intensity of the movie.

Sonam Kapoor,as Neerja Bhanot, did not fail to do justice to her character. In fact, the fright on her face when she has the gun on her head and the courage on her brow when she manages to save her passengers from the wrath of death, is commendable.

A scene from Neerja

Shabana Azmi as Rama Bhanot, Neerja’s Mother, stole the show. She is again a regular Indian mother, who is spiritual, scared and orthodox. As the movie proceeds,she soon transforms into a lionhearted lady, who does not shed a single tear when she hears that the daughter’s plane has been hijacked. She is terrified, but doesn’t show it on her face. She has a strong hope that her  brave daughter  will return. Her speech in the end, on Neerja’s first death anniversary, is sure to move the audience to tears. Musician Shekhar Ravjiani, makes an effective cameo in this film.

Rama Bhanot, Neerja's mother

Not all biopics are able to make a huge impact on the box office, but a film of this sort,having such a strong storyline, glues the viewers to their seat, not only till the last scene, but till the last credits are shown. Such is the effect of this release that it compels the entire  theatre to applaud in unison, in contrast to the general notion that Biopics turn out to be boring because facts are usually manipulated and over dramatized.

Neerja is an inspiration for any individual today. Her story doesn’t tell us to fight a war at the battlefield, or save a hijacked plane. Her story has a deep lining message. Life is a path of rocks. A travel difficult to traverse. Every day brings to us,new fears and challenges. It is only  hope and courage which will lead us to the end. Even when she dies saving the life of numerous people, she leaves a happy message for her mother.

“Pushpaa, I hate tears"

Neerja Bhanot

Neerja is an epitome of selflessness.A model of a true-spirited individual.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR :-

Rajeshwari Dutta, a voracious reader and a passionate writer is a political science freshman from St.Xaviers college, Kolkata! A die hard movie buff, Rajeshwari possesses a special passion for creativity.

DON'T GROW UP- It is a trap!

“Isn't it funny how day by day, nothing changes; but when you look back, everything is different... “
~C.S. Lewis

Life is a crazy kaleidoscope of changing patterns; the whirlpool of change manifests itself every single day, but goes unnoticed. It is only when you glance back at the rear view mirror do you realize that everything has changed. People you thought were going to be there forever, aren't, and people you never imagined you would be speaking to are now some of your closest friends. Life makes little sense and the more you grow, the less sense it will make.
This is the story of how I realized that age is just a number and there is no such thing as being an adult; You only grow older and if you're lucky, maybe a little wiser!

When Lily first confronted with the prospect of change, she was sixteen. A particularly close friend of hers, dropped the thread in the middle of a conversation.
"You've changed", was all she said and Lily didn't think much about it in the beginning.
She only blinked; for a split second; then mastering some witty innuendo she dodged the uncomfortable remark. They were always doing that to each other. Lily snubbed her friend off with a sassy remark and giggled to find her at loss! 

Back home, listless and temperamental, she started wondering. What was it about changes that scares us so much? Why was she even thinking about it? It was as if that statement about changes had resonated a hidden bell inside: "She was changing!"
She was changing just like every little thing around her; every inconspicuous detail of her life, that in the last one year, had undergone a mammoth change! The black school bag by the corner of her room was the only link to who she was before: The-schoolgirl-Lily! Beside it lay a box full of felt pens whose refills were now used up and stuck with half hearted colours like the faded remnants of those days lost in dreams. The prick of memories viewed through the rose-tinted spectacles of time made her homesick for a place she could not get to. A wisp of music from a familiar David Bowie track halted the thought-train as it hovered through the chink of her half-shut door:

.....Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Turn and face the strange
Ch-ch-changes
.....Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
Mmm, yeah I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
…..”

"Em, turn down the volume!", she yelled at her sister as snippets of symphony came floating down the corridor, from the other room. With the music, Lily found herself slipping into a realm of retrospection; the words poured through her ears dripping into her soul,until before long, she was quietly humming the tune to herself, sitting there clueless and alone on the big divan!
A bright red kite with its sharp, thin thread pierced through the bubbles of thought. Giggles from a kid with beady eyes as the boy with practiced hands handled the string and “latai” with ease, took her back to that happy gloam of ‘99. Like a toddler, the kite held back in fear, stuttered, then swaying with the magic of the noontime breeze, it started flying. It flew farther and farther away as the boy relaxed its string coiled around the latai little by little. The bright red kite fluttered in the wind and soon it had flown so high that it merited a jump of excited claps from the toddler in pink frock, who in her excitement had mistaken it for a little pastel butterfly flying in the distance against the happy velvet of blue.... Sadness sung as the vestiges of that day blurred out through the same ‘beady’ eyes as she found them wet with drops of dream clouds. That kid still breathed in some shady corner of her insides, Lily knew. The clock kept up its perennial ticking, the wall lizard faked an introspective yawn as it crushed a bug in the folds of its tongue and in the other room, the music played on. 

Later that night, Lily lay in her bed staring up at the ceiling. The unfaltering tick-tock of the clock and the star stickers pasted on her ceiling the only reminders to where she was; The rest was dark. Her mind floated back to what her friend had as she wondered about what she meant. She was growing up. Deep inside, she knew that things had changed. Only, she was too naive to face it. This last one year had been one of incongruous changes. Hijacked from the security of the four-postered walls of childhood and of the little convent classroom, she had been forced to confront the adult world. Like an alien, a misfit, she had stumbled to survive, to exist, to adapt. She was growing up and the changes lay in her growth; In her adaptation to suit the larger canvas of existence. Chiselled and sharpened in the spark of reality she had evolved as a subtler being, equipped with the finest faculties of self defense and self care.
With the years she had learnt how to maintain a mask of maturity, how to restrain herself from being accelerated with joy at the sight of insignificant commonplace objects, that had she been little, would have merited a rupture of unabashed child-like ecstasy as voices everywhere, crooned: “ Grace and poise, my dear. Grace and poise!” Firm and candid now, she had learned to survive; To trick the grown up world into thinking that she had grown up too. She owed her life to close calls and how every knife in her back had missed her heart by inches; But by adapting, she had learned to shield herself from the dragons outside fairytale books. And while that was a progressive change to some extent, there was also the nagging fear of losing the bliss of childhood innocence at the cost of the evolved sense of the adult. Perhaps the hardest part of growing up, is letting go of who you used to be.
........
Oh darling, don't you ever grow up
Don't you ever grow up, just stay this little
Oh darling, don't you ever grow up
Don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple
Wasn't it easier in your firefly-catchin' days?
When everything out of reach, someone bigger brought down to you
Wasn't it beautiful runnin' wild 'til you fell asleep
Before the monsters caught up to you?”

The thought clouds drift back as the music fades into the background. A yawn hiccups its way through the gurgle of my sighs. A little girl sulks at the dinner table. Hazy initially, but soon a shadow crops up: Tall, firm and broad shouldered! He stands with his hand raised, facing her, with his fingers pointing at the girl, with disappointed derision.
"...Do you know what your class teacher told us today? 'The most talkative girl in my class!' Have you any idea how much you embarrass your parents with your habit of non stop blabbering in class?  Every year, every class: same complaints! Again and again we've heard the same thing and trust me I'm tired! I'm just sick and tired of this whole business!” The last statement echoed through the high walls of that room. The louder voice laid down the emptied glass with a thud on the table as another voice softer, mumbled, hesitated and coaxed incoherent words of harmony as it tried to pacify the first one. Draining the contents of the glass down his throat, the first voice continued: “We had enrolled you into a convent school for a REASON! The most important thing in life is DISCIPLINE. But for that, you need to learn to keep your mouth shut first. Why in the world would you have to talk so much? Why can't you change your self and be more like the other graceful girls in class?”
…..
In the hubbub of a noisy classroom, the quite sophomore in the corner stared, looked, blinked. A horrible recollection! But somehow she had nothing to say. "Anti social " they called her. "Introvert" she preferred. "Arrogant" said the haters. Inside, she was dying with so much to say...like the volcano that bubbles and surges within the heart of the rock, sealed by its own cooling, hardening lava. "Introverting again?'', he chuckled, breaking her chain of thoughts. She really did need to change herself, wondered the sophomore as the little girl of her childhood days ran in giggles past her vision. Sometimes, the things we can't change, end up changing us! Lying in that bed, that night Lily thought of the little girl that was little-girl-no-more! Metamorphosing, perhaps we lose a part of our self in the coocoon of what once was. A medley of childhood memories scuttled about her vision: little habits, stories and silly pranks and games! As the vision grew clearer, Lily lost herself in dreams…. The little girl appeared once more, face smeared with blends of yellow, blue and orange as she poured over a sheet of blank paper, drawing straight lines of rays from the face of the sun in the extreme top corner of the page. She was lost in the happiness of pastel shades; the colorful sticks of crayons with their sweet smell, hard, cool and smooth like pebbles against her skin as she rubbed them on her cheeks, on the page, on the boring walls and everywhere. The pleasant coolness of the crayons took her back to another day; a particularly hot one. The girl in frock stood in front of the refrigerator with its door ajar gazing into its insides like a bizzare sadhu would at his client before he read his stars or showed the future. The cool air emanating from inside the fridge, (at a time when air conditioning was a decade away) made her hold on to the door for just a little longer before she would close it really slowly, just to see when the lights inside the fridge went off…how she would try to balance the light switch between ON and OFF or wash her hands after stepping out of the toilet for full ten minutes because she loved the feel of running water flowing through her fingers…how the first time she saw the picture of a heart in the book of a senior class five student, she was so surprised because she had always thought that the shape of a real heart was like one of those tiny ones at the end of a page of barbie doll stickers…
“......So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Turn and face the strange
Ch-ch-changes…..”

The potpourri of images reminded her of the silly days of joyful innocence, of the times when ringing the doorbell of the fat lady in the neighborhood (who they knew was really a witch, by the way), running away before she could come after you and giggling from behind the mango tree as you peeped in to see her plummeting with anger like a rare turkey cock, was one of the biggest temptations one could give in to; when the smell of bubblegum as the bubble popped a gummy slap on the cheeks building a giggle in your stomachs and controversies about who had blown the biggest bubblegum balloon were serious issues; when one could sail of ones dreams or fly with them in boats and planes made out of discarded papers and there wasn't such a thing as a rumour; when a game of hide and seek with friends in the colony, or eating bournvita (without milk!) and straight out of the jar, or blowing soap bubbles on a warm fuzzy afternoon or the tinkling bell of the approaching cart of the cotton candy vendor (and chomping it down no matter how messy it was to eat the thing) was all it took to cheer you up…!” 
Waking up from her dreams Lily wondered: “Metamorphosis eh?!”
When did this happen?!



Another time, heartbroken, she laid her face on a rumpled cushion letting her hurt down in angry, hot teardrops. Beside, a gentle hand stroked her hair crooning words of comfort with each stroke. " You know, you really need to grow up Lily. You need to be strong." Then she told her the story of the tortoise...how the first tortoises on earth were really like rabbits: soft,delicate and harmless! But what was most astounding was the fact that the great great grandfathers (or grandmoms, really!) of today's tortoise generation: the primeval tortoises, didn't have shells!
" Eh?", she blinked, "I'm not a kid anymore mom."
"No, really. I'm not feigning....They didn't!", she assured her.
"..but where did the shells go?!", she asked in wide eyed wonder, the tears now starting to fade from her cheeks in the warmth of a good tale.
"Well, they didn't have any.", replied her mother.
"It was only after the other animals of the planet were born that the tortoises found it difficult to live safely and had to armour shells to protect themselves. With the evolution, there came on earth beasts, predators and other sinister creatures. It was a big bad world and the tortoises were scared of the shadows lurking behind the branches; the shadowy shapes of darkness, that came gliding: black under the clouds....They were fearsome shadows that lay in ambush in the dark and would spring forth on their victims from behind. They were deadly and ominous and the tortoises knew it coming, with life-failing footsteps; Death-doomed!  So in order to protect themselves from harm, the delicate creatures hit upon a particularly bright idea: they started building them shells...Beautiful coral shells weaved from sea-swells, foam and emerald greens made strong with the strength of their hearts. Now the shadows couldn't touch them anymore, safe as they were behind the walls of their shells. So each year the mother tortoise would teach her children how to build their shells and the tradition got passed down ever since. None of the tortoises got hurt anymore and they all lived happily ever after. As a last word, (if you don't believe my story), ever wondered why tortoises live that long? -That's happily ever after!"
The little girl giggled, "That's fairytale-talk!" Her mother smiled a rhetoric and continued, "you, my dear, have a heart like the tortoises: soft and vulnerable. You too need to build your own shell and now is the time."
As days passed and the li'l girl grew up, her mother would often tell her more of such stories, "fairytale-talks" and hidden metaphors with real life implications.Growing up she learnt how to build her shell, how to bottle up unnecessary, distracting emotions and put a cork to her feelings. The little girl was little girl no more! She was no more the silly kid lounging with her crayons and candies inside makeshift blanket forts made out of broken umbrellas. She took the world in her stride and faced life bravely...but now that she had grown up and grown strong, when they sometimes called her heartless for keeping a straight face, she'd cry inside!
She hadn't changed enough, had she?

"I've got a jet black heart and there's a hurricane underneath it", the stereo bellowed like a knight in the battle shouting his war cry!

Throughout her life she'd focused on progressing: be it in her career, perspective or person. She'd build new bridges each day and cross them over the next. She was proud of how far she had come but there was this one fear scaling her insides: Did crossing over to new pastures, meant losing the li'l girl living inside? The idea of metamorphosis swam in her mind like a gramophone record stuck in the same lines of the song, going back to the words;repeating;in a circle;and again and again. Gazing into the galaxies that the cream made in her coffee cup, she pondered upon caterpillars and changes. She thought of who she was around this time, the previous year. Back then she was a lot more afraid; but now that she wasn't the same person anymore, she had learned to care less about what people thought about her and more about what she thought of herself. It was like one of those moments when it finally clicks: You realize how far you have come and you remember the times you had thought things were such a mess they'd never recover. And then you smile. You smile because you're truly proud of yourself and the person you've fought to become. But did that mean losing oneself and deserting the little ingenue inside?
With another sip of her coffee as the liquid went bubbling down her throat, relaxing her nerves, the power of the caffeine tingled a little bell inside. She recalled an ubiquitous line she had read somewhere long back:
(Must be in one of the zillion posts of the Berlin art parasites!)
"I don't know exactly when I changed or how, but at some point between cutting my strings, escaping my cage, and building my wings, I set myself free."
....and that, she thought was the perfect way to end the drizzle of her rantings!

  

ABOUT THE AUTHOR :- 




 

A staunch bibliophile, a travel-head and an occasional painter, Ahona Das is pursuing her graduation in English from Presidency University, Kolkata. The columnist for ExPRESS Magazine is very interested in photography as well.

 Some of her other articles are as follows :- 

 

The Realm of the Maharajas

 Rajmohan's Wife

 

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A Tale of Deception and Unrequited Passion : Calcutta 22

What happens when an amnesic gets lost in a strange city surrounded by strangers (?) he doesn't know? How does one get rewarded when he trusts someone blindly to get him out of his despondency while seeking solace? Dramatically Correct's second production "Calcutta 22" opened to a welcoming crowd at around 6pm at Gyan Manch, Kolkata on the 15th of February! 

Niloban Dutt and Navamita Chanda as "Ringo da" and "Raziya" from the right

The play starts with a crest-fallen amnesic narrating his story to a prostitute, Raziya, who mistook him as an interested customer, how he found a shelter in a tea stall and his interests in the detective who could help him out of his pathetic deluge of obliviousness! The kind-hearted Raziya accompanies the miserable man to his destination, where he is greeted by three students, Subhankar, Tusha and Sujay, who falsify themselves as the detectives apprentices in the hopes of making a break-through, and end up in naming the amnesic "Ringo da"! Apparently, we are also told by the owner of the tea-stall that the infamous Yusuf Bhai, a notorious goon, is also in search of the "amnesic"! While Sujay, a Physics Honours student advises his colleagues to not get tangled in this pernicious mess, Subhankar played by Ahan Ghosh gets incredibly intrigued by the complication of the scenario and also develops a romantic affection for Raziya! In the midst of romantic arousement, warm friendship and exciting complications, all hell break loose when Ringo Da is suddenly found murdered at Subhankar's place!

Ahan Ghosh as Subhankar in "Calcutta 22"

What follows is a tale of shocking chicanery and nail biting thrill! While Raziya's splendid performance as a victim of human trafficking reminds us of the sad demise of moral existence, her pleasant and warm temperament reminds some of the kind of hatred we inflict on the "social boycotts"! Sujay's sardonic character, pulled off magnificently by Rishabh Bhaumik, with his witty remarks manage to entertain the crowd for the entire length of the play! And although much more of a justice could have been done to the background score, it certainly doesn't overshadow the potential this young theater group comprising of VERY YOUNG theatricians possess! Creative, talented and exuberant here's wishing a lot of success to team Dramatically Correct, who have a long way to go!

RSS Goons Vandalize Jadavpur University

The repressive politics of the state machinery and the ruling government showed that the intolerance cries are not false, when goons affiliated to RSS entered Jadavpur University today and caused rampant vandalization and ruckus.
This comes as a retaliation to JU's open support to JNU in the recent times against the charges of Anti-nationalism, sedition, and the arrest of JNUSU president Kanhaiya Kumar.
Sources say that about a 100 of such goons entered the university campus, tore down posters, vandalized university property, and raised slogans like "Bharatmata ki jai." As if this wasn't enough, Rahul Sinha , National Secretary, BJP has threatened the students with a public beating and attack if they do not curb their activities.

In another news, JNUSU President Kanhaiya Kumar has been beaten up and sent to Tihar Jail. 

If this is still not enough to realize that the state political machinery is trying to ovetake and dominate the spacial politics of the student community in Universities which tend to remain independent on matters of the mind, then we ask you to censure this in your wisdom. 

We request you to judge, decide, and then act. 

Keep looking this space for more updates. 

The Proud Taxi

        “The rainbow’s in the Bible. It’s a covenant between God and all living creatures" ;  the God of the Bible knows the struggle of gays and lesbians, and that is where he finds hope. - Gilbert Baker .


How long do you think there has been a crusading stance on the right of the LGBTQ ( lesbian,gay,bisexual,transgender,queer ) community  to  be able to lead a dignified life?  To frame it properly , there has been probably an array of processions , protest movements following  series of debates over the Supreme Court's judgements towards the realisation of the basic rights of the LGBTQ community.

"Homosexual intercourse was made a criminal offence under Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code, 1860." , and to also quote ,"This made it an offence for a person to voluntarily have 'carnal intercourse against the order of nature' ". And by all means this had raised ample number of questions pinning down the dignity and respect of the community members and all its affiliations, bringing much shame to the modern outlook of acceptance , which still continues.

On the other end , it's never really too late  to flip the coin to the other side. Although no major win over has been notified in decriminalization of the law ( despite the many hardcore trials ), but the city of Mumbai didn't just stand back only witnessing their (LGBTQ's) struggle, but took to the law through an escalating proposition . Being more precise about the initiative , the city-based community organisation Humsafar Trust in collaboration with the Wings Travels have finally come up with an employment stance for the oppressed and the not-so-favoured section of the LGBTQ community, to allow them to provide service to the people through radio cabs. The cab service named, "Wings Rainbow" was launched on January 20, 2016 . On a bit of analysis , it might be stated that as if the  phrase "Wings Rainbow" is roped with the most often recognized flag colour of the community , which stands for :-



   pink = sexuality

   red = life

   orange = healing         

   yellow = the sun

   green = nature

   blue = art

   indigo = harmony

   violet = spirit  

 (according to Gilbert Baker).


 So here it goes , Sexuality is what has glued them to the scars of a chained life, and the majority of the healing power needs to land in from the decriminalisation of the verdict,to provide the LGBTQ community the sustenance of savouring the art of love (any kind) which probably is inherited from the nature itself..even the Sun shines on them, as well.

Humsafar trust aims to empower the socio-economic conditions of the Lgbtq community

Manoj Bajpai as Dr. Siras in "Aligarh"

When they borne every right to stay happy with something they choose to live with, why cannot we allow them the peace of their path? It's apparently against the culture and societal norms?  A human being needs to beg for Love of a kind, what kind of a healthy and logical society disfavours that? All the many laws and oral supports are as if limited to conversations , and it was the peak time to turn "intellectualism"  into "reality" as clearly stated and understood by the introduction of the radio cabs , for the convenience of one and all along with India's major benchmark movie, Aligarh (which is coming up shortly on theatres). Every cloud has a silver lining . The Supreme court has somewhat realized that the issue needs to be reconsidered with the many questions being shot about the
relevance of the parochial law  and to a ray of hope for the LGBTQ community, there might be an abrasion of the Section 377 under the IPC.

To end with, Nothing impermissible, inadmissible and objectionable.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR :-

Shreya Basak, a first year student pursuing Journalism and Mass communication in Shri Shikshayatan College, Kolkata. This columnist of ExPRESS Magazine is a brilliant dancer for whom all of life is a vibrant stage! Some of her other articles are as follows :-

-I'm Hungry

-The smartest thing a woman can need


P.S :- Please do not forget to share if you liked the initiative and our attempt :) Thanks for your time!

10 INDIAN METAL BANDS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT!

He could be a geek with short hair, an old school leather wearing guy, a teenager in a black t-shirt with explicit graphics, a scary man with a long gruff beard or as a matter of fact a girl like me -The Indian metal head is likely to have an identity as diverse as the country, but today, his existence is a well-known reality.

Even two decades ago, things were a lot different. Millennium, credited with being India’s first heavy metal band, was formed in 1986. The band went on to open for international acts such as Deep Purple and No Doubt. At the same time, the North-East was witnessing the beginnings of a metal culture.

In Bangalore, another storm was brewing in the form of Kryptos. Formed in 1998, Kryptos is one of the longest-standing thrash metal bands of India. In Chennai, the 90s saw the rise of extreme metal bands Blasphemy and Bone Saw. In 2000, Demonic Resurrection, the popular symphonic death metal band was founded by four teenagers. June 2000 also saw Mumbai receive its very first extreme metal fest, Domination — Deathfest.

Since 2000, there has been immense growth in the scene — both in terms of audience and bands.
Let’s take a look at the 10 best Indian metal bands which are undoubtedly the pioneers of the Indian metal scene and are largely responsible for the growth of metal music in India –

10. Zygnema

From : Mumbai

Year of formation : 2005

They call themselves : A brutal Groove Thrash Metal band

Zygnema mainly focuses on the social/political scenarios and loves to dig deep down on riffs that are heavy and groove oriented. They have released two albums so far and are working on the next. Their aggressive ‘stage breaking’ performances and song themes are quite remarkable.

Best Track : Scarface