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Showing posts from October, 2008

Being an Oriya in New Delhi

“Are you from Orissa? How long have you been in Delhi? I’m sure you don’t speak Oriya? Do you?” I’ve answered these questions time and again. And its not just one section of the society that poses these questions to most young people of Oriya families settled in Delhi. There are times when I’ve tried to be understanding if the question comes to me from aged people, people old enough to be my grandparents. I know that for them these and similar questions is an attempt to understand that ‘children’ are still being taught traditions. When they pose these questions, there is no mockery in them. Instead, there is a curiosity to know and understand if people who’ve lived away from Orissa have any connection with their native land. Answers to their questions in the affirmative reassure them that all is right with the world. However, they can accept negative responses to the same as well. They understand if you tell them that you have lived away all your life and so, don’t identify with the Or...

Moi

Moi, je m’assoi Seule La lumière s’étend Lentement La voix trouve un coin pour se cacher Trouvé Des questions me troublent Ami Sont des réponses Ami de la voix Le noir dure Lait de la lumière Le silence Dure Pesant Silencieux Des réponses introuvables Intimes Un moment Perdu Non Ce n’est pas vrai Je le croit Croyais Vrai Faux Réel …non Seul Le miroir L’espoir Le noir… Written on 03 June 2002

Front Page - English

Mala was sitting at her desk in the office of « The Changing Times ». It was already seven in the evening. Suddenly, the phone rang. It was her boss, Mr. Thakur. He asked her to work on an article, a sensational story on that damned woman, the writer. He had even suggested a title for the article, laughing all the while in his special derogatory manner – “The author of Why Rape? raped by 3 people”. Mala was stunned. Slowly, she had taken a few pages, yellow with time, and had begun reading them but it all came back to her even without reading. It said, “Why do men rape? Is it a test for them to check their virility? Or is it a way of expressing all their frustrations? What is it? … … … The victims are – a three-year old child, an eighty-year old grandmother, a sister, a mother…” Mala continued to read as if in a trance. Some lines underlined in red. “God is neither a man nor a woman. Because the world, God’s creation, needs the energy of both the forces – masculine and feminine....

Front Page

Mala s’asseyait à sa table dans le bureau de « Le Temps Changeant ». C’était déjà sept heure du soir. Soudain le téléphone a sonné. C’était son patron-Monsieur Thakur. . .Il lui a demandé de faire un reportage « sensationnel » sur cette maudite femme, l’ecrivaine. Il a suggéré le titre aussi-« L’auteur de ‘Pourquoi le viol ?’a été violé par trois personnes. » en riant. Mala était étonné. Lentement, elle a arraché quelques pages jaune avec le temps et elle a commencé à lire-mais de memoire. Elle a lu - « Pourquoi les hommes violent ? Est-ce-que c’est un type de examen pour vérifier sa capacité pour l’acte de sexe? Où c’est une sortie de toutes ces frustrations? C’est quoi?……….Les victimes sont – une enfant de 3 ans, une femme de 80 ans, une sœur, une mère…… ». Mala continuait de lire comme dans une transe. Quelques lignes soulignaient en rouge. « Le Dieu n’est pas un homme ni une femme. Parce que le monde, sa création, besoin les deux forces - masculin et féminin. Donc, co...