Proyaaxh1st Edition

Dr.Ashok Kumar PansariChancellor

Royal Global University

Sri A.K. ModiPro Chancellor

Royal Global University

Prof. (Dr.) S.P. SinghVice Chancellor

Royal Global University

Mr. Ankur PansariExecutive Vice-PresidentGyan Sagar Foundation

Ms. Angira MimaniRegistrar

Royal Global University

Prof. A.K. BuragohainChairperson - AcademicRoyal Global University

Patrons

MembersProf. (Dr.) Krishna BaruaDr. Jasmine ChoudhuryDr. Nilakshi Goswami

Ms. Indrakshi BMs. Riju Devi

Ms. Chandni KhaundMs. Tamsin Islam Ahmed

Dr.Ashok Kumar PansariChancellor

Royal Global University

Sri A.K. ModiPro Chancellor

Royal Global University

Prof. (Dr.) S.P. SinghVice Chancellor

Royal Global University

Mr. Ankur PansariExecutive Vice-PresidentGyan Sagar Foundation

Ms. Angira MimaniRegistrar

Royal Global University

Prof. A.K. BuragohainChairperson - AcademicRoyal Global University

Patrons

Confluence of thoughts

What's Inside?

Jacaranda- Prof. Krishna Barua

The Boatman's Song - Prof. Krishna Barua, Department of English

Kumiho - Parismita Baruah, M.A. English, 2nd semester

A Tragic Thought - Biraj Poddar, B.A. English, 6th semester

Abode of clouds- Samayeeta Singha, M.A. Geography

Art According To Me – Dianalaxmi Nameirakpam, BFA, 6th semester

13 The Incredible Story of Bhoot Jolokia - Senorita Das, 4th Sem RSHMCT

One Day - Biraj Poddar, B.A. English, 6th semester

The Only Constant – Change - Parismita Baruah, M.A. English 2nd semester

The Poesy Closet

Assamese Cinema on Crutches - Pratik Deka, B.A. Political science, 4th semester

Is the catalyst of the “longest” budget enough to fight slowdown? - Namrata Nandi, Parbin Sultana Saikia, B.A. Economics, 4th semester

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12

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জীৱনৰ ৰং -ড° িদেলাৱাৰ হক

13

15 আশা- িৰকী তালকুদাৰ

17

18

23

27

30

29 Chakpa Phayeng - Fiza Choudhury, B.Sc 4th Travel and Tourism Management

Through the eyes of Rene Girard - Petrus Baraik, BFA, 2ndsemester

32 Photo Stock

33 In Art

Woman with a Red Shawl Reema Swargiary, M.A 2nd

English

Inside PoesyCloset

ফা�নীৰ িবয়া by Jeemani Chowdhury,MA Economics

নাৰীৰ িনিমে� আহা যু� িদওঁ এবাৰ by Prantik Prabal Roy, MA English

The Green Eyed Monster by Syeda MehnazJahan, MA History

The Golden Bird - Prajoyeeta Kashyap, MAPolitical science.

Pink and Black - Firoza Kauser, BAEnglish.

A Woman's Memories - NayanikaSaikia, BA English.

Blackwater Bleeding - Anuraag Das, BA English.

Leaning on the forehead of a dusty day, we crossedavenues lined with  trees mimosa green

and scarlet from the big river to thesmall  river Kulsi .The river, saffron

mantle clad, combing with a comb that isgolden  the wet hair of memory  as white as snow. The teeming river flowed

on, through the eternal longing of  kohllined eyes astir in floating clouds  and

the sighing trees. This magh ,and  so many  other maghs was suddenly  a joy , a surprise, bursting into a blaze of flames.

   The boatman sang   the song of the Bard, ‘Moi jetia ai jibonor

maya ari  gusi  jaam ….” then with the beating of the oars hesang a rabha song,handed down to him a

thousand  aeons back, the words and  language lost in the folds of time. “What isthe meaning of the song” asked Ayushman. The boatman shook his head and sang on.

the song, reverberating in anguish underovercast skies  caressed  the slumberless  river with the hues  of  the

blazing terracotta sun, burdened with betrayalsand  years  of  grief. It echoed over the scorching earth uncovering

and peeling off layers and layers of scorned loves  and tales; as  the unseen  sun filtered through the river,creating

thousands of colliding, cascading, dilating  desires ! And Chandni’stinkling  laughter  touched the  shadows slowly sliding up the edges of the dusky sky ,

like a soft silken scarf  with scarlet dreams— sky the color of   amethyst,of  russet leaf . A walk back, still.

 Then the  sun was endless and so was  the  Februarysky, Playing on  each day apiece.and as I pressed my fingers  on the the ripples of 

the river  time  disappeared  for a moment. Down the bend, the dismantled ribs of the dry trees  stretched out, across the riverway,

pondering whether this was any time to lament a loss. At that time the light crossed the threshold to start  the days of a  sun drenched summer. On another boat

I embarked once more,with new mates, off an alien shore . 

Maybe  at night, the sapphires and diamonds would come out in their thousands and a poet with  aquiet voice and wistful eyes would carry those gems over to  that secluded green bank pure and clean, with

drooping trees and the inky bower overhead.What sky? What lane? What words? 

 Someone else. Something else.  .

The boatman'ssong

-Prof. Krishna Barua, Dept. of English

05

. THERE IS SOMETHING MORECOMPLICATED THAN FALLING IN

LOVE ITSELF AND THAT IS FALLINGIN LOVE WITH A NINE

TAILED FOX

Love is never a blinded voyage into the sea. No one ever goes on a quest, searching for it. In most cases,

love simply happens without anyone ever hoping for it or even consciously looking for it. Love finds you,

you don't find it. Love comes into your life as unexpectedly as a storm and tangles itself into it. And once it

tangles itself in, it will never let go. If what I have just said about love makes you think that love alone is

complicated enough, then that is wrong.

There is something more complicated than falling in love itself and that is falling in love with a nine tailed fox. 

What is a nine tailed fox you ask?  

Well, that is where my story begins.

I went to the enchanting country of Arcadia once, and to an equally enchanting forest

known as the Forest of Shalom. Being a city dweller,  I took quite a while to really explore the place

that I was visiting for the first time in my life. And it appeared to be so

breathtakingly beautiful that I and my friends decided to go for a forest walk.

Due to the scorching heat of the sun, we thought it would be best to venture

out in the evening. So, we all embarked on our trip to the Forest of Shalom.

Darkness made its way into the forest.

I almost lost my senses when I found myself all alone. I got so involved in

watching the beautiful peacock and following it, that I got detached from my

group. It was pitch dark by then. I could just hear the rustling of leaves and the

strange cries of some animals. I had no idea what to do and so I thought I'd

better wait for the night to get over. As night fell, the forest looked scarier

as ever. I climbed up a tree, and decided to spend the night there. I was tired

and so I fell asleep after a while. It was not long when I woke up with a

start, hearing a loud cry of what seemed like a woman. It nearly made me fall

down the tree branch I was perched on. I peeped through the branches of the

tree, trying to see if there was somebody out there in the dark. I saw a human

like figure advancing towards the tree in which I had taken shelter.  It was a girl! Her face glowing so bright in

the dark, she was an extraordinarily beautiful young lady.

Parismita Baruah

06

KUMIHO

Never had I seen a lady as magnificently beautiful as her.  She was in white and looked so serene. I couldn’ttake my eyes off of her. In no time, she was standing right near the tree, looking up at me. I decided to climb down the tree, thinking she must have lost her way, just like me. She was looking straight into my eyes, as if she was in a constant quest of something. As I stood in front of her, she gave me the sweetest smile ever. I couldn’t help but admire her. I asked her if she lost her way back just like me. She said nothing at all but smiled. After sometimeshe said something that left me in utter shock. She was a nine tailed fox!  Being a skeptic I did notbelieve her at first but the few moments that transpired after, convinced me beyond any doubt, that I was in the presence of something or someone supernatural. A moment right after her mysterious confession a wild boar came out of the woods intothe clearing, charging at us. I could see my life flashing before my eyes. Thelady’s (kumiho's) eyes started to sparkle a bright green and she was able to hypnotizethe boar into pausing  for a brief second and bowing down to her while I remained still, as an innocent  child , a mute spectator peeping through tightly shut eyes from behind her. In fear as well as in a newfound intriguefor the woman who had rescued me, I hugged her tight and whispered into her white and tender elf like ear that I loved her with all my heart, with all my being. You see, kumihos eat human hearts and livers in order to survive and so technically youcould say that I fell for my predator. The kumiho looked at me with silverlined tears creeping down her face. Most men would fall in love with herinstantly  for her beauty  and would runaway when they found out who shereally was, not giving her a single chance to show the genuine goodness of herinner being and this made her drown in silent ponds of sorrow and melancholy. Iloved her despite who she was and she loved me for loving her. And with my lovefor her, I had the power to change her into a human being, as her godmother hadalways told her about another  Kumiho whohad come to earth a million years ago and had found her true love, got marriedand was able to become a human being. You see, a Kumiho is capable of changingherself if she marries a devoted human man as per traditional customs. It wasbecoming darker towards midnight and with great elation at the thought of memarrying her, the Kumiho  flew as a gustof wind into the air and under the silent sparkle of the silver moonlight, Icould see her nine tails of white feathers congregate like a peacock fan aroundher as a halo. Her immortal and pure beauty made me look at her as a human, awoman and I loved her even more. On the day of our wedding I looked into herporcelain face and called her by a name I had given her. The name was Ruth,inspired by the beautiful and pious Ruth of the bible. The days after our wedding were the most beautiful days of my life. We lived predominantly in the Forest of Shalom. Every day I would awake to herstrawberry scented fragrance. She would already be awake, staring innocentlyinto my sleeping and silent face before dawn approached. Her kiss every morningwould remind me of the wild eyed faery in Keats’ “la belle dame sans merci”.She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Lily garlands wouldcascade down her golden brown tresses. No matter how busy she was, she wouldalways surrender her porcelain body into my warm and tentative embrace. Hersmell was the fragrance of the first day of spring soothed by summer rain, theundying, eternally powerful scent of a woman in whom, I would fall into apowerless trance. She was an amazing woman and with her, I felt like a new man.She made me the most powerful man with her tender and deeply faithful touch aswell as the most powerless one, in the way she would tease me playfullyeveryday by the lake. Her presence and her absence meant everything to me andevery breath that she left behind in the transparent frozen air became apermanent aching as well as a blissfully soothing deep imprint inside everychamber of my heart.

07

One day we were playing as usual by the lake, when I suddenly heard a gunshot and felt a sharp jabin my right shoulder. Ruth came running to me and as I  fell into her arms my blood began to spreadits crimson talons into her white porcelain palms.  A hunter had shot me by mistake whileattempting to kill one of the many deer that roam around the forest. It was definitive soon that I wasbeyond all aid and would die in a few moments. And then my darling Ruth did the mostunimaginable thing to save her lover’s life. I suddenly felt her warm and trembling lips on mine whileone of her brave and silent tears rolled across my slowly dying face. As she kissed me I could feelsomething coming into my mouth. It was a sort of an orb of some kind. I could slowly feel the painthat had previously clutched at my body, numbing awayuntil it began to feel as though it had not been wounded in any way at all. It was nthen that I realized what she had done. She had given me a magical bead that resided in herbody (in others words her magical heart, the source of all her extraordinary powers). Even thoughafter the wedding, she was slowly turning into a human, she was still only half a human being. Fiveof her tails had withered and had fallen off. But four still remained and this was what had madeher half a human and yet half an animal. After she gave me the bead, the most important and essential thing in her, that kepther alive, she slowly fell unconscious in my arms. I could feel her cold bodyagainst mine. She collapsed in my arms and a round heavy tear came rolling downmy eyes and fell on her weak lifeless body. Her now-olive toned skin lookedpale winter white in the bright daylight, her silky smooth mess of golden browntresses turned into deep black locks. My eyes were murky with tears; my wholebody slumped as I put my arms around her and pulled her close to give her thelast kiss of my life. She had died, my lover, quite literally by giving herheart to me. And yet even though she was dead physically with her bodydecaying, she’ll always live in this world through my love, for my love isimmortal. The memories of our life, of our moments of happiness and love willbe forever etched in the tumultuous scars upon my heart and shall forever bethere until life closes its curtains on me.

জীৱনৰ ৰং

----------------- ড° িদেলাৱাৰ হক

সেপানৰ বীজ িসিঁচ

সেপান ভঙাৰ আখৰা চলায়…

জীৱন নাটৰ �কােনা চিৰ�ৰ

িনিবচৰাৈকেয় এেনদেৰই ৰং সলায়

সৰল মনৰ গৰাকীেয়

কৃি�ৰমতাৰ চাকৈনয়াত িদক �হৰুৱায়

কপালৰ িলখন বুিল সা�না িদ

�কৱল িনজৰ ভাগ�ক িধয়াই…

বােৰ বােৰ মৰমৰ সেপানেবাৰ

আশাহত �হ আঘাত �ৰা� হয়

পূৰ�ৰ ঘাঁ নু�কাওঁেত

পুনৰবাৰ আ�ৰা� হয়…

ভাগিৰ �যাৱা মনেটােৱ

তথািপেতা হািৰ নাযায়

সুগম বাট িবচািৰ �পাৱাৰ আশােৰ

জীৱেন গিত পথ সলায়

সময়ৰ �সাঁতত সৰল মনেটােৱ

িনজৰ গিত পথত আগবািঢ় যায়…!

A Warrior Within,Pringsrang W

Sangma BFA 6thsem medium

Acrylic on Canvas

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A T R A G I CT H O U G H T

B i r a j P o d d a r

Have you ever wondered what you mean to the author, the one who wrote what you arereading, or the one whose work you like to read? The hours it took; the exhaustion of words,synonyms of better words but with deeper meaning. I believe that the reader is the mostinsignificant fraction of a book.

In its broader scheme of ideas and the dimensions it touches, the aim of the book is to tell. The aimof the book is to let know. The aim is to tell, but to the society as a large and not one particularreader per say. Yes, people make up the society and these people are the readers. But, peopleperish one after another and they are renewed and replaced by more people born from the oneswho died and it carries on. The society on the other hand exists as a constant fact of life. Thesociety always survives; it thrives in all manner and matter. The society evolves, it changes, and itboth develops and decays. But, it always exists. It always survives and that is what the authorseeks for their work; survival. The desire for existing with the society, in the society, throughoutthe many societies that already exist and the societies those are yet to evolve. You reader havenever been short in number, never been short of criticism, of your own little words about how andwhat should have been written. Does all of this matter to the writer? It does for the ones whoseidea is not to tell but to sell. I believe that all great writers are great because they tell and thoughthe idea to sell is necessary for their sustenance, it was never their priority. To tell a story is theinnate desire of a genius author.

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You postmodern, post-colonial, millennial reader. You are not the society of the yesteryears. You are thesociety of the decadent future that the poets and writers correctly predicted. Though, some wereoptimistic about you, but at least once all of them despised the inevitability of you, your existence, youbeing the future, your present which they did resent. You, the reader of today, you need cafés and coffeesand corners to read. You, full of void, fallen from nature and frivolous in mixture, what do youunderstand of the immense gravity of epics and sonnets and poems of the Great War, of the Great Timeand the Great Dream? You do not, you cannot; you can just vaguely comprehend but never trulyunderstand. But, there is still hope for you. There is still time, because even if you perish while trying, thesociety will still exist. Even if you fail, your attempt for renewal, for survival along with the society iswhat will matter. Because it is you who will shape the future of tomorrow, it is you who will give birth tothe people of tomorrow, it is you who will fill up and influence the society of tomorrow. So think well,understand well, and most of all; read well. Do not read for the sake of reading, do not read for the sake ofmeasuring, and do not read for the sake of boasting. But, read for your own self and for the sake oftomorrow. It will be a lot of labour that you will have to undertake. A humungous task consisting manypainstaking labours. But, that is what is required to repair the present and restore the future. Be a rebel ina sea of corrupts and degenerates. Initiate revolts not for disturbance but for betterment. You are thepresent, but you shape the future. Thus you are the future; the hope of rejuvenation. You are humanity.You are mankind.

And me, who am I? I am a tragic figure. Not a tragic hero, but just a figure. What is my tragedy?

I am part of you. I am you. And I have a lot of work to do, both for you and our children of tomorrow.

And even though I tend to be indolent like you, I cannot afford to be you. I need to be a rebel within.

You need to be a rebel within. I am a tragic figure, not a tragic hero…yet.

Bea rebel in a seaof corrupts anddegenerates.Initiate revoltsnot fordisturbancebut forbetterment.

Skull and Bolts, Techi TaguTara BFA 6th Sem Medium

sculpture

The Bronze Man, BedantaDas 6th sem BFA Medium

Fiber

Whirl of life, Daina Laxmi NBFA 6th sem medium Found

object Sculpture

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I n s i d e t h e I s s u e

 

It was only yesterday, on the dusty lanes lined by  the aged trees and the staidconcrete  structures of the ancient  city, that I saw that  single tree.  A lone Jacaranda  ,

delicate and young, yet flowering, a whiffof  poetry as it were, in defiance as it were,  

round the bend of the stone quarries. If it pleased me to appear toyou thus! The  Jacaranda ,replete

with the indigo, lilac, purple shades of some other life, of shades of 

some other childhood, and therolling mists of  some other time when

the sun would go to sleep in the gorges which had  hidden itself between the  twomountains. The Jacaranda.

  And as quickly,  the train whistled past the long stretch of

the blue hills,like a lighted caterpillar, and the  swirling dust

of March blotted the distant sun and theJacaranda tree. Down the bend,the dismantled ribs of the old city stretched

out, across the river-way, pondering whether this was any time to lament a loss. 

Even before that, perhaps many aeons ago, when the Jacarandabloomed, scattering its lilac petals over the lawn, embroidering it as it were,

Ma would open her bedroom windowjust as  the dawn broke out , and

exclaim: “See the colour of the Lord, Shri Krishna,come a visiting in themorn!” It was much later, when I was about thirteen, that there arose in me a

strange feeling of a single acquaintance with this other private boudoirbending overhead, building a cocoon of experiences, intangible and clinging,

reflecting and reverberating like waves in a long forgotten tune.

JACARANDAProf. Krishna Barua, Dept. of English

1 1

A B O D E O F T H E C L O U D S

L I T ERARY

JOURNAL

S a m a y e e t a S i n g h a

Ibn Battuta rightly said,“Travelling- It leaves you speechless, and then turns you into a storyteller”, forI have been speechless after my trip to Meghalaya with our class. On the 15th of February 2020, we, the students of the department of Geography, of the secondsemester, along with our tourism teacher, Mr. Ritwik Sharma, went tracking to the beautiful hilly terrain ofMeghalaya. It was a short trip of two days and one night but quite a memorable one. The Living RootBridge and Wei sawdong were the two places we looked forward to visit. It was my first time and I wasthrilled.

We packed our bags with home-cooked food and snacks, and got picked up by the bus. That'swhen our journey started. First, we decided to visit the Living Root Bridge.

Although, Meghalaya is not far from Guwahati, it took us almost three hours to reach the LivingRoot Bridge. Located in the Jaintia Hills, the members of the Khasi tribe, trained them to grow from theroots of ancient rubber trees, native to the northeast region. There were more than 3000 steps andeveryone had to trek up and down. We bought bamboo sticks from some teenage boys to help climbthe steep stairs. The same day, we went to see the Double Decker root bridge, after settling ourluggage in our home-stay. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Made out of aerial root of rubber fig, it is 50meter long and 1.5 meter wide and estimated to be around 500 years old. The other highlights were thewaterfalls and the natural swimming pools that made the whole surrounding seem like paradise.

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After a long day, we returned to our homestay. Exhausted, we freshened up and started munchingon the home cooked snacks we brought. We played games, told stories, and even heard a few spine-chilling ghost stories from our khasi friends.

The next day, we went to Wei sawdong waterfall, which is located in sohra. Dareenia, Venetia andLawanri happily guided us to it. We had to walk through a whole forest, but it was all worth it. The Weisawdong fall is beautiful beyond words. Untouched and pure, this 3 step waterfall is the most beautifulthing I experienced from nature. I tried to capture the mesmerizing view in my mind.

It was almost lunchtime and since, we could not find any restaurant there, we travelled an hour toCherrapunji and had our lunch in Cafe Cherrapunji, then traveled back to Guwahati around 10 pm.

My trip to Sohra was a wish fulfilled and I realized how magnificent our world is, and how wonderfullyblessed, we are, to live in it.

The trip ended but my mind still wanders in Meghalaya.

ART ACCORDING TO MED i a n a L a x m i n a m e i r a k p a m

For a long time art has played a very important role in man’s life. Art is universal and because artis everywhere, we experience it on daily basis. From the houses we live in, the movies we watch,to the books that we read. Even in ancient culture art has played a very important role; inprehistoric times cave dwellers drew on the walls of caves to record history. Most art is created fora specific reason or purpose, it has a way of expressing ideas and beliefs, and it also recorded theexperiences of all people. It might be religious, symbolic, literal, traditional or just a glimpse ofthe artist’s experience. “Art is an emotion flowing in a river of imagination”. Art, everywhere, isthe result of one’s creativity and imagination. Art is in the things we use every day, and alwayscome across without paying attention. Without art one cannot see anything beautiful because artadds attraction and beauty to anything. Art may also help in forgetting the world and letting themind be a free bird soaring the skies, safe from the dangers of life. Art is very important in ourlife, because without art the world be extremely depressing, without inspiration, and boring!

Anatomy of a wooden slab.Ankita Das 2nd Sem BFA

Medium Pen and Ink

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THE INCREDIBLESTORY OF BHOOTJOLOKIAb y S e n o r i t a D a s

ONE DAY B i r a j p o d d a r

  

One day.There will be no regrets

 No shying from the

truthNo need for contempt

 No sighing in

debts. 

One day.We can all sit in peace

 Have no more

worriesBe wholly at ease

 Bid not an ear to

fear.And in joy we will pay a visit

 To discern how we

livedAnd missed it all before this.

 One day.

 There will be timeFor both you and I

 For both fancy and

sublimeAs we stare at the open sky.

 With broad minds

and streetsAnd no bleating retreats;

 Roads all straight

with no bendsAbating the hideous intents.

 That one day,

 We will not be

hereOr the world for us to bear.

 Nor to see thechildren grow

And avoid the ranting row; 

As we bid farewellTo all who are still well,

 As they sell mybooks and me

Which were ever personal. 

One day! 

I still wait forthe day to come,

 Until then sink inwhisky and rum.

 And I think – the

ancient order,That follows a drink.

 “When was it that

I last lived?”It was when I still had pomp,

 And men had grit.

The king chilli is everywhere at the Ima Keithel. Located in Imphal, the capital of the Northeast Indian state of Manipur, it is the world’s largest women-run marketplace as well as a de facto showcas for the chilli, with flaming-red piles on blue tarpaulin where it has been set out to dry. October is the best season ifyou want fresh and great quality chillies.

The king chilli is known by many names in northeast India: Bhut Jolokia in Assam, Umorok in Manipur, andRaja-Mircha in Nagaland. Although its size, texture and heat level differ depending on the region it’s grownin, it is always plump and smooth, typically as long as an index finger, and can be distinguished by its glossy,saturated, red colour and acidic penetrative smell. This pungency divides the loyalists from the naysayers, buteveryone agrees that the chilli possesses layers of flavour that are expressed differently based on whether it ispounded, sliced or fermented. But in the United States, where the chilli is known widely as the ghost pepper,it’s infamous for its fiery heat, not its flavour. In India’s eight north-eastern states, populated by 225 ethnictribes, the chilli has been a way of life for generations; it prevailed even during the decades of violent ethnicconflicts and insurgencies that plagued the region.

Everyone thinks chillies only have heat, but they are about much more. Indigenous food culture may beconsidered vague in the West, but in the forests of Manipur and the mountains of Nagaland, the king chilli is areminder that spice is a matter of taste, as well as a method of survival. With the constant chaos around, livinga peaceful life has become difficult. Maybe our ancestors knew that hard times would come. So they gave usthe malcha, which we put it in meat, grind it, and consume it, that it may keep us safe during trying times.

A Guwahati Skyline, Rebek Rothangmawi Leiri BFA 2ND SEM Medium watercolor

14

আশা

"মিণ, অ' মিণ, ভাতেকইটা �দ ঐ!" এইবুিল দীপৰ িচঞৰ �িণ মিণেয় তাইৰ িতিনমহীয়া স�ানেটাক �কাচত �লচৰুত ৰাি� �থাৱা ভাতেকইট বািঢ় িদেল িগিৰেয়কৈল। িদেপ ক'�ল, "বুিজছ মিণ, আিজ টকােকইটা পােলই স�য়ত �গ িদ �থআিহম, ঋণেবাৰ এেনৈকেয় পিৰেশাধ কিৰব লািগব।" "িপেছ, িকবা �হেনা সুেতা িদব লািগব। �যাৱােবিল ৰাইেজ আিহ সিকয়াই�থ �গেছ। নহ'�ল আইহঁেত িদয়া �কৰুেযাৰেক িদ িদম। ঋণ নমিৰবেন �তিতয়া?" মিণেয় �বজাৰ মেনেৰ ক'�ল। ভাত খাই থকাদীেপ চকুেলা টুিক-টুিক উ�ৰ িদেল, "�তাক অকেণা সুখ িদব �নাৱািৰেলাঁ ঐ মিণ, �তাকেনা িকেহ পাইিছল �মাৰ দেৰ এটাঅকৰ্মণ�ৈল আিহবৈল? কণমািনজিনৰ িচিকৎসাত ইমান ধন লািগব বুিল মই কাহািনও ভবা নািছেলাঁ!" "এহ, তই একাএইেবাৰ এিতয়ােহ উিলয়াব পাৱ �ন? শাি�ত ভাতেকইটা খাই কামৈল যা �চান। এেনও �কােনা স�দৰ মূল� �তাৰ আৰুকণতৈক �বিছ হ'ব �নাৱােৰ। ঈ�ৰৰ কৃপাত থািকবৈল এটা পজঁা আৰু দুেবলা দুমুিঠ আহাৰ আেছ, �গাটৰ পৰা �লাৱা ধনেকইটাৰঋণ পিৰেশাধ কিৰ যাম �দ �নেদখাজনৰ আশীৰ�াদত! বন কৰা ঘৰৰ মািলকনী বাইেদেৱ এেহজাৰ িদম বুিল �ক �থেছ ৰ'।" তাইৰকথাত মনেটা অলপ সবল হ'ল দীপৰ। আিজ �সামবাৰ। িৰ�াৰ যা�ৰীও �পাৱা যাব িযেহতু �ুল, কেলজ আিদ সকেলা �খালা। কণৈল চাই দীপ গ'লৈগিৰ�াখন �ল। ৰিববাৰ �দিখ ঘৰৈল �যাৱা সকেলা আিজ কৰ্মমুখী হ'ব। ভাল ভাড়া পাম বুিল িস ঘাইপেথেৰ ঢাপিল �মিলেলবাছ আ�ানৈল বুিল। আিজ আচিৰতভােৱ িপেছ এখেনা বাছ নািছল। িস িনৰাশ �হ পুনৰ টাউনৰ ফােল ৰাওনা হ'ল।�সৗভাগ��ৰেম িস বাটত এজন যা�ৰী পােল। যা�ৰীজেন ক'�ল, "�তামাক মই দহ টকা �বিছৈক িদম, �মাক এইিতিনআিলেটাৈলেক �ল ব'লা। �ব অসুিবধা বুিজছােন, এই ব�েবাৰ িদেছ িদয়ক িক� যাতায়াত ব� কিৰব নালােগ নহয়।" "িকহৰব� দাদা?" "আিজ জাতীয় সংগঠনেবােৰ ব� িদয়া নাই জােনা?" "অ' হয় �নিক, িৰ�াৰ ব� নাই িদয়ক। উঠক, অিতিৰ� ভাড়াঅিবহেনই আেপানাক �ল যাম।" এইবুিল �ক িস যা�ৰীজন কিঢ়য়াই িনেল িনৰ্ধািৰত �ানৈল। এইফেল মিণ ব�� �হ পিৰল তাইৰ �কঁচ�ৱােটাৰ �সেত। �টাপিন গ'�লই তাই যাবৈগ �দনি�নৰ দেৰআনৰ ঘৰত বন কিৰবৈল। তাইৰ স�ানেটাক যমৰ দৱুাৰডিলৰ পৰা ঘৰূাই আিনব পৰােটা তাইৰ বােবতাইৰ মনৰ সাহসৰ এক চৰম পৰী�া আিছল। টকাৰ অভাৱত তাইক ভাল িচিকৎসকৰ �াৰা িচিকৎসা�দান কিৰব পৰা �হাৱা নািছল। অৱেশষত এক বজুন পিৰমাণৰ ঋণ ল'�ল তাই গঁাৱেৰ স�য় �গাটৰপৰা, য'ৰ ঋণ হয়েটা তাই এই জীৱনত পিৰেশাধ কিৰব �নাৱািৰব। যা হওক, ইমান সং�ামৰ িপছেতা

15

িনজৰ চকুৰ মিণেটা সু�-সবল কিৰব পৰােটােৱ তাইৰ আৰু দীপৰ বােব আিছল পৰম সে�াষৰ কথা।

গধুিলৰ �বিল মাৰ যাঁও-যাঁও অৱ�া। িনশােটােৱ �যন শংকাৰ দিলচা পািৰ িদেছ কমলাৰঙী আকাশখনত।আিজ দীপ দুপৰেবলা ভাত খাবৈল নািহল। হয়েটা দৈূৰৰ ভাড়া পাইিছল, এইবুিল ভািবেল মিণেয়। এইফেল আেবিল�গাটৈল �যাৱা কথা কথাও আিছল। িকজািন আেহােত �সামােয়ই আেহ। চািকেটা �লাই �গাঁসাই ঘৰৰ পৰা ওলাইতাই তাঁহাতৰ ঘৰৰ ফােল এখন গাড়ী অহা �দিখেল। পুিলচৰ গাড়ী �যন লািগিছল। তাই পদিূলমুখৈল আ�ৱাই গ'ল।পুিলচ এজন গাড়ীখনৰ িভতৰৰ পৰা নািম আিহ তাইৰ ফােল �খাজ ল'�ল। মনত অলপ শংকা আিছল িকয়েনাতাহািনৰ িদনত দীপ চুিৰ কাৰ�ত িল� �হিছল। আিজও যিদ... "ইয়াত �কােনাবা িৰ�া চালক থােক �নিক?" "হা, অ'হয়, �মাৰ �ামী, বৰ্তমান কামৈল �গেছ।" িঠক �তেনেত দুজন কিন�বেল বগা কােপােৰেৰ আৱৰা িকবা এটা নমাইআিনেল। মিণেয় এেকােকই বুিজব পৰা নািছল। পুিলচ জেন �তেনেত ক'�ল, "আিজ অসম ব� আিছল। �তামাৰ�ামীেয় হয়েটা নাজািনিছল। টাউনৈল িৰ�া �ল �গিছল। ব� সমাৰ্থক এচােম তাৰ িৰ�াখন চুৰ্মাৰ কৰাৰ লগেততােকা �ৰুলা-�ৰুিলৈক �ৰহাৰ কিৰেল। আিম হা�তালৈল তাক ��ৰৰণ কৰাৰ সময়েত িস �শষ িন�াস ত�াগ কেৰ।"মিণৰ মূৰত �যন সৰগ ভািগ পিৰল। তাইৰ চকুৰ আগত ভাঁিহ উিঠল তাইৰ আৰু দীপৰ কণমািনজিনৰ মুখখন। তাইৰ�যন সাহস নহ'ল �সই িনঠৰ �হ পিৰ থকা দীপৰ মৃত শৰীৰেটাৈল �চাৱাৰ, িকজািন সচঁাৈকেয় �সইয়া দীেপই হয়! �ধৰ���হৰুৱাই �শাক সহ� কিৰব �নাৱািৰ মািটত িবচুৰ্িত �হৰুৱাই পিৰ গ'ল তাই।

িপেছ ভুল কাৰ? �কােনা সংবাদ মাধ�মৰ লগত স�ৰ্ক নথকা, দিৰ�ৰতােৰ জৰ্জিৰত, ব� স�ৰ্েক অ�াত�হ িদনেটাৰ হািজৰা আৰ্িজবৈল �যাৱা দীপৰ, �ন �সই �ৰিতবাদকাৰীসকলৰ, িযসকেল খঙৰ ভমকেত মানৱতা�হৰুৱাই �পলাইিছল, �ন �সই গাদীত বহা �সইসকলৰ িযসকেল িহংসা অিবহেন �হাৱা আে�ালনক �ৰু�ই িনিদেয়।দীপৰ দেৰ পিৰ�ৰম কিৰ �খাৱা আৰু ঋণৰ �বাজাত �পাত �গ পিৰয়ালক �পাহ-পাল িদয়া �লাকসকলৰ দুৰ্গিতৰ কথাভািববৈল আহিৰ কাৰ? �াৰ্থপৰ, আেপানেপটীয়া �ভাৱধাৰীেনা দৰাচলেত �কান? ব�ৰ সৰ�া�ক �ৰভাৱৰ বিলিচৰিদেন �য এেন এচাম দিৰ�ৰ �লাক হয় �সইয়া িনি�ত। ইয়াৰ িপছৰ পৰ�ায়ৰ কথা িবে�ষণ কিৰ �না �কােন চায়?আে�ালনৰ িপছৰ পৰ�ায়ত হয়েটা দাবীও পূৰণ হ'ব, িক� িযসকেল ত�াগ িদেছ, �তওঁেলাকৰ খবৰ লওঁতা বা িবচাৰকেৰাঁতা �কােনা নাই। আিম ইমােনই নীচ পৰ�ায়ৈল নািমেলা �ন �য মানৱতা �হৰুৱাই এচামৰ জীয়াই থকাৰ অিধকাৰখৰ্গ কিৰব পািৰেল!

মিণেয় এিতয়া ইঘেৰ-িসঘেৰ বন কেৰ। তাইৰ কণমািনজনীৰ �া��েৰা অৱনিত ঘ�েছ।ঋণৰ �বাজা �লাৱােটা তাইৰ বােব ক�কৰ �হ পৰাৰ বােব গঁাওখন এৰাৰ কথা ভািবেছ তাই।সকেলা সব��া� �হাৱা মিণৰ 'আশা' বত� মান তাইৰ কণমািনজনী। তাইেয় �যন একমা� ��ৰণাৰউৎস মিণৰ বােব। এই 'আশা'ক �লেয় তাই ভিবষ�তৈল আগবািঢ় যাব লািগব।।

গ�েটাৰ ৰচিয়তা:

িৰকী তালুকদাৰ

�াতক (কলা), ইংৰাজী িবভাগ

ি�তীয় ষা�ািসক

ৰ'�য়ল ��ােবল ইউিনভাৰ্িচিট

16

THE ONLYCONSTANT-CHANGE

Understanding time has always been a mystery. Nobody has been able to decode the language of time or how it can beperceived or governed to a limit.

“People change with time.”

This is a very commonly used statement. But have you ever wondered the rate of the changes we undergo in our lives withrespect to our age? Changes slow down as we become older. They are more prominent in children as compared to adults. Many of us live with an illusion that we now, at present, have finally become what we are meant to be. Irrespective of theage or the point of time in life we are standing at. We tend to underestimate how our values, preferences and personalitieswill change in the years ahead.

We often presume that if our preferences have not changed in the past, they cannot possibly change in the years to come.But as we grow older, we often find ourselves speaking about how our lives have changed over the years.

We all have favourites. We have favourite singers, movies, books, writers etc. But these favourites keep changing. Thebook you were willing to pay fifty dollars for at some point of time in the past, you probably wouldn’t even want to buy itany longer. Simply because, you have a new favourite book or maybe your favourite genre is no longer romance. You aremore interested in a thrilling read now. Likewise, the concert you wanted to go to, when you were in high school, that costa whopping two hundred dollars, could appear to be a total waste now. All this happens because our preferences areunstable.

We can remember what we did ten years ago but we find it difficult to imagine what might happen to us in the future. Thisis because remembering is easier than imagining. The difficulty to imagine the future does not indicate that events in thefuture are unlikely to occur; it only denotes the lack of imagination.

Time can alter anything. It is only with hindsight that we realise theamount of change that has occurred to us. We are all constantlydeveloping, evolving and progressing. We are being unfoldedslowly and gradually. We are unfinished as of now and subject tochange. We are now as ephemeral, as fugitive and as impermanentas all the roles or characters we have ever played. The only thingconstant is change.

We are all made of memories - memories that influence ourchoices, and choices that define who we are.

We can remember what

we did ten years agobut we find it

difficult to imaginewhat might happen to

us in the future.

Parismita Baruah

Through an autumn woodland Sabina Yasmin, MSW 4thSemester 

17

THEPOESY

CLOSET

S e p t e m b e r 2 0 1 9

I n s i d e t h e I s s u e

V o l 1 I s s u e 2 1

Why

do we build spacesfor

odium and rancour,discontent

and distrust?Why

be the green eyed monster? 

Whenall we have is just 

onelife to board;

Maybesome in the garden of Alcazar,

Whilesome in the grimy, filthy streets.

 But

why oh why do we neglect To

embrace the classic reality?The

actuality and the truth?  

Thatin the end 

Bethe king or the serf,

Allshall wind up

Burieddeep under the rocks

Orset in flames.

 What

shall remain is the spring of memories, Memories

tattooed in every solidified grave, Echoing

the green eyedmonster

ৰঙা আভূষণ গাত �মিৰয়াই

লাচনী পাচনী মদাৰ আিহেছ,

ফা�নী আইক �জাৰণ িদবৈল ।

সখীেয়ক পেছাৱাই উ�ল-থু�ল মেনেৰ

ধূিল উৰুৱাই

িবিৰখক স�াষণ জনাইেছ ।

ফা�ণীৰ �জাৰণত এেক মুেখ িবয়ানাম গাইেছ

�সউজীয়া আভূষণ পিৰিহতা গছ- লিটকাই ।

সেতজ ঘাঁহিনৰ দিলছা পািৰ িদেছ

ফা�নীক বহাবৈল।

�খাপাত �তজ ৰঙা �গালাপ

কপালত �স�ুৰৰ িচকিমকিণ,

ওঁঠত বৰ্হমথুিৰ,

কাণত থুৰীয়া,

িডিঙত হাচনাহানাৰ গলপতা,

হাতত �সাণাৰু হালধীয়া ।

�দহত �লপীয়া আভূষণ ।

ভিৰত লাজকুী ফুলৰ জনুুকা ।

সাইলাখ পাত গাভৰুৰ সাঁজত ফা�নী ।

��ৰিমক 'শীত' আিহেছ দৰাৰ সােজেৰ

ফা�নী আৰু শীতৰ লগত উৰুিল িদেছ

উেপ�াৰত �ফঁচাই ।

অি�ম �ণত চকুেলা �বেছ ফা�নীৰ,

চকুেলা �বেছ কুিল -�কেতকীৰ ।

মদােৰ ফা�নীক �দালাত ব�ৱাইেছৈগ ।

শীত-ফা�নী �দালাত; িপেছ িপেছ বাট বুিলেছ মদােৰ

ৰাংঢালী ফা�নী গ'লৈগ

লেগ লেগ পেছাৱা আৰু �চৗিখন মদাৰ।

ফা�ণীৰ �ৰ�ানত িচপিচপীয়া বৰষুণজােক

ৰাংঢালীৰ দুখত ি�ৰয়মান িবিৰখক

ফা�নীৰ িবয়া জানকীৰ িনিমে� আহা যু� িদওঁ এবাৰ, দৰূাচাৰী ৰাৱণৰ কপট বাসনা িনৰ�ীজ কেৰা জতায়ু �হ আহা , ৰামেকা িদওঁ িধ�াৰ এবাৰ I বানৰ কুলৰ সাহস কিৰ �ল �ীকাৰ নহ'�লেনা িক সেত িসিদনা কব পােৰ ৰােম; সীতা উ�াৰৰ বােব নািছল যুজঁ ৰাৱণৰ স'�ত ৰঘুকুলৰ মৰ�াদা আিছল �ৰিত�া �মাৰ ধৰ্িষতা নাৰী �ৰহণ নহয় পণ �মাৰ! ল�ণৰ অনুেৰাধ নথকােহঁেতন দাশৰিথৰ িবেবচনাৰ িনৰ্মম আঘাটত আিহলেহঁেতনেন িসিদনা সীতা ঘিূৰ অেযাধ�াৈল ? ন�ায় িদওঁ আহা সীতা হৰণৰ ন�ায় িদওঁ আহা সীতা উ�াৰৰ �কােন সািৰ যাব পােৰ ��ৰ� অসুৰ �ন ��ৰ� মানৱ ��ৰতাৰ ?(!!) �দৗপদীৰ িনিমে� আহা যু� িদওঁ এবাৰ , দুৰ্মিত দুৰ্মদ দুেৰ�াধনৰ উৰু ভািঙবৈল ৰজঃ�লাৰ �কশ ধৰ্ষণকাৰী দুঃশাসনৰ �শািণত িপবৈল দুহাত �তােলা আহা - ব�ৰকিঠন িননােদেৰ িবকৰ্ণ �হ এবাৰ �ৰিত�ৰুিত �ৰিত�া আনুগত� আৰু কৃত�তাত কৰায়� ভী� ��ৰাণ কৰ্ণ কৃপাচাৰ� অন�ায়ৰ অনু�া িদয়া অ� ধৃতৰা��ৰ িবেবক ভং�ৰ কৰা মহা�ানী িবদুৰ অন�ায় অন�ায় অন�ায় বুিল �কেনৈক কিৰবা �নিতকতাৰ িবচাৰ �ৰিতবাদৰ মুি� �নােতালােহঁেতন িবকৰ্ণ �হ এবাৰ িনিদয়ােহঁেতন িথয় ৰ�াকাৰী �হ বাসুেদৱ কৃ� এবাৰ থািকলেহঁেতনেন িসিদনা ভাৰতত সতী�ৰ মান ? িধক ! িধক !! কুৰুে�ৰ� কুলে�ৰ� �ান�ৰ� ভাৰতস�ান !

নাৰীৰ িনিমে�  আহা  যু�  িদওঁ  এবাৰ

-�াি�ক �ৱাল ৰয়

Syeda. Mehnaz Jahan

-জীমিণ �চৗধৰুী

18

�হ নাৰী, তুিম ভূিম তুিম সৃি�

�কােন কেৰ �ৰ্শ �তামাক ?

তুিম ভূিমৰ পৰা ভূমা �হাৱা

তুিম অপমািনতৰ পৰা সাহসী �হাৱা

তুিম লাি�তৰ পৰা অি� �হাৱা

তুিম সীতা �হাৱা ;

তুিম �দৗপদী �হাৱা -

তুিম নাৰী �হাৱা !!

Continued..

TheGolden

Bird

I’d tell you a story

If you’d care to listen.

About a bird with glitter wings

With a body of gold dust and silver fins.

She flew above the clouds

And scanned the Earth

With jeweled eyes.

Looking for a home-

A place safe and sound

To rest her precious self

Away from the hunter’s piercing eyes.

And when she landed

On a stranded apple tree that night,

She made its hollow bark, her home

Granting the forgotten tree, a new form.

She sang a new song each day

For a tree that no longer did last.

And dusted her golden dust

At the foot of his dying trunk.

When the tree slowly came back to life With luster on the new leaves And fruits sweeter than the sweetest, A tiny lost boy Happened to chance upon the tree At his hungriest. And when he saw the little golden bird, He held his cap And called his mommy And called his daddy To show them What their proud little chap had discovered. Gradually as people began to come From far and wide To taste the fruits Of the tree that housed the golden bird, The tree began to blossom with pride And started to neglect the golden bird. As they relished His yummy fruits one-by-one He refused to be able to save For her even one. But she sang him happy song everyday And dusted her golden dust And watched the red ripe apples, bloom On every bough Late into the darkening dusk. Then one morning When she parted her lips, for a beautiful song And found nothing in her throat But a quiver born, The tree fed his seekers Fruits of the yesterday gone.

For, today there was no fresh fruit No cheerful song. So the little golden bird Flew down to his feet And dusted her golden dust. Today, A little too deep. For every tomorrow of theirs that evercame She dusted her golden dust Until there was none left To validate her fame. Now that her luster, And her shine was gone, He did not house plain birds The tree claimed His trunk was not a place for them tobelong.

So she flew away High up into the clouds With her strong wings Bereft of its golden dust. And finally landed tired On a patch of fresh green grass. She lay there thinking Of her jeweled eyes And the night sky. But thoughts about her dear apple tree Wouldn’t leave her heart.

Prajoyeeta Kashyap

19

The smoke surrounding his silhouette

Another cigarette burnt without regrets

Pacing back and forth in the empty room

Yet flashbacks never escape the emptiness.

Inhales another toxic puff, exhales out the air

Toxic – the thoughts which escape

Slowly dancing and tempting him towards invisibility

Comes the soothing music and he dreams

While the mirror stares back at him

A handsome face, the boy tall and slender

It looks behind the insecurities that the smoke wickedly hides

Gazing in his eyes under which sacred tales are written,

Tales, not meant for you and me

But carved silently behind his cool endeavour

You would not know

His eyes had dreams

Visions he awaits for every dawn to chase.

The mirror stares back again,

Smokes now almost embrace him in echoes.

He hears nothing but his own voice

The past escapes and he reminisces...

The smoke slowly caresses him

Eyes closed, pillow held close

The boy who loved nothing more than pink

Now loved black and learned to conquer his two selves.

PINK AND BLACKThen in the morning When the little chap Found what remained Of the little golden bird, He called his mommy And he called his daddy To look at what lay in theirgarden -A broken little golden heart.

Continued...

Firoza Kauser

20

My earliest memories of being a woman are from when I had my first bleed A few drops of blood on my panty crotch decided my fate thereafter - Don’t play rough with the boys! - Don’t dress like that! In such loose billowy shirts and pants, and… my god! Are those evenshorts? - Don’t sit like that with your knees spread open! You’re inviting unwanted attention. - Act like a lady! You’re not a child anymore! I remember trying on my shirt, Summer vacations had just ended, But it’s too tight – the gaps between the buttons gape open! (It’s indecent! Cover your breasts!) That time of the month when once my grandmother shouted, “Go away! ‘Nusuba’! Don’t touch me! (You’re dirty)” Recently, this random guy came up to me Stared lewdly at my chest and commented, “Do you have boobs?” Was that an insult thrown for owing the same organs His mother once weaned him on? I’m glad to say I punched him, Though not at all glad that it did nothing To assuage my guilt, - Was I wearing a shirt too tight?

A WOMAN'S MEMORIES

The Cambridge dictionary defines a woman as a “wife or a female sexual partner” As if my body, this temple to worship As a rest house for men to sate their hunger As if it wasn’t my own.

Nayanika Saikia

21

And so, unfortunately, my memories of being a woman Aren’t that good, but they aren’t all bad either. When my friends and family applaud My successes and hardwork, I swell a tiny bit. New age philosophy and self love, So often propagated by lifestyle/fashion bloggers Reinforce my belief - I am responsible for the memories I let linger henceforth. But I’m slowly learning to deal with The bad memories of being a woman

And the insecurities that stem from them. Maybe one day the memories my daughter Will have of being a woman Won’t be bad at all. Maybe, just maybe, they will be normal.

Tom foolery It is To embrace a cursed blade They said When the night comes And the children cry Mothers tell them stories And kiss them goodnight. Come my king Bleed me dry The drunk father hits her With a violent pride Blackwater bleeding Don’t you dare cry I’ll rip your heart open Or burn you alive. The sleepy eyes turn into hollows And the silent footsteps go back to bed Tears moisten their pillows “It’s only a nightmare, I’ll be okay.” Wish I could take your place instead I do not want to see another cursed night Blackwater bleeding In a cold, dark night Blackwater bleeding I am dying inside.

CONTINUED..BLACKWATER

BLEEDINGAnuraag Das

22

ASSAMESE CINEMAON CRUTCHES

Jollywood: Still casts magic?

Jollywood, the Assamese film industry, has been quite jolly and active since its inception. The originof Assamese Cinema can be traced back to the dreams and imagination of a revolutionary visionaryRupkonwar Jyotiprasad Agarwala. He was instrumental in the production of the first Assamese film,Joymoti in 1935. This film was followed by various radical but quality films. Films that were released the subsequent years of 1940s were Rohini Kumar Barua’s Manomati followed by Parvati PrasadBaruwa’s Rupohi, Kamal Narayan Choudhury’s Badan Barphukan, Phani Sharma’s Siraj, amongothers..Thes elementary films of the inceptive decade were followed by several critically successful films. The 1950s and 60s saw several important Assamese films being made. The 1950s saw films like,Phani Sharma’s Piyoli Phukan, Nip Baruah’s Ronga Police, Bhupen Hazarika’s Era Bator Sur, andPrabhat Mukherjee’s Puberun, which was screened at the prestigious Berlin Film Festival in 1959.The 1960s saw popular films like SarbeswarChakraborty’s Lachit Barphukan, Bhupen Hazarika’s musical Sakuntala and Chik Mik Bijulee, NipBarua’s Narakasur, Brajen Baruah’s Itu Situ Bahuto and Anwar Hossain’s Tejimola. One majorachievement of the 1960s was the crime thriller, Dr. Bezbarua (1969) directed by Brajen Baruah. Thfilm went on to become the first commercially successful film of Assam, and was declared ablockbuster. The period between 1959 and 1969 is generally regarded as the golden age ofAssamese cinema. Among the 25 films made during the decade, 9 of them won a National Award.

C for CinemaCinema and cricket are two integral parts of our entertainment diet in India. Even inAssam, the craze for cinema isquite alive. Indian cinema is 108 years old and still growing. Assamese cinemais 85 years old but not growing. Let us explore the reasons why the Assamesefilm industry is stuck in stagnancy.

Pratik Deka

23

The 1970s is marked as the decade that brought colour to the film industry. Kamal Narayan Choudhury’sBhaity (1972) was the first colour film. Other films worth mentioning are Manoranjan Sur's Uttaran, PulokGogoi’s Khoj and Dr. Bhabendranath Saikia's Sandhya Rag and Atul Bordoloi's Kollol. The 1980s also witnessed some great films and emergence of two of the most prominent filmmakers fromAssam, Jahnu Barua and Munin Barua. Jahnu Barua’s Halodhia Soraiye Baodhan Khai went on to win theNational Award for the Best Feature Film and various other awards at the Locarno International FilmFestival. These two filmmakers went on to deliver some of the most promising films. Some worth mentioningJahnu Barua films are Aparoopa, Papori, Konikar Ramdhenu. Munin Barua delivered hits like, Nayak,Bidhata, Barood, Dinabandhoo.Hence, after tracing the history of Assamese cinema, we find that, cinema was an appreciated and successfulform of art. It made a good and lasting impression, both regionally and nationally. But, towards the early2000s Assamese cinema faced a dull phase.It is undeniable that we got to see some fine films in the last 10 to 15 years. Some worth mentioning areMunin Barua’s Dinabandhoo (2004), Maniram Singha’s Mon Jaai (2008), Jahnu Barua’s Baandhon (2012),Bhaskar Hazarika’s Kothanodi (2015). Also, quite recently, Assamese cinema was lifted to new heights byremarkable filmmakers like, Rima Das, whose Village Rockstars (2018) was India’s entry to Oscars andBhaskar Hazarika, whose film, Aamis (2019) was screened at numerous film festivals across the world. Buteven then, it is strongly felt and seen that Assamese cinema is in a miserable condition. The Assamese filmindustry is fraught with innumerable bottlenecks, be it financial constraints, technological shortcomings,quality content, non-supporting audience or competition with other states. So, it’s pretty evident that themagic over the years has faded. Various inadequacies or shortcomings acted as nails in the coffin where Assamese cinema lies today.

As the primary audience of these films, we should take the responsibility of keeping the industryalive, which we can easily do by watching the films in the theatres. But how often do we go to movietheatres to watch an Assamese film? People in Assam tend to accept things quickly, now its hard to say whether it’s flexibility orinsensibility. We have enough flexibility to accept all the Hindi films that seize the movie theatresevery Friday, but lack the sensibility to lend our support to our regional films. The film industries ofthe South, or even the Bengali film industry is flourishing, because of the local audience they get.The locals give a higher preference to their regional films. Whereas, the culture of going to thetheatre for an Assamese movie has almost vanished in our state. There are two reasons for this.

24

. Secondly, from the early 2000s to about 2010-12, a very pathetic trend of VCDs (VideoCDs) started in Assam. Unskilled and unprofessional people started to produce smallscale VCD movies which were worthless and insignificant. This lowered the status ofAssamese cinema. People started resorting to this affordable way of entertainment. Thisalso led to the closure of some of the cinema theatres in small towns, as people ceased coming to the theatres, instead bought a VCD player and VCDs for cheap entertainment.

Another reason why Assamese films don’t get the audience, is the lack of awareness about thefilms. Film promotion is one of the best way to do a larger business. Sometimes, average films dogreat business only because of active promotions. Assamese films are not promoted enough,mostly due to budget constraints, and hence do not yield the desired as well as deserved results.Beit Tamil, or Telugu, or Bengali, or Marathi, these flourishing regional film industries are gettingadequate support from their governments. The same can be done by the Assam government aswell.

Firstly, there prevails a dearth of goodwriters and film directors in Assam. Qualityfilms can only be made if we haveprofessionally trained and creative people inthe industry. We need filmmakers who cantell original and engaging stories to theiraudience. Again for good scripts, one has togive immense importance to research.

The first and the foremost thing, the government can do is to increase the number ofscreens Assam has. Even the big multiplexes of Guwahati having 2 to 4 screens do notprovide justice to the Assamese films. Government funded cinema theatres should be built,where people can watch films at a subsidised price, because going out for a movie in amultiplex is still expensive for most of the people. Also, there must be some theatres toshowcase only Assamese films, be it new or old classics.Accordingly, by doing so, ourgovernment can supportfilmmakers in distribution of their films. Film distribution is a game thatmany independent filmmakers, sometimes even noted filmmakers, lose, as it’s acostly affair. For example, Jahnu Barua’s film “Bhoga Khirikee” did not evenget the minimum screens it deserved, especially in Guwahati. Hence, could notreach the audience

Redefined and Limitless Storytelling

25

Accordingly, by doing so, our government cansupport filmmakers in distribution of their films. Filmdistribution is a game that many independentfilmmakers, sometimes even noted filmmakers, lose,as it’s a costly affair. For example, Jahnu Barua’s film“Bhoga Khirikee” did not even get the minimumscreens it deserved, especially in Guwahati. Hence,could not reach the audience. Another step, the government can take is to promoteand develop the Bhupen Hazarika RegionalGovernment Film and Television Institute, so that theindustry gets trained and professional people, at leastin the technical fields. One of the most important factor is money.The Assam State Film Finance &Development Corporation should be mademore active and the government shouldincrease the production capacity of theorganization through steady and adequateflow of finance. Filmmakers like Rima Das,whose films- Village Rockstars & BulbulCan Sing were screened at film festivals allover the world, struggled to promote an.distribute herfilms on a large scale. The governmentshould realise that organizing glamorousaward functions will not help ourfilmmakers or our artistic industry flourish. So, let us do our part in making our regionalfilm industry prosper by supporting thefilms in the theatre.

Classics of Veterans

New Age Masterpieces

26

IS THE CATALYST OF THE“LONGEST” BUDGET ENOUGH

TOFIGHT SLOWDOWN?

Namrata Nandi and Parbin Sultana Saikia

The golden bird of India was gifted with yet another admirably strategic Bahikhata, Budget 2020, “the onewith vision as well as action”- as proudly held by Prime Minister of India Narendra Modi. However, the Indianeconomy has been undergoing a very rough patch recently, with GDP growth rate below 5%, andunemployment rate at 6.1%, being the highest in the last four decades, according to NSSO raising keyconcern. The private consumption expenditure growth rate saw a huge crash from 11% to 3% between thelast two quarters. The manufacture sector is moving towards stagnation, led by dismal performance of theautomobile industry. The IMF has lowered India’s economic growth forecast to 4.8% for this fiscal year and ithas also slashed down the world’s estimated growth rate. The IMF Chief Economist, Gita Gopinath said in ablog post that the biggest contributor to the revision of global economic growth was India, where growthslowed down drastically owing to stress in the non-banking financial sector and weak rural income growth.India’s net export, one the four key components of the GDP, has been in the negative zone for decades,providing a big drag on its growth story. India’s Trade Balance recorded a deficit of 15.2 USD billion inJanuary, 2020, as updated by Ministry of Commerce and Industry. The higher the negative trade balance, thehigher is the current account deficit (CAD) and thus, higher the drag of foreign exchange reserve. This hasbeen a cause of prolonged anxiety. Such a grave slowdown in the economy is attributed mainly to structuralcauses and bottlenecks in the manufacturing sector, along with a severe fiscal situation and the actual fiscaldeficit nearing to 3.8% calls for bold structural reform in expenditure, tax and deficit management.

27

The silver lining is that crises bring about reforms and there is no reason not to be optimisticin this situation. Budget 2020 is admirably pragmatic and is expected to serve the requiredgrowth needs in multiple sectors in both rural and urban areas. The longest budget speech byFinance Minister Nirmala Sitharaman unveiled several reforms aimed at energizing the IndianEconomy. This Union Budget has been structured with an overall theme of “ease of living”.Major highlights include farmer-friendly initiatives such as the agricultural credit target of Rs. 15lakh crore for 2020-21, and the scheme of ‘Kishan Rail’ and ‘Krishi Udaan’ for a seamlesslynational cold supply chain for perishables. The budget proposes more than 20,000 empanelledhospitals under Prime Minister’s Jan Arogya Yojana for poor people and infrastructure is slottedto received a boost with the proposal for 100 more airports and 5 new smart cities by 2024through PPP model. An appreciable step is the proposal to establish Indian Institute of Heritageand Conservation. To simplify the tax system and to lower tax rate, around 70 of more than 100income tax deduction and exemption has been removed, rendering tax payer with three taxslabs. Under this system, tax payer have the liberty to choose the new tax slab by foregoingexemptions. Other highlights include :-

Tax on cooperative societies reduced to 22% without exemption.

Aadhar based verification of tax payer proposed to be introduced to weed out dummy or non-existentunits.

Start-ups with turnover Rs. 100 crore to enjoy 100% deduction for three consecutive assessment yearsout of 10 years, which is phenomenal step to boost up investment and business potential in the country.

To help bank depositors and foster faith in the system, the government has increased depositors’insurance to Rs. 5 lakhs from current Rs. 1 lakh.

To promote transparency in the administrative recruitment, new common entrance test for non-gazettedgovernment jobs and public sector banks has been proposed.

This budget sets an ambitious target of expanding India’s economy from the current $2.7 trillion by 2024. However,this target seems farfetched as it requires a real GDP growth rate of 8% which is much higher than the current rateof budget.

Whether this plan for 2020 has enough muscle to fight slowdown is still a question, as it is not free from loopholes.The bewildering three tax slab system could increase complicacy and TDS threshold did not find any mention in thebudget as formerly promised in interim 2019-20. Instead of surcharge tax rates for the super-rich, imposition of awealth tax regime is believed to be more beneficial for revenue generation in a developing economy, as it does notmake the economy uncompetitive. Budget 2020 scored a ‘big miss’ in the defense and job sectors, as these keyheads did not get much attention even in the longest budget even after being India’s biggest pain points. Thegovernment plan to sell part of its holding in the LIC could reduce financial security and public faith. Currenteconomic slowdown is mainly attributed to the shortfall of aggregate demand whereas budget 2020 seems to focusonly on the supply side, neglecting consumer perspective. Amidst such crises, more prudent steps such as adoptionof zero-based budgeting, models of direct benefit transfer (DBT), tax rebates, indirect tax reductions, reformingcustom duties to help correct the unfavorable Balance of Payment situation and boost aggregate demand, need to betaken. However, the quote by Swami Vivekananda, “Take risk in your life; if you win, you can lead; if you lose,you can guide”, could stand out to be India’s ‘mantra’ for growth.

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“ALCOHOL

BECAUSE NO

GREAT

STORY EVER

STARTED

WITH

SOMEONE

EATING A

SALAD”

Chakpa Phayeng is one of the indigenous liquor of Manipur. It is also widely known as ‘YU’ in Manipur, ‘YU’means liquor in Meitei. Phayeng, origin place of Chakpa Phayeng, is a small village in Imphal West district ofManipur, India. The local people of Manipur not only produce ‘YU’ for consumption purpose, it is also used formedical purposes. Its production is a cultural ritual followed by Manipuri people, which has been passed downfrom generation to generation. The ingredients of the ancient method of preparing Phayeng is simple; they userice and yeast and store it for a number of days which never exceeds a year. As time passes, people have begunproducing different flavours like pineapple, banana and other fruits, to have a wide variation of choice. Peopleuse the first distilled drop of Chakpa Phayeng, known as ‘kallei’, for medicinal purposes. It cures headaches andother diseases. 1l of Chakpa phayeng costs around ₹800 - ₹900 approx. Chakpa Phayeng should be encouragedbecause the wine tourism is boasting up, tourist are interested in knowing the process of how alcohol is made.So promoting tourism will bring more FTAs (Foreign Tourist Arrivals) and FEEs (Foreign Exchange Earning).Wine tourism will also bring Global attention towards the region, and allow it to have a global market standing.Furthermore, tourists can enjoy other tourist attractions of the Phayeng village and uncover its full potential as atourist destination. After recently hosting the World Tourism Day celebration, the village, one of the oldest inManipur, has now become a vibrant tourist hotspot of the state. Known for its sustainable tourism, the village isconsidered one of the scared places of the state as cutting down trees and spitting is prohibited here. Therefore,their efforts should be encouraged by the government through subsidies and exhibitions where the ‘YU’ can beshow cased. Government should try to promote novel areas for betterment of the country. The changes willbring newness into society.The Chakpa Phayeng festival is celebrated every year in the month of April and everyone is welcomed!

A word of caution: Alcohol should be consumed in a limited about because excess of it might harm your health.SO LIMITED DRINKING MORE THINKING.

Bagurumba chasing awaythe blues by Reema

Swargiary, (M.A 2nd English)

Fiza Chowdhury

29

TOURISM PRODUCT – Chakpa Phayeng

THROUGH THEEYES OF RENE

GIRARD

A group of tourists were watching the spectacular sight of Niagara Falls falling from about167 feet height. They were enjoying the glorious fall when they noticed a carcass floatingand edging towards the waterfall retreat, and upon it was seated a vulture, digging its clawsinto the rotten flesh. It was busy eating the rotten meat of the carcass, without being awareof where it had reached and the impending danger ahead. People were watching this sightwith great curiosity and were waiting to see whether the vulture would fly away or diefalling into the gorge. To everyone's surprise, the vulture fell along with the carcass intothe plunge pool and died. The vulture stands for each individual who is engrossed in seemingly attractive butintrinsically rotten things. Buddha said, “Desire is the root cause of all evil”. Human beings desire things. It is innate to animal and human beings. Rene Girard gives an interesting theory of

Mimetic Desire that enlightens us to understand the desire in us. He says, it is not an autonomous process but acollective one. We want things because other people want them. We want things that others have. This can bethings, information, persons, power, experience, influence or ideology. As long as we are far, we admire eachother. The moment we are put together, we look at each other as threats. In an experiment, two babies were introduced to a room full of toys. One baby picked up a toy. The other saw itand ignoring the other toys, wanted to have the same toy that the first baby picked. This is what he callsMimetic Desire. The second baby copied the desire of the first. Hence, for the second baby, the first babybecomes a model to emulate and also a competitor who is a potential threat. There is a conflict between them tohave the same toy. This conflict is due to the scarcity of the desired object.

Petrus Baraik

30

Indigenous Thespians

by Reema Swargiary,

(M.A 2nd English)

Historically, mimetic conflicts have been managed through scapegoatmechanism. If for a community, conflict over scarce objects or resourcesbecome too intense, it looked for a scapegoat or a sacrifice, literally ormetaphorically. The moment the sacrifice is accomplished, there is peace forsome time. The moment, next conflict arises, there is hunt for a new scapegoat.Over the ages, human society have managed conflicts by excluding andscapegoating someone whom they considered, a potential threat. Fear of the"other" or "competitor" constantly haunts us even now. Most of the narratives in the world are fixed in the play of mimetic desire andscapegoating. Mimetic desire and scapegoatism is playing its trick in everysphere of our society, in politics, sports, business, economy, fashion,entertainment, dominant ideologies like consumerism, globalization etc. Whereto look up to? Buddha talked of desire to be the root cause of all problems andJesus presented himself as the supreme sacrifice after which no sacrifice isrequired to bring peace, provided we love our "enemy".

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PHOTO STOCKComing of Age by Shraya Chowdhury (BA Sociology 4th sem) 

Youthful courtship by Reema Swargiary, (M.A2nd English)

Handmade Heritage by Shraya Chowdhury (BA Sociology 4th sem) 

Dignity of labour by Reema Swargiary, (M.A2nd English)

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Redefining universality ofmotherly love by Marvin

Nameirakpam (BA Sociology6th sem)

In the Edens of Assam by ReemaSwargiary, M.A 2nd English (3)

Endangered crossroads byShraya Chowdhury (BA Sociology

4th sem) 

A treat for sore eyes - Wei Sawdong, Meghalaya by Asifa Jahan Nuri, MA 2nd Geography

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In Art

A Maze of Masterpieces byTechi Tagu Tara BFA 6th

Sem Medium opaque

Challenging Norms of Masculinity by PringsrangW Sangma 6th sem medium Acrylic on Canvas

Blooms of myriad hues byPetrus Baraik 2nd sem BFAMedium acrylic on canvas

 Zayn -

Angel or the spawn of Satan byDeba Pratim Bora BA 6th English

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Puddle of the neon hues by AnkitaDas 2nd Sem BFA Medium opaque

War and deceit by Partha PratimGoswami, BA 6th English

Red Indian Little Boy byEdajingsuk Sungoh (BA Political

Science 4th sem) 

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A dainty bug by Subhalaxmi Dutta (BA 6th English)

G R O U P BR o y a l S c h o o l o f L a n g u a g e s

R o y a l S c h o o l o f h u m a n i t i e s a n d s c o c i a l s c i e n c e sR o y a l S c h o o l o f F i n e A r t s

R o y a l S c h o o l o f H o t e l M a n a g e m e n tR o y a l S c h o o l o f L a w & A d m i n i s t r a t i o n

R o y a l S c h o o l o f T r a v e l & T o u r i s m M a n a g e m e n t

A picturesque palmy afternoon at RGU.Bode Swuro 2nd Sem BFA Medium

Watercolor