TheBanyanTrees March Issue

The Colors Of A Woman

Celebrating Women's History Month

Letter from the Editor She is a Friend, She is your lady love She is a mother She is a home maker She heals the sick She creates magic in the kitchen She teaches the children of tomorrow She governs a country And yet, She makes sure you sleep well tonight SHE is a woman In celebration of Women's’ History month and Women's’ day, we here at “The BanyanTrees” have come up with an issue that has put together stories, poems, columns and artwork celebrating 'the many faces of women' .

I’m sure somewhere along the line, when you read through this issue you will come across a character, one of the faces of a woman who may have touched you at some point in your lives.

Hope you guys enjoy reading through this issue as much as we have enjoyed putting it together.

Thanks Editor

Contents Who is this gorgeous girl?

Masks

Sophia Camalin

Nivethitha Kumar

Candle, Flame, Her

Mother

Anuradha Chandrasekaran

Raja Jaikrishnan

Book Review

Draupadi

Nivethitha Kumar

Manasa

Creative Workshop

Behind the harbor of trafficking

Anuradha Chandrasekaran

Rushda Rafeek

Dude Where is my coffee?

(25 Cents)

Epithet of Feminism

Dreamvendor

Swathi B

Full Circle Ajay Ramachandran

Most memorable Fictitious Women(books) Public opinion, edited by Dhivya

An Ode to Eve Sirpy Jayaprakasam

Winter Olympics Saurabh Ganeriwal

Meghna,Aditi and Meera of Indian Cinema Aditya Srikrishna

Rendezvous with the Modern Woman Dhivya Arasappan

Most memorable Fictitious Women(movies) Dhivya Arasappan

Who is this gorgeous girl?

Sophia Camalin I look at her, every time she throws a whimsical charm her capricious ash-brown hazel orbs, never fails to make my heart throb and a face that's half naked between her disheveled tousle dark and wavy her locks cascading her kiss curls streaks of auburn in between alluringly extra special naughty-naughty her looks baffling her gazes mischievous her deeds impish her actions she stares like a child that just lost a balloon, with pouted lips, trying to smile magnetic that smile takes me an extra mile raspberry those lips, her talks like wafers crisp soft and shiny her skin makes me go insane squashy caresses her touch she takes my heart in a pouch the attitude she shows my spirit and heaven, it blows who is this gorgeous girl? I wonder and discovered I was standing in front of the mirror

Candle, Flame, Her - Anuradha Chandrasekaran

She burns eternally, showering mankind with light and warmth

Evening is the whole day A Book review by Nivethitha Kumar

Evening is the whole day is a novel by Preeta Samarasan. The author has lived in more than a few countries and it is reflected in her writing style. The book takes us through a particular phase in a powerful Indian family settled in Malaysia. The events happen at a time when the country is plagued by political anarchy and discrimination against immigrants. The plot focuses on all the women in the family, from the vicious grandmother, to the nice turned cynical mother, the bright eldest daughter and the youngest and troubled sister.

Preeta introduces the ending in the beginning of the book and then unravels the plot through the rest of the pages. While it is interesting, it also tests the reader's patience at times because for a major chunk of the book, she takes us through each character's story, in excruciating detail which does not have much relevance to the plot.

Preeta's writing is rich and evocable, to the extent of being verbose at places. She reminds of you of Arundati Roy at times, especially at the end.

All in all Evening is the Whole day is a good read, exposes you to the political scene in Malaysia and the troubles a family had to cope with both internally and outside. Pick up a copy at your local library!

The Creative Workshop - Anuradha Chandrasekaran

The thought sparked into life when we as representatives of The Banyan Trees wanted to give something back to the society in terms of literature. The end result was the plan to find educational institutions and conduct creative workshops. To this end, when I was in India I visited "Jawahar Vidyalaya Sr Sec School" located in Ashok Nagar, Chennai. The school is my alma matter as well as Nivi's. I have studied for nearly 12 years in this school and it’s almost been my second home. I was really excited to go back and be able to motivate and encourage the children to write.

The objective of this assignment, for all of us involved with the magazine, was mainly to give the children a platform to express themselves and hopefully we have taken a step towards that.

I'm really happy and thankful to the principal of the school and the language teachers who were absolutely supportive about this venture. The children were curious, inquisitive and excited all at the same time. They had questions about the vision of the magazine, its purpose, the kind of audience it caters to and even about its goals for the future.

I gave them a topic to write about and told them that prizes would be distributed to the best ones.

The topic given was "If you were to become one of these characters which one would you be and why?

1. Harry Potter 2. Neo from Matrix 3. Avatar 4. Batman 5. Rancho from 3 Idiots The children were very enthusiastic to write. Of course most of the write-ups did say that they wanted to be "Harry Potter". I guess it’s triggered by the innate interest that human beings have in "magic”. Most write-ups further substantiated their claim by saying that "every problem in the world can be solved by MAGIC". What amazed me was the maturity I found in certain essays in talking about global as well as national issues and figuring out a way to solve them. It almost made me feel that they did not need a superhero; they had such innovative ideas all hidden in themselves.

On the whole, I’m really glad I got this opportunity through this magazine to interact with the future superheroes of the country :-) Look out for the prize winning entries from this workshop in our next edition!!

Dude where is my coffee?

25 cents - DreamVendor It was one of those beautiful summer days in Manhattan. I stepped out of work on a not-so-hectic Friday to grab lunch and to take a walk down the Fifth avenue.

I began to walk down Madison avenue towards 52nd street with my ear plugs on and my ipod shuffling songs accentuating the mood for a perfect walk. One could easily be distracted by so many things around when you walk down these avenues in Midtown. I decided to grab my pizza, people-watch at Fifth avenue and head back to work, which, of course, was lot better than a siesta for me. Even on a regular working day, the city painted a picture of a carnival -tourists, working people, street performers, homeless people, NYPD, street vendors, food carts, florists, and me. It was a perfect day.

As I was approaching 52nd street, I saw an old lady in the distance. She wore red boots, a black dress, and a very pretty hat. She must have been in her late 60s. I usually don't look at people in their eyes in a strange land, but in New York, nobody would really care, because most of them didn’t have the time to look back at you in your eyes. I had a feeling that the old lady in red was looking at me as I was approaching the street.

It was a strange feeling. As I got closer, her smile widened. It was as if she had been waiting for me.

The feeling got eerie as I approached her. Her makeup was just perfect, nothing flashy nothing less.

It was just right. Her lips glistened in the summer sun. Dark red lipstick did the trick. The wrinkles on her face and hand would just mean one thing - a lady who carried a lot of stories.

Strangers smile at you in this city but nobody stops to talk to you. Keeping up with the city’s strange demeanor, I returned my smile but did not stop. As I was about to walk past her, I knew she said something but I couldn’t hear as the music had kept me oblivious to the city's commotion. I pulled out the ear plug from my left ear and said, "What is that?".

"Son, do you have a quarter?" I wasn't expecting that and I stood there dumbfounded. "Err.. I'm sorry, I have to rush," I said and started walking away. "No problem, have a nice day," I heard her say as those words fell into my ears before I put my left ear plug on.

The wrinkles on her face and hand would just mean one thing a lady who carried a lot of stories.

I thought about the lady all evening. She was a well -dressed woman and she had a very pleasing and kind face. She was in the streets, homeless and begging for quarters. I have seen so many homeless people in the city and my idea of them had always been stereotypical. I remember this man with a huge beard, who always sat outside the AMC theater at Times square. He always held a placard which read "Buy me a beer!". I haven't seen any one buy him beer ever, but his hat had quarters and dollars. I had forgotten about the old lady in red boots after that day.

The week after that, I walked down the same street to the same pizza shop. I was surprised to see her again. This time she was dressed in blue but her makeup was still prominent. She flashed the same smile at me as I was approaching her. She, of course did not recognize me. As I got closer she was distracted by someone calling at her. A car stopped by and the old man rolled down his window to give the lady some change. She stepped down the pavement and got the change from him.

As I walked past her place I looked at the things around her and I was convinced that she was homeless and that could have been her abode. I saw a shopping cart filled with clothes and a blanket.

There were other things bundled in plastic bags and wrapped in clothes. I walked further observing all those around her. I walked back towards her. She was searching something in her cart and looked up at me. She did not smile this time but her face had a defensive look.

"I just wanted to give you this," I said and gave her a dollar bill. She got it from me, but did not smile.

She continued searching her cart. I did not wait, although I wanted to see her smile. I did not put my ear plug on, hoping she would say something. She didn't and I walked away not looking behind. Couple of weeks later I walked down the same avenue and street, this time not to get my pizza, but to see the old lady and give her a dollar. She wasn't there and her things were gone. Maybe she had moved to a different location. Maybe she found a place for herself. Maybe I was just dreaming. I missed that smile on a bright summer day.

It has been more than 6 months since I saw that old lady and the image of her still haunts me. Every time I look at a shabby homeless person, I'm reminded of the old lady, who looked like a diva but still begged for quarters. That was something that I never understood.

I will go back there time and again, whenever I can and maybe one day I will see her again in the same place. Maybe I will give her more money or buy her a meal and I will sure ask her - if she can be my muse for a story. I'm sure her cart and bags are full of them. Maybe an immigrant rant. Maybe an old age betrayal. Maybe it was something else. But I want to know. The story of the old lady in red boots.

1 Lullabies buried in her lip corners, scrawny anemic mother in palid light rocked me round the clock.

She tore me off from embrace gum and packed me to the front.

In trench at midnight light beam looks for you in no man’s land.

Getting pricked by wild grasses, my bums ask moon about you at the spinning wheel.

Moon: “She spins yarns for blankets to plug holes of pain.

2 Eager to see medals, colors On sons broad shoulders, A widow paces cold floor, crossed a while ago by black cat chasing a rat .

She says rosary to swear desert storms on safety of her son turned soldier returning from a short war .

3 I sit for dinner with beef salami, bite into it with yellow teeth, wash it down with coffee.

In the Mother’s picture hanging overhead sari palu frays, smudges her vermilion parting; Henna seeps out of her anemic hands.

She catches my glimpses in potato peels, wash tub bubbles.

With sleeping tablets she gulps down Papa’s jibes.

She adds to her wrinkles by fussing about unpaid bills.

Carrying the pain of my birth in her bones.

She watches me step on the just-mopped floor.

Leaves her knitting to

save me from a slip.

I burst into a cry.

She pulls me to mat ties me to her apron strings.

Milk curdles in her breasts. zari sari wraps her scrawny self. paces up and down with flour ball for abandoned cow.

Papa breaks years of silence Laying her on pyre for final rest.

The mantras ride on leaping flames Of his small eyes, oblong shoulders.

4 In a town razed by fire and fright, older than yesterday, a mother removes last night’s food bits from creaky dining table.

Unsure of next breath, She counsels her man for 30 years On food ,health and faith; while he peers into stale newspaper.

Sipping tea with shaking hand, she resumes fretting about next EMI. He drowns her drone in TV news.

The newsreader, sporting bloodline On parting of hair dyed black, reads Out their son’s name among the dead In blast that turned valley’s hair gray.

Inclined to his dourness he waits beside Mother, widow and orphans In front of the window, full of dust, for the body to be brought home.

Mother’s rustling silk sari folds mingle With piled up incense soot in corridor Arthritic limbs strike a goddess’ pose; Make-up flakes rain blessings on son.

Mother

By Raja Jaikrishnan

Art by Nivethitha Kumar (iPhone Art )

Me g h n a ,Adi t i a n dM e e r ao f I n di a nCi n e ma A d i t h y aS h r i K r i s h a T hei ndi efil mr ev ol ut i oni nMumba ii snotnews a ny mor e .I t ' swel la l i v ea ndk i c k i ng,pr oduc i ng mov i esi ndi ffer entgenr esormor eof t ent ha n not ,a na ma l ga ma t i onofgenr es .

T her ei smor e s ubt l et yi npl a c eofmel odr a maa ndmor eunder pl a y edc ha r a c t er si npl a c eofboi s t er ousper f or ma nc es .

Abi ggerdev el opmenti sa l wa y sar es ul t ofs ma l l ers uc c es s es , a ndoneoft hem i st hepor t r a y a l ofwomeni nwha tha snowbeenc l a s s i fied a smul t i pl e xfil ms .

T hef a c tr ema i nst ha tours oc i et yha dt o go t hr ought hes ec ha ngest oo.WeneededaRa j a Ra m Moha nRoyt oa bol i s hpr a c t i c esl i k es a t i .A f ewpa r t sofourc ount r ya r es t i l lfight i ngf ema l e i nf a nt i c i de .

T her ea r es t i l l f a mi l i est ha tf a t t enup, l i t er a l l yorot her wi s e ,t heda ught eronl yt obe ma r r i edofft oamor ewea l t hy a ndc ha uv i ni s t i c f a mi l ya ss oona st hegi r l a t t a i nst hema r r i a gea bl e a ge .S omet i mes ,c r uel l y ,muc h bef or et ha t .

Dowr yi ss t i l l r a mpa nta l bei tundert het a bl ewi t h bypr oduc t sl i k edomes t i cv i ol enc eha v egr own i nnumber s .

Butt i mest heya r ea c ha ngi ng.Meer aPundi t r es t or esa r ta ndf r es c oesf oral i v i ngi nL ov eAa j Ka l .

Ands hei sev enr ea dyt obr ea kar el a t i ons hi p i n pur s ui toft ha tpa s s i on. .Ai s hai st hemor e r es pons i bl ea ndc a r eeror i ent edi ndi v i dua l whoi s ul t i ma t el yt he r ea s on f or t he s l a c k er S i d' s epi pha nyi nWa k eUpS i d.Rhea ,i nKa bhiAl v i da NaKehna ,pr oc l a i mst oheruns uc c es s f ulhus -

ba ndhow s hec oul dn' tbeamot herbec a us e s heha dt obet hef a t heri nmor ewa y st ha n one .Andac heer f ula ppl a us ewoul dn' tha v e been i na ppr opr i a t e when Meghna ,i n Ga ut ha m Va s udev Menon' sVa a r a na m Aa y i r a m, i ns i s t st ha thergr a ds t udi esi nBer k l eya r e mor ei mpor t a ntt ha nt hebes ot t edS ur y ai nher l i f ea tt ha tpoi ntoft i me .

I nf a c ti tha r k sba c kt o Ki r a n Va i r a l ei n Pa l l a v iAnu Pa l l a v i ,Ma ni Ra t na m' sdebutfil m, whens hegoesa wa yl ea v i ngAni l Ka poort os t udyMSi nBi ot ec hnol ogy .

I twa s1983.Andmor er ec ent l y ,weha dt he s pa r k l i ngVi dy aBa l a npl a y i ngt hef emmef a t a l e wi t hev er ybi tc ha r m ofaneonoi r es i r eni n I s hqi y a .

E v eni nt her ol est ha ta r edr a wni nc ons i der a bl e br oa ds t r ok es , wi t houta nyhi ntof t hei ndependenc eof t oda y ' sI ndi a nwomen, t heya r ema de t obeendea r i ngi nawa ynev erk nownt oma i ns t r ea mc i nemabef or e .

ReenaJ os eph( Mi nna l e) a ndGeet( J a bWeMet ) r emi ndusof t hek i ndof womenmos tofuswoul df a l lf or -ac i t ybr ed, s i mpl i s t i ca nda ffa bl ewoma nwhopr oba bl y e x i s t sonl yi nf a i r y t a l es .

Orfil ms .

T hemor er ea l i s t i coft hes emoder nwomenwa spr oba bl y Meer af r omAa y i t haE z hut hu.

T hought heHi ndi fil mi ndus t r yha sgr ownl ea psa ndboundswi t h r es pec tt of ema l er ol es ,ot herl a ngua gesl i k e T a mi l / T el ugu s t i l lc ont i nue pr a c t i c i ng ol d ha bi t sofc a r i c a t ur i ngwomeni nei t heroft he e x t r emes .

T hema i ns t r ea mma s a l apot boi l erf r omt hes out h i ss t i l ldomi na t edbymen.L ea v i ngoutaf ew not ewor t hyes t a bl i s hed di r ec t or s ,t her ei sa n a l a r mi ngt r endofhy poc r i s yt ha tr ef us est ol ea v e t hes epa r t soft hec ount r y .

T hemor a l l yupr i ght her oha st obr i ngi nl i net hei mmor a lher oi ne wea r i ngs k i mpyt opsa ndmi ni s k i r t s .T het r i ed a ndt es t edr ec i pea l wa y si nc l udest hedi a t r i be t heher oha st odel i v ert ot heher oi nes ot ha ts he a c t sa c c or di ngt ohi swi l la ndf a nc yher eon.

But nev er t hel es s ,t hes ong pi c t ur i z a t i onsdema nd t ha tt hec i nema t ogr a phers pendmor et i meon t heher oi ne' sna v ela ndot herobj ec t sofi nt er es t wi t houtwhi c hi ti sbel i ev edt obei mpos s i bl ef or t hemo mv i et or a k ei nt hec ol l ec t i ons .

T heher oi nei snomor et ha ney ec a ndy , s t r ut t i ngi na ndoutof s c enest ha tdema ndbot hher goodnes sa nd i nnoc enc et o be s uffic i ent l y s howc a s edi fs hepl a y sav i l l a gebel l e ,orher br a z ens l a t t er nl i nes sc onv ey edi fs hepl a y sa n egoma ni a c a l bi t c hf r om t hec i t y .

I twoul dt a k eawhi l ef ort heher dt or ea l i z et ha t t hepa t ht a k enbyt hec l a s s yf ewi samor ehol i s t i ca ppr oa c h.

T hef a c tr ema i nst ha tt heyk now wha tt heya r edoi ng,whi c hpr oba bl yma k es t hei s s uea l lt hemor edel i c a t e .Unt i lt hen,we ha v et of eelc ont enta ndl i ber a t edwi t ht he S a k t hi s ( Al a i Pa y ut hey )a nd Ma y a s ( Kha a k a Kha a k a ) oft hewor l d.

EPHITET OF FEMINISM

-Swa t hiB

Ia i n’ ta nyst a nda r dforl i be r a t i on y e tapi nch ofl a dyi nmedi sg or g e s e v e r y t i meI ha v et o subj ug a t ea ndswa l l ow cha uv i ni sm.

Ia i n’ ta nypr ot ot y peforde l i ca cy y e tapi nch ofl a dyi nmei sg r a t i fi e d e v e nwi t ht het r i v i a lcr e di t i nt hea sse r t i v eswa r m ofg e nt l e me n.

Ia i n’ ta nyv oi cefordoci l i t y y e tapi nch ofl a dyi nmee mbe r s whe nI cont e mpl a t edi ssoci a t i ng my se l ffr om t hemi ddl e -of-t he -r oa d.

Ia i n’ ta nyi l l ust r a t i onfore l e g a nce y e tapi nch ofl a dyi nmer e sona t e s i ne cst a sya nde l a t i ona t hi sa ssur i nga ndg e nt l est r oke .

RENDEZVOUS WI TH THEMODERN WOMAN Dhi v yaAr asappan F o r t h eMa r c hi s s u e , T h eB a n y a nT r e e si n t e r v i e we dwo me nwh os e e mt oh a v ea n dd oi t a l l , wo me nwh oa p a r tf r o mf a mi l ya n dc a r e e r , d os o me t h i n gmo r e -t h emo d e r n , we l l r o u n d e dwo ma n .

Ad i t iA. T e n d u l k a ri so n es u c hwo ma n .Ad i t ii sma r r i e da n dh a sa d e ma n d i n gf u l l t i mej o ba saS y s t e msE n g i n e e r .B u ti nt h et i mes h eh a sl e f t , s h ewo r k s t oh e l pu n d e r p r i v i l e g e dc h i l d r e ni nI n d i at h r o u g haNo n p r o fi t Or g a n i z a t i o nc a l l e dV i b h a ( www. v i b h a . o r g ) .

S h ea l s ot r a i n si nc l a s s i c a l mu s i ca n dl o v e st oc o o k .

1 .

P l e a s et e l l u s al i t t l eb i t a b o u t V i b h aa n dh o wy o ua r ei n v o l v e dwi t ht h eOr g a n i z a t i o n ?

V i b h ai san o n p r o fi t o r g a n i z a t i o nwo r k i n gt o wa r d st h eu p l i f t i n go f u n d e r p r i v i l e g e dk i d s .

I h a v eb e e nv o l u n t e e r i n gs i n c e2 0 0 4 .

Wh i l ed o i n gmyMa s t e r s , ab u n c ho f f r i e n d sa n dI v o l u n t e e r e dd u r i n gt h eV i b h af u n d r a i s e r r u n / wa l ka n dt h a t ’ sh o wI g o t i n t r o d u c e dt ot h e Or g a n i z a t i o n .

L a s t y e a r , I wa so n eo f t h ea c t i o nc e n t e r c o o r d i n a t o r so f Da l l a s V i b h a .

I wa s i nc h a r g eo f e v e n t p l a n n i n g , ma n a g e me n t a n de x e c u t i o n .

I a ma l s oP r o j e c t l e a df o r o n e o f t h e V i b h a s u p p o r t e d p r o j e c t s i n I n d i a - Ch i l d r e n T o y F o u n d a t i o n ( h t t p : / / c h i l d r e n t o y f o u n d a t i o n . o r g ) .

2 .

Wh a t d r e wy o ut ov o l u n t e e r i n ga n dh o wd o e s i t ma k ey o uf e e l ?

T h ef a c t t h a t myt i mei sd i r e c t l yi mp a c t i n gt h el i f e ’ so f s oma n yn e e d yk i d sa n di sh e l p i n g t h e mg e te d u c a t i o n , s h e l t e ra n ds u c hb a s i cn e e d sd r o v emet o wa r d sv o l u n t e e r i n g .

I t ma k e smef e e l l i k eI a m ma k i n gu s eo f myt i mewe l l .

I t r e a l l yf e e l sg o o da n dg i v e smea g r e a t s e n s eo f s a t i s f a c t i o n .

3 .

Doy o ut h i n kt h a two me nn e e dt oi n v o l v et h e ms e l v e si no t h e ra r e a s , a p a r tf r o m wo r ka n d f a mi l y ?T h o u g hma n ywo me nwo u l dl i k et o , t h e ys o me t i me sf e e l t h e yma ye n du ps t r e t c h i n g t h e ms e l v e s t o ot h i n .

Wh a t a d v i c ewo u l dy o ug i v ef o r wo me nwh owa n t t od oi t a l l ?

We l l , I t h i n ki t i sp a s s i o nt h a t d r i v e sy o ut og e t i n v o l v e di na n y t h i n go t h e r t h a ny o u r d a y t o d a yl i f e .

S i n g i n gi smyp a s s i o na n dv o l u n t e e r i n gma k e smef e e l r e a l l yg o o d .

S or e a l l y s p e a k i n g , i t ’ sa ni n d i v i d u a l ’ sp r e f e r e n c eo f wh e r et od r a wal i n eb e t we e ny o uwa n t t od o a n dwh a ty o uh a v et i met od o .

F o rme , n o wI d o n ’ ts e ei ta ss o me t h i n go t h e rt h a nmy d a i l yl i f e .

I t h i n ki t h e l p s y o ub r i n go u t t h er e a l y o u .

F o r me , I t h i n kmyp a s s i o n s d e fi n eme .

No w Ic a n n o ti ma g i n eal i f ewi t h o u ts i n g i n ga n dv o l u n t e e r i n g .

S of r a n k l ymya d v i c e wo u l db e , i fy o uwa n tt o , p l e a s eg of o ri t .

T h es a t i s f a c t i o na n dh a p p i n e s sy o ug e tb y f o l l o wi n gy o u r p a s s i o ni st r u l ywo r t hi t .

T h eB a n y a nT r e e st h a n k sAd i t i f o r h e r t i mea n dwi s h e sh e r t h ev e r yb e s t wi t he v e r y t h i n

Masks Countless meetings and calls later, Nina got back to her office to handle the daily vagaries of her ever important job. It wasn’t easy, handling the pressures of work and a family.

Minutes masqueraded as hours and hours as days.

She looked up to the picture at her desk and wondered how her heart still skipped a beat when she saw his smile.

The girl in her knew why.

Nivethitha Kumar Picture Credit : http://www.flickr.com/photos/pagedooley/

It took me a while to realize that the voice I heard Arjuna’s was a fundamental insecurity in the point of his abilities. Once, he told me that every time he was mine. strung an arrow to a bow, that one crucial second I had cried out involuntarily and now it was too late before pulling the string, he would not be sure where to swallow my words. My brother looked at me, to aim or how to aim or why he should aim shafts of with a dull, heavy expression on his face. He had not wood and metal at random things. “Archery is pointless,” he said with a wearied philosophical look. “I expected me to speak out thus. do it only because I can’t do anything else and it Karna still held the bow aloft, while Duryodhana’s gets me stuff. No other reason.” eyes flashed in anger. I was not sure what to say, but my voice completed it for me. I was amazed by its My father’s was his lameness. He walked the same as everybody else, with specially made artificial coolness. feet, and always wore long robes to cover it. But he “I will not marry a man who has no roots. Isn’t it could never mount a chariot, he could never straddle true that this man was adopted and he knows noth- a horse. ing about his parentage?”

Karna’s was simple. He did not know his Years later, I would understand a fundamental truth mother. He did not know his father. He craved an about all people, and about myself. Every person has affectionate heart. That was all. And, I had spoken, a weak spot, a kind of soft cartilage; their deepest in the middle of the fighting ground where all the insecurity that they, at all costs, try to protect. They princes and kings known and unknown were assemdo this instinctively, because they know it is their bled. I had taken his secret and exposed it to the weakest spot. All of the rest of their personality – world. Men started murmuring. After all, they knew the bluster and the blemishes, are to hide this one about his extraordinary ability. He was sure to win crucial fact. And if someone found this secret and me if he was only allowed to shoot. Angry bickering hurt him there, it meant terrible things. Vulnerabil- broke out in some parts. Duryodhana’s face was as black as thunder. Karna was looking at me, hatred ity, and power and sway over a person. written all over his face. At least he did not have that I had a special talent, something of a curse even. I superior expression of confidence anymore. knew instinctively what a man’s weak spot was.

My father finally decided. “My daughter’s right.

Yudhistra’s was lack of order in the world. He was a Karna, you must have to go.” dreamer, preferring to live in a world where everything was right and orderly. To jostle him, you just His decision was swayed by the fact that Drona had to open his eyes to the filth and muck of the lived with Duryodhana’s family. He could not attack the royal teacher of his son-in-law’s people, had I world around him for a fleeting second. married Karna.

Picture Credit:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/vaticanus/

Draupadi by Manasa I could see Duryodhana and Karna talk among themselves, throwing dark looks at me. I averted my gaze.

Now I was feeling slightly sorry, because I saw the bow where Karna had flung it down. He had actually managed to lift it!

brushing his cheek.

Karna, meanwhile, put a hand on Duryodhan’s shoulder trying to calm him down. I was so interested in this little drama that I did not notice the goings-on in the field. A huge roar from the crowd brought me to earth, and I saw the fish on the ground, an arrow in its eye, and a man holding a bow standing next to it.

“You buckled once, just one,” said Bhima.

Around us, there was a commotion. Duryodhana’s friends questioning the validity of the match. This man – my husband’s friends answering back. There were small fights erupting all around us. The man in Now there were other princes coming forward who front of me stood dazed, looking at me, not like a tried their might to move the bow, let alone lift it. As hero, but like a knight pledged to service. morning became high noon and the sun sank lower on the western sky and the garlands in the tray next to me “Arjuna,” I said his name. started wilting, I thought that at this rate maybe I would never get married. Where was Arjuna? Was he He smiled back at me, and grasped my wrist. “Come. really dead? Because there was no one else around It’s not safe here. We should go.” who seemed equal t the task. Why did my father want to get me married anyway? What was with Kanhaa, And I, who had never left my father’s palace in all my always hanging around here, telling me stories of Ar- years of existence, was running along madly with a juna.Arjuna this, Arjuna that, when that good man gaunt man with flying hair, still clutching a bow in would probably not bother to even show up. one hand. It was a short ride. Arjuna, and his brother, the big, beefy, good natured Bhima were on the charAs the sun started to set slowly, bringing the easterly iot. Bhim directed good natured insults at Arjun and winds with in, Duryodhana stood up to exclaim, "So it grinned at me as he held the reins of one sickly horse. looks like none of your fine bred princes could lift the We burst into laughter over nothing from time to bow. And here’s an able man that your good princess time; Arjun, spurred on by his marvelous feat, I, because I was free from my father and brother now and rejected for the want of family.” had Arjun by my side, and Bhima, because he was At that moment, a knot of men in a corner, an anony- Bhima. It was an orange tinged sky and the night mous invisible group among a group of Brahmans, closed on us as the open chariot slowly made its way quietly spoke. “Kind Drupad, if you will allow it, to where the boys lived with their mother. You may could my brother try? It is not like we lack family.” have heard of the Pandavas as brave warriors, so it is easy to imagine them as full grown men, with curling A knot of five tall and quiet men, with patience and mustaches and rippling muscles. When I married Arvalor writ side by side on their faces. Of course. How juna, I was sixteen, and Arjuna was twenty. could I have not known.

Bhima was a year older, twenty-one, and the twins My father nodded. He seemed to have realized the were only a year older than I. We were adolescents.

The boys could fight like barbarians, but they were same fact too. boys all the same.

Duryodhana said, “Ah, yes. You would let a Brahman participate, but not my dearest friend. No better man Bhima and Arjuna were animatedly discussing Arjuna’s feat. would you find for you daughter, believe me.”

Arjuna, of course! Who else could it be?

“Yes, I was balancing the bow on my forearm. I had to propel the weight to my shoulder. Once it got there – twang! It was simple.”(It was not. Later, Arjuna told me that he had thought he could not do the task. That was why he had hesitated so long before trying out.)

I was content to listen to their chatter and look out at My brother escorted me to the man with the bow and the countryside, feeling my veil blow in the wind. “I put my hand into his. I placed the slightly withered hope your brothers are OK,” I told Arjuna. garland around his gaunt neck, my knuckles lightly

―Yeah, they’ll be fine. They don’t need our help now that you are not there. Yud, Nakul and Dev are smooth talkers. I noticed that your father was fine with me carrying you away like this. Krishna must have told him.‖

―Her name is Hidimbi. She is a forest woman, a wild tribal girl. We fell in love while I was in the forest and I married her. We must even have a son by now. Unfortunately, we had to move from that spot, and mother advised me to leave her there. Taking a forest woman ―Told him what?‖ along with us would attract attention. I suppose she was right. She can fend for herself in ―That we would be there in disguise. I’m sure the forest better, I guess.‖ Duryodhana guessed. We are in hiding, did you know that?‖ To marry a woman, give her a child and leave her destitute in the forest! This man cared for ―Oh my god. Are you in danger now?‖ her, it was obvious. But circumstances had forced him to abandon her, or that’s what he Bhima chipped in. ―We have probably been in said. I was not sure who to feel sorry for – the danger since we were born. Our cousins and poor girl, all alone in the forest with child, or their father don’t like us, you see. They tried to this boy, muscled and tanned, with strength burn us alive.‖ enough to crush mountains but not enough to rout the circumstances and his mother’s will.

And Bhima told me the whole story – of the wicked plan to burn them in a guest house and At that point, I did not stop to think whether how they had escaped by digging a hole in the what Bhima had done was right or wrong. I ground and burrowing their way out. The five only felt his loss keenly. Spontaneously, reachboys and their mother had journeyed through ing a hand out, I stroked his riotous curls. forests alone, making sure they were not caught by Duryodhana’s spies. Bhima re- Bhima looked at me, like a calf looks at its counted their adventures, and what tales they mother. Arjuna smiled at us and patted his were! I listened in rapt attention. brother on the back, a brotherly gesture of affection. Silently, with a hundred questions run―Bhima even managed to find himself a wife,‖ ning through my mind, we went ahead to meet interjected Arjuna at one point. the matriarch. Mother Kunti. ―Really?‖ I turned to Bhima and smiled at him. (To be continued ….)

Truth be told, I was not aware of this piece of information. I thought I was the first daughterin-law of this house. Also, if you had asked me to pick out one man amongst the five who would be likely to be married before the others, I would have naturally picked Arjun. Bhima seemed too much happy-go-lucky for the binding ties of marriage. ―Who is she? How does she look? Can I meet her? What’s her name?‖ For some strange reason, Bhima averted his eyes. I decided not to question any further, but Bhima spoke, with more dignity than I had seen from him so far.

An Ode to Eve Sirpy Jayaprakasam

Half the audience were in tears. Not in laughter, agreed and let go. He didn't. And we sold the but in plain emotion. Though either were 10th standard books at floor rates in the secondequally probable. hand market.

10 months before the play:

Anyway, my parents in their euphoria over my brother's marks decided to go for it. It was a bad My brother wanted to shift school after his 10th trade, let me tell you. My brother told me I was standard. He insisted that the reasons were just being jealous. purely academic and that it had nothing to do with the fact that the school he was joining was Finally, my brother entered paradise; a paradise a co-ed school. I tried messing around with my he had been denied for the lousier part of his 15 parents, using my half-baked, medieval notions years of life. Ten days and he had the whole female population of his class calling him on variof distraction and hormonal overtones but they ous doubts. My mom was proud, my dad was conveniently trashed it. I brooded for some time cynical and I was rather pissed. I played the fox but my brother swore on his 10th standard and forced myself to believe that either the books, which he had pored over for so much other guys were too dumb or the females that they carried imprints of his drool, that he looked like ogres. Neither made me feel any betwould introduce me to at least two females. I ter.

Days weathered into hours, hours into minutes, minutes into seconds and seconds into something insanely smaller My brother had started going steady with a girl named Shruthi. At least he liked to think so He started telling me his fantasies which were quite lucid and completely boring. Imagine teenage onesided love fetishes—they would deteriorate the entire foundation on which Harlequin manages to sell its books.

My brother was not exactly the kind of hero who is described in a Mills & Boon project - on the contrary he was - the direct opposite. He was short, not exactly dark, wears spectacles thrice his muscle power and walks like a girl. He has to get evolved at least twenty five generations before his nose even, faintly resembles Patrick Dempsey. But he had the heart and the determination of a buffalo, eating sugarcane in addition to an excellent memory.

That was what made it worse. But I knew my time would come and it did. Quite appropriately.

7 days before the play: The Annual Day was nearing and rhetorically, there was a play. After much useless deliberation, the English professor decided on 'Romeo and Juliet'. My brother was so excited when he told me this that I thought he was going to go Archimedes. I barely managed to prevent him from doing anything drastic. He sat up all night, ingesting lines and lines of ridiculously verbose dialogues. He told me that Shruthi would be his inspiration when was going in for the audition. I wrinkled my nose in disgust and went about muttering to myself about the youngsters of this generation. I felt old.

The next evening our hero came back home. Dejection was writ largely on his face. I nonchalantly enquired what happened. He told me in two sentences.

"I did not get the part. Shruthi got Juliet's part" and then proceeded to weep on my shoulder. Let me tell you, I am not completely devoid of brotherly love even though I might have grinned inwardly. I consoled him as best as I could. Bad move. The Coovum embankment broke.

An hour or so later, I was able to infer from all the

testosterone/estrogen induced gabble-gooble that something like this happened. Apparently, they rejected him outright because he was a teeny bit too short and a weeny bit too fair, to play the tall, dark, handsome Romeo. The role went to his arch nemesis - Rakesh. Shruthi obviously got the part of Juliet. It all does sound a bit too reminiscent of many a Tamil movie plot, but my brother insists that’s what happened. I felt a plan materializing. I sat him up and rubbed away his tears, quite dramatically. I stood up, struck the pose of an army general and started, "Listen, my stupid brother. There ain't no such thing as an unexplained enigma or hickey. Don’t ask me now, what that means. You simply cannot let the mother of your children and my sister-in-law, be somebody else's... err... mother or sister-in-law.

Rakesh and Shruthi will spend time; rehearsing portions, portions that are sneaky, clever and fiendishly plotted. DO NOT LET THEM BE ALONE. Even for a moment. Follow her, memorize her dialogues; act as if helping her. Be the jealous lover that you are. Are you? (paused for more dramatic effect, he looked at me appallingly) You must be. Now go. And get the girl!"

He stood up and saluted. Actually he did not. He simply said "Ok," and went inside the house. I felt stupid but I was elated. My plan was in place. Soon Shruthi was going to detest him.

2 days before the play: I was sitting outside the house, ostentatiously solving complex differential problems when my brother came back from school. He just said, "Shruthi is sick".

He went into the house without a word. His behavior was puzzling but I was too lazy and disinterested to know what was troubling him. One tear-snot stained shirt is enough for one week.

12 hours before the play: My Mom reminded me that I had to come back early today as we were attending the Annual Day function.

I walked to my bike thinking about all the gorgeous girls would be falling head-over-tennis shoes in love with me. I made a mental note to wear my Ray Ban and then decided against it. It would be rather imbecilic to sit inside a closed auditorium wearing shades.

In the evening, we reached the place much before the allotted time; I made sure we did. It was swarming with parents and teachers. To my chagrin, all the 11th and 12th standard students were behind the stage, getting it ready for the function.

got that in good measure. It was wonderful.

5 minutes after the play: I walked to the green room to congratulate my brother. Shruthi was not in her place. As I was about to enter the room, the door flung open and my brother came running out, clad in a sweat-soaked vest screaming, "I passed the test!! She kissed me!!" and hugged me. My "Eh??!" got itself brain stuck as he ran away somewhere into the parking lot still screaming with all his marbles lost.

The function started off a devotional song. Soon after the death of a few crows from multiple auditory hemorrhages, the principal gave a rather boring lecture on the importance of education, probably lifted off from Scribd. The chief guest encored the performance. Finally, it was time for the play. My brother was nowhere to be seen.

It took me ten whole minutes to translate the whole situation. It was so simple and oh so clever. Shruthi I could see Shruthi, sitting two rows from the stage did not fall sick involuntarily. She fell sick on purwith her parents. Curiously, she did not look that ill. pose. She made sure the guy she selected to be with, Thunderous music played to thunderous applause as had the temerity to overcome his fears, made a fool the screen opened to reveal the backdrop. The apout of a whole audience and invariably rubbed my plause rose a notch as Romeo/Rakesh walked in and plan in my face with charcoal and cow dung. All in started his monologue. Seconds later, Juliet walked one go. in. My parents gasped. The audience stopped clapping, gasped and started laughing. I could barely Women are not poignant and deep. They are dicontrol my laughter. It was my brother. abolique. That is why there is just one day dedicated The reasoning was quite straightforward. After Shruthi hit pyrexia, there was no one who knew the dialogues that well. There was unfortunately no time either. So there he was, standing in front of the guffawing crowd, me included. He gingerly started his monologue. Everybody stopped instantly. It was miraculous. My kid brother literally rode the play like an Arabian horse, absorbing the character and almost becoming one with it. Every aspect, every instance, every move that a woman could possibly attribute to possessing the copyright, he showcased. At the end of it, the audience gave a 2-minute long, standing ovation. My parents were damned proud as my dad punched me in the arm and told me to be more like him. I smiled nauseatingly.

As the cast bowed to rousing applause, I realized something poignant and deep that second. The audience were not enraptured by my squeaky brother.

They were just taken up by the role - the role of a woman. My brother was just the medium who made us understand that there is a woman hidden in all of us. The complete inner meaning encapsulating the calm, cool exterior of how she bears the pain and suffering in everyday life is just there to realize, empathize and respect. I was sure every man sitting there

to them and the rest to men. They do not want to attract too much attention, but just enough to make sure we understand who the boss is.

I turned to see my Mom who smiled.

Respect.

He had always been a dosa man. You see, there are dosa folks and there are idli folks. Both came from the same parent, but had chiefly different characteristics. The dosa types were flamboyant, confident and earthy while the idli people were simple yet effective and smart. And nine times out of ten, you can tell what sort of person one is by asking this simplest of questions, “Do you like idli or dosa?”

He gave in.

“I think you know me well now that whatever I say must not be taken with just a grain of salt, but with a ton of it.”

Full Circle Ajay Ramachandran It was on one of those dull Saturday afternoons when there is no sports on TV and you can’t go outside as it is freezing (and your wife is at her mother’s) that he decided to take the plunge. But before that, the stage had to be set up. He picked up his glistening i-Pod and poured a mouthful of Glenfiddich on the rocks before he officially undertook the task. She had prepared the batter f r o m s c r a t c h .

He had thus eked out every time there was a threat.

And today was the day he chose to tick off one of his to-do things before he turned thirty. There were still others left like learning how to whistle and trying to eat with chopsticks, but it is always best to take one step at a time.

Did she already put salt? Let’s test it out. The pan was engaged in foreplay and he waited for it to get on to the act. Assured of the temperature, he poured the white frothy stuff on the pan. He spread the mixture to a circle but already there appeared some cracks.

First time, he shrugged, poured oil and tried to turn the thing over. He was halfway through the turning over process when it broke out. It did not look like the dosas he knew. In a sense. In essence. He had to take it out. The amorphous thing tasted okay and he cleaned the surface with determination before he poured the next one. Three minutes passed and the result was far worse. It was a yeasty jelly that was unpalatable.

“Give me three dollars and I can get you better batter” she had said to his pre-marital bought-inthe-store-dosa-mix days. They were getting to know each other during that time. He owned up not to have as much stepped into the kitchen more than half-a-dozen times thanks to his roommate, a compulsive cook who looked at you as if you had crashed his Bimmer on to a fig tree Shall I call her? But he imagined her teasing and that whenever someone came inside his comfort zone, hardened his resolve. Shall I Google it or use YouTube? NO. Go for broke. All in. I won’t cower down. aka, the kitchen.

The show will go on.

“You know Bhima was an awesome cook” he had told her, leaning against the wall when she was The show went on and curses flew like the unruly winds outside. He did some disaster management. making crisp, geometrically circular dosas.

His aim now was re-set to making an edible thing out “So your assertion that men can’t cook is inaccu- of the thick flour. Size didn't matter. Shape didn't matter. And hey, I created a new thing. So that’s a rate. Even the cook at our wedding was a man. good thing. So it was eaten such, kinda mashed, much The only thing your dad did a good job on.” like upma. A passing thought cried to him, “You could have made idli and still had a good meal”. You know, She threatened him with the hot handle and stopped. The dosa’s dorsal face was blackening. If simple yet effective. Hmmm. No. His gastric juices hadn’t yet the mental strength to accept such a comthere was something which he detested, it was the sight of a perfectly cooked dosa going waste. promise. There’s always the next time. His life would become a circle then through his dosas.

Behi ndthehar boroftr afficki ng -RushdaRaf eek T h e yse n tmei n t oa no c e a no fdr e a msa n dp r o mi se s Pr o mi si n gmet h ep a yi sg r e a t e r Emp l o y e e sn i c e r An dc u st o me r swi l l p r a i seme .

I wa sg i v e nar o o mwi t ho n eb e d a n dn ol i g h to fh o p e .

T h e yc o mea n dt h e nt h e yg o Amo n l yah u n dr e ddo l l a r s.

I ’ v eb e e np a i n t e df o rp r otb u tn op r i c e .

Myo n c ei n n o c e n two r l dr i p p e da tt h ese a ms b yt h e i rsh a r pn e e dl e s.

Ho wi th u r t .

I t ’ san e v e re n di n gc y c l eo fst o r msa n dh u n g r ywa v e s.

T h e i ru g l yu n h o l yh a n ds.

No t h i n gt odr i v et h e ma wa y .

T h eo n l ywa y I e sc a p e i sb ysh u i n gmye y e s u n t i l h e ' sdo n e .

Bu ti te n dsa sq u i c k l ya si tb e g i n s.

Amdr o wn i n gi na no c e a no fdo u b t a n dn o tdr e a ms.

s owmy aa r a s a ppa n

Hec a l l sme" b a b y " An dI dowh a th esa y s, Ca u seI a m.

Ch i l dr e na r ev i c t i mi z e dt wi c e :r stb yt h eh a n dl e rwh oe x p l o i t st h e ma n dse c o n dl yb yt h ei n di v i du a l ; wh oso l i c i t st h e m.

T h e ya r ese l e c t e da ssk i l l f u l l ya sa n yp r e da t o rc h o o se si t sp r e yo f t e n t oa sma n ya s50Ja c k ' sp e rda y .

Wh a t ’ si n t e r e st i n ge n o u g hi st h a tma n yo ft h eb u y e r so fc h i l d se xa r ema r r i e dme n .I ma g i n eb e i n gsosop h y si c a l l yde g r a de da n dt h eh u mi l i a t i o no fb e i n g t r e a t e dl i k ec a l ewh o se e shi st ob eso l d.

Ch i l dse xt r a ffic k i n gi sa sab i l l i o ndo l l a ri n du st r y .

Bu t a twh a tp r i c er e a l l y ?I t ' sa tt h ep r i c eo ft h e sel i l ec h i l dr e n-g i r l s’ a n db o y s' wh o sei n n o c e n c ei s t a k e na wa y .

T h i sa c to fma l e v o l e n c ea n dsp l e e nsh o u l db est o p p e d.

WA R MI NGUPT OT HEWI NT E ROL Y MP I C S -S A UR A B HG A NE R I WA L Unl e s sy oua r et r y i ngt oi mi t a t et hel i f eofa pe r s ononL os t , i tmus tha v ebe e nt ought o nothe a ra boutt heWi nt e rOl y mpi c sov e rt he l a s tf e w we e k s .

P e r s ona l l y , t hi swa st hefi r s t t i meIwa r me dupt ot heWi nt e rOl y mpi c s .

F i r s t l y , t heWi nt e r Ol y mpi c sha v ea l wa y sbe e n t hene gl e c t e ds t e pc hi l dof t heOl y mpi c s ,or t obepol i t i c a l l yc or r e c t ,t heS umme rOl y mpi c s .T he y ne v e rha dt ha ta ur a ofpr i de , gl a mora nd a we a r ound t he m t ha tt he S umme rOl y mpi c sha d.I tdi dnothe l pt ha t I ndi a ne v e rwon a me da li nt heWi nt e r Ga me s .

I c a na l s obe tt ha tnote v e na 1 0 0 0i n 1bi l l i onI ndi a nse v e nk now t ha tweha v ea c ont i nge nt i nt heWi nt e r Ol y mpi c s ; i nf a c t t he I ndi a nL uge ri sc ons i de r e da he mongt het op 1 0i nt hewor l d.

P e r ha ps , ourmos tme a ni ngf ulc ont r i but i on c a met hi sy e a rwhe nt he me da lwi nni ngUSF i gur eS k a t i ngt e a m de c i de dt ogr oov eons omebol l y woodnumbe r sa spa r tof t he i r s k a t i ngpr ogr a m.

Mys e c ondgr i pewi t ht heWi nt e rOl y mpi c s ha sbe e nwi t hi t se v e nt s .

Howc a ns ome one t a k ei ts e r i ous l ya sas por t i nge v e nt ,whe n oneof i t smos ti nt r i gui nge v e nt si sc a l l e d' i c e da nc i ng. ' I tt ookmes omet i me( a nde mba r r a s s i ngmome nt sa tt hei c er i ngi nWa l nut Cr e e kdownt own)t oa dj us tt ot hef a c tt ha t i c es k a t i ngi sauni quebl e ndofa r ta nda t hl e t i c i s m.Butt he nt he r ei sc ur l i ng.

Wi t hdue

r e s pe c t t oa l l t hec u r l e r sa r o u ndt hewo r l d -hmm, a c t u a l l yI ha v et ot a k et ha tba c k -I ha v ea bs o l u t e l ynor e s pe c t f o r t he m.

Asa n a v i ds qu a s hpl a y e r , i tpa i nsmede e pl yt o s e et he m ge t t i ngac ha nc ea ta nOl y mpi c go l dwhe nmyf e l l o ws qu a s he r sha v et o wa i tf o ry e ta no t he r1 2y e a r st os e et he i r be l o v e ds po r t i nt heOl y mpi c s .

I t hi nkt hebi gge s tt u r na r o u ndf o rmeha s be e nt heOl y mpi c sc o v e r a geo nNB C. Y e s , y o ur e a di tr i gh t .

NB Cha sha di t ss ha r eo f pr o bl e mswi t ht hel a t eni gh tpr o gr a mmi ng de ba c l e ,l a ggi ng r a t i ngs ,e t c .B u t t hi st i met he ya c e di t .Ora tl e a s t ,t hi s f o r ma two r k e df o rme .F i r s t ,t hee v e n t s we r eno ts ho wnl i v ei nt heP a c i fi cT i me Z o ne .

Wego tt os e et hede l a y e dr e c o r di ngs ,whi c hs t a r t e da tt hemo s tc o n v e ni e n tt i meo f8 : 0 0 pm.I twa sal i t t l ebi t i r o ni c a l a st heOl y mpi c st he ms e l v e swe r e ha ppe ni nga tV a nc o u v e ri nP a c i fi cS t a nda r dT i me .

S oi nc a s ey o ua r el i k eme , a nd dono ts c a v e nget ho u ghf a c e bo o k ,t wi t t e r , ne ws , e t c . f o rr e s u l t s , t hi swo u l dha v e wo r k e df o ry o u .

S e c o ndl y , NB Ct o o ki n t o a c c o u n tt he a v e r a ge Wi n t e rOl y mpi c s k no wl e dge qu o t i e n to ft he a u di e nc e .

E a c he v e n twa spr e c e de dbyas ho r tpr o gr a mde t a i l i ngt her u l e sa ndhi s t o r yo f t he s po r t .

T hi spr o v i de de no u ghi nf o r ma t i o n

Iwa sa bl et oa c t ua l l yma k es e ns eoft e r msl i k e qua d,doubl ea x e la nd gi a nts l a l om.Ie v e n l e a r ne dt her ul e sofc ur l i ng!Comme r c i a lbr e a k s we r es uppl e me nt e dwi t has ma l l f e a t ur eont he k e ypa r t i c i pa nt st ha ta l l owe dy out oe nj oyt he dr a maa ndt het e ns i on.Ic oul da l s ov e r ywe l l i ma gi net hef r us t r a t i onsof af e wpe opl ebe c a us e oft hi sv e r yf or ma t .I ma gi ne NBC s howi ng a de l a y e dWi mbl e donfi na lbe t we e nF e de r e ra nd Na da l a ndt he ni nbe t we e nt hega me se x pl a i ni ng t hehi s t or yof t e nni sa ndt he i rr i v a l r y .

T ha twoul d beani ght ma r ef orme !

Asl uc kwoul dha v ei t , a l otofAme r i c a nsdi da gr e e wi t h me a ndT V r a t i ngsf ort he s eOl y mpi c swe r ea ta na l lt i me hi gh.

J us tl i k ea nyot he rbi ge v e nt , t he s eWi nt e rOl y mpi c sha ds e v e r a li nt r i gui ngs t or y l i ne s .I ts t a r t e d wi t ht het r a gi cde a t hof t heGe r ma nL uge r dur i ng pr a c t i c e .

Wes a wt her i s ea nddownf a l l oft woof t hemos tc e l e br a t e dAme r i c a ns k i e r s-Mi l l e ra nd V onn,wi t hi nt hes pa noft wowe e k s .Bot hof t he ms t a r t e dbi gwi t hwi nni ngmul t i pl eme da l s i nt hefi r s twe e k ,butt he nf a i l e dt oe v e nc ompl e t ea nye v e nt si nt hes e c ondwe e k .

T he r ewa s t r a s ht a l k i ng,a l t houghune x pe c t e dl yf r om t he me mbe r soft hes a meAme r i c a nwome ns k i i ng t e a m.

T he nc a met hef e e l goodv i c t or yof Chi ne s e fi gur es k a t i ngpa i rS he nXuea ndZha oHongbo , whos uc c e s s f ul l yc a meoutofr e t i r e me ntt ot a k e as hota tOl y mpi cGol d.

T hi swa sf ol l owe dbyt he us ua lwi nni ng, c or r uptj udgea c c us a t i onsa nda l i t t l ef a l lf r om gr a c eoft hegr e a tR us s i a nfi gur e s k a t i ngc ha mpi onY e v ge nyP l us he nk owhe nhe l os tt oAme r i c a nE v a nL y s a c e k .

Whol eofCa na da we nti nt omour ni ngwhe nt he i rbe l ov e dhoc k e y t e a ml os tt ot heUSi nt hegr oups t a ge s .

V e r yf e w ge t t heoppor t uni t yt oa v e nget he i r de f e a t i nt he s a me t our na me nta nd t he Ca na di a n hoc k e y t e a m ma det hebe s tus eoft he i r sbyde f e a t i ng t heUSt e a mi nt hefi na l s .T heda r l i ngpa i rof

Ca na da ,V i r t u eT e s s aa ndMo i rS c o t tc r e a t e d t hemo s t be a u t i f u l mo me n t so nt hei c es k a t i ng r i ngo nt he i rwa yt ogo l d.

Apo l oAn t o nOhno be c a met hemo s tc e l e br a t e dUSWi n t e rOl y mpi a nbyt a k i nghi st o t a l t a l l yt oe i gh tOl y mpi c me da l s .

Wo me ni c es k a t i ngs a wt hequ e e no f S o u t hK o r e a , K i mY u Na , s ho wc a s ehe r ma gi c a l t a l e n t a t t hebi gge s t s t a gea ndac i ndr e l l as t o r y u nf o l df o rt heCa na di a nR o c he t t e ,f o rwho m t he s eWi n t e r Ol y mpi c swo u l dma r kbo t ha st he u t mo s t pe r s o na l a c hi e v e me n t ( wi nni ng B r o nz e )a ndt r a ge dy( l o s so fhe rmo t he ra nd bi gge s tf a nj u s t2da y sbe f o r et hee v e n t ) .

F i na l me da lt a l l ypu tAme r i c a nso nt het o pwi t ha r e c o r dnu mbe ro fme da l s .

Ca na di a nsc a nt a k e pr i dei ns e t t i ngt her e c o r df o rt hego l dc o u n t a nde s pe c i a l l ywi nni ngt hego l di nbo t hme n ' s a ndwo me n ' sho c k e y .

Y o ua l s oha v et oa dmi r e No r wa ywhos t o o df o u r t h, bu t gi v e nho ws ma l l t hec o u n t r yi s ,t he yl e dt hepe rc a pi t ame da l c o u n tbys e v e r a lma gni t u de s .R u s s i a nsl o s t mo s to f t hegr o u nd, bu twi l l beho pi ngt ot u r n t het a bl e si n2 0 1 4whe nt hes ho wmo v e so v e r t oS o c hi , R u s s i a .

T he s eWi n t e rOl y mpi c sa l s os a wt hei n t r o du c t i o no fane we v e n t , S k i c r o s s .

I ti si nt hes a me r e a l mo fXga me ss u c ha sha l f pi pe ,t heo ne whi c hi sl i t e r a l l yo wne dbyS ha wnWhi t e .

I pe r s o na l l yl o v e di t ; j u s t wa t c hi ngi t ga v emeat o t a l a dr e na l i ner u s h.

T hemo s tf u nI ha dwa swhi l e wa t c hi ngs pe e ds k a t i ng ,e s pe c i a l l yt her e l a y .

T hepo i s e ,c a l ma ndc o o r di na t i o nne e de di s j u s tf a s c i na t i ng .

I fy o uha v eno ta l r e a dy , t r yt o c a t c hi to ny o u t u be .

Y o uwi l ls i mpl yl o v ei t !

Ov e r a l l , ha t so fft oCa na daf o ro r ga ni z i ngt he s pe c t a c l eo ni c ei nt hemo s tgr a ndma nne r po s s i bl e .

Andno wbe gi nst hegr u e l i ngwa i to f 4y e a r st ot hene x t Wi n t e rOl y mpi c s .

De fi ni t e l y wo r t ht hewa i t , myf r i e nds .

M O S T M E M O R A B L E B O O K H E R O I N E S

Whoi st hemos ts el fis h, egoi s t i ca ndma ni pul a t i v efic t i ona l c ha r a c t ery ouha v er ea da bout ?Att he s a met i me , whoc a nc omma ndr es pec ta ndha senoughs heerdet er mi na t i ont oa l l ev i a t ea nydi r e c i r c ums t a nc ewi t houtl os i nga nounc eof pr i de?I f noonec omest oy ourmi nd, i ti st i mey our ea d Gonewi t ht hewi nd.

Iha v ek nownf ewpeopl et onotl i k et hev i v a c i ousa nda uda c i ousS c ar l et t hepr ot a goni s tofMa r ga r etMi t c hel l ' sc l a s s i c .S hei spor t r a y eda sa na t y pi c a lS out hO' Har a,t er nerwhoi ndul gedi nher s el fi mmens el y .Anygoodt ha ts hemi ghtha v edonewoul dha v ebeen t oa ppea s eher s el f a ndf orhers ur v i v a l t ha nf ort hegr ea t ergood.Y et , t hei nt ens i t ywi t hwhi c hs he ha t eda ndl ov ed, her" nev ers a ydi e"a t t i t udea nds hr ewdmi ndhi ghl i ght sherdy na mi cper s ona l i t y .I ha v enev erc ea s edt oha t et hi sv a i n, s el fc onc ei t edl a dywhi l eha r bor i ngper pet ua l a dmi r a t i onf orher .S hewhot a ughtme" Af t era l l , t omor r owi sa not herda y "c ont i nuest oi ns pi r emet o t hi sda y .

El i z abet hBennet t( Pr i de

-Ar c ha naKa nna n

Mar i am ( Thous ands pl endi ds uns ) Maybei ti sbec aus eoft hepoi gnancyoft hec har ac t er .

I ti sapi t yt hatherwhol el i f ei ss hr oudedbygr i ef .

J us tl i keami r agei nt hedes er t ,al lt hemal ec har ac t er soffer herhope, j us tt of ai l i nt i me.

Thebr i ef es tpos s i bl emoment sofhopear eoneswi t hLai l a ’ s c hi l dr en, whi c hwes avoral ongwi t hher .

Andherbr avenes si nt hef ac eofdeat h, ort ear swhi l ef ac i ngi t , l eavey ouwi t hal umpi ny ourt hr oat .

-Har i s hNar ayanan

Sar a( AL i t t l ePr i nc es s ) Doi ngt her i ghtt hi ngi sha r denoughf ora dul t s , butf ora 11y ea rol dgi r lt o' a c tl i k eal a dy ' i nt het r ues ts ens eof t hewor l dwa si ns pi r i nga ndhumbl i ng.

-S uc hi t r aRa ma c ha ndr a n a dmi r eAnnaKar eni naa ndMadameBovar y.

Bot ht hes e I

womenga v epr i or i t yt ot hes el f r a t hert ha ns oc i et y .

T heyha d t hec our a get obe , t ot hr owc a ut i ont ot hewi nda ndbur nl i k e ac a ndl e–f r om bot hends .

T hes ewomenwer epos s es s edby t hei rf eel i ngsf ort hei rl ov er s .

T heydi dn’ tpa us eawhi l et o a s c er t a i nwha tt hei rl ov er sf el tf ort hem.T heywa nt edt o emba l ml ov ei ny out h.

T heyl i t er a l l yf el l i nl ov ef ort heyf a i l ed t ounder s t a ndt het r a ns i enc eoff eel i ngs .T hes ec ha r a c t er s a s s er t edt ha tawoma nc a ns c a l et hewa l l sofi ns t i t ut i ons , i f s hes odes i r es .

I ti spa t r i a r c ha l t oc a l l s uc ha c t ss i n.

a ndPr ej udi c e) ha di dea l st ha t wer ewa ya bov et hea r i s t oc r a t i ci dea l s oft he t y pi c a l E ngl i s hi nt ha tper i od.S he wa swi t t y , i nt el l i gent ,i dea l i s t i ca nda tt ha tt hes a met i me , j udgement a la nd a da ma nt .

T hi sc ombi na t i on,It hi nk ,i s i r r es i s t a bl e .

-Pr a t ha pCha ndr a n

Sa l l yHope( Ma l or yT owe r s ) Gr owi ng up,Ma l or yt owe r s wa smyf a v or i t es e r i e s .

I tpr oba bl ys t i l l r a nk sv e r yhi ghupi n my l i s t of f a v or i t e book s .

T hough Da r r e lRi v e r si st he pr ot a goni s t ,i t s t he l e v e l he a de da nde v e rt r us t wor t hy S a l l y Hope who s t ol e my he a r t .I t st he a ma z i ng c a l m wi t hwhi c hS a l l yha ndl e ss i t ua t i onst ha tma k e she ra we s ome .

Be i ngqui e ta ndpa t i e nt i saha r dt r a i t , e s pe c i a l l yf ora t e e na ge r .

T houghI ha v ema ny f a v or i t ehe r oi ne s ,S a l l yHope wa smyfi r s t .

-Ra j aJ a i k r i s ha n

Ni v e t hi t haKuma r

MOSTMEMORABLEMOVI EHEROI NES -DHI VYAARASAPPAN Thel i t t l enunt hatc oul d ExKar at eki dbec omesc hampi on box er Maggi e Fi t z ger al d,t he pr ot a goni s tofMi l l i on Dol l a rBa by( pl a y edbyHi l l a r yS wa nk )i sas t r ongwi l l ed30s omet hi ngwa i t r es swhos eonl ydr ea mi s t obec omeaPr of es s i ona l Box er .

S hec omesoutof a pov er t y s t r i c k enl i f et oL osAngel esa ndc onv i nc es t hec ur mudgeonF r a nk i eDunnt ot r a i nher .Wi t h hi shel p, s hebegi nswi nni ngc ha mpi ons hi psunt i l s hei sl ef tpa r a l y z edf r omabox i nga c c i dent .

I f t her e wer eev erac ha r a c t erwi t hanev ergi v eups pi r i t , i t i sMa ggi e .Whet heri nt her i ngoront hehos pi t a l bed, s hea ma z eduswi t hhers t r engt ha ndc our a ge .

T hr ougha l l herupsa nddowns , t hi si sonewoma n whowea l wa y sr oot edf or .

For everaLady I nF i ndi ngNev er l a nd,Syl vi aDavi esi sa wi dow a nd mot her of 4 boy s ,who bef r i end a nd l a t eri ns pi r et he f a mous a ut horofPet erPa n,J .

M.Ba r r i e .When Ba r r i e bef r i endst he boy s ,he findsa n unl i k el yf r i endi nS y l v i aa swel la ndwhen S y l v i adi s c ov er st ha ts hei sgr a v el yi l l ,t he bondbet weent hef a mi l ya ndt hepl a y wr i ghtt hi c k ens .S y l v i a( Ka t eWi ns l et )i sa wonder f ul mot her , fly i ngk i t esa nds et t i ng off onpi r a t ea dv ent ur eswi t hherboy s .

S hei ss t r ongbuts of t s pok en–at r uel a dy .

Wha tma k eshers pec i a li st hi sr es t r a i ntt hi ngsa r en’ ta l wa y ss a i doutl oud, t heya r e j us tunder s t ood.S hedea l swi t hherdi ffic ul t i eswi t hi nc r edi bl egr a c ea ndl ea v esus mor emov edt ha na nyl ongmel odr a ma t i c mot her ondea t hbeds peec hev erha s .

L ong bef or e WhoopiGol dber g' sS i s t er Ma r yCl a r enc ec a mea l ong, a not hergoodna t ur ednuns t ol eourhea r t s .S hebr ok e a pa r ta l lours t er eot y pesa boutnuns -s he wa spl a y f ula ndmi s c hi ev ous ;c l ums ya nd t r oubl es ome .I nt heS oundofMus i c ,J ul i e Andr ewspl a y ed Mar i a,ay oung nuni n t r a i ni ng, whoi sempl oy eda sgov er nes st o t hes ev enc hi l dr enofCa pt a i nv onT r a pp.

AsMa r i as a ngherwa yi nt ot hehea r t sof t hev onT r a ppf a mi l y ,s hef oundherwa y i nt oour sa swel l .

Admi t t edl y , t hec ha r a c t er wa sof t ent oos a c c ha r i nes weet ,butwho a mongusc oul dr es i s tMa r i a ' sc ha r m,a s s heha ppi l ywenta bout ,ma k i ngc l ot hes outofc ur t a i nsa nd s i ngi ng a bouther f a v or i t et hi ngs ?Herc hi l dl i k ehones t ya nd gener os i t yofs pi r i twonusov era ndma de heroneofoura l l t i mef a v or i t ef eel good c ha r a c t er s .

Avengi ngAngel s T a r a nt i no’ swome nha v ea l wa y sk i c k e da s sbutt wo,i n pa r t i c ul a r ,s t a nd out :The Br i de f r om Ki l lBi l la nd Shos annaDr eyf usf r om I ngl our i ousBa s t e r ds .

T heBr i de ( UmaT hur ma n)i sapr of e s s i ona l l yt r a i ne dk i l l e r ,who uponwa k i ngf r om he rc oma , goe sonav i ol e ntr a mpa ge t ot a k er e v e ngeont hos ewhot r i e dt ok i l l he r .

S hos a nna ( Me l a ni eL a ur e nt )i s ,howe v e r ,mor eofaf e mmef a t a l e .

S hei say oungJ e wi s hwoma n,l i v i ngi nF r a nc edur i ng Wor l dWa rI I .

Ha v i ngwa t c he dhe rf a mi l ybemur de r e dby t heNa z i s ,s hepl a nst ode s t r oyt hee nt i r eT hi r dRe i c h l e a de r s hi pwhe nt he ya t t e nda ne v e nta the rc i ne ma .

Bot hwome na r es e x ya ndpowe r f ul ,butt he ya r ea l s o e mot i ona l a ndt r a gi c .

T hi sma k e st he m mor ehuma na nd t hi sj ux t a pos i t i onma k e st he m me mor a bl e .

contributors Poetry Mother – Raja JaiKrishnan Who is this gorgeous girl? – Sophia Carmalin Epithet of Feminism—Swathi B Behind the harbor of trafficking. : Rushda Rafeek Short writing: Ode to Eve: Sirpy Jayaprakasam Full Circle: Ajay Ramachandran Masks - Nivethitha Kumar Most memorable fictitious characters(books) – contributions by readers, edited by Dhivya Book Review— Nivethitha Kumar Most Memorable Female Characters in Movies—Dhivya Arasappan Columns Winter Olympics– Saurabh Ganeriwal Dude where is my Coffee – Dream vendor Draupadi – Manasa Meghna,Aditi and Meera of Indian Cinema – Aditya SriKrishna

Cover page photo - Chandrika Srinivasan Interview with the Modern Woman—Dhivya Arasappan Magazine Design Anuradha Chandrasekaran Dhivya Arasappan Nivethitha Kumar Editorial Team Anuradha Chandrasekaran Dhivya Arasappan Nivethitha Kumar Webiste design Nivethitha Kumar Mail us your feedback and contributions to Editor@theBanyantrees.com

Picture Credits Draupadi:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/vaticanus/

Ode to Eve: http://www.flickr.com/photos/shadowgate/ Masks:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/pagedooley/

Full Circle: http://www.tarladalal.com/RecipeImages/dosa.jpg Mother : iPhone Art by Nivethitha Kumar Time Wasted Capsule : http://www.flickr.com/photos/ifraud/2795281745/ Epithet of Feminism :

http://www.flickr.com/photos/

kervintran/3638875893/

Warming up to the Winter Olympics : http://www.flickr.com/photos sagamiono/4399710106/ http://www.flickr.com/photos/iwona_kellie/4384542843/ http://www.flickr.com/photos/iwona_kellie/4384542843/

Behind the Harbor of Trafficking : Artwork by Sowmya Arasappan Letter from Editor http://www.flickr.com/photos/12937196@N02/3387771518/

Who is this Gorgeous girl http://www.flickr.com/photos/dskciado/1426606140/sizes/o/ http://www.flickr.com/photos/dskciado/1429816695/in/photostream/

Book review http://www.flickr.com/photos/foolstopzanet/151936713/sizes/o/

Dude where is my coffee http://www.flickr.com/photos/kacey/2316780584/sizes/s/ http://www.flickr.com/photos/proimos/4219703164/sizes/o/ http://www.flickr.com/photos/kobayashi_keisuke/3501913657/in/set72157619487373391/ -

Mail us your feedback and contributions to Editor@theBanyantrees.com