a humanities miscellany- issue no. 5

a humanities miscellany

a humanities miscellany

November '22, Issue 5

A student-led magazine from the humanities students in the School of Arts and Sciences, Azim Premji University

Azim Premji University, Survey No 66, Burugunte Village, Bikkanahalli Main Road, Sarjapura, Bengaluru 562125

@ughumanitieszine@apu.edu.in

Editors' Note

(The following is a transcription of a slightly chaotic audio recording. Idea stolen from the first zine editors.)

Ria: Can we- should this be an audio test or something?

Gayatri: No, no I think we should just start.

Praapthi: Okay we want this to be freestyle? But like, slightly scripted freestyle.

Ria: Okay. Hey guys! How’s it goin-

Bhuvi: Already bad.

Gayatri: Cut cut.

Praapthi: Guys. Let’s start. Please.

Gayatri: So how did we get here, sitting in B3-1-13, eating Birbal Biriyani, at 2 in the morning-

( Ria: It’s not 2 in the morning, it’s like 11. )

Bhuvi: I think Praapthi asked Tara, right? And told her we wanted to take up the zine.

Praapthi: And then we roped in Ria, because we wanted a person from each discipline.

Bhuvi: Then Gayatri joined, because she’s my roommate and she was around me all the time.

Gayatri: Taking up the zine has been really fun, and also a lot of responsibility, especially because it’s something we care about a lot.

Ria - We also want the previous zine fellows to be not-ashamed when they look at the new edition. So that’s the goal we’ve set for ourselves (small panicked laugh)

Bhuvi: And that can be kinda scary and stressful because it takes some figuring out on our end as well, especially because this is the first time we’ve done anything like this.

Praapthi: Oh yeah dude we were quite clueless in the beginning.

Bhuvi: But then after the first full group meeting, we slowly started to get a hold of it. Because we made a timeline, organised the editors and made lists of all our pieces and stuff. It all kind of worked though, in the end, because the issue is coming out!!! Before end sem!! I’m very proud of us, this’ll be something to look back on :)

Gayatri: Oh god, yeah. It also feels like the zine is something we’re leaving behind, like physical, tangible evidence of our being here. It’s like our legacy, you know? And this is something we want carried down also, so we’re just hoping that more enthu people take it up after we leave.

( Praapthi: The zine is like our baby, guys.

Ria: Yeah, we worked on it, we birthed it-

Gayatri: Let’s not say birthed, that’s gross. )

Bhuvi- Enough of this now, I think. You were saying something earlier, no? About the humanities split?

Praapthi - Oh yeah, that. I was thinking since the humanities programme has been split into three separate disciplines, we wanted to provide a platform where people could come explore these overlapping spaces, or anything that vaguely falls within the sphere of ‘humanities’.

Ria: And also it gives people an excuse to write outside their academic stuff. Because the zine isn’t just about serious, formal essays. It’s about having a chill, fun and easy time where you don’t have to worry about how it’s going to be read or what grade you’re going to get for it or anything.

Gayatri: Yeah, you’re right, because this edition of the zine itself received so many kinds of pieces, about a range of different things.

Bhuvi: Also it looks incredible.

Praapthi: Yeah we’re very happy with the way it turned out.

Ria: If nothing else, people should download the zine just to look at it.

Bhuvi : We've been talking for too long. Time for acknowledgements, I feel. Tara and Meghana went above and beyond-

Praapthi - That much and all they didn’t do but okay.

Bhuvi - No they definitely did. We would’ve died without them. They spent a good chunk of time sitting down and talking to us about how to do the zine.

Gayatri - Yeah, they really did. Also! Neeraja! She was incredible, helped us organise ourselves when we were scrambling fully. Also she was just excited about the zine which was a good morale boost for us.

Bhuvi : I think it’s time to end it.

Ria : End it all, am I right? Ha ha ha

Everyone laughs (fakely). End of editor’s note.

Contents

Lockdown Puppies and Other Tragedies

An Emotional Take on the Immorality of Friendship Inclusivity on the Sports Field

What Kind of APU Student are you? Amuamma's Place

Nobody Likes Wars Except for the Ancient Greeks

Nefertiti: A Ramble

A Love Letter to Medusa and Medea

Ripples in Tides

Picnic Ladybird

There Is A Restaurant Under My Bed Ink

Kafkart: Metamorphosis

'I Worried', Illustrated

Stones and Symmetry: A Walk Through Mandu

Gayatri Allamsetty breaks down the cruelty behind the dog-breeding practice in India.

Lockdown Puppies and Other Such Tragedies perspectives

With the dawn of the Covid Age came, as all of you know, a time where we were forced to stay indoors, re-acquaint ourselves with our homes and the people inside them. For some, this was not particularly agreeable; for others, it was a

much-needed break, a time for a new project. Unfortunately, for many people in both these groups, this meant the addition of a new family member to their household. No, not that kind.

Let’s paint a picture: It’s April, early May of 2020. The world as we know it has come to a complete halt. A young couple has just moved into their first flat and then discovered that this entails far more time together than anticipated. (Thanks, Covid.) They’re working from home, they have time to spare. It seems like the perfect time to get that dog they’ve been dreaming of for so long. It’s easy enough, in Bangalore, to get the contact of a breeder ('pure pedigree dog, good lineage'). Within days, there is a six-week old puppy running around their flat which is now chock-full of toys and food and little dog beds.

At first, it’s lovely. Then sets in the teething, the chewing, the 24/7 care and vigilance, the ruined upholstery, the gnawed table legs. The mess around the house. The size - who ever knew that puppies grow into full-sized dogs?

Staying at home all the time grows old, eventually. The Covid situation relaxes a little, the world wakes up. The couple leaves the house and returns to find that their dog, anxious beyond belief, has ripped up everything within reach. It’s harder now that they’ve both returned to their offices, to look after this dog with severe separation

anxiety, to find time to walk him, give him the time he used to get when he first arrived.

It seems kinder, really, to give him up.

“Lockdown puppies” is a term that has rapidly become popular within the animal welfare circles in India, and as adorable as it may sound, any welfare worker or rescuer will tell you that it was a horrid addition to a field which was already muddied with problems.

The young people mentioned are fictional in this case, but really, there exist thousands of versions of them. The number of puppies bought shot up rapidly during the lockdown, and with it, the number of abandonment cases rose too. It’s an all too common phenomenon- people buying puppies and then realising that they don’t have the bandwidth to care for one.

This is something that has been happening for a long time, but the spike in these cases over the last couple of years has been alarming, to say the least. In some cases, the dogs are handed over directly to shelters- the lowest of bars, really, but in others, they are dumped on the streets, left to fend for themselves afer having known nothing but a life indoors. These dogs are inevitably unsocialisedboth with other dogs and with people, as they’d spent the formative months of their lives inside a house- the trauma of losing the only family they had known and being shied suddenly and without warning to a completely different environment is seriously jarring.

The problem here is that often, people do not understand just how much of a commitment a dog, or any pet, truly is. It isn’t something someone should decide on a whim- it’s a lifetime responsibility, equivalent to having a child; a child that (obviously) never grows up to look after themself, or finds their own place, or pays rent.

Now, this isn’t to discourage people from getting dogs. In fact, adopting a dog can be one of the most rewarding, fulfilling things you can do, both for yourself and the dog. The warmth and love of it all is unparalleled.

However, adopting a dog from a shelter is something that people should absolutely do, as opposed to buying puppies from breeders. People may have many reasons for wanting dogs of particular breeds or ages- this is often taken into consideration when they apply to adopt a dog as well.

The bottom line of it all is that buying puppies from breeders actively feeds into this horrible industry where mother dogs are kept in deplorable conditions, used until their bodies can’t handle it anymore, after which they are promptly and unceremoniously discarded.

Puppies are separated from their mothers far too early; as soon as they are ready to eat solids, breeders are in a hurry to get rid of them, as any food besides their mother’s milk is an added cost burden. The whole system is nothing more than an economic venture for dog breeders. It’s as simple as this; if there is no longer a demand for these puppies, the industry will automatically decline.

There are hundreds of issues with the whole breeding industry, but in the end, all it really comes down to is kindness. Buying “just one” puppy has an immense ripple effect; it means the

It’s an all too common phenomenon- people buying puppies and then realising that they don’t have the bandwidth to care for one.

female dogs in the industry being forced to live their whole lives in one cage, the culling of unwanted puppies by breeders because they are an unnecessary expense.

Instead of supporting this entirely immoral system, one can choose to adopt. Shelters are overflowing with dogs- most abandoned, some confiscated from breeders, some given up directly. Dogs of all shapes, colours, ages and sizes are waiting for their homes, and adoption stories are the most heartwarming, beautiful things to witness.

Senior dogs too, after years of cruelty and neglect, have been adopted at ages like eleven or twelvesome of them terminally ill- and their last few years are spent surrounded by love and warmth, a true family. Puppies and adult dogs alike have so much love to offer, and that love is found in abundance at any shelter you visit.

So please, if you, your family, or anybody you know is looking to add an additional furry member to their household, urge them to adopt, not shop.

Some active animal welfare activists in Bangalore who frequently talk about this and related issues can be found on social media: @chinthanagopinath @sanjana_madappa

Some adoption shelters and networks in Bangalore: @secondchancesanctuaryindia @charliesanimalrescuecentre @letslivetogether

An Emotional Take on the Immorality of Friendship

The qualitative depth of a close friendship is perplexingly immeasurable. It is a well of affection into which one can keep

falling without ever having to bother about the pain of the impact. Without the bonds of formality, one is free to give and receive love dangerously which makes friendships one of the most revolutionary and liberating experiences a person can have. There is a mutual promise of stability that friendship guarantees which can make you feel like you are timelessly held.

The love friendships embody, however, makes humans act in peculiar ways. So, I would like to request you, reader, to examine with me the way friendships make us behave as moral agents.

We have all heard the famous phrase “I would help you bury a body”. Though this is a (hopefully) exaggerated way of expressing loyalty, there is an underlying truth to the sentiment. The truth is, we would do gravely unethical things for our friends– this sense of loyalty is a natural assumption to make. For example, I could comfortably lie to a professor about the well-being of my friend as an excuse for them skipping class or submitting an assignment late. Or lie to my parents about why my friend always borrows my notebook, even though I know that looking at my notes will not help them learn. All these examples point to how loyalty is luring me away from the rational ethics that guide the way I usually act.

by Bhuvi Kalley

This questionable form of loyalty is a naturally presumed property of friendships and does not seem peculiar to any of us. Friendship without loyalty to most people would seem to lack intimacy and depth, because what use is friendship if you can’t be your true monstrous self? Imagine not being able to tell a friend that you did unethical things – that would mean you have to shield a part of yourself from them, and isn't the whole point of friendship to have someone stay even after unveiling yourself to them? We have all perhaps accepted that the underlying and usually unsaid assumptions in friendship are sometimes immoral.

The question is whether we simply accept that being a good friend and wanting to be a moral agent are not compatible. This seems too simplistic a conclusion to make. Friendships are rooted in love and care, how can that translate to immorality?

Suppose a close friend in an exclusive relationship cheats on their partner and lies to them about it. I will not look at this situation through an abstract moral framework, but would instead use a more specific lens. I would be more committed to my friend rather than to abstract moral principles, which means that I keep my friend's best interest in mind to decide what moral action to take next. To clarify, my commitment to friendship has to take precedence over any moral framework.

What does it actually mean to commit to my friendship over moral principles? This does not necessarily imply that friendship as a relationship is above moral principles. However, it does mean that when one commits to a friendship, they are putting the wellbeing of their friend over a moral commitment.

This would suggest that in the example given about adultery, the best action for me to take is to keep my friend’s secret about the affair and let them take their time to handle conflict in a healthier way, which would only help my friend’s psychological health.

Accepting that the main feature of friendships is to care about each other's betterment would require us to re-look at how this definition of friendship fits into the moral framework. If another person's wellbeing is the deciding factor for what actions I take, then would that not be altruistic? So, if I keep my friend’s secret, it is because my actions are being motivated by my desire for my friend's welfare.

Friendship without loyalty, to most people, would seem to lack intimacy and depth, because what use is friendship if you can’t

Now the problem is solved. We have a definition easy enough to accept because our actions in friendships are determined by our care for the other person's betterment. Which means friendship is now very compatible with the moral framework. We all intuitively believe that friendship is good, and now we have a satisfactory definition to prove it.

Although, after some close inspection, we can see why friendship is not simply about keeping the others' wellbeing in mind; friendships are stronger than that, they have the power

to transform, which is very specific to them. On the other hand, keeping in mind others' wellbeing is not necessarily a feature specific to friendships. Teachers, parents and siblings all care about our well-being. They too could put their commitment to our betterment before any moral principles.

Therefore, perhaps arguing that all action taken in friendship is for the betterment of the other lessens the unique space friendships occupy in our life.

Philosophers Cocking and Kennett in a paper published in 2000 argue that the feature tied exclusively to friendships is the sense of mutual “drawing” – we draw from our friends' experiences, and we give them the power to influence our interests and even self conception. My friend telling me that I am a good listener will shape the way I examine my own identity. So friendships, due to their strong sense of mutual intimacy, have the power to transform another. We let friendships affect our perception in a much deeper and different way than any other relationship, be it a teacher, sibling etc.

You may be wondering, however, what the power to transform has to do with morality. It is significant because the power to transform would mean that my friend is no longer an external aspect of my life, they are invested in the creation of me. How can this extension of me be expected to look at my welfare in a moral, rational and completely altruistic manner? It seems simply impossible to expect such a thing. Friends are partial. Friends stay even after you do heinous things. These features of friendships can only very forcibly be fit into the framework of altruism. Even Hitler and Mussolini have best friends who will justify the moral actions they've taken, because they too like the rest of us are partial to their friends and will continue to be friends even if the world very rightly believes that they have done truly horrible

be your true monstrous self?

things. The reality is, friendships are not moral, and no interpretation of a real friendship can argue otherwise.

This conclusion is easy to accept for me. I would much rather invest in a friendship which is based on a mutual “drawing” than one in which our main purpose is to only look after each other. I would willingly give my friends the power to transform me, into good, bad or anything in between than have them be a distant rational moral agent in my life.

Transformation allows for moral growth, there is potential for me to become better. I can't say that the same is true for someone who believes friendships are a moral good. How can an entire relationship as significant as friendship only be given the reductionist label “good”? Goodness has no space for growth– goodness is a conclusion and friendship is too vast to be captured by such a simplistic definition.

So, how will you, dear reader, wrap your head around all this? I think that would depend on the way you experience friendships. If you believe your friendship's purpose is to constantly keep your friend's betterment in mind, then congratulations, your definition of friendship is very compatible with a moral framework! But if, according to you, being biased and acting in unethical ways is an essential part of friendships then you may have to abandon your desire to be a perfect moral agent.

My suggestion would be to make friends who can convince you that the latter definition is infinitely superior.

The sports field, at least in APU, is marketed as a place where even the beginners who haven’t ever stepped

in a playground can come and play freely. This loosely translates to “Everyone is welcome”, at least in theory. However, does everyone truly feel welcomed?

I have been going to the sports field since the very first week and the experience has differed every day, which confirms that every person will have a varied experience, be it good or bad. Personally, I see people on the field trying to be inclusive of an almostbeginner who is a woman, but it is still so infuriating whenever I get sidelined, which is very often.

I have often seen most non-male players in the field be either intimidated to even participate, or play the role of an audience member while inside the court/playing field.

This might be due to their past experiences in school or any other setting, or it might just be because it is their first time playing a sport. A very common reasoning for women being intimidated is the excessive aggression in the field during the game. I have often heard them say that they keep standing in the field with no one passing to them, and instead having to dodge the players as they shouted or passed directly from one end of the field to another.

This in no way means that I am trying to villainize every male player on the field. I have also received a lot of encouragement and support on the court as well. However, it still feels like they “let me play”. I understand that not everything is related to my sex, skillset is also a huge part of whom you give passes to.

by Samiksha Dubey

This leads me to another practice I have noticed on courtnon-male players often have to prove that they can play, whereas for men it is almost assumed that they know how to play, or that they will manage well even if they do not know the game properly. The irony of all these aforementioned practices is that they are so ingrained in most people’s minds that they do not know they are engaging in them.

A step that I think we as the players need to take is to go to the sports field as consistently as possible. After all, efforts have to be made from both sides- the non-male players need to stand up for themselves. It could be as subtle as going to the field more often, asking for more passes, and attending the workshops. I realise most of these things are easier

said than done because a lot of factors can be hindrances for different people. However, we need to start somewhere and I think that just by consistently visiting the field and playing in whatever capacity we can will not only help boost our own confidence gradually, but it will also make the others aware of the fact that we are serious about the game and are ready to put in efforts for the same.

The irony of these practices is that they are so ingrained in people's minds that they do not know they are engaging in them.

j u s t

What Kind Of APU Student Are You?

The APU campus is vivid and diverse. Surely all of us have heard this phrase at least a billion times. There are so many amazing people here and I don’t just mean from different states and linguistic backgrounds, but also of different temperaments!

Am I right? I guess we'll see!

Add up all your points and see what category you fit in!

1. Where do you tend to spend most of your time?

a. The library b. The hinge/ around campus c. In your own rooms/random classroom d. Doing some activity/sports

2. What meal do you take most in the cafeteria?

a. Rice/chappati meal b. Chinese/Biriyani c. I order food d. I survive on icecream

3. Where would you find yourself on a Friday?

a. Reading and preparing for next week b. Field/ gym c. Doing an extra-curricular activity d. Partying, duh!

4. At an open mic, would you:

a. Sing / Dance b. Stand-Up Comedy c. Hoot from the crowd d. What open mic?

5. If any of these subjects existed as majors in APU, what would you select?

a. Hotel Management b. Computer Sciences c. Political Science d. Psychology

6. Choose an APU theme song:

a. All Is Well / Kukkud b. Rang De Basanti c. The Nights d. Woh Din Bhi Kya Din The

8. What distracts you most while you are on your way from the corridors to your room?

a. Who says I get distracted? b. Board games and cards c. Socialising and friends d. The TT table and carrom board

8. What's the best thing about the APU campus?

a. Dogs, without question! b. Greenery and aesthetics, I guess! c. B3 building and freedom! d. Eh! Campus isn't that great!

(80 to 140) THE VERSATILE POINDEXTERS

You often find yourself questioning if you enjoy college life as much as you should, but end up being productive anyways. You are sincere and a perfectionist and probably ‘need’ your room to be clean at all times. Noisy gangs annoy you and the library is the closest thing to heaven on Earth. You probably have already figured out what you want to do next or are really looking forward to figure that out!

(140 to 200) THE OMNIPRESENT ENTHUSIASTS

Boy, aren’t you happy about getting into the vivacious campus life! You often find yourself contemplating whether you should attend a spicy seminar or go for a protest or simply play some notes in the music room. You are a big fan of the clubs (not in a fan club) and you love talking to professors. You like the live counter and you love late-night movies! You are always waiting for an excuse to dress up and dance and you want to live life to its fullest.

(200 to 260) THE REDEFINED 'COOL KIDS' (260 to 320) THE ULTRA PRO MAX LEGENDS

Hanging out in private classrooms with that close-knit group of friends or simply chilling in your own room is something you like. Waking up early sucks! I know, you probably chose a weekend CRX. You like being in the spotlight but not exactly the center of the stage, more like an important ‘sidekick’. You are particularly snobbish about food and not content with the cafeteria. You are serious when you study but totally careless otherwise. Deep down you miss home but you don’t tend to show it often. Probably friends with everyone around!

Well, if you were truthful, you know that you deserve this category. Life is so unpredictable and you are probably a philosophy major. You hate timetables and routines and you are a wild spirited creature. You roam where you want, do what you want and eat what you want. You know that you are very talented but you tend to keep it hidden. You may or may not be a people person, but you keep going to extremes. You show up to classes a little late and you don’t really care about the aesthetics of your room. Handshakes and hugs are your thing. Nobody can stop you from being who you are.

Amuamma’s Place

It was a silent weekend night. I was back home from college for the holidays and stayed up to work on an

essay for a class. As I sat on my table furiously typing, I heard a low growl from my gut. So, in the hopes of taking a small break, I walked into the kitchen.

It was quite late in the night, and the only sound in the kitchen was me shuffling around and the cars that whizzed by on the main road. I hopped onto the cold granite slab, right next to the stove, waiting for the milk to boil. At that moment I felt like I was being pulled back in time. The warm smell of boiled milk, the freezing granite slab, and the whisper of a lonely night. I was back in 2009, in Adyar, Chennai, as a tiny six-year-old at my amuamma’s place for the weekend.

As a child, I would always go to my

grandmother’s house on the weekends. My parents would drop me there and I would spend the whole weekend watching soaps on tv and eating Maggi. It would be a fun-filled day, and after a hearty dinner of curd rice and podi, I would snuggle into bed with my grandma. She would hug me close and begin her story: “Once upon a time, there lived a princess named Saahitya...”. Her voice would drift me off into a deep slumber as her voice swaddled me like a blanket. However, sometime in the night around 4 am, thoughts of my mother would invade my dreams and tears would pool in my eyes, my sobs waking my amuamma. She would carry me gently and take me to the kitchen, all the while

by Saahitya Kota

persuading me that my mom would be there in the morning. She would place me on the ice-cold granite slab in the kitchen, right next to the stove, and begin boiling some milk.

She would sing her favorite song and wait for the milk to boil. I would sit there, wiping my tears and humming along with her. The warmth of the simmering milk and her soothing voice would calm my racing heart.

She would pour the milk into a tall steel

tumbler and would hold another one in her other hand. With ease and grace, she would gently pour the milk from one to the other. I would watch with

myeyeswide asthemilk wouldeffortlessly fly from one glass into another.

A packet of Milk Bikkies would be opened. I would dip the biscuit into the milk and eat it square by square, column by column.

A smile of success would appear on my face

Something Classic, Something Contemporary NoOneLikes WarsExceptfor theAncientGreeks

Riasai Subheesh Talks About The Shield of Achilles by W H Auden

In 2020, I used Greek Mythology to fill the void within. At the peak of my obsession, I wrote a 3000 word paper on

W H Auden’s poem, The Shield of Achilles. Auden, being a Modernist poet who lived through two World Wars, has a good number of fairly dark, overtly anti-war poems under his belt - this is one of them. Auden uses a scene from Homer’s The Iliad to comment on the different attitudes towards war in his time and that of the Ancients. More than a year after my initial burst of inspiration, I will attempt to make my theories fun and interesting for you, dear reader. We will discuss the difference in the attitudes of the soldiers and the narrators. At some point in this essay I will also try and convince you all that everyone piles on Helen for no reason.

For all of you who haven’t dedicated a significant amount of your time to fixating on The Iliad, let me give you some context. (Picture a small-ish person, standing next to two rather tall deities, Thetis and Hephaestus, arguing over a shield, just shrugging very nonchalantly. That’s me. I’m here to bring you up to speed. Just thought a bit of imagery would be fun, setting the scene, the record scratch, all that jazz.) In order for you to make sense of this, I have to take you back a couple of days.

Patroclus is dead. Achilles’ childhood best friend, light of his life, his only will to live, Patroclus, is dead and it has absolutely devastated him. After all of his wailing and crying, Achilles vows to avenge Patroclus; to torture and eviscerate the man who killed him, Hector. One tiny issue (and obviously the only one, except for the fact that it is also a well known prophecy that once Achilles murders Hector, death will soon come for him as well) was that Achilles did not have any armour to wear into battle, because Patroclus died in his. Instead of borrowing armour from a fellow soldier, like a normal person would, his mother, the nymph Thetis, feels that it is necessary to ask the God of Blacksmiths and Forges, Hephaestus, to make a new shield for her son.

This is where we are in the poem. Thetis looks for beautiful scenes from the war on the shield, scenes of what she believes war to be, filled with glory, honour and radiant young men and women. Instead, Hephaestus carves his understanding of war, one the poet also resonates with. On the shield, we actually see a modern portrayal of war, with all its soldiers and their lifeless eyes, going about their dreary routines, surrounded by barbed wire, death and gloom. Heavy stuff. A lot to write about, a lot more to live through.

(Picture the same small-ish person, only this time in a white lab coat and very messy hair. The author vows to never do a day of science in their life but it may help to imagine them looking like a mad scientist because what will follow is definitely going to be a bit of a stretch.) I think Hephaestus is Auden’s self insert in this poem. Not as strange as it sounds. Though ‘Hephaestus’ (representative of Auden’s views) is an ancient Greek God, he has a rather modern take on war, by which I mean that he recognizes the atrocities of war and does not glorify it unlike the other Gods and Greeks of his time. Thetis, on the other hand, is used to represent the views of Homer - she tells us how the Greeks felt about war and shows us the pride and honour that were inextricably tied to being a soldier and fighting in battle.

There are only lifeless, dulled down versions of humans, savage beasts that wear human skins.

Auden highlights just how much the soldiers don’t want to fight this war. He describes the soldiers in his poem as “An unintelligible multitude / A million boots in line / Without expression, waiting for a sign.” There is no individuality, no way to distinguish one from another. There is no spirit and no reason - only monotony. They behave like cogs in a machine, mindlessly taking orders from someone they have never seen. “A society where thought becomes a luxury.” This becomes even more evident when you contrast it to the portrayal of the Greek soldiers in The Iliad. The Greeks were enthusiastic, to say the least. Every man fought in that 10 year war like they were all personally offended that Helen was taken from Menelaus, like they all had some sort of claim over her (more on this soon). Whenever spirits were low, all it took was an rousing speech from a God in disguise and they’d be in great shape again, ready to murder some more Trojans.

This personal connection to the war is something that the soldiers in Auden’s times lacked. Lines 15-22 aptly describe and reiterate my point about the soldiers’ motives, or lack thereof. Though men did voluntarily enlist in the military in Auden’s time, a bulk of the army was forcefully recruited. These were men who were forced to leave their homes, knowing that the odds of them coming back alive were slim to none. They were simply thrust onto a battlefield and told to kill the men in front of them. These men had no reason to fight, to be invested in their cause, the same way Achilles did not kill Hector for nine years - because he had no reason to. The death of Patroclus was the only thing that made him do it - it was done in a fit of unbridled rage where he refused to listen to reason or acknowledge how Hector’s death would inevitably cause his own. All for his super special friend.

(Picture the small-ish person collapsing on a chair. They’ve tired themself out with this whole monologue. They’re taking a minute - taking a minute to get ready to rant about something very close to their heart.)

Wretched Helen, forced to wear the face that launched a thousand ships. She’s easily one of the people who had the worst luck in The Iliad, not

counting the thousands that died tragic and painful deaths for no real reason. Throughout the myth, it is never revealed to us if Helen left her husband, Menelaus, and all of Sparta of her own accord. And even if she did, good for her! I don’t like Paris, I think he’s just a prettyboy coward and I don’t appreciate how far that got him but if Helen wanted to leave her crone of a husband who she was forced to marry, who am I to object? (The Greeks did not get this memo I’m afraid) And even if she was kidnapped by Paris, there was no happy ending for her after the war. She was treated SO terribly by the people that claimed to wage this war to restore her honour and bring her back to them. They abused her with words I definitely cannot repeat here, and forced her to go back home with her terrible husband Menelaus or be killed. Truly a very Sophie’s Choice-esque dilemma.

(Picture the person getting out of their chair and laughing a little bit. They’ve just lied to you. They’ve never seen Sophie’s Choice. They enjoy lying for fun.)

It’s a strange thing to see someone’s entire worldview crumble right in front of you. These beliefs that Thetis has clung to for so many years are like mist shrouding her vision. The realisation of the truth that Hephaestus speaks of does not happen immediately. Hephaestus carves various scenes of the battlefield onto Achilles’ armour, each more horrifying than the last for Thetis. Each idealised expectation she has, he counters with a realistic depiction of the battlefield. She imagines greenery, idyllic sceneries, altars for the gods and warriors dancing amongst each other. Hephaestus carves an apocalyptic scene - bare fields, no scenery, no civilization for miles. He also describes the regression of the people on the battlefield, the men reverting to something primal and carnal. These people, having become so accustomed to

Wretched Helen, forced to wear the face that launched a thousand ships.

cruelty, now know it as the truth. There are only lifeless, dulled down versions of humans, savage beasts that wear human skins.

That was kind of dark. Onto less dark things to end this essay with. From this abundance of information, we can tell that the Greeks, and by extension, Homer and Thetis were so blinded by the ‘will of the Gods’ and were so caught up in all the glory that accompanied winning a war that they managed to overlook the mostly unimportant consequences of war - you know, lives lost, families broken, that sort of thing, but then again that’s just how the Greeks did things. We also see Hephaestus (and Auden) absolutely shutting down every stupid idea Thetis seems to have about war. (Picture Thetis saying anything and Hephaestus cutting her off midsentence and just saying ‘no’. Thetis starts crying after that.)

We end on Thetis acknowledging the horrors of the war her son has been fighting, mourning the soon to be dead Achilles and the last nine years of his very young existence, with the Fates lying in wait, ready to snip his thread of life.

Scan here to read the full poem

Kavya Ganesan and Suhani Kurpad explore the different avatars of the Egyptian queen across reality and fiction.

Before we begin: Make this a fun read! Take a shot (of water) every time we mention the word ‘sexy’ in any conjugation!

History does not read as a story. It’s fragments of evidence that people have discovered and tried to patch together as

coherently as possible. But how do we know history outside of academia? Through popular media, like movies, or other forms of fiction, history makes its way into popular media more often than we think. Oftentimes, these creators tend to use quite a bit of creative license to pander to audiences- but just how much can one be allowed, in order to weave fact and fantasy together? We’ll take a look at two very different renditions of the same historical figure, Queen Nefertiti: the movie The Mummy Returns (2001), and Shinohara Chie’s Anatolia Story (1995). But first, a bit about the actual historical figure. Who was Nefertiti?

Nefertiti was the primary wife of the 10th king of the 18th dynasty of Egypt, Ankhenaten. Not much is known about her - mainly because her tomb hasn’t been found yet. Anything we know about her comes from Ankhenaten’s records. He was a bit of a troublemaker, forcibly pushing a new primary deity down the throats of the Egyptians of that time. He even attempted to change records of the previous deity, but ended up being assassinated. He stirred up plenty of shit for historians to dig through, and some of that pertained to his wife, Nefertiti.

Nefertiti’s fame mainly derives from how dropdead gorgeous she was, which sparked a lot of interest, given she was likely not from the local gene pool. We know this from the existence of her bust, which was found in a sculptor’s workshop. She was likely not from Egypt, but from Mittani, a kingdom north of Egypt (present-day Turkey/Syria/Iraq). She got married off to Ankhenaten, and the two became the ‘golden couple’ - pretty much because they ruled Egypt at its peak.

Given the lack of information we have about it, Western media probably fixated on her because a) she was extremely pretty and b) she slots in right between two of the most famous pharaohsAkhenaten and Tutankhamun.

In The Mummy Returns, Nefertiti is portrayed as the daughter of Seti I. Except that Seti I actually ruled Egypt about 5 whole successors after Akhenaten’s reign, who was the father of Tutankhamun, and the husband of Nefertiti. The movie’s Seti I had a mistress, Ankhesenamun, a svelte, sexy, deadly nymph capable of much murder and infidelity. But again, Ankhesenamun was actually the daughter of Akhenaten, wife of Tutankhamun (yes, incest), and the step-daughter/ daughter in law of Nefertiti.

The movie isn’t all terribly inaccurate, though. The clothes that ancient Egyptians may have worn seems right, the interpretation of certain words like Medjay - the ‘police’ of ancient Egypt (in the movie, the Medjay act as the royal guards), may have been historically accurate. They even show the two scripts actually used by the ancient Egyptians, the hieratics (common folk language) and the hieroglyphics, which has been translated fairly correctly.

But how and why did they get the relationship between Nefertiti and Ankhesenamun so terrifically wrong? Especially since they were the only women in the movie? There is no lack of resources when it comes to the chronology of who ruled when in Ancient Egypt. Why would they choose to fish out random names from random places? Sure, maybe they sound nice and Egyptian (the pronunciation is a whole other thing), but it does no favours for the plot.

Nefertiti herself, sexiness and badassery aside, was forgettable. She made no contributions. Her role in the plot seemed to be pulled straight out of someone’s ass.

Why take a queen’s name, who probably helped cause a rebellion in Ancient Egypt, only to forever associate it with a half-baked character? The only thing we remember about the movie’s Nefertiti is the sexy sword fighting scene with the sexier Ankhesenamun. Which is fine, we’re gay, but it does leave a bad taste when you know that the real Nefertiti deserved a better representation .

Shinohara Chie’s Anatolia Story paints a very different picture of the queen. Here, she is older, and far more interested in ruling Egypt than anything else. As far as historical inaccuracy goes, there’s only a small one- Ramses I, who is a deuteragonist in the manga, probably lived after Nefertiti. In the manga, they both exist at the same time, though Ramses is admittedly younger than her.

Chie’s story wastes no confirmed fragments of history, and given the leeway of a creative license, it works together seamlessly. The neighboring kingdoms of Hittite and Mitanni are well described in terms of political rivalry. The unrest makes its way naturally to Egypt, where Chie has woven historical fact with subplot to create a thorough setting, leaving much to dissect.

Rachel Weisz as Nefertiti in The Mummy Returns

Chie adds her own elements to build a relationship between factual fragments, to give her readers a compelling story. It isn’t historically ‘accurate’, because we can’t prove these relationships yet, but Chie’s knowledge shines through and makes it appear seamless, making for a smooth read with no plot holes. And these relationships are often quite clever- for example, Nefertiti’s bust (in real life) is an enigma. It has only one onyx as an eye, and no one knows why.

Chie uses this fact to add to Nefertiti’s character We won’t spoil this detail for you (read the manga!), but it makes so much sense in the plot.

It’s the smaller, seemingly irrelevant details too. For example, there’s a single page which has a bunch of pharaohs drawn in succession. Next to each pharaoh are some hieroglyphics. There’s no translation provided, and the chapter itself doesn’t go over these guys- it’s a forgettable page, who we suspected were probably pharaohs of some relevance to Neferititi. We went through each of the hieroglyphics, and it turned out to be the chronological succession of pharaohs before and after Nefertiti— we’re talking perfect chronology. Accurate hieroglyphics. All quietly lying on some random page. That’s a lot of work Chie just casually put in.

As for Nefertiti’s portrayal herself, she is ruthless. Being Ankhenaten’s queen in a time of such turmoil would have required such hardheadedness, so Chie’s portrayal of her is probably

Chie's Nefertiti feels lived-in, and is even given a tragic backstorya villian, maybe, but you’ll sympathize with her.

not too far off. She may not quite be everyone’s cup of sexy, but she radiates the aura of a true queen - not one merely married to a king, but one who can rule.

Even though this work also has fantasy, when compared to the movie, it works much more cohesively as a piece of historical fiction. Even though the manga’s Nefertiti is not a main character, she feels lived-in, and is even given a tragic backstory - a villian, maybe, but you’ll sympathize with her.

We understand that when one creates a fun story out of historical fact, some amount of accuracy is sacrificed for creativity. And that’s fine. But we must be conscious of what images we perpetuate, as they may render the actual fact into obscurity. Most of us don’t know who Nefertiti is, and works like The Mummy don’t allow us to form a concrete image of her.

It’s more than likely that The Mummy’s Nefertiti was just another Hollywood bastardisation, something to make the audiences ooh and aah over her femme fatale design. But if we want to truly appreciate a historical boss queen, we should be paying more attention to those writers who truly respect who they’re writing about, rather than a coughed-up version of Lara Croft. At the end of the day though, it’s up to you to decide how you want to enjoy Nefer’s titties.

nefertiti: a ramble / something classic, something contemporary

ALoveLetterto ALoveLetterto

MedusaandMedea MedusaandMedea

TW: Descriptions of Violence and Rape

What we must understand about mythology is that there is no one true version of every myth that is wholly accurate. You

may ask why this is the case. Mostly because myths are just stories that have been passed down from generation to generation. Each storyteller has their own style and adds their own variations to the story to make it more interesting to cater to their audiences. We also have to keep in mind that the original sources for these stories were mostly old men who used these stories as a means to confirm their biases. That being said, I am also not exempt from injecting my beliefs in these stories because myths are subjective! And unlike the men that originally wrote these stories, I happen to think women are super cool so if you were to catch me justifying murder later on in this article, just know I do it with love.

Medusa, or, snake hair lady, as some of you may know her, is a fairly popular monster in Greek mythology. She’s been described as a man eating gorgon who went around turning people into stone because it brought her pleasure and joy. This was not the case. Medusa was a priestess of Athena who was raped by Poseidon inside her temple. Athena found out, was enraged, and cursed Medusa (because obviously she was the one at fault), and turned her into a gorgon. After her turning, she removed herself from the situation and hid out in a cave in an attempt to reduce all possible harm that could’ve been caused. Incredibly considerate, if you ask me. Still, she could not live out this curse in peace. Men-y (many men) tried to track her down and conquer her, in an attempt to showcase their

by Riasai Subheesh

strength and courage. All of that was shown in stone, I’m sure, after they decided to look her in the eye to finish the job.

Medusa was finally killed in the most cowardly way possible. Some hero, Perseus, snuck up on her while she was asleep and beheaded her, not even giving her the chance to fight for her life. It was absolutely tragic. What is worse is that Perseus has been praised time and again, in fact what he is most well-known for is having murdered the beast Medusa and eliminating her as a threat.

There is no one true version of every myth that is wholly accurate.

There are a couple of interesting things to mull over when we look at Medusa’s story. There has been much debate as to whether Athena turning Medusa into a gorgon was a curse or a blessing, a means for Medusa to protect herself. Based on Athena’s track record, I would guess the former. The goddess was not really known for #girlpower and uplifting other women. I don’t necessarily blame her, though. Being a god was a bit of a boy’s club and in order to be treated as an equal there was a lot of woman-bashing one had to take part in. Athena took out her frustration on the one person she was able to - obviously, she couldn’t have castrated her uncle, that would’ve been taking it a bit too far. We see Athena asserting her

power over whomever she can, whether they deserve it or not.

Ovid’s Metamorphoses describes Medusa as ‘lovely’ until she was raped. By saying this, Ovid changes the narrative, slightly changing the way Medusa is perceived, from being a bloodthirsty monster to someone who did nothing wrong and was sorely punished for things that were out of her control. However, even today, most mainstream portrayals of Medusa neglect to actually understand her story and continue to portray her as a one dimensional, sadistic monster who wants nothing more than to trap innocent people and turn them into stone. (I’m looking at you, Percy Jackson and the Olympians.)

In Medusa’s story, it’s fairly easy to tell who was in the wrong (the rapist, obviously, not sweet summer child Medusa) but in Medea’s case there’s a lot more gray area to be explored. In the version of the myth that I subscribe to, she was born into a rather nasty family that kept the Golden Fleece in their possession (which is something that we don’t have time to get into but just know that it had magical healing properties so everyone wanted it). When people would come to Medea’s kingdom (Colchis) to try and win the Fleece from them, her father Aeetes, king and witch himself, would put the heroes through tasks that no human could do on their own without divine intervention or some sneaky spells. The tests involved fire breathing dragons and undead warriors. He just enjoyed watching these heroes struggle and die trying to get their hands on the fleece. One fine morning, a man named Jason came to Colchis and asked if he could try and compete for ownership of the fleece. Obviously Jason wasn’t cool enough or smart enough to complete these tasks on his own so he asked the gods for help. This resulted in Eros casting a love spell on Medea. Chaos ensued.

Medea had already wanted to get away from her terrible family but this love spell really sealed the deal. She helped Jason with the magicky aspects of the trials and when they finally had to run to freedom after he succeeded, (because if you hadn’t already guessed, Aeetes was a sore loser) she had to do something a little drastic to make sure they left in one piece. Things are going to get a little dark now, readers. She cut up her own brother into pieces and threw his body parts across the field so that her father would have to stop to pick up each piece, (if you want to know why, it has to do with the burial rites) giving them just enough time to flee.

Love potions and a terrible home can do many things to you. This is just one of them. You’ll hear about the rest soon enough.

After this, Jason and Medea lived a very happy life together with their children and pet dogs.

You could tell I was lying, couldn’t you.

That’s because Medea’s a fucking tragedy.

There is some truth to that statement, though. Medea and Jason do get married and have a couple of children. All, however, is not well for too long. Years into their marriage, Jason decides that he’s tired of being with a foreigner and that he wants to marry the princess Glauce. Medea is upset about this, to say the least. She doesn’t channel this rage in a healthy, productive manner; there is no journaling, there are no ‘self care days’ that she takes, there isn’t even ninthgrade Ria type coping involved, so no stabbing of notebooks with compasses and all. Well, there is stabbing of some sort that we see soon enough. But that’s for later.

A day before she’s meant to be exiled from the kingdom, she hatches a plan. Picture a witch sitting in her house, intermittently crying while also plotting against her bastard husband. She decides to gift Princess Glauce a beautiful dress, as if to say ‘no hard feelings’. There were many feelings. All of them were hard. Medea had put a spell on that dress, which would kill anyone who touched it. Glauce burst into flames and her father was so distraught that he threw himself on his daughter’s body, dying soon after (which is something I can imagine seeing in an old tv show that relies heavily on physical comedy). That wasn’t all, though. Her final step in enacting her revenge against Jason is truly morbid. She brings her children into their house and kills them. Her job was complete. She had taken everything she possibly could from Jason.

I’llgiveyouasecondtotakethat all in. Say it with me: it’s a lot.

Now, back to defending my favourite witch. Medea as a character is extremely emotionally complex because yes, she did do all these terrible things but we must ask ourselves why she did them. What drove her to such insanity that she had to resort to such extreme levels of

violence? Who drove her to it? Who had a love spell cast on her that caused her to abandon her family and everything she’d ever known and move to a new city where she was basically a foreigner in a place where people did not take kindly to those who weren’t ‘their own’? There is only one right answer to this question. Jason.

I have no issue with people crediting Medea for all the abominable things she did but no one ever seems to blame Jason for the role he had to play in all of this. He’s still known as Jason from Jason and the Argonauts, not as Jason,

the man who drove his wife insane. What most people don’t acknowledge is that Medea was the victim. This doesn’t take away from the things that she did but it rightfully shifts the blame onto the person who deserves it the most.

There are also some strange double standards being imposed here because Hercules also killed his wife and child in a fit of god given insanity, courtesy of Hera, but we see that people empathise with him and recognize that his actions were not his fault. Why do you think this is the case? It’s fairly obvious but I’ll leave this as food for thought for you all. All I want is for people to follow that same pattern of thought while dealing with Medea.

Women are always at the receiving end of some or the other exaggerated and unnecessary blame. The odds have always been stacked rather high against them. They have and continue to be demonised for things that men are often glorified for. These two women are mere examples of this, representative of a phenomenon that is rampant everywhere. You never know how many other women in other myths have fallen prey to the biases of the men telling these stories.

She decides to gift Princess Glauce a beautiful dress, as if to say ‘no hard feelings’. There were many feelings. All of them were hard.

fiction

lesRippTides in

shoulders. She walked away, slow and calm. That was a lie. Her back quivered, her shoulders shaky, and yet her head aimed straight - a symmetrical line towards some point in infinity, away from the idea of my weakening existence.

It weakened, still. It had been five hours, or perhaps five days;

I knew not.

My hands ached as they struggled to hold a white capsule between my fingers. Like the cigarette it held from time to time, several times, at times no count of time was felt or felt required or like the lawmen would call it - needed.

“That’s all this Earth is,” I thought as I popped the pill into my mouth and swallowed it, fully feeling the absence of water to wash it down, “Just people deciding what other people can’t do.”

My feet felt firm.

“No capsule can do shit to me,” I swore under my breath, shivering with the pain of all the realisations revealed to me, reverberating with my vocal cords. The sun was fading into the dark blue horizon, haunting my hovering vision. Was this it? This is what the capsule does?

I laughed a little. I laughed some more after. At what, I did not know. I did not know anything.

TW: Substance Abuse, Graphic Imagery

by Anonymous

There was nothing I didn’t know. This was it. This was something I didn’t know. This feeling. The feeling of floating towards something afloat, levitating above the thinnest layer of air, where there is no question of fairness, just a height - some peak of some mountain with no absolute height. I was higher than I could get. I could see the setting sun from up here. There was nothing I couldn’t see. I had caught up with my eyes. The sun was a dark red. It was covered in blankets of dark blue, as if the ocean were trying to engulf it, some sort of watery eclipse.

I reached into my pocket for a cigarette from the open packet of Player’s and pulled one out. I dipped it into the sun and dragged it all out till my lungs burst out laughing with me, and the smoke leaving my lips blended in with the clouds. Oh no, I forgot to pop it. I pulled out another one, carefully popped it between my fingers and dipped it into the ball again. I took a long lasting puff and let the smoke fill my head up this time. I felt the gaseous ash flow through my brain, melting and moulding it as it burnt through my cranial nerves, till it resembled the orange sphere down in the water.

There was something wrong though. I felt a chill in my skull. My grey matter was freezing back in place and the clouds began to shrink in the distance. The sky turned pink and the clouds turned a shade of chrome. Everything else was a mix of green,

Ilifted my head up to look up from my muddy, ash covered shoes at her perfect glistening straight hair, lengthening down to her

yellow and a lot of blue all pouring out of each other as if they had been stuck together in a brick closet for centuries and had sucked all the lime and clay and brick-red from the walls. I couldn’t recognize much anymore. I wasn’t floating. I was falling - falling into nothing and everything. It all made sense, yet I couldn’t explain any of it. Not even to myself. Who was I? What was I?

What am I?

Who am I?

My head jerked.

Something warm poured out through my ears. It turned black as it touched the rest of the vibrance around me.

The brightness forced my eyes shut as if each colour outside grew hands that stretched out to grab my lids and pull them against each other till all I could see was the colour of what now also poured out of my mouth and the back of my head and my nose and it began to pour out of my sockets and fill up the pouch created by the closing of my lids. All turned black.

The words repeated, “What am I?”

Followed by a, "Where am I?"

“Who am I?"

The sun beaming, My eyes open and I feel starlight against my eyes.

The world is green and I feel the twilight Something with an ‘A’ Art-like landscape

My skin don’t look unscathed I look like the reflection of a rotten corpse, that’s haunted, bolted lockers, ‘xhausted, spinning tops on the skin on the face of a being that’s lost it.

And the first thing I see I grab and rattle the life out of Assuming that it lived one But I doubt rationale got its best sight Where pretty lights and a scarf fucked your mind right

The absence of touch of some other got you chasing lime-light and a wave of colours and colours in waves give you stage fright

If life’s a stage, my part is just right Skipping the lines to reduce the talking and jump to the spot right And show them how to use the spotlight Beating around a bush and going back and forth didn’t hit me quite right

But the weird sounds I hear remind of my life

Paranoia hitting the brain like a blade to the vein, shards of glass slitting perfect straight lanes till my darkest blood is flowing in darker drains

And when all is said and done I come alive There’s warmth burning the back of my mind

Something about the back of my head didn’t curve right

A dent to the touch disappearing into the night.

A crowd surrounded me and a dark being in beige threads

I keep walking but nothing is far in the path I lead Everything I want’s in front of me and I take it But I do not care what and who pleads The rhyme is coming to a close I can feel it as my soul leaks

Another dent in the head and my soul leaves I tear into the beige threads till my muscles cleave The darkness tears in the torch light And my body crumbles and I start to cry.

I feel some sort of absence. As if something were leaving. I felt-

I didn’t feel.

I woke up. The sky had been stripped off its light. My clothes no longer draped me. I was cold in a dark room with a small red bulb. It didn’t glow though. It didn’t glow in the sense that the only thing that powered it was a small beam of a white rock in the sky. I sensed my senses return to its senses at the dawn of the realisation that I was far from anything I had ever known.

And as my hearing sharpened I could hear the screams of madness…

POETRY

by Tanisha Kakkar

A slice of moss on my plate Drizzled with dusky nectar That the stars poured out for me

When they cried.

A glass full of constellations. The archer has lost her arrows. So tonight she sleeps. Lift the cloche upThere’s water within. Pure, delicious, icy cold water. I cut into it slowly. It melts in my mouth and it is delicious. There comes dessert. BBQ Chicken. I am happy and I am content.

Lady Bird

by Neelima Indraganti

the same polaroid frames that capture Sacramento's simple elegance.

Of Sacramento. Of Marion. Lady Bird's mascara tears, her chipped purple nail polish; they speak of the nostalgia of being far away from home. The excitement of being far away from home. The gratitude.

A close up: Lady Bird. Only Lady Bird.

Fizzy water, poisonous wine

Tomato soup mixed with blood, divine

Week-old rice, crystallized, Orange oranges shaped like dice Roasted limes with lemon sauce

Sour coffee topped off with froth Froth made up of a thousand dead clouds Berries and bellies covered with shrouds

A table made up of broken glass shards Chairs stolen from strange backyards Guests that sit but do not eat, Dreamy faces, eyes that weep.

by Neelima Indraganti

The time of dusk. Lying down, I felt the little grains of sand on the terrace floor tickle my back.

The music approached, seeping in through the fissures in the floor like wine, drenching the back of my shirt. Grazing the skin on my ear.

Leaning in, nudging me It cajoled me onto the very edge of stillness. I tried to hold on. But no.

I cascaded into a labyrinth of tempestuous dreams. Falling, I felt the resounding waves pierce my naked body; etching tattoos of foreign landscapes and worlds that were beyond my reach. Beyond my time.

And then darkness. Incomprehensible darkness.

But wait, I could sense somethingintruders entering the taciturn abyss. Veiled sounds and notes that asked me to rest my eyes.

When my lashes parted once more, it was night. The back of my shirt was still wet. And traces of ink.

Agony Akka

Agony Akka is a humorously helpful babe. She does not take herself seriously and neither should you. Your woes, your secrets, your deepest, darkest desires came to her in anonymity, and she's here to show you the way. Her way. I am her, she is me. Enjoy.

Q1. Hi akka! Sooo being the enthusiastic first year I am, I signed up for like 5-6 clubs (all of which I am genuinely interested in) and now as club stuff is actually starting, I feel like I'll not be able to keep up at all. I have no idea what to do.

Dear EnthuPatani, My advice is to sign up for more and more things until you reach an inevitable state of burnout. This way, you will end up doing none of the things you committed to and you will be filled with a sense of guilt and dread every time you hear about them.

(Once you recover from this burnout, you will realise what you really enjoy anyway. Not like you’ll be missing out on a lot, APU clubs are super bad at following through on things.)

Q2. You gave me a pen but I did not write back. I have fallen in love with a blonde haired, blue-eyed fairytale. We are a pair of vixens, yes we are. They teach me Mathematics and I reciprocate with PataPataphysics. I am bored of pretending that life is not magical. Tell me Dear Agony Akka, how do I muster up the courage to leave all of this behind and live like I know I must?

Dear BurstingAtTheSeams, Embrace the free spirit within you. Roam like the bison in the grasslands, consumed by dreams and consuming grass. Life is a box of apples– be the worm. The magic in life, albeit conjured by your own eyes, is no less for it. The secret is in abandoning the audience.

Live. Laugh. Love. (forcefully)

Q3. hi akka, need help getting rid of a stupid crush. dei, what to do. life is like this only. you come into this world, kicking and screaming, have one stupid crush after another and then die lonely. sux.

Q4. I'm anxious all the time about my future but I don't do anything about it now. Akka,what do I do?

Dear QuarterLifeCrisis, Surrender yourself to the fact that nobody has it figured out. Just ask your middle-aged professors, they have it the worst. Each day is filled with mystery but not malice. You can do it, anon. We believe in you. DIY. Do it yourself. FIY. Fix it yourself. If not you, then who else? Aashirvaad, beta. Go forth and conquer.

Q5. Dear Agony Akka, I have a friend who I no longer want to be friends with, but I’ve made a longstanding contract over resources + class. How do I cut them off neatly. Yenu Madudhu?

Dear CommitmentIssues, What kind of resources? Based on that, your options range from cutting them off literally (murder) or amicably breaking up (one final Chainaama date with minimal tears shed). Either way, enjoy maadi.

Q6. Why group work?

Dear Frustrated, The eternal question. To break communities and disengage with everyone around you.

Q7. Why do we exist?

Dear Suckrates, When confronted with questions such as these, I too find myself wondering the same.

Q8. The Milky Mist is over. So is this QnA. Bye.

VISUALS

Kafkart: Metamorphosis

illustrated by J.R Paul

Stones & Symmetry: A Walk Through Mandu

Samhitha P & Shreyas Reddy

Mandu was the capital of the Malwa Sultanate (present day Madhya Pradesh) from the 14th to 16th centuries. These pictures were clicked when we were on an archaeological survey in May. The team we were working with was surveying the Deccan plateau and looking into the various water management systems that were employed by the state and people of Medieval Deccan. It was incredibly fascinating to observe how the people of Mandu, who had resided in such dry and arid landscapes, built structures that were designed to cope with this deficiency. These structures stand today bearing testimony to their inspiring artistry and adaptability, including stepwells, reservoirs, cisterns and even pleasure pools!

The photos capture the more prominent monuments in the area, such as the Jahaz Mehal, Jamia Masjid, Hoshang Shah’s tomb etc.

Senior Editors

Bhuvi Kalley, Gayatri Allamsetty, Praapthi Prabakar, Riasai Subheesh

Editors Bushra Asif Abbas, Meghana Rupakula, Devika Menon, Lasya Katta Prashanth, Uttara Bharathram

Contributors

Gayatri Allamsetty, Bhuvi Kalley, Samiksha Dubey, Adit Chandrachud, Saahitya Kota, Riasai Subheesh, Kavya Ganesan, Suhani Kurpad, Tanisha Kakkar, Neelima Indraganti, J.R. Paul, Samhitha P, Shreyas Reddy.

Design

Gayatri Allamsetty, Praapthi Prabakar, J.R Paul Faculty Coordinator Neeraja Sundaram

Image references

Fresco on plaster from Pompeii depicting Thetis at Hephaistos’ forge waiting to receive Achilles’ new weapons. ca. 75 – 100 CE.

- pages 13, 14

Thetis asking Hephaistos to forge new armor for Achilles, from Vignettes for Homer, by Edward Smith, engraver, 1805. - page 16

Nefertiti bust, photographed by Philip Pikart, Neues Museum, Berlin. - page 17

Still from The Mummy Returns (2001). - page 18

Panel from Anatolia Story by Shinoara Chie (1995). - page 19

Water Lilies, Monet (1904). - page 27

Still from My Neighbour Totoro (1988), Studio Ghibli. - page 28

Stills from Lady Bird (2017), A24. - pages 29, 30

Chaos, Holly Warburton (2019). - page 31