ISSN: 2454-4574

2016

http://ashvamegh.net

July 2016 (Issue XVIII)

7/15/2016

ASHVAMEGH… the literary flight!

ISSUE XVIIIJULY

ABOUT US: Ashvamegh Issue XVIII: July 2016: ISSN: 2454-4574

Ashvamegh New Delhi, India contact@ashvamegh.net, +91 9709949971

Editorial Board on Ashvamegh:

Alok Mishra (Editor-in-Chief) Murray Alfredson (Sr. Editor) Dr. Shrikant Singh (Sr. Editor) Vihang Naik (Sr. Editor) Pooja Chakraborty (Editor) Anway Mukhopadhyay (Editor) Munia Khan (Editor) Dr. Sarada Thallam (Sr. Editor) D. Anjan Kumar (Sr. Editor) Leilanie Stewart (Editor) Ravi Teja (Editor) Charles McKinney (Editor)

Advisory Panel on Ashvamegh: Dr. Swarna Prabhat Ken W Simpson N. K. Dar Alan Britt

Ashvamegh is an online international journal of literary and creative writing. Publishing monthly, Ashvamegh has successfully launched its 18th issue in June 2016 (this issue). Submission is open every day of the year. Please visit http://ashvamegh.net for more details.

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Table of Contents: Ashvamegh Issue XVIII: July 2016: ISSN:2454-4574

What is inside to read?

Cover

About us

Table of contents

• Editorial • Poetry Section • Short Stories Section • Interviews Section • Book Review

(note: you can download individual research articles from the website)

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Editorial : Alok Mishra ISSN: 2454-4574 Dear readers, writers, and academicians!

I would like to start today with a shloka in Sanskrit. It reads the following:

"पु�कस्था तु या िव�ा परह�गतं धनम् |

काय�काले समु��े न सा िव�ा न तद् धनम् ||"

What the shloka means is the knowledge that resides in the book and the wealth that rests with someone else are of no use at all. At the time of need, none of the two will be usable!

Let me tell you why did I start this conversation (we really need dialogues now). You must have heard about the sad demise of eighty-four lives in the Nice terror attack. Intellectuals with malice designs and apologists will keep on ranting the escape; however, can we, those who think and act right, come to the fore against terrorism? I request everyone who reads these lines - please write something that tells the world an apple is an apple and a cactus is a cactus. There cannot be any defence for the act of violence against the innocents. Let's bring out the most appealing verse; the most touching stories; the most questioning non-fiction articles. Let the words do the talking now. I hope the efforts by right-minded people will compel those misguided ones to think who get into the trap of terrorism.

My heartfelt emotions are with the family of those who have lost their life in the Nice attack and other recent attacks in Bangladesh and Meccah. To ignite the torch of light against terrorism, here is my spark:

No religion asks to kill innocents. Do you see, o tyrants? It's against the 'Will' of the one under whose flag you slay and get slain 'happily'.

Other than this request to write something against terrorism, I also have to include the essays written by two Pakistani school students for a competition hosted by Ashvamegh. Please read the essays by:

Lizzy Merrall

Janelle Rego

Many thanks for your readership, support, and enthusiasm, dear Ashvameghians! We are far, but will surely reach the goal that we envisioned when we started Ashvamegh! Keep reading; keep writing; keep spreading the good notes.

Alok Mishra

Editor-in-Chief

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Poetry Section: Ashvamegh Issue XVIII: July 2016: ISSN: 2454-4574

Who are the poets selected in Issue XVIII of Ashvamegh?

• Andrea Moorhead (Featured Poet)• Sujatha Sivan• Amrita Sharma• Sharon Koshy

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Andrea Moorhead : Featured Poet ISSN: 2454-4574 Andrea Moorhead

Introduction to the Poet:

Andrea Moorhead was born in Buffalo, New York, in 1947.

Editor of Osiris and translator of contemporary Francophone

poetry, Moorhead publishes in French and in English. Her

work appears in numerous journals, including Abraxas, The

Bitter Oleander, exit, Estuaire, Poetry Salzburg Review, and

Ginosko. Poetry collections include From a Grove of Aspen

(University of Salzburg Press), Terres de mémoire (Éditions de l’Atlantique, France), De loin and

Géocide (Le Noroît, Québec). Translations include Night Watch (Abderrahmane Djelfaoui, Red

Dragonfly Press, USA) and Dark Menagerie (Élise Turcotte, Guernica Editions, Canada).

disassociations

words breathe

in the black rose thicket

in the stretching sands

of a distant lake

irregular mirrors

holding the seam

of breaking light.

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Andrea Moorhead : Featured Poet ISSN: 2454-4574 voices beneath

barely audible

above the cracked clamor

of high voices

almost floating out onto

the sun-field

a single point referring

not to planetary position

but to this murmuring

barely audible

when you move your eyes

flicker suddenly

in the deep dark

beyond the throat.

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Andrea Moorhead : Featured Poet ISSN: 2454-4574 Icarus had a sister

Impossible shifts under the skin

a light showing through

a pinprick of solar energy

a greening where the bones rise up

and flight no longer impossible

bends around the night

unpunctuated or charted

the brush of an amber wing

where your face turns towards the sun.

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Andrea Moorhead : Featured Poet ISSN: 2454-4574 winter fire

in the kingdom of the blind suns

scratching and rattling against the windows

hundreds of tiny spheres rolling along the ground

no one picks them up

when the wind is high

the panes are scorched white

and the lamp burns long into the night

casting its shadows on the open door.

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Andrea Moorhead : Featured Poet ISSN: 2454-4574 North of Niagara

And the light collapsed

before anyone could come

and attempt to pull out the thorns

the broken tips of lava

frozen in the heart

while we spun around the ice fields

lighting fires to ward off death

to stun and startle the coming darkness

blunt the edges of worry

while the blue snow settled around us

and the light collapsed

before anyone could come

and attempt to pull out the fuse

stretch the wires along the heart

while the wind grew fiercer

and we shed the black tears of

another smoldering night

in the green crackling of

your snow-bleached bones.

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Andrea Moorhead : Featured Poet ISSN: 2454-4574 Displacements

And your black bleak snowing

in the shield of the heart

kindles a low smoldering blaze

from the twisted trunk of fallen

light, the snow-crusted twigs of hemlock

and we have walked far to see

this astonishing, this blue and secret

brooding of another

and yet we can no longer find the path

around the olive trees

around the sticks left in the burn pile

where the beech died and the long, coarse

ropes of grape cradled the burning stones

in the gentle mauve of your wandering heart.

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Sujatha Sivan : Poetry ISSN: 2454-4574 Introduction to the Poet:

Sujatha Sivan Janardhanam is one of those people who always seems to have some idea in mind: a Usually, on a busy day, you may see her sitting down at her desk after a busy day of work as an Assistant Professor in English at Guru Nanak College. Amidst all the hustle- bustle of modern life, somehow, she too has found a way to create peace: writing poems. It was a habit of hers to write poems and short stories since she was young. After many years of writing just as a hobby she has decided to move on to publish her work.

Cell U Luv A lifeline to the outside world

A medium for relationships

An all-time open library

A personal repertoire of advisory

An intense selfie shootup

An event managing board

A dependable rooster booster

A globally connective browser dowser

An independent prison of my own will bound

Can you ever be more right?

CELL Phone!

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Sujatha Sivan : Poetry ISSN: 2454-4574

Happiness is You

What is life if you can’t be happy?

Take some time and be happy savvy

Happiness spreads and before you lay

Take it up and enjoy while you may

Past is the past, the moment is now

Future is future and distant anyhow

Live in the moment, do not make a row

Speak, play and take time off with a flourishing bow

Let your inner voice be your guide

Give it the reins and let it preside

Light up your life with courage and might

With all that’s good and all that’s right.

Who else would happiness ever deserve?

The master of thoughts ever does serve

Self-respect makes you forever worth

With self-respect, for happiness there is no dearth

What else would you need to make happiness stay?

Make hay and drive the clutter away

Make things clean, shine and organize

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Sujatha Sivan : Poetry ISSN: 2454-4574 Happiness in self-discipline would surely rise

What is light if there is no dark?

Happiness is the end of Noah’s ark

Troubles the journey might invariably cast

But with faith and hard work you will come past

Who gives happiness is but you

It does reside right in you

Seek it out and live your life

Let the happy beacon lead you off strife.

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Amrita Sharma : Poetry ISSN: 2454-4574 Introduction to the Poet:

Amrita Sharma is an aspiring writer who is just at the threshold of her writing career. She is currently a student of English Literature and is a firm believer in the power that words hold.

Forever Lost The time when hours did not count, With no perplexities of sight and sound, When salience of joy was rest assured, And morbid thoughts were never aboard. When hopes enshrined each sparkling dawn, And curiosities reigned over each morn, To each face was wedded a beautiful smile, And a motivation rested at the end of each mile. Now, the cheers relinquish; the joys perspire, Beneath the burden of each desire. The guiding morals no more confine, Scattered in a surreal design. But the memories do flash in solitary hours, But bring no bliss like the flaxen flowers; Why is it always ‘I’ that pays the cost, For all the times forever lost!

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Amrita Sharma : Poetry ISSN: 2454-4574 Forever Mine The bliss that my heart, even for a second adorned; The echoing voices that shall never be mourned; The words that shall, forever please; The curious thoughts that are never at ease. The years fly by, but the moments do freeze; In a corner of my mind where commotions never cease; Every sound, every scene, is like a part of a pile; Each one getting added at the end of every mile. Can memory lane be ever deserted? Or passage of time be ever reverted? The calls may or may not be heard. But there remains an echo of every spoken word. Every second adds on to the riches of memory, Providing substance for every dream, every reverie; I shall testify this before the thoughts recline; Every second I lived shall forever be mine!

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Sharon Koshy : Poetry ISSN: 2454-4574 Introduction to the Poet:

Sharon Koshy is a Literature Graduate from University of Madras. She is a prolific writer and voracious reader. She champions the cause of women and feminism through her confessional poetry. She also is an enthusiastic political analyst and critic. Her favourite genres are history and fantasy. She enjoys travelling and singing as well.

Five Blessed Days Five Days a month my body goes suicidal My uterus spits blood She tries to kill me! I sit stoned and nauseated By the pain and the rules. How-to tutorial on When-my-vagina-goes-bananas! For Five Glorious Days, The bitch like pain when you leak Is the sweetest reality. The ability of producing a new life Should be a woman's highest triumph Her ever-lasting happiness. (A smiley or two hooked to the last word) Steps to follow when you are leaking: One, Be invisible Two, Pretend you don't exist Three, Act like a universal shame. Five Blessed days are like Five petals Of a Beautiful Red flower A Beautiful Bleeding Blessed Red flower P.S: You are required for reproduction For now. So kindly follow the rusty ground rules! That's all folks!

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Sharon Koshy : Poetry ISSN: 2454-4574 Dear tutorial author, Brilliant!! It is definitely a joy to have your muscles Crushed into a bloody pulp Every month! Not to mention being totally cool with The emotional multi-tasking! I wonder who else would make Excellent anger management consultants! I mean people just happen to piss A leaking Vagina off, right? Five Blessed days every month! Must be a jackpot! I'm definitely looking forward to it. Yours sincerely, Her Vagina. Oh! And PS: I give a damn about Sustaining Human species on earth. But thanks to the Five Blessed Days For making me stay stronger and tougher For teaching me to face my fears And never give up. It indeed is Blessed. And thanks for the sympathy I will remember to reciprocate the sentiment When you start menstruating Some day.

Artful love I’m sorry, mama, I had to push you away. That morning when I visited you I had left my heart elsewhere.

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Sharon Koshy : Poetry ISSN: 2454-4574 I had lost my eyes and ears to his insanity. When I got back to my torture cell Cold blooded ripper stood over my heart Pieces piled into a sorry heap. Each piece a reminder of my deleted soul He pointed at them And smiled like a child Innocent and clueless. Oh mother! I was addicted to his hysteria. I picked up the pieces And froze them overnight In the coldness of his heart. His perfect smile shone Over my dismembered body. He called it art The untiring effort of a manipulative three years. Stones and knives had stopped hurting ages ago. And then, that one night of insanity Sam Smith couldn't have explained more. He had it all figured out. The heaviness settling in the pith The restless search of the eyes Or the clammed up heart Scarred by sunlight. Women are idiots, mama. Hearts plastered and ready For dogs and guys they fall in love with Just like the both of us.

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Stories Section: Ashvamegh Issue XVIII: July 2016: ISSN: 2454-4574

Who are the authors selected in Issue XVIII of Ashvamegh?

• Sanjoy Dutt • Abhyudaya Sharma

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016

Sanjoy Dutt : Short Story ISSN: 2454-4574

The Coffee House By Sanjoy Dutt

Introduction to the Author:

Sanjoy Dutt, an engineer and linguist is passionate about traveling to historical

places. He has written travelogues and short stories for various magazines like

The Statesman, Grihosova, Flash Fiction Magazine, Indus Woman Writing,

Ashvamegh, The Red Morgue, Dreaming Big, to name a few.

"Good evening, sir, I have your favorite table reserved, like every Saturday,” The hunched Munna

smiled beneath his thick gray mustache. His big heavy frame in the white coffee house uniform has

stood the test of time. The white turban covered his almost hairless top.

Setu patted Munna's back, "Good evening Munna. Forty years, you have never forgotten. Are the

others here yet?"

"They are waiting for you at the table," Munna smiled.

The old 'Regal Coffee House' looms large on the narrow busy street with slow traffic, countless

bookstores, restaurants and thousands of walkers. The big hall buzzed with many people speaking.

Coils of thick smoke and the strong smell of tobacco and coffee has always been there to greet the

customers. The intellectuals, eminent writers, poets, and the nearby university students were the

regulars.

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016

Sanjoy Dutt : Short Story ISSN: 2454-4574

Munna led Setu through the busy hall with a sea of people watching them to a round table by the

window.

Sixty years old, medium built Setu, in his navy blue coat and hat from the sixties, gold-framed

glasses, and walking cane had visited the coffee house every Saturday. The coffee house too never

refurbished in the four decades with its hazy white walls and old wooden furniture. For forty

years, Setu and his friends sat at the same table.

"What a surprise, Nikhil when did you arrive from Amsterdam? How is everything up there? Your

Dutch wife and the children? We have maintained our regular Saturday rendezvouses in your

absence, ha, ha," Setu said.

Munna watched as Setu relaxed in his chair saying, "Moinul how is life?"

"Shall I bring your favorite chicken cutlet and coffee?" Munna interrupted.

"What about Nikhil, Moinul, Robert, and Uma? Take their orders too."

"They had their coffee and cutlet before you arrived, sir."

"What about another round of coffee with me friends? Munna, you know what I like?"

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016

Sanjoy Dutt : Short Story ISSN: 2454-4574

Three young college guys sitting at the next table paused their conversation on a football match

and gazed surprisingly at Setu and Munna.

One of them leaned forth and whispered, "Heard that?"

"Strange," the second said.

The third asked, "Are they mad?"

"Shh! just watch," the first said.

Munna went to fetch the order.

"Did you obtain any news of Amal? Cancer will extinguish another of our brilliant friends. We all

miss him so much." Setu said, looking at Moinul.

The three young guys looked for Moinul's reply which never came.

"Robert do you remember the jubilant Amal after receiving his first love letter? He wrote a poem

expressing his joy and Uma tuned it and sung with you playing the guitar. What were the best

lines? 'My love never forget me'. Sadly, cancer took away all his happiness."

The three youths shifted their gaze onto the empty Robert’s chair. They could not hear what

Robert had to reply.

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016

Sanjoy Dutt : Short Story ISSN: 2454-4574

Munna came back with a tray of coffee mugs and kept it on the far side of the table from Setu.

"Munna do you remember Amal?"

"Yes, he liked my white turban," Munna smiled, as he served Setu's food and coffee.

"Sir, how is Ashok? Haven't seen him in years," Munna asked.

Setu's voice trembled, "Poor Ashok! You remember him? He worked with a small publication. All

was working well until his lover ditched him and married a rich businessman. Ashok ended up in a

mental hospital. I have no news of his whereabouts."

Setu took a sip of his coffee, lit a cigarette and emitted a thick curl of smoke, "During our college

days meeting here was a necessity like eating or sleeping. We talked over and argued so much. All

of us dreamed of a wonderful future in our youth, can't forget those days."

Setu kept himself busy speaking with his friends, "Uma do you still paint?"

One of the guys from the neighboring table stood up, peeked at the table and sat down, "All empty

cups," he whispered.

"The waiter is taking this insane man for a ride," another stated.

They kept speculating about Setu, his mysterious associates and the waiter Munna amongst

themselves in a low voice.

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016

Sanjoy Dutt : Short Story ISSN: 2454-4574

The grand clock in the hall struck 7 pm, Setu waved to Munna who knew about the indication. He

was on his way to Setu's table one of the young guys said, "Fooling an insane man?"

Munna stared at the youths, "He is not just a customer. Our friendship is forty years old."

Munna delivered the bill to Setu, who looked surprised, "Why such a small bill?"

"They had already paid for their food," Munna said.

"When?"

"Before you arrived,"

Setu pulled out his wallet, paid the bill, stood up, "Friends, excuse me I have to use the restroom."

After a few minutes, Setu returned to the table confused at the sight of the empty chairs and the

mugs. He looked around and found Munna standing nearby observing him.

His eyes were moist and his voice trembled as he asked, "Munna, where did my friends go?"

"They had to leave in a hurry, but they promised to return next week."

The three youths watched as Setu picked his way through the crowd to the exit as Munna walked

with him.

*******

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016

Sanjoy Dutt : Short Story ISSN: 2454-4574

*******

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Abhyudaya Sharma : Short Story ISSN: 2454-4574 Introduction to the Author:

Abhyudaya Sharma has worked in the past with Deccan Chronicle and MumbaiMag as an editorial cartoonist. His writings, other than the cartoons, have appeared in different magazines and online writing journals. He loves to write short stories and non-fiction articles. By profession, he is a dentist practicing in New Delhi.

Rant- Possibility

Every day is full of so many possibilities. Possibilities brewing, spilling over like boiling milk. You could

begin a startup, you can begin a novel, you can get to meet someone who would change your life. Or

you can just sit at home and watch the latest episode of Game of Thrones.

Every day, I wake up with a promise that I will do my bit to change my life a little bit. I pick up the

broomstick and take out one cobweb from the corner that I have been ignoring. The spider behind my

toilet seat is now rendered homeless. I always wonder what happens to all these spiders once the

cobwebs are cleaned. It is a scary thought. As soon as you run your mop or broom on the web, the

spider just makes a gentle landing on the floor and tiptoes into some discreet corner. It is weird how all

of them just disappear suddenly without going anywhere.

Killing a spider is never a choice because somehow the insect demands respect. Almost all insects

demand respect, some even pray for it. You can pick a praying mantis up and release it in the garden,

you can ignore an ant as it is hygienic and harmless, you can murder a cockroach without regret (because

dwellers of gutter, them filthy creatures!) but, you don't know what to do with a spider. Or maybe it is

just me. I am usually happy that the spider runs away.

Some people find it natural to kill wall lizards. Lizards also look icky but demand respect. I am rooting

for the lizard in a lizard-human fight. Not because I like lizards, it is just that they look so majestic in all

their leathery, nasty glory. Such a bummer that they die with just one slam on the head. It is

disheartening.

Oh, I digress too much. So, as I was saying- every day you can do so much but you end up spending

the day watching YouTube videos. But then I sort of want life to go a bit slow. There is not enough

time and although a day looks enough to accomplish one productive thing at a time, productive things

of any consequence require a lot of planning. Planning not on your part, but on the part of fate, destiny,

life- whatever you'd name the grand scheme of things.

For my book on a dentist's life, I needed so many things to come together- I had to come to Delhi, I

had to find work, I had to have patients, I had to meet people. The wisdom that came to me about

dating- it also took a lot of boring days. I met women, I talked to them on days which were hard to pass.

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Abhyudaya Sharma : Short Story ISSN: 2454-4574

Sometimes there was silence. Silence is the time when these vapours solidify. A startup needs a seed.

The idea takes birth and form. The point of this whole post is that things take time. But, I see things

happening fast too. Contradictions are everywhere. People who want to do things and they know, they

are sure what they want to do- they run the world.

Where does the force to run things come from? Is it something you are born with? Or is it just a matter

of attitude. A cob web has formed again. Rant- Love stories

There is something about people who fall easy. People who cannot make a pros and cons list to save

their life. They smile when a stranger cracks a joke and can be easily pranked. These people walk

among us with their patched up, repaired, battered hearts. When they sit with people with shiny new

hearts in mint condition, they do not feel envy though.

They do wish for a new heart but, truth be told, if they were given a new heart, they would rip out the

wrapping and throw it out there to be broken again. It is the only way they know how to live. These are

the people who write love stories with their sweat and sometimes, if absolutely necessary, blood. Not

everyone can be like them. People watch these characters in books and movies and marvel at them but,

not everyone can go out there and be silly in love.

Love isn't about one chase or one win. It is about consistency. Lovers don't always get their perfect

matches. Because life isn't perfect. So, lovers lose and they take pride in losing. Because every battle

wound, every scar is a thing of pride. If you have had a broken heart, you must rejoice. It's sign that you

have a heart.

There is one thing that needs to change though. Traditionally, the lovers have fallen for people who

have it together. The unbroken people. These are the sane ones, the practical ones. The impractical

ones described in the earlier paragraphs need a muse. And traditionally the muse has been distant.

Hence the chase, the courtship- basically the first half of any love story.

How wonderful it would be to do things differently though? Isn't the girl who smiles often and has a

kind soul automatically more attractive than the one who calmly walks past beggars with her nose high?

The guy who feeds birds and sits in the park and teaches kids in his free time- shouldn't he be the muse

of a lover instead of the broody guitarist who has a mysterious air about him?

How about some better love stories?

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Interview Section: Ashvamegh Issue XVIII: July 2016: ISSN: 2454-4574

Who are the authors & poets interviewed for Issue XVIII of Ashvamegh?

• V. S. Sury (Author of Jestus & Jestus on Rampage)

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Ashvamegh Interview Alok Mishra: Mr. V. S. Sury, first of all I would like to congratulate you for this book, Jestus on Rampage. I am a ‘reader at large’ when it comes to fiction, but such a book, I did not encounter! How did you get your idea to write this one?

V. S. Sury: Thank you. Actually, I was an engineer by profession. (Retired in 2005). I like reading; so I suppose it is natural for an avid reader to have a go at writing also! The idea was simmering in my mind for some time. Then there came a time I could not hold it down any longer; the result was, ‘Jestus’, my first novel. The present book, my second one, is a kind of sequel to it, but can be read independently.

Alok Mishra: You must have read some of the modern fictions. What you find is a kind of predictable storyline where you can almost foretell what’s going to happen. Your protagonist and your storyline, both have successful denied that leverage to the readers. Why didn’t you follow the same storyline like others do?

V. S. Sury: Oh, I did not have any formula for writing the story. I let the story develop by itself, the way a seedling grows into a full-branched tree. I guess some amount of intuition was working in the background.

Alok Mishra: Your book is quite a different piece, I must say! Most of the authors take the escape route by choosing a typical ‘desi set-up’ for their novel and add a little spice, like their gurus have done. But you set up your novel in a quite different scenario. What would you say about this?

V. S. Sury: I must confess that I am unfamiliar with the works of ‘desi’ writers – I may have read just half a dozen books. Probably that must have helped me in not falling into a specific groove. I did not have a fixed formula. I let imagination take full control of the writing – it was a very exhilarating experience!

Alok Mishra: Bagdenborg, the protagonist of your novel, wears dhoti, speaks fluent Sanskrit and admires our culture. At the same time, a seemingly complete freak for the other characters in the novel. What is your message through these events?

V. S. Sury: The answer lies in the introductory lines I wrote in the previous novel built around the same ‘hero’, Jestus. The man symbolises the hidden, fantasy-indulging child that lurks inside every adult in ALL COUNTRIES OF THE WORLD. That is why our hero has got a hundred names. And lives in a hundred cities, speaking a hundred languages, decorating himself in a hundred costumes!

Alok Mishra: As the blurb of your book says, dear Sury, this book gives the readers a great deal of laughter! The Gorilla episode, where a gorilla claps on the lecture of Richards and participates in the board meetings, is completely hilarious. However, there must be a message amid the smoke of laughter. What’s your message?

V. S. Sury: The scene is hilarious, I admit! There is no message. To repeat, the writing was an exercise in pure humour – with no holds barred. I used imaginary, ‘unreal’ events because there is an advantage for writers like me; there are no established rules to hold you back on a tight leash!

Alok Mishra: It requires a great force from within to write a novel like you have done! Keeping the ‘writer’ almost completely invisible – I could hardly find a trace of apparently ‘yours’ in the novel. However, how far you would deny the ‘ideological’ presence of yourself in the lines?

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Ashvamegh Interview V. S. Sury: What you say is true in one sense. The ‘mine’ of the writer is invisible on the surface. But the determined sleuth can delve deeper and glimpse hidden hints of philosophical problems. The particular one, in this book, is that age-old question of the ‘reality’ of the everyday-world, which haunts not only the author, but most people as well! The book may be said to be the author’s way of solving that problem.

Alok Mishra: As the protagonist of the novel goes back where he came from – the virtual world, what the readers can decipher after reading this wonderful piece? A hint from the author could help them a lot in decoding this chasm of worlds.

V. S. Sury: Please allow me to give a cryptic answer. Our man disappears into the virtual world by plunging straight into a computer screen! It is a virtual world. So he must come back, some day! Our hero, Professor Bagdnborg, a.k.a Jestus, also having another hundred names, will be back for sure. There are also underlying imageries. Modern science says that in ‘empty’ space, a continuous process of creation and destruction of particles is taking place. The other older one, the unending cycle of birth and death needs no mention.

Alok Mishra: And the last question, rather a personal one Mr. Sury, who is the target of the satire in your book – the world, a set of people in the world, or a person mocking himself and the world around him?

V. S. Sury: There is no target, no object of satire was chosen. As I said, I wrote for the sheer pleasure of writing something off the beaten track. I wanted to pit reality against illusion and see what happens! Fun there is, aplenty; but no malice.

Alok Mishra: Thanks for your time! It was a pleasure reading your book and talking to you about that. I wish you best of luck for the future!

V. S. Sury: Thank you. The feeling is mutual – it was a pleasure (not to mention, privilege) to interact with your questionnaire. That feeling of pleasure itself prompts me to write another book and get it reviewed by your organisation! Thanks again.

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Book Reviews: Ashvamegh Issue XVIII: July 2016: ISSN: 2454-4574

Which are the books reviewed in Issue XVIII of Ashvamegh?

• Jestus on Rampage (extremely hilarious yet satirical and intellectual)

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Ashvamegh: Issue XVIII: July 2016 Jestus on Rampage : Book Review ISSN: 2454-4574 Book Name: Jestus on Rampage Author: V. S. Sury Publisher: Quintus (an imprint of Roman Books) Pages: 266 Reviewed by: Alok Mishra Buy the book: Amazon.in, Amazon.uk

“… But our man is the impossible professor.”

When you read this line in the backside blurb of the book, I am not sure what would catch your mind – a great sense of laughter or that irresistible curiosity to read the book. In my case, undoubtedly, it was the curiosity to read the book very quickly. I wanted to know what does this impossible professor do in this book to be marked as an ‘impossible’ one.

‘Jestus on Rampage’ the book by a very sensible and veteran author V. S. Sury certainly becomes a manifold. It will provide the readers what they want to get from it. For example, if one reads Jestus on Rampage with a motive of laughter, IT HAS IN PLENTY, and you mark my words! From the page number one when Mr. (oh! Rather professor) Bagdenborg arrives at the campus NG university on his horse’s back, you will be encountering a number of hilarious scenes to leave you on the floor! I will give a great example of that. On page number 145, you see this ‘impossible’ professor arguing with someone:

‘Good morning, Mr Jestus.’

‘Call me, ‘Bagus’. Good morning to you.’

‘But your name is Jestus, no?’

‘It was, yesterday. Today it is, Bagus.’

‘Okay, your pleasure. I’ve nothing to lose.’

Such is our Jestus, with so many names as Lord Krishna! This character created by Mr V. S. Sury has plenty to offer to this human society. Not to spoil the humorous reading of the book, but for those who wish to find an ‘intellectual satire’ in the book, will surely find it there. Jestus, who has come out of a computer screen and gets back there in the end (will you believe it? But it is the truth!), seems to be mocking the insane and unknown human race time to time. When you will see Bagtherford (another name for Jestus, the protagonist) opposing the views of ‘hardcore science’ and replacing them with his imagination, not to be surprised if you remember the Robin Williams (aka O captain, O captain) of the Dead Poets’ Society. You might laugh, but the book will tell you (in the mouth of Jestus) about the existence of white holes!

Concluding remarks about Jestus on Rampage are very simple. You need to read the book to exactly know what you can extract from the book – is it a series of laughter or laughter with a little mockery. To make things easier for you, I have talked with the author V. S. Sury. He has unfolded many things about his book Jestus on Rampage in the interview.

Personally, amid the flood of ‘desi novels,’ It was so many days after I got my hands on this piece which offers you something rather ‘new’. There is no typical love story; there is no typical rise & fall of the protagonist; there is no typical set-up! My advice – please go and have a read of the adventures of Jestus! You will enjoy it TOO MUCH!

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