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2010-03-13T20:08:00Z

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In Serial Novel - Chapter 10 of Karna, My Son By Uma Shankari, Bangalore, India

2010-03-13T18:55:00Z

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RECAP

Pandu exiles himself to live in the forests along with his two wives Kunti and Madri. Kunti returns to Hastinpura with the five Pandavas after her husband Pandu and Madri pass away. Both Pandu’s elder brother Dhritarashtra and his virtuous wife Gandhari are happy at their return, but their children, the hundred Kauravas, are not.

CHAPTER 10

The messenger from Duryodhana had just left after inviting the Pandavas to the 'Jalakreeda' or Water Sports at Pramankoti on the banks of Ganges.

"It's going to be fun," shrieked Bheema, "and brother Duryodhana says there will be rows of special sweets we may have never seen in life – all loaded with cream and nuts and aromatic herbs. I can't wait to lay my hands on them." His eyes were burning bright with excitement.

Bheema had an immense insatiable appetite, and every one knew if his eyes riveted on food, you just couldn't get them off their target until they disappeared down his throat.

Even Yudhishtra was excited. But I felt a nameless fear gripping my heart. Already I had heard that Sakuni, Gandhari's brother, who had become a permanent guest at Hastinapura, wasn't fond of my sons, and would keep inciting Duryodhana to act against them.

More importantly, I was concerned about the deepening jealousy that Karna, the adopted son of Dhritarashtra's charioteer Adhiratha, had towards Arjuna. I knew Karna was my son the minute Yudhishtra and Arjuna told me excitedly about a boy, bright as the sun, and always adorned with a built-in golden 'Kundala' or ear-rings and 'kavacha' or body armor. Even before my marriage, my spies had followed the baby all the way to Hastinapura and told me that the childless Adhiratha and his wife had gladly embraced the child and took him as a gift from God. Every body thought the baby must have been sired by some celestial being, and called him Vasusena.

I would listen to all these tales with a thud in my heart. Till then, I had made no attempt to find out more about Adhiratha or see my abandoned son. I had been happy and contented that my son was in safe hands. I was more concerned about my royal duties and about my being an ideal wife to Pandu.

One day, I went to the royal garden where all the children assembled and played. Secretly, I watched the children interact. I noticed that only Yuyutsu, Dhritarashtra's son by his Vaisya wife, was affectionate towards the Pandavas, and not Gandhari's children.

And I also noticed with a burning heart that Karna would always side with Duyodhana no matter how wrong he was. I could understand how it came about. After all, Karna knew Kauravas all along and had been their playing companion. To all of them, my children coming from a forest as big, grown-up children looked like unwanted usurpers.

I was pained that both Dhritarashtra and Gandhari did nothing about it.

****

It was cool at the riverside. There were huge tents where numerous attendants took care of the needs of the boisterous campers. The special palace built for this event was all aglow with colorful festoons, bright flowers and water fountains. Music troupes were playing various instruments and girls were swaying in graceful dances. It was easy to get hooked into some frolicsome game and get lost.

Everything went according to Duryodhana’s plans. Bheema was lured away with a special feast, while others engaged themselves in other activities. The cooks had mixed poison in all the items Bheema ate. Soon, Bheema fell unconscious. Duryodhana and his cronies then tied him with strong chords of wild shrubs, pushed him into deep waters, and slinked away to join others.

Bheema sank deeper and deeper and reached ‘nagaloka,’ the abode of serpents. Finding a new prey, the serpents converged on him and bit his entire body, save his chest, with their strong and venomous fangs. Bheema’s chest had been so rock-like that their fangs couldn’t penetrate it.

But the venom that the serpents had injected in, proved to be an antidaote for the poison that Bheema had consumed. As he slowly regained consciousness, Bheema shook himself free. The serpents fell apart, and fearful of their own lives, slithered away as fast as they could, and informed their king Vasuki.

Vasuki rushed to the scene wondering who the intruder could be. Meanwhile, one of the serpents was Aryaka, my great grand father, and he recognized his young relative. Just as he hugged Bheema, King Vasuki came in.

Jubilation followed. Bheema was fed pots of life-sustaining nectar at the instance of Aryaka and made to rest his weary body. Bheema passed away a week in peaceful slumber.

Meanwhile, Yudhishtra and his brothers could not find Bheema anywhere. They assumed Bheema might have returned to the palace alone, and left the venue along with others.

I was flabbergasted when Yudhishtra came home without Bheema, and Yudhishtra was likewise shocked that Bheema hadn’t come back. I wailed and panicked and summoned Vidura. I voiced my concern that Bheema’s life might have been endangered by the malicious designs of Duryodhana.

Vidura, the calm man that he was, thought over. He agreed that indeed Duryodhana was evil minded. But panicking and raising a stink about the whole episode might endanger other Pandavas’ lives as well, he cautioned. He reassured me that Bheema would be safe, as astrologers had predicted long life for him, as well as the other Pandavas. He told me to pray and sit tight.

On the eighth day, Bheema woke up rejuvenated and the nagas dressed him in fine robes. Then they caried and left him on the banks of Ganges from where he had begun his journey to the nether lands a week back.

Bheema reached home at last. Our joy was unbounded, yet we restrained our joy. All of us knew that our lives were in constant danger.

From then on, we decided to be constantly vigilant and be mindful of each other.

…to be continued

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In Short Stories In Parts - Part I of The Silver Coin By Joy Clarkson, Gurgaon, India

2010-03-13T18:52:00Z

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She could hear voices in the dining room. It was at times like these, when the house was like a tin of sardines, kanu wished she had not taken this bedroom. It was too close to the dining room, where every one just had to congregate. As if the drawing room didn’t exist. She turned on her side and pulled the pillow over her head in an effort to drown out the natter that was getting on her nerves. It wasn’t working. Would a feather pillow be more effective, she wondered. “I must remember to find out,” she mumbled into the foam.

Kanu’s son was getting married and despite her renting a house to accommodate her guests, her own home was taken over as well. Years of living alone had made her rather fussy and intolerant of noise. She was a widow and when work had taken her sons away from home, she had become used to her solitude and peace and quiet. It was going to be a week-long celebration, and this was just the third day and she was already popping Dispirin. Her exuberant guests weren’t going to let her sleep, so she dragged herself out of the bed and made a dash to the bathroom.

“Thank God for small mercies,” she sighed when she found it unoccupied. Although she had a fairly big house with four bedrooms and attached bathrooms, her bathroom would invariably be occupied when she needed to go. This ‘invasion of her space’ wasn’t going down well with her. She hurried with her ablutions and knotting up her waist length hair, walked out into the dining room din.

“Good morning,” she trilled as chirpily as she could and matched the tone with a beaming smile. She did love her friends and was thrilled they were here, but her space…..Oh well! She wasn’t going into that again, she decided.

“So what’s the excitement about?” she asked.

“Is this yours?” asked Papsa, as he stretched out his hand. Nestled in his palm was a bit of crumpled note-book paper. It was obvious that it held something in it. Kanu took the small package from Papsa’s hand. She realized that the room had become very quiet. Every one seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for her to open the dirty, lined paper. She hesitated.

“What’s in this? Is it some kind of PJ? Look, I don’t like practical jokes so early in the morning, they give me indigestion

“Open it,” prompted Babu. “It’s not a joke, at least not one that any of us has got up.”

“So you know what’s in it, so why the bated breath? I don’t like this at all. I’m not opening it,” she said and placed it on the table.

Meenal decided to end the suspense and opened the folded paper to reveal a silver coin and some small bits of paper. At once the cacophony began. Every one had something to say and every one wanted to say it at the same time.

“Is this yours?” asked Babu, when everybody had given their expert opinions. His tone and expression indicated that he did not think so. This was confirmed when Kanu nodded a denial.

“I thought so,” he said triumphantly. Babu liked to be right always.

“It’s not ours, and no one else has been here. So from where has this come?” wondered Meenal.

“Why is everyone trying to make a mystery out of a coin? Where did you find it, and who found it?” Kanu was getting irritated with the unnecessary build-up of tension. “What’s so unnerving about it?” she directed her query to Papsa.

Papsa told her how he found it lying next to his feet, when he woke up early in the morning. Presuming it belonged to some one in the house he had picked it up and put it on the sofa. The strange thing was that Papsa had spread his mattress on the floor in the drawing-room, which used to be converted into a bed-room for him in the night. He was the only person sans spouse sans kids, so didn’t merit an individual bedroom. Now this room was the least visited room which made the chances of anyone dropping a coin very remote. And this wasn’t loose change either. Second he had carried the mattress off a bed and spread it on the floor and then had spread a sheet on it. No coin fell out then. And in the morning at five, he finds it on the mattress by his feet.

It just didn’t make sense at the moment. Kanu was puzzled but not perturbed. There was an explanation, it was eluding them because they were excited and determined to attach a mystery to it.

“Have you noticed the scraps of paper inside? Except for one, all are blank. And this has something written on it. We can’t make out the script. It’s not Hindi or Punjabi or Urdu, could be one of the South Indian languages.”

Kanu checked to see and found this to be true. The script wasn’t familiar. Could it be the maid’s, she thought. After all she was the only outsider who had been in the house. Happy that she could lay the matter to rest, she announced to all that it belonged to the Bengali maid Lolita. Kanu got up and with a flourish a la Pierrot took a bow. She had barely straightened her back than a rather strident voice shot through the room.

“No, absolutely not,” said Ashima. Her voice went up a few decibels higher and her tone was bordering on hysteria. “This is not Lolita’s coin. It can’t be,” she stressed.

Everybody stared at her. Why was she getting so worked up and how did it matter who the coin belonged to? And her vehemence about the ownership was not quite in place. It took a few seconds for the small group to regain their composure. All of a sudden there was a flurry of activity as chairs scraped the floor as their occupants made to get up, Kanu hurried into the kitchen so no one could see the furrows forming on her brow, the men mumbled to themselves and found their way to the bedrooms, leaving three people standing in the dining-room……Ashima, her husband Dheeraj and Meenal. Oh! And the ominous silver coin, in its crumpled, dirty note paper.

Kanu didn’t have time to think about silver coins after that. There was enough on her platter, she forgot about the morning’s hoo-ha. In the evening, Meenal lay next to Kanu as she straightened her back. Kanu had severe osteoporosis and bulging disc problems, for which she was undergoing treatment. After a while, Meenal turned towards Kanu and asked her if Ashima had spoken about the coin. On getting a negative she sat up and her eyes lit up. Kanu knew there was something she was going to learn about the mystery coin.

“Kanu, you know Ashima took the coin from me in the morning.”

“Why?”

“She said she was going to ask the maid if it was hers.”

“Why is she so interested in the coin Meenal? It’s a bit unusual. So did she ask the maid about it? I completely forgot to ask Lolita.”

“Who knows, that’s why I was asking you,” she replied shrugging her shoulders.

“So ask her, why are all of you skirting the issue of confronting her?” Kanu was getting a bit tired of the whole rigmarole.

“You know how she is, don’t you? Didn’t you see the way she reacted in the morning? Who wants to spoil the atmosphere by getting into a useless argument with her?”

“You’re right. It is useless to pursue this thing. It’s just a coin. Forget it Meenal. We have so much to see to and better things too.” Kanu smiled as she patted her friend’s arm.

However later that day, Kanu did remember to ask the maid about the coin. The maid’s agitated response was certainly not what Kanu had expected. She began waving her arms and rolling her eyes as her Hindi became worse in her effort to explain that she had nothing to do with the coin. She hadn’t seen it before and was too poor to own a silver coin she added to make a point.

“Why are you so worked up Lolita? It seems you do know about the coin since you tell me it’s silver,” Kanu pointed out.

“That’s because that other memsahib, the one with the short hair asked me. She was so stern and her eyes seemed to pierce me. I swear on my children I know nothing about the coin. Please believe me.”

“Did she show you the coin?”

“Yes. It was a big silver one and there were some bits of paper folded too, just like…” Lolita stopped herself from completing what she was about to say.

“Just like what?” Kanu prompted her.

“Nothing,” she said pressing her lips together as if afraid the words would slip out of their own accord.

Oh forget it, thought Kanu. She didn’t need a mystery at this time and desisted from pursuing the conversation further. She was soon engrossed in instructing the maid about what had to be done. If she thought the matter was closed she was sadly mistaken. Papsa, stood framed in the kitchen doorway. He must have been hanging around somewhere near-by and had overheard what the maid had said. He gestured for Kanu to come out.

Shucks! Am I in one of Ekta Kapoor’s serials for god’s sake! I just want to get my son married, will some one please let me do that, thought Kanu as she stepped out of the kitchen only to be pulled into the drawing-room. Seated and waiting for her were Babu and Meenal. Kanu knew she was in for another discussion about the coin. What was wrong with these people? How did the appearance of a piece of silver take on such important proportions! She decided to sit quietly and wait for someone to start speaking. After a while when she refused to even inquire and the silence became awkward, Babu asked her what the maid had said. They listened in silence as the conversation was reported.

“Do you have the coin?” was the next query. Kanu shook her head.

“Does the maid have it?”

“I didn’t bother to ask her,” said Kanu running very thin on patience.

Meenal called in Lolita who was visibly shaken. You could see the dread in her eyes. She repeated all that she had told Kanu and added to a question from Papsa that the “boy-cut” memsahib had wrapped the coin back in its original paper and kept it on the shelf in the smoking-corner. The smoking corner was an area Kanu had made for those who wanted to smoke. Having rattled off all she knew about the coin, Lolita made a hasty retreat. A quick search ensued but all in vain. The coin had vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared. Despite her reluctance to get involved Kanu was being drawn into the web of intrigue and mystery that was kept alive by the curiosity of her friends.

…to be continued

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In Short Stories - Vaulting Ambitions? By Chandra Ghosh Jain, Jaipur, India

2010-03-13T18:50:00Z

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May 27 '98

I don't know what to write today. The page looks at me invitingly, hoping I would as usual share all my thoughts with it. Goel Sir had come last night and as usual he began 'Beta we have such high expectations from you. Mahamanas you will truly live up to your name, etc. etc' all in the same vein. RamAvatar chacha appeared a little envious and hit poor Gaurav hard on his head, "You are a good-for-nothing, whole day you loiter around, flying kites and watching T.V."

Poor Gaurav( he's in my class) he looked properly crest-fallen, he's not a bad sort, but with such comparisons you can hardly blame him for disliking me. Particularly since his father and Babuji are primary teachers in the government school. Hari Ram master grinned rather evilly showing his paan-stained teeth," Remember, Guddu, when you become a big man, don't forget your father's contribution".

He winked in a rather offensive way as everyone roared with laughter. Babuji laughing the loudest his weakness for alcohol being the bane of our existence. Hey Ram, why does it pain so much, it took all my will power not to punch Hari Ram on his nose. I just want to get out of this mess. I was told that there are state scholarships for position holders in the board exams. Ma understands my rage, at the dead of night when Babuji was snoring out the alcoholic fumes, she came quietly by my bed-side, and implored, "Beta, you must study hard, become a big officer, we all depend on you. I have worked hard all my life, stitching clothes, now my bones are weary, they can't take in all this any longer. Your Babuji has always blown up his salary on his vice, leaving me to fend for you and your sisters".

At this point her tears swelled out, I just hate these scenes. I know only too well that Ma wants me to get her out of this endless quagmire. At fifteen I am pretty thin and just of middling height I often wonder how I will manage to find a solution to all these troubles? I am not a super-man, nor gifted with any amazing talent, only bright academically. Well, nonetheless I can always dream and hope, my exams did go very well…the Silicon Valley and the pot of dollars at the end of the rainbow?

June 6 '98

At last peace and quiet. I don't know where to begin, well let me start with Paro's dream. She is younger to me by a couple of years, but strangely, she has always behaved like the older sister, taking care of Nanhi and me. Paro's bright I know given the right environment she will go a long way, but Babuji doesn't care to have highly educated daughters, he says, 'Where will I get bridegrooms for them. I am a poor man, enough that they pass high school. Besides, men are scared of such educated women.' Paro's eyes are lowered in shame, guilt and hopelessness. She wants to go to college in Jodhpur, I know because one day she asked me about the all women's college there and whether they provided hostel facilities or not.

   Well, about a week back, one morning (after a particularly boisterous and noisy drinking session of Babuji's) when we were feeling absolutely miserable, she announced "Bhaiya's going to come first in the boards! I saw it Ma in the dream; Bhaiya was surrounded on all sides by huge books and he had a happy smile on his face. Next I saw you (Ma) making a pile of ladoos and Nanhi was helping you."

I dismissed it as wish fulfillment, but Ma took it quite seriously. Paro's clairvoyant and any major event in our lives is always preceded by a symbolic dream she gets. The time when Dadosa met with an accident, we were quite small, Paro barely ten, she had clung to him and wouldn't let him go to Hardwar. She had sobbed and narrated how she had seen the river Ganga gushing by our house in the village and flooding it and sweeping it away! Ganga in Rajasthan, and floods in a drought and famine stricken state! Babuji had laughed, Paro was a particular favourite of my grandfather. Dadosa had patted her head indulgently and departed quite cheerfully. After two days we came to know that a bus carrying passengers to Rishikesh had fallen in the monsoon swollen Ganga. There were no survivors.

       Paro's, prediction changed our mood a little. I had stopped eating altogether since the past few days, the scorching heat and nervous anticipation had made me feel nauseous most of the time. Now of course I can savour the fact and let the reality sink in. It's like the gentle lapping of the waves on your face when one swims in the village pond, tickling in a mildly naughty, teasing manner. Well Paro's dream did come true but only partially I did stand first from my city and came fourth over-all in the Boards. But good enough, today we are all so happy that even Babuji's drinking binge hasn't spoilt our mood. Any way I am so tired that maybe tomorrow I will think more coherently.

July 2 '98

So much advice and so little money! Almost everyone agrees to disagree. There was Rameshwar Kaka who insisted that I finish my Twelfth Boards from here and then think about college in Jodhpur. He advised that I should take up Arts or Commerce and then try for the UPSC exams; and end up as yet another faceless Babu, knowing that I had 98% in Science and 100% in Maths. I had to keep a straight face and nod agreement, I am aware that doing anything else will bring on a long lecture on impudence, and 'getting-too-big-for-my-boots' etc. etc. His wife a thin woman with a rasping voice went on and on about how children who went to Kota,( to study for the IIT) couldn't face the pressures and added with ghoulish delight, that often such depressed children committed suicide. Everyone was listening with rapt attention, her voice was grating on my nerves, it was as if she suffered from permanent laryngitis. Then there were my old teachers, Rajinder Sir and SPGupta Sir who knew that I loved science and told Babuji that I should go to Kota and join the Bansal Coaching classes to prepare for the IIT exams( to become an engineering graduate). I don't know how Babuji agreed with them! I still can't believe my luck, any way now I will have to appear for the entrance test for Bansal's coaching classes. Life is now an endless round of tests and interviews! I am terribly excited the thought of the long bus journey makes me so happy. I have never been beyond Ajmer, that also about two years back when I went to represent my school in the inter-district basketball tournament, in which we finished the last.

July 15 '98

Mahamanas you did it! Yea! I am just at the top of the world I have gotten admission in Bansal's classes. I can just see and feel IIT, an arm's length away. The test was quite 'tough' and I was sure I wouldn't get through. There were so many bright boys and girls coming from all over India who took the test. Babuji had begun feeling restless, one whole week without his alcoholic sprees was getting him down. He said kindly enough, "Beta now that you have gotten this admission, I better get back to Pali." I was taken aback, "What about my boarding and lodging Babuji?"

"Haan, hum what about that boy Shikhar you had gotten friendly with, you can share a room with him".

"Babuji he will stay with his Mama who's posted here, till he can find a suitable room for himself.”

We are presently staying in this dharamshalla, which boasts of giant sized mosquitoes swarming all over the place.

After many discouraging rounds with prospective house owners, we managed to rent a room in a house which was a little secluded from the rest. The owner didn't even stay there most of the time and to top it all it was well within my budget. Gods have been really kind now all I have to do is to just concentrate on studying and studying.

My room, (well I feel fairly proprietorial about it) is on the top floor of this single storied house. It has a wooden bed and a wall with some shelves, a chair and a table. There was a little toilet and bath also at the other corner of the terrace which I could use. From the window I could see the purplish-blue evening sky and the tall Ashokas standing straight like some sentinels. The little lawn below had a neglected look with weeds over running the grass, the other plants had wilted and died during the long summer months. The chirping of the birds died away leaving a sudden silence, as Babuji prepared to leave, I was filled with unknown dread, I wanted to cling to him and go back to Ma, and all that was familiar and dear to me. The road ahead was unbearably lonely, "Babuji don't go today."

"I have to attend school tomorrow I have already taken so much leave". Observing my woebegone face he relented, "I will send your mother after sometime." With that he picked up his briefcase and patted me on my head as I bent to touch his feet to take his blessings.

August 30 '98

So much has happened that my mind is in a jumble. Thank God Ma has come, I feel comforted and confident again. Her presence radiates hope and security, somehow 'that boy' hasn't come ever since Ma has come. 'That boy' I call him Bhoothnath , he was sitting there quite comfortably on my chair after I came back from seeing off Babuji to the bus stand. A thin tall boy with sunken eyes, prominent Adam's apple and a stubble of three days on his chin. For a moment I thought he was the house owner's son, because he appeared so comfortable, almost as if the room belonged to him. I asked, "Kaun ho aap?" No reply, he gave an intense stare from his large round hollow eyes and just vanished! I was left aghast, shaken to the core.

Reality came in the form of Shikhar and two other boys who came to take me out for a dinner. They had managed a room in a house across the road and were clearly envious of my single room. I on the other hand wished that I had someone to share this room with. I was able to convince Shikhar to stay with me that night. Nothing untoward happened during the night and in the rush of classes and solving endless problem sums the next day I had quite forgotten 'Bhoothnath'.

Returning from my evening stroll, I found 'him' flipping through all my newly acquired second-hand books. 'He' sensed my presence and my discomfort and he was gone. 'He' began to arrive quite regularly, but I wouldn't get to see 'him', but I knew he had been there, he would have solved some of the difficult problems in Mechanics, in a distinctly loopy handwriting. I began to get a reputation of being brighter than I deserved. This sort of a communication although helpful was also filled with anxiety. I had been angry because 'he' had such a low opinion of my intelligence that Bhoothnath had solved some of my Maths problems as well. So I had raved and ranted that 'he' was a nuisance and couldn't he leave me alone? How else would I ever learn to do any thing on my own? The message went home. Who was he and why was he insisting on being so 'helpful'?

The relief of being able to rid Bhoothnath was short lived. The super giant mosquitoes finally had me in their jaws, I was shivering with fever and lay in bed for a whole day, wondering whether anybody would be aware of my illness, probably the stench of my dead body would force them to recognize the existence of my body. Hey Bhagwan! If only I had stayed back in Pali and not been bitten by any bug ambitious or otherwise. Trust me to find a house which was totally vacant. The few friends that I had made would probably presume that I had gone back to home. Mercifully ShisRam, came in the evening (he's from my mother's village and it was through him that we had gotten this room); he was worried enough get a doctor and made sure that I was not left alone. His old mother stayed with me, till Ma came and took over. Her opening remark was "Kya hua hai, you look like a ghost."

Sure enough the image which I saw from the mirror on top of the wash basin had sunken eyes which stared out of a thin face with a three-day stubble. I touched myself just to make sure I am just getting too jumpy I guess.

October 25 98

I guess I gave Ma a very bad time, because at one point she had persuaded ShisRam that she wanted to take me home and to hell with IIT exams. She just wanted her son back hale and hearty. The fever subsided and I was able to attend classes again, that Ma asked, "Who's that boy who came every evening and got you the class notes?"

I said, "Shikhar, he wears glasses, about my height but has a little more weight than me?"

"No, he was thin almost like a skeleton and he never spoke to me, just left the papers on the table and went away."

I just stared at her in silence, so there 'he' was again. Extremely helpful I must say as I in my enfeebled state studied the notes and found beneficial clues in the same loopy hand!

"ShisRamji who had lived in this room earlier?"

"This house belongs to Amarnath Seth, he is working in the State Bank, he was transferred out of Kota so he let out the top room to a student. Preferring to keep the ground floor for his personal use. It must have been used by some student preparing for these competitive exams," he ended rather evasively. He stared at me for a moment, "Kyun, kya baat hai?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to know".

"See now you are O.K, you let your mother go back, you don't have to worry about any thing. So long as she is here you will not study and just keep feeling ill. Diwali is just a month away then you will also have holidays". "Only for a few days, Bhai, I don't know what good studying so much will do," added Ma in a tearful voice.

November 21 '98

There's really no going back, I realized at the end of the brief Diwali break. Everybody who came uniformly commented on how thin I had become, and of course Rameshwar Kaka was convinced that I was suffering from depression and kept thumping me on the back apparently to cheer me up. It left me with a back pain and an immediate desire to run away from hom e . I just wanted to get back to my room in Kota and shut out these prying and unwanted advice givers forever. I had begun getting used to my routine of classes and intensive self-study. The only break was the occasional glimpses of that elusive boy. There were tests in which my performance was satisfactory, but I am confident that I will improve by the end of the year. In fact this December I will not go home, I will stay back and cover up all that I missed initially during my illness. I have grown quite vigilant after my malaria attack I never forget to take my weekly dosage of quinine tablets. I often wonder with so much medical research and inventions why 'they' have still not come up with a malaria vaccine. Probably regard it as a typical third world problem and now that 'they' are no longer the colonial masters,' they' are not bothered about their own men suffering from it, so why bother. 'They' would much rather invest in research against AIDS/HIV etc. At least we have some medicine against malaria, thank heavens for small mercies.

January 12 '99

It's only when I catch the latest viral infection in the town that I become aware of the friendly spirit. I am sure that I had left the doors and windows open when I fell off to sleep last night, too tired and weak to get up and close them. Yet in the morning I had to open the door to let the 'chai-wallah' in. The round of tests in the coaching classes added on to the mandatory school half-yearly exams will make me go mad. I feel like throwing up at the thought of studying. Babuji came to spend a couple of days with me. His concoction of some home made remedies made my throat a little worse. At the end of the day I was croaking like a frog. Babuji has also noticed that 'boy'.

He asked, "When you are gone, a boy came, sat on the chair stared at me silently and then left. Pagal tha kya?"

The house owner appeared just then, he was on his annual leave and appeared a friendly chatty-type middle-aged man.

"Ah, so you are studying for the IIT, the earlier boy also was preparing for the engineering exams. He sighed and continued, he stayed here for three years." I was surprised, "Three years uncle?"

"Haan, he attempted the exam three times I think."

Looking at our incredulous faces he just hurriedly departed.

March 25 '99

Have you ever felt like a scrap of paper whirling around and round in a dust storm, of no consequence to anyone and totally at the mercy of the whirlwind? I have often felt a strange kind of kinship with that carelessly tossed paper. Time as a measurable amount has ceased to have any meaning. I don't know when the night ends and the day begins. O.K. so end of the millenium the papers scream; for me it's a do or die year. The screening exam for IIT is in December and then the boards in March next year and of course the main exam for IIT in May. They have introduced the screening for IIT this year, in an attempt to weed out large number of students who take the exam. Soon they will hold an interview as well. I don't think I can stand the strain much longer. Even when boys talk of taking the exam a second year, the pit of my stomach feels funny, as if the bottom has fallen through. Looking at my worried face, Shikhar commented, "Why do you worry yaar, of course you will get through with flying colours."

I am not too sure, particularly since I came to know about Rahulan. He was extremely bright, but somehow something always went wrong with him on the actual day of the exam. He had high fever, met with an accident and in the third attempt wrote a wrong roll number on his answer sheet! I am terribly superstitious and whenever I can, I pray to God to keep me sane and see me safely through these exams. Nobody knows what happened to Rahulan after the third attempt. Some say he went back to Madras, some say he became insane and his family has admitted him to an asylum. Rajeev who has also dropped a year, and is giving the exams a second time, claims that he is still in Kota he gets to see him occasionally sitting silently staring into space near the dhaba at the bus stop. What if I become like another Rahulan?

May 30 '00

I can't believe the numbness of my mind and body. It's like I have been fighting a long, long battle and now I can't carry on any more. The prospect of studying for the PET (the entrance test for state colleges of engineering) doesn't seem to register. It's still along way off. If I am lucky maybe I will not have to appear for the exam. My estimation is that I should get through. I never found time to even jot down my passing stray thoughts. It's been more than a year since I could write in it. My waking moments (if one can call them that, I was more like an automation or a zombie) were spent in only solving problems from Physics, Chemistry and Maths. Everything sort of faded in the background, yes even Paro and Nanhi whom I love so much. When they came to tie Raakhi, I was really irritated they had broken my concentration. It took a great deal of effort not to shout at them and tell them to go away. Well once I am through with IIT I promise I will more than make up for the bad behaviour.

June 15 '00

Is it possible Mahamanas, to achieve your dream and then feel totally benumbed? Is this what is supposed to be 'Nirvana'.I was just smiling politely and in a detached manner as Nanhi was going around serving ladoos. My two sisters have been just dancing with joy, Ma had tears streaming down her face, for a moment I thought that all my efforts were in vain, may be my worst nightmare had turned into the worst reality. No, no they were of the happiness she had just dreamt about and of the agonising times spent fearing that they will just remain only dreams. Slowly the excitement got me and I was also grinning widely and sharing their enthusiasm.

August 11'00

Could it be possible, that I am still hallucinating, or is 'he' my alter ego or have I merged with him or vice-versa? Well any way I will write it down for posterity to conclude and judge. Here I am looking out of the window in my room in Delhi IIT and as I slowly turned around, there 'he' was grinning a satisfied grin. I had apparently fulfilled 'his' wish and managed to get admission in the most sought after course in IIT. By the look of things 'he' intends to do the graduation along with me. One man's ambition can be another man's curse…

Glossary…

1.Dhaba… tea-stall

2.chai-wallah.. . the boy who got the morning tea

3.Kaun,ho aap? ..Who are you

4.Kyun kya baat hai…. Why what's the matter

5.Pagal tha kya… was he mad?

6.Ashoka tree… Calendula tree

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In Short Stories - Weeds By Sudha Narasimhachar, Bangalore, India

2010-03-13T18:48:00Z

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The courtroom was overcrowded. Today’s case had attracted the attention of the entire city. The lanky lady Mahima’s photo was on the front page of almost all leading newspapers on that day, a month ago. People were shocked as to how that weak looking lady could be a murder accused. The best part of the case was that most of the people felt happy about the murder but were sad that the poor lady would have to face the law. Law was a bit funny. Whatever may the circumstances under which a person gets murdered, the accused is still held guilty before law!

Madan, Sridhar, Shaheed and Menon were also in the courtroom. They had taken leave to attend the court. Mahima was their colleague. She had been a mystery to them from the time she joined their branch about two years ago but they had never ever imagined that she could turn to be so mysterious – a murderer! “I can’t believe da. How could this weakling murder that sturdy watchman?” said Sridhar into Madan’s ears. “That’s what we have come here to crack. Be patient da. She will spill the beans today”, replied Sridhar.

Mahima reported at their branch on a Saturday. Though she was introduced to all the employees, she hardly nodded her head and made no attempts to get closer to anyone in the office. She kept to herself. Even when the other lady employees invited her to have lunch with them, she curtly refused saying that she never ate lunch in the office. She used to work even during the lunch recess. Raji, who stayed very close to where Mahima lived, told her friends that Mahima lived alone in a small outhouse. She never mixed with anyone even there and was more a loner. She had no visitors. She walked all the way to and from the bus terminus, which was around 3 kms away, instead of catching the bus at a stop nearby.

Madan and his friends faced Mahima’s wrath on that day when she heard them making lurid remarks about Stella, who usually wore sexy clothing. Of course she never spoke out but her cold stare was enough to tell them what she felt like. “Arre, what’s her problem da? Why is she glaring at us? This flat female has no emotions and so thinks all of us here are dry saints!” Ravi had remarked. “She is quite a crazy woman da. The other day I was traveling in the same bus in which she was traveling and had a shocking experience. The bus was overcrowded. She was sitting on the aisle seat. Suddenly she got up and slapped a youngster standing beside her shouting abuses at him. It seems he was pinching the bottom of a college girl in front of him. That girl was in tears. But she said nothing. Why should this lady react so much? I couldn’t understand”, said Shaheed.

The newspaper report on one day said that her handbag contained safety pins, a penknife, a blade and about Rs.30 to Rs.40. There was nothing ‘female’ in her bag. Surprising! Why did she carry these?

“Order, order”. Suddenly there was silence, as the judge came and occupied his seat. After two to three petty cases, THE case of the day was taken up. Mahima was called. After taking the oath, Mahima looked at the judge and everybody else in the courtroom with tears in her eyes. Her colleagues were stunned to see Mahima in tears. So this stonehearted lady could cry!

“Respected Sir, I am guilty of this murder and request you to award only death sentence to me. I do not want to face the lengthy legal process because I have nothing to hide”, Mahima said.

Immediately there was commotion in the courtroom.

“Order, order”.

“Madam, law is not that simple. You cannot avoid going through the process. But, I give you the opportunity to speak up first. Please tell us what prompted you to murder this man. You could have just handed him over to the police”, said the learned judge.

“Sir. I have lost faith in this system. I don’t believe that the real culprits are punished. That is why I did so.”

“You have lost faith in law? Why? You must have had some experience. What is it madam?”

“Sir. Is that necessary here? I am pleading guilty. Why do you dig my past?”

“No madam. I am not digging. This is a legal requirement. We need to know the truth in entirety. Who is your lawyer?”

“I have no lawyer. I do not want one. I do not want to escape punishment. Okay. If you insist on knowing everything, here is the story”.

Everybody in the room listened to Mahima with pin drop silence.

“Sir. I lived with my loving husband Rajan and my beloved daughter Surabhi at Trivandrum. Rajan worked as an engineer in a Government Department. I was working for a private firm. Till Surabhi was five years old, my parents at Trichur took care of her. After she started her schooling, we brought her to Trivandrum. After school, she used to stay with our landlord’s family till we returned home. The landlords were nice people and we had no problem.

“Surabhi was 12 years old then. One day, I had some extra work in the office and reached home at around 7 O’Clock in the evening. At around 5 in the evening, I had called my landlords to inform them that I would be delayed. Surabhi herself picked up the phone and said that uncle and aunt, as she called them, had gone to the temple. Their children Krishna and Kriti were with her. They were playing. But when I came at 7, there was a big crowd in front of my house. I ran in with panic and found my sweet little daughter lying in a pool of blood. The landlord and his wife were sitting beside the body with fear and tears. I fell swoon on seeing that. “Mahima. We are sorry Mahima. Pick up courage”. No word of theirs entered by dazed mind. Rajan was called urgently. I later learnt that four college students who were staying in the other portion had entered the house, tied up Krishna and Kriti and raped and murdered Surabhi. All this had happened in a gap of one hour. Aunty and uncle came back at 6.45 and were shocked. What about neighbours? Did they not hear the child screaming? Our house was in a lonely area and houses were situated far away from each other. Nobody even tried to add any detail fearing the long hands of law. Our life was wrecked Sir.

All this happened 8 years ago. All the four students were arrested after an investigation of two months. The case was going on. But since the students were all from very influential families, they were let out on bail in two years. The lower courts dismissed the case for want of enough evidence.   Rajan and I had no life. We didn’t want to end our lives just because we wanted justice to be done and culprits to be punished. We appealed to the High Court. 3 years ago, Rajan committed suicide unable to bear the depression.”

At this stage, Mahima started weeping intensely. Everybody in the court was in tears. Madan and his friends were really touched. They were cursing themselves for making such irresponsible conclusions about Mahima.

“Sir. You might be wondering how I am still alive. For all practical purposes, I am dead. I was alive with the only hope that I could get the culprits punished. I quit my job at Trivandrum and joined this firm here at Delhi, as I wanted to be far away from the scene, from all those gory memories. I used to go to Trivandrum only to the attend the court. But to my utter dismay, last fortnight, I lost the case even at the High Court Sir. The students could falsely prove that they were out on a picnic on that fateful day and they could even disprove the DNA tests. I was very upset. That is why I said I had lost faith in this system, which stands only on paper and eyewitnesses. It is left to the ingenuity of the accused to twist the law to any extent and disprove crimes.”

The court was adjourned on that day. Mahima’s colleagues went home with heavy hearts. No wonder Mahima had not been a normal person. She had got that job through their Managing Director Mr. Shankaran. He was decent enough not to disclose any of her personal details to anyone. He was the only person to whom she would sometimes say ‘Hello’.

Mahima disclosed what happened on that fateful day, when she turned a murderer, on the next day.

As usual, she was returning from her office. She was walking from the bus terminus. As she was passing by that huge bungalow, she heard some child’s wailing sound faintly. She stood by to listen intently. She peeped into the massive iron gate. She saw a big dog tied to a tree on the left side. The dog was barking without resting. This house was on a corner site. She looked at the house on the other side. Some construction work was in progress. All the workers had left. The watchman of that building was chatting with the watchman of the bungalow on the opposite side. She went to them and told, “Who is in that bungalow Saab? I can hear some child crying continuously. I feel she is in trouble.”

They looked at her queerly and said, “Arre. There is a ferocious dog. Watchman Veer Singh is there. Who can be in trouble? Maybe they are watching television or maybe the mother is abusing the child. After all it is just 5 O’Clock in the evening. What can happen? You don’t worry”. They did not want to come to her help.

Her instinct told her that something was terribly wrong. She saw the watchman’s cabin, which was empty. She slowly opened the gate and waited to ensure that there was no other dog. She then went towards the bungalow. The sound was now louder and could be heard in between the dog’s barking sound. She went towards the sound, which came from the right side of the house. She peeped into the windows one by one and she was shocked as she peeped into that bedroom window. There was a gap between the two curtains and there she saw a girl, aged about 16-17 years lying almost naked and a man in khaki just walking out of the room. Mahima’s blood boiled. Immediately, she recalled all that had happened to her daughter. She quickly ran to the front door, as she was sure the idiot would come out of the front door. She hid herself behind the decorative palms near the door, ready with an open knife.

As she expected, the front door opened slowly and that man stealthily walked out, after looking in all directions. Unexpectedly, she pounced on him and started stabbing him repeatedly. He was taken by surprise and lost his balance. He fell down and she took a huge pot and threw it on his head. Though he was dead, she kept stabbing him with full anger abusing him all through. The whole portico turned into a bloody scene of war. After about 20 minutes, she came to her senses. She was wet with blood and suddenly thought of the poor girl. She ran inside. The girl was unconscious. Mahima called up the police from there.

Luckily, the girl survived and her parents vowed to help Mahima escape punishment. They were very grateful to her.

“Sir. I now want to die. I am happy that I could destroy at least one weed out of this beautiful earth. There are yet so many weeds. All of us have to be alert and clear the society off them. Otherwise, so many more innocent flowers like my daughter have to sacrifice their lives. Though I could not avenge my daughter’s murderers, I am satisfied that I could weed out one bad element. I am sorry for taking law into my own hands Sir. I could not help. I had lost trust in law because of my experience. I don’t regret my action too.”

This was Mahima’s final statement. Her colleagues were not interested in the judgement. They were looking into themselves and cleansing themselves of all the evil that they had thought about Mahima!

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In Poetry Corner - A PARADOX NAMED TIME By Ratul Banerjee, India

2010-03-13T18:47:00Z

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A PARADOX NAMED TIME

Its time to make over, to change and transform

To a different stance of life, hitherto unfelt of

Its time to sense and feel the change

Its time to stop rewinding the clock of life

Its time to abstain from backtracking down memory lane

Lest that we live for once this precious mortal life

Lest that death beckons at the fag end whence we die for once and for all

So, time ---- a precious parameter, ought be effectively utilized

Coz the indelible progression of time ………. Not static

Time flows by like a river, the tiny ripples surge forward with the flow

And our thoughts surge forward with time’s flow

Thoughts giving rise to actions and deeds implemented

Actions triggering the pulse of life, the dynamic surge of time

What we think and then commit become the past tomorrow

What we predict and think about tomorrow dictates the future

And what we commit today becomes the present

I know, my friend, what it feels like walking down memory lane

Rejuvenating forlorn thoughts!

Yet don’t just linger upon the doorways now closed forever

Leading to the world that once used to be

Coz now that its falsification

Just contemplate what it takes to think positive and move forwards in life

Don’t look back ! look forwards to the pencil of bright light rays

That now permeates through the open window

The window through which you catch sight of a splendid dawn the day after

The window through which you could see the distant fields

Where the sky embraces those meadows over the horizon

The window through which the winds of change blow and impact our lives

We ……………… only a tiny speck in the sands of immortality

Of the colossus of time

The past ----- forgive and forget

The present ---- live up to it

The future ----- let the winds of change predict

Ratul Banerjee

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In Poetry Corner - THERE WILL ALWAYS BE…… By Asha Venugopal, Nasik, India

2010-03-13T18:46:00Z

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THERE WILL ALWAYS BE

There will always be,

Another day, another way to live,

Another season, another reason to give.

Another woe, another sorrow to bear,

Another joy, another friend to share.

There will always be,

Another moment, another touch to feel,

Another ache, another soul to heal.

Another fear, another hurdle to cross,

Another calm, another fantasy to pause.

There will always be,

Another bloom, another scent to admire,

Another dream, another goal to aspire.

Another moon, another boon to grant,

Another wish, another charm to chant.

There will always be,

Another tale, another truth to narrate,

Another lie, another deceit to relate.

Another hope, another wish to live for,

Another shame, another blame to die for.

There will always be,

Another faith, another desire to believe,

Another task, another miracle to achieve.

Another err, another slip to forgive,

Another love, another life to conceive

Asha Venugopal

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In Jessie's Corner - Different Measuring Scales For The Sexes

2010-03-13T18:45:00Z

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In today’s society there's a growing trend among men and women to have multiple relationships. It’s a trend that the society slowly seems to be in a process of accepting the same. Looking at the past—moi realizes that men and women had some kind of formal commitments to each other, whereas today—the society embodies an attraction for risk, be it with money or love.

The society is used to the fact that if a man dates two or more women at a time he is considered morally reprehensible – everybody considering him to be a stud – which is very much acceptable. Hmm…maybe moi is exaggerating.

Men are studs!

Moi did call this a cool statement – what do you think—is moi right in thinking in these terms? When the society labels a man as a stud –which we have already said is acceptable then can we call a woman a stud or filly/mare – sure does sound weird. Doesn’t it?

Men will be men—isn’t it? Men love to gloat about the various relationships that they have had. In reality or otherwise! Moi believes most men love weaving tall stories to whoever cares to lend them their ears. Biting ears with their weird sense of fantasy stories probably boosts their estrogen levels. The point here is, the more women that a man has been with – he feels his manly prowess have been achieved. Men just like college boys weave these stories and the number of sizzling affairs (all in his mind) that he has had. Well the authenticity of these affairs remains to be seen. Men love gloating about every woman that they have been with, not really sure how many they must have been with in reality — yet the fact is that they love to reveal their skeletons that they have been with such and such woman. No doubt these women obviously happen to be the most beautiful, desirable, and sexy and the most sought women.

What happens if a woman dates more than one man at a time?

Hmm….a lot of names surfacing isn’t it?

To start with a vixen, scheming female, ready to go to any extend to get what she wants and so on.

Is this justified –that we have a different set of rules for men and entirely a different set of rules applicable to women. That is if a man goes out with many women ---he is a stud and if a female sees more than one man –she is considered to be a b****!!

Not done –na?

Well folks—moi is waiting to know your views on this. J

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In Shail's Space - Indulging in Charity: Is it a Noble Cause?

2010-03-13T18:44:00Z

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Indulging in Charity: Is it a Noble Cause?

Charity begins at home it is said. But, do we practise it? Yes, there are times, when we see that beggar on the road and our heart may go out for that sickly looking, tattered clothed woman and the malnutritioned baby In her arms. We might even stop and drop that little coin in her dirty palm. Does it help the woman? Does it help us? More than anything else, is doing charity a noble cause, a deed done to serve humanity or build up your good karma? Or, is it just a superficial act to satiate your ego? Whatever it may be, does it serve any good or healthy purpose? Or does it do more harm than good?

Is charity an egoistic run?

There are innumerable people who believe that by doing some charity they are washing their sins away. You will find many such people in orphanages and ashrams donating huge sums for their children’s birthdays or their wedding anniversaries. But, how many of them do this from their hearts? I have seen many such people dressed very well (unmindful of the fact that the people they are going to serve food are destitutes who cannot in the world imagine for the kind of clothing and jewelry that these benefactors are wearing). It is not always that the donation or the ‘annadaanam’ is done with a humble attitude. But then, this isn’t exactly a topic about attitude is it? It is about the very act of charity itself. Is it needed? Is it a healthy trend? Would you do it?

The very same people who wouldn’t mind giving money to an orphanage, old age home or ashram will not always behave in a charitable manner in their homes. I am not generalizing. There are people who will give charity and then grumble that their problems still continue despite the ‘noble act.’ The very fact that you are doing a good deed expecting a good thing to happen to you in return makes the action itself a selfish act. And when you are selfish how can you expect its consequence to benefit you? Most of us lead lives of expectation. No wonder, we get disappointed, disillusioned and cynical easily. Charity seems okay when done to help someone really in need. When it is done to blow up you ego then it serves no purpose. Right?

Those not indulging in charity of any kind have their side of the argument with the fact that there are lots of people who do not really need help but have made begging their profession. Even if they are hale and hearty they want to find an easy way out to survive in life. And begging seems that easy option. Secondly, it is said that it is difficult to judge who really is in need and who is not. So, why take a risk? So, don’t be charitable, they say. Thirdly, helping beggars and institutions that live off charity is encouraging them to live life without self-respect, by cheating others. So, why encourage them? Just stay off them, is what they eventually say.

I know it is difficult to judge as to who really needs your charity and who doesn’t. We hear of several cases where there are gangs of such people (whether as individuals/groups or as institutions) who intentionally drug their little babies to gain the sympathy of others. In such a scenario, many people would like to take the safe route out and not indulge in any charity at all. Why get cheated or feel having been made a fool of, they say.

So, what do you say about charity? Do you tend to drop that coin when you see someone begging just in case the person was really in need? Or do you stay wary of charity? Which attitude do you think is right? And why?

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In Movie Review By Irene - Alice in Wonderland

2010-03-13T18:40:00Z

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Film:

Alice in Wonderland

Directed By: Tim Burton

Screenplay: Linda Woolverton

Novel: Lewis Carroll

Cinematographer:
Dariusz Wolski

Editor: Chris Lebenzon

Sound: Steve Boeddeker

Music: Danny Elfman

Cast:
Johnny Depp, Mia Wasikowska, Helena Bonham Carter, Anne     Hathaway, Crispin Glover, Matt Lucas, Stephen Fry, Michael Sheen, Alan Rickman, Barbara Windsor, Paul Whitehouse, Timothy Spall, Marton Csokas, Tim Pigott-Smith, etc



This film is actually about Alice’s second visit to Wonderland, a place which she’d visited as a child, but doesn’t really remember. All she has are bad dreams, which her father used to make easier to live with, but he is no more. Her father loved impossible dreams and instilled that love in Alice, but his death has left the family in a pecuniary mess and therefore a rich suitor has now been found for Papa’s not-so-little-dreamer. She’s nineteen now, on the verge of getting engaged to a man she doesn’t particularly care for, when the sight of the rabbit-in-a-waistcoat scampering around the engagement venue offers her a hope of escape from what seems to be the chosen tedium of her life. Leaving behind her suitor on his knees, and hundreds of shocked party guests, Alice (Mia Wasikowska) runs after the rabbit, down the hole, down the crazy shaft with objects flying past… till she reaches the room with a key. No, she doesn’t remember what to do, whisper the voices, as Alice again makes the same mistakes that she did years ago as she alternately sips the potion or bites into the piece of cake to grow big, grow small, and then big again, and small again! As Alice finally manages to step out into a fascinating world, there is much debate in Wonderland – now called Underland – about whether she is the right Alice. Alice says she is beyond doubt the right Alice, since it is her dream!

We go on now to meet the array of crazy characters – the twins Tweedledum and Tweedledee, March Hare, Chesire Cat (voiced by Stephen Fry), the blue caterpillar Absolum (voiced by Alan Rickman) and of course the Mad Hatter (Depp). The wise, hookah-smoking caterpillar tells Alice about her destiny as the slayer of the dragon Jabberwocky (from Carroll’s nonsense poem of the same name) and Alice, not wanting to slay any fearsome creature, promptly declares that she’s not the right Alice. Mad Hatter of course knows that this is the right Alice who is going to help them get rid of the deliciously evil Red Queen (Bonham Carter) and reinstate the slightly quirky but good White Queen (Anne Hathaway).

What I liked about the film is that, while retaining the original crazies, it added a new dimension to Alice’s character by making her a feisty nineteen year old who eventually dares to follow an impossible dream. I also liked the fact that the film didn’t linger on endlessly to showcase CG, but treats the CG world almost casually, as a part of the storytelling. It is also interesting that the Red Queen with the swollen head actually for a moment wonders whether it is better to be loved rather than feared. Of course she finally retains her love for executions and chooses to be feared. The White Queen leaves you wondering about how her vows leave her exempt from facing actual danger!

The film’s world is a mix of real characters and CG ones, and the landscape of the Underworld (created by Robert Stromberg, who also did ‘Avatar’) is rather awesome. Some of the CG characters created – like Caterpillar and Chesire Cat – are so much fun to watch. The perils that Alice faces are never ever very scary because nothing is ever sinister, just bizarre, much like the mad flavour of the original story. Mad Hatter hiding Alice in a teapot as the Knave of Hearts and his hounds look for her is such a deft little enjoyable scene. Where the film does falter is with the Jabberwocky angle, turning Alice into someone the characters of Underworld have been waiting for to deliver them from the Red Queen. Alice’s story now starts suspiciously like many other fantasy tales and this proves to be the film’s biggest undoing.

Mia Wasikowska’s Alice is rather enthralling. Johnny Depp once again gets it right as a crazy character, and though there may be a feeling of déjà vu while watching him, his Mad Hatter is a cool act. Anne Hathaway’s White Queen makes one feel uneasy. Crispin Glover is a mean looking Knave of Hearts. And of course Helena Bonham Carter makes for such an immensely watchable Red Queen who uses animals for furniture and sport, and loves beheading people.

Yes, one does wish the film didn’t have that Jabberwocky end, but it is still a lot of fun and fantasy. Worth watching for sure.

Rating: Three stars out of five

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