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The Blue Issue

(1/1/2011)


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Contributors

Writers

Saahil Dama - ‘Life is short. Play naked. ‘

Krushna Dande - ‘I’m Batman!’

Anuj Iravane - ‘Move idiots, let me rule’

Shrijeet Joshi - ‘My gun says hello’

Meera Kale - ‘Big things come in small packages’

Rohan Kulkarni - ‘No comments’

Nikhil Mane- ‘Go away’

Mohona Mukherjee - ‘Girl power!’

Sushrut Munje - ‘Being free helps you make better Kaffe.’

Ryan Shah - ‘Epic epicness’

Soumitra Talnikar - ‘Just a nut’

Design Ishan Dabri - ‘:| Noobness’ A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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From the desk We are Epigram, and we are here to change the world. As a magazine, we primarily aim at spreading cheers, joys and quality literature all around, and secondarily at providing a platform for enthusiastic writers and poets to express themselves and speak out. This is our first issue, or as we like to call it, The Blue Issue, which comprises of the things that comprise us. In this issue, we have brought together humor to tickle thy funny bone, stories to transport you to another world, poetry for times when the heart needs a little soothing, and the top ten movies of 2010 as a tribute to the cinematic year gone by. Other magazines are blocs, corporations, or units. Epigram is a family; we are nothing but the sum total of the writers and the readers who help us stay afloat. Other magazines concentrate on their being static. We concentrate on change. We are a people’s magazine, and we keep our word when we say it. We will read every comment, compliment, constructive criticism, destructive criticism, spam mail and hate mail that our readers send us, and we will apply it to the best of our abilities. It is our duty as a magazine to give you the best possible, and it is your duty as readers to help us achieve that. Moreover, we have absolutely no pop-ups or unwanted advertisements; your reading experience will be truly uninhibited, just as it is meant to be. Is it because we love you? Yes, it is. Well, it is also because we cannot find anyone to sell out to.


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We know the needs of our readers, and try to deliver to them the best humour, poetry, fiction and miscellaneous paraphernalia that we can. We also bestow great importance to you as writers and poets, and nothing will delight us more than seeing your name in print. Every issue is built ground-up using your contributions. We are more than just a magazine; we are a dais where all are capable of contributing in their own way. Many cynics will say that our plan to revolutionize the world is farfetched and too optimistic to come true. Yes, it is farfetched, and nigh impossible. Nevertheless, every byte of text, every click to our website, every pair of eyeballs, gets us that tiny little bit closer to the impossible. Our tagline says, Live. Laugh. Love. We are here to lend you a hand in all three. We will enrich your lives. We will fill your days with laughter. As for love, you will have to do it yourself. Nevertheless, if no one loves you, we always will. We keep our word.

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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C o n t e n t s

Humor 1. Asstrology 2. How and why they do english 3. Oh! The Theatrics 4. how wiki took a leak 5. advertisements Top ten movies 10. the Town 9. the ghost writer 8. buried 7. Kickass 6. Harry potter and the deathly hallows part 1 5. shutter island 4. toy story 3 3. the social network 2. scott pilgrim vs. the world 1. inception poetry 1. reminiscence is Bliss 2. Beauty 3. 2010-2011 4. Dreams 5. Sands of time 6. war


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short stories 1. rage against the machine 2. the prophecy 3. india yesterday epigram salutes 1. epigram Person of the year- Julian Assange 2. world changing event- Facebook 3. Featured band- ACDC 4. Featured book- Hitchikers guide to the galaxy

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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Dedicated to Lola Bunny, my childhood infatuation and love

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


H U M O U R


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Asstrology Many of my friends wonder why I fail to provide advice to them. To them I always say, “Just because your moon is in Uranus, doesn’t mean your head has to be there, too!” More important things are on the cosmic horizon, so shake the falling debris that’s been lodged in your head loose and listenWhen, in life, you find out that it’s not about you, and you realize that you are only one of God’s unwanted children, you must have a plan ready. I call it ‘’Blame it on the Planets’’. Here’s how it goes. The signs of the Zodiac begin with Aries and end with Pisces. That is, they range from a fishy sheep to a sheepish fish.

Aries is a Ram. Sheepishness is not in an Aries’ nature. Butt-headedness is. Rams say Baaaaah-ck OFF - and you’d better! They are pushy, know everything; and always cut in line. Aries is ruled by Mars, god of “I Win, you Lose”.

Taurus is a Bull. Cows give milk, bulls don’t give you anything but

flaming nostrils and good bull fights. They take whatever they want, whenever they want it - your food, your favorite chair, your time, your energy, your money, your stuff - it’s all theirs. Taurus is ruled by Venus - goddess of stuff and money.

Gemini is a pair of twins, a schizophrenic wacko. They are fence-

sitters and they lie. Fickle, flighty and totally nuts. Don’t go out with a Gemini unless you want to go insane. He loves me, he loves me not, she loves me, she loves me not; that kind of insane, while they grin back pleasurably. Gemini is ruled by Mercury - god of mind-tripping.


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Cancer is a crab. That is all there is to them. Bitch, moan, complain, rag - man or woman. Once in a while, when the moon is just right, a Cancer becomes a raving lunatic. Nothing is good enough, nobody helps enough, you are not eating enough, blah blah blah. The only solution is to put ‘em in a pot and boil ’em. Cancer is ruled by spooky sister Moon and the wild, merciless tides.

Leo is a beast. Leos strut around like mister and missus perfects - just

like your cat. Look at your cat - what is it good for? “Feed me, Look at my hair, Don’t I look perfect? Pet me, adore me, play with me - now go away” - hiss, scratch. They don’t do tricks, they don’t do what you say, they don’t play fetch, and they shed. Leo is ruled by the Sun - Mr. Shiny himself.

Virgo is a virgin. They’re squeaky, clean, too pure, and very picky.

Nobody and nothing is good enough for a Virgo. They stare at you with those penetrating eyes, making mental notes of all your weaknesses and imperfections. Then they pretend to be your friend and help you, snickering and laughing at you all the while. Don’t trust them for a minute! Virgo is ruled by Mercury - god of hyper-analysis.

Libra is a pair of scales - way out of balance. They keep trying to get it

right, but they never do. They add a little more to this side, a little more to that, until they’re so loaded up with stuff that they need to hold a sale. But of course they won’t; they always want more. More love, more jewellery, more fun, more money, more beauty, more friends, more attention. They tend to be whiny little Paris Hiltons. Libra is ruled by Venus - goddess of tons of stuff and goodies.


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Scorpio is a nasty, stinging scorpion, a venomous vermin, a

sneaky, menacing creature of the dark. NEVER trust a Scorpio, they’ll kill you in a heartbeat. If you treat them just right, they might make good pets – for enemies. Scorpios crawl about unseen, digging into your private thoughts and dreams and stealing them like a thief in the night. Scorpio is ruled by Pluto – no longer a planet.

Sagittarius is a cloddy, tromping, whinnying horse. Stay out of

their way. Most Sagittarians are the kind of horse with blinders on so they can’t see on either side and don’t know what they’ve run into. They always say exactly the wrong thing, like, “hey! You look so much older and fatter than last time I saw you”, or “what’s that thing on your face?” Just plain cruel. Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter, the original Mr. Know-it-all.

Capricorn is a goat, a nasty one at that. The kind that looks old and

lecherous, with the big, curled Satanic goatee. They make their way up the mountain, sure, by any underhanded trick they can conjure! Capricorns will use you and abuse you to get what they want. They don’t care if they have to eat garbage, or if it takes an eternity to get there. Capricorn is ruled by Saturn - father time, the one with the scythe.

Aquarius is a wild, space-cadet water-boy (or girl). Aquarians are

completely irresponsible. They have one rule - if it feels good, do it. Aquarians make intricate, ingenious plans, then break them without a second thought. They tell you one thing, then let some other wildhaired idea take them off to Hogwarts. Aquarius is ruled by Uranus - god of lightning, electricity and bikers.

Pisces is a fish. Well actually, two fishes swimming in opposite direc-


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tions - always lost. Pisces live in constant fear because they know that dangerous fish-eaters lurk everywhere. They can’t stay on track for two seconds, and if you throw out some tasty bait - bang, a Pisces is there in a second, ready to get snagged on your hook. Easy pickings, those fish. Pisces is ruled by Neptune - god of peace, love and spaciness. - Nikhil Mane

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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How and Why They Do English “My words will tell the anger of my heart.” [The Taming of the Shrew] I got one of these text forwards one day that went something like D Breeteesh spoeeled avar culchure nw lets spoil thyar langveg lyk dis - which had words that ran from the humble ‘i’ to a sacrilegious ‘frndzzz.’ A disturbing phenomenon, but true actually, which made me wonder, why? Many Indians have a huge inferiority complex, but when you are born in a country of 1.2 billion people to compete with, it is almost impossible not to. They fail to understand that speaking English for the heck of it does NOT make them sophisticated. Many don’t read and fail to understand the intricacies of the subtle language. And many more simply don’t care enough. I still don’t know where words like ‘kkk’ or ‘kewl’ came from. I’m resisting the temptation to yell out loud with my words in the faces [without spittle flying all over] of those who use this silliest of terms. “Okay” is cool. But “kkk”?! Aaaaargh! Why?! Then there is the eternal “y r u nt tlkin 2 me nymre? Hw mny times shud i cl u?” My ex had sent me this text, years back. Now you know why she’s my ex, don’t you, lovelies? I stopped talking to you, because you didn’t know how to type among many other things.


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Doing English by shortening and impaling words showcases the following:

Screw-You-World! Attitude

Yes. Because the unclear form of the language makes it difficult for people to read and understand it. Also, since you have written it, it simply shows that you hardly care. “You are not worth another word.” [Twelfth-Night]

Low Self Esteem

“i” stands for you, a proper noun and is meant to be written as “I”. Make it small and you showcase a poor self image. Same goes for a name written in all smalls. If you write other names in smalls as well, it shows you don’t care about their public image.

Hyperactive

This, only in case of a Multiple Punctuation Syndrome. The highly irritating “hiiiiii!!!!” showcases immaturity amidst repulsiveness i.e. gifted ability to repulse others by your unwanted and unworthy presence. Forgive me, I’m being harsh. But the species have my hatred. “May they go to hell for an eternal moment or so.” [The Merry Wives of Windsor] Thank you.

“-ofying”

This thing can get on one’s nerves pretty quickly too. Go to any random college and soon you will hear retorts having the following intellectual words in thempakofying, pichkofying and what not! What the heck! I’m crap-ofying on you, freaks! Quoting Richard III, “Out of my sight! Thou dost infect my eyes.”


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Lazy Ass

Well, yeah. Shortening words does tell the world you’re way too lazy to complete them thus making yourself clear. Why hasn’t this been obvious to you, dear friend? Many say that language doesn’t matter as long as people understand each other. But defiling the language has no justification. If we lay down rules, we are supposed to follow them. Or create a new language altogether. Why spoil the old one? Cell phones are well equipped to handle complete words and phrases. Use of silly and barbaric abbreviations, again, holds no justification anywhere at all. It is just a squeal of the insensitive as we attempt to crush them beneath our rubber soles. Die! What is to be gained by this slander? Why ruin the sanctity of a perfect language for a few saved moments in your invaluable life? What will you achieve in those saved moments? World Domination? Seriously? I quit writing this now. “More of this conversation would infect my brain” [Coriolanus] -Sushrut Munje

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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Oh! The Theatrics! ‘A first night audience consists of the unburied dead.’ - Orson Bean. Bang on, Mr. Bean. Nailed it, except that it is the ‘second, third and every night audience’ which also consists of the dysenteric, necrophilic, schizophrenic, and other such heinous classes of people, besides the unburied dead. I used to be gullible viewer; hoping for a good movie with a happy ending, nice company, comfortable seats, popcorn and a quality time. But then a tryst with the following people tossed my sanguine hopes into an abyss. Don’t think that I am writing this because I want to. My vengeance against these people compels me to. Vengeance for the sweet movie viewing times that I was never granted. 1. I complain- These are bed ridden anaemic aunties whom the world hates and they hate it back with equal vigour. The only reason they are still alive is so that they can bitch about it in inebriated monologues. The actor isn’t cute enough, the actress isn’t hot enough, the direction isn’t good enough, the film is such a waste; they make judgements like every thought that comes into their head would be a waste if not spoken. They can go on until someone shoves a used sock down their throats and dumps them into a ditch somewhere. 2. I talk- Normal, once in a while talk is fine. Paranormal, grunt like a pig talk is not. Coming to the theatre to talk on the phone is pretty much beside the point. It’s like having lunch in a lavatory. And the talk won’t even be the proper ‘hi-hello’ talk. More like a semi evolved Neanderthal language that consists more of guttural


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pronunciations and swear words than vowels. 3. I sick- These are probably the worst of the lot. They sneeze in your face, cough in your ears, pick their nose, and puke on your lap with utmost delight. And then they’ll look at you with pleading eyes, begging you to help them. Yeah, right. Empty your innards on me and ask then beg me to prevent you from dying. However, you must be a man, help them, take them out of the theatre, and drive over them with your car. 4. I whistle- These are wild animals. Nothing more, nothing less, just plain wild animals. Every time the actress does something or an ‘item number’ starts, they thrust their lousy fingers right down their throats and start blowing, like that’s the most graceful and natural thing in the world. A word of caution here. Keep your mouth shut and consider yourself lucky if they don’t shove their fingers down your mouth. And that is not all they do. If they get turned on enough, they also start a frightful display of a one legged freak dance. Sadism at its best. 5. I giggle- You laugh, I laugh. You giggle, I slaughter you. Overwrought girls on a high fall squarely into this category. They have a nauseating sense of humor and an almost as bad a giggle. Something that goes ‘khee khee khee,’ and brings a disturbing picture of the Grudge girl in front of you. When the protagonist proposes to the girl, they start off like he actually asked them out. Shut up, you ghastly piece of brainless meat. He isn’t going to marry you, and if you giggle this way, no one is. 6. I love- This is how perverts are born; in the theatres. These love birds come to the movies not to see it, but to see each other, totally ignorant about the fact that the person next to them might stab them through at any moment. They do things which


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should ideally be done inside closed doors thinking, well, not thinking anything for that matter. No worries of what the society thinks, or what would happen if the lights were turned on suddenly. They think themselves as the ‘hero-heroines’ of the movie. The people sitting around them hope that the two get shot in the face. Two movies for the cost of one; for perverts. 7. I family- These people come in hordes a thousand strong and kill half the audience in a stampede. They have an ailing grandmother, hoping to catch a last movie before she dies, a disgruntled father who has nothing better to do than chew and spit tobacco, a mother holding a wailing baby in her hands, an uncle who is getting busy with the girl next to him, an aunt who is asleep, and two twins (ideally named, Shonu-Monu, or Karan-Kiran) in same dresses, who no one cares about. They come, fight with people over seats, abuse, shout, scream, and get killed by a pissed off viewer. 8. I smell- The name says it all. They smell. They smell a lot. Every pour of their body reaks of rotten cabbage; every cell farts out loud (FOL for the LOLers). They have stinky feet which they’ll gladly fold up and sit, sweaty underarms right in your face, a halitosic mouth, and a very bad digestive system. And if that is not enough, they eat in the interval, and the entire cycle repeats. I have given up going to the theatres. Undergoing all this, I consider myself a survivor. The celluloid has seen my disgust long enough, now we must bid it au revoir. Remember, if enough leave the theaters, maybe they’ll destroy each other and cinematic world will be saved. For now. -Saahil Dama A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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How Wiki Took A leak Curiosity is an interesting thing to toy around with. It makes people do crazy things which may or may not involve strangling the ill-informed all-know-er who refuses to divulge those delicate details of a probably irrelevant plot. But that silliness costs him his life, for alas, he's a man. Women hardly hesitate before divulging the delicate details. Anyway, curious to know where I'm heading? Good. Sensible Governments, Intelligence Agencies- they need secrecy and stuff that should not go beyond the walls. It might often be of catastrophic importance or plain stupid. Sometimes very evil and sometimes again- plain stupid. They have a right to keep things secret and we have the right to information. Because curiosity is a drug. It gets the cat addicted. Poor cat. What is worth objecting to in the present world? Wars, Human Rights violations, Mass Murders, Innocents being Victims, Corruption and many more pathetic things. There are various reasons behind the same. It is better if we do not go into it and focus on the Curious (most curious aspect) of the same and people who took this passion beyond selfrestraint. Things happen for a reason and the reason doesn't have to be obvious. But the atrocities tend to go beyond our tolerance level. And that is the time we start asking for explanations from whom we think is responsible. Since the actual reasons are cloaked under the 'classified' section, we are left disappointed and snubbed. Misuse of the 'classified' label? Exactly, dear reader.


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Enter WikiLeaks. Founded by certain Government Dissidents, Journalists and more curious people, WikiLeaks became a rage among the people who wanted some 'Truth'. And that did them a whole lot of good. To be frank, it is an amazing concept and something that has been well though out. What does it do? It accepts reports from people across the globe regarding unlawful activity that is being hushed down by certain powerful groups that may or may not be affiliated to the respective government authorities. These reports are verified by the WikiLeaks reporters and proof is documented. WikiLeaks promptly lays out all the dirt there is to see. Nice, no? Indeed. But a dangerous task too. CIA has tried destroying the organization. Many known WikiLeaks workers and sympathisers have been known to face harassment and veiled threats from 'law-enforcement' agencies. We had a news report last month saying how a WikiLeaks BigShot travels in disguise, in fear of assassination. Brave of him, no? Yes. What's the point though? Well, let us say the Founders took fancy to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. In particular, Article 19 inspires the work of their journalists and other volunteers. "It states that everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers." They agree, and WikiLeaks seeks to uphold this and the other Articles of the Declaration. Thus, we have the culprit.


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The point being- to bring out the true news for the people. They ask us to ignore what the thousands of television channels say, what the millions of newspapers say and read the Wikileaks for true news. Such nobility. They go to great lengths in order to get a story and even to verify it. They get inside the skin (like Jude was advised to) and get what they want. Naked truth, baby. This naked truth goes online to thousands of waiting curious people who simply NEED to know where all that Kenyan cash disappeared or why 3 Iraqis were killed. Twitchy little things, aren't they? What WikiLeaks does is idealistic, but the world is not the Utopia of our dreams. WikiLeaks is a rebel, working diligently against the system, thwarting their aggressive clamp-down attempts. How long will it last, is the question. WikiLeaks will truly be successful under the One Government for the world. Not otherwise. Only then can these Goliaths be tackled. Let us face it. These Goliaths do make sure we live to see another day. They do make sure we get to eat and have enough oil to drive around the town. Who doesn't have skeletons in their closet? What purpose does stealing on these Goliaths serve, when they are in their boxeeesnighties? Why not destroy them like parasites would, instead of surprising them and clicking their naked pictures to be posted online? tEmpower individuals across the world with the right education. Infiltrate governments, have good people across the top corporates, banks and blah. That will ensure success.


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Wiki took a leak finally in 2006. And it has been leaking supposedly secret/classified stuff ever since. Run by the Sunshine Press, the pee boasts of more than 1.2 million documents. Now that is something. That is something indeed. People, O dear people. Cats are bad. Let your curiosity kill every single one of them. Stay curious, stay awesome and explore the world. Keep it simple, love everyone and be good to all. And laugh out loud, a lot. There are times you pretend and there are times you don't. Let the latter rule. Because latte already does. Love and Peace. -Sushrut Munje

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


Advertisements

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Advertisement, in today’s world is ubiquitous. Turn your head in one direction, then the other, and chances are you saw at least one advertisement in one form or the other. Every company in the world spends millions of dollars marketing their product to clueless consumer, expertly balancing their huge egos and their ability to hide the fact they view consumers as giant wallets with mouths. Types of advertisements: 1. The ‘You suck’: Overview: These adverts rely on the insecurity of the viewer to make them buy the product. When you are watching TV, the companies assume that you’re a big fat loser and try to market their goods accordingly. One person usually a loser, changes his life by using the miracle product that the company had on offer. The viewer, being the loser he is, is stupid enough to believe him. It gets away with blatantly insulting you, so that 2.

The ‘I’m a celebrity’:

Overview: These take any form at all, and are generally the weapons of the bad advertisers. This method often uses a celebrity; so that people who are rabid fans of the person jump to the conclusion that all they have to do to turn into the next cricketing legend is to drink X brand of cola. In this case, the word template literally applies, as this is how they all go: XYZ star/forgotten loser who’s broke of any field does their job (That is, bowl, bat, act, model, shout obscenities, pretend that they are still famous), then goes on to apply a lotion/drink a cola/wear clothes/ blah blah blah.


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3.

The ‘Tug on heartstrings’:

Overview: You may have seen this in ads featuring babies. What this ad basically tries to say is: ‘Will you buy this diaper for your cute little baby or are you such a cheap little shit that you can’t be asked to pay two hundred bucks to make sure that your little tyke’s various excreta falls into something more expensive than cloth? You disgust me. I hope you fall into a ditch and die. Available in all leading stores!’ 4. The perfect. Overview: An advertisement that honestly shows the features of its product, objectively compares it to the others in the market, and then tells you the pros and cons. However, they don’t exist. And if they do, the product doesn’t sell. That’s what happened to Windows Vista. So we’re stuck with horrible advertisement for the for the conceivable future, and if nothing else changes, at least tell this to people who decide the ad sequences: putting baby butt between chocolate and bread isn’t very appetizing. Wait, I’m sorry. That came out wrong. - Rohan Kulkarni

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


Top Ten Movies of 2010


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#10

Boston seems to be a thriving ground for crime. Apparently, people living in Boston are hardcore masochists, because Hollywood tells me that the Boston residents get their banks robbed every two days, and are shot in cross fires between the cops and the mob. It is in this Gotham-esque hellhole named Charlestown where Ben Affleck’s latest flick, The Town is set. The story is nothing very challenging or innovative, Ben Affleck, the brains and leader of a bank heist mob wants to leave Charlestown before it kills him, but the other members of the mob do not let him. This may sound rather unimpressive, but the execution of the straightforward plot is carried off with great panache. The movie opens with a heist, which is a good scene, but seeing as The Dark Knight ruined all other opening heists for us, it does not seem to be as good as it could be. During the crime, a silent alarm is pushed,


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and the robbers have to take a female bank manager hostage to escape from the cops. Then Affleck says in his gravelly voice, ‘Don’t worry, no one’s going to hurt you.’ At this point, everyone in the audience with even a single functioning neuron should have understood that they fall in love. The movie seems to plod along, never introducing enough plot points to give the thrill it could provide. The chase sequence is very action packed, and the shootout with the cops is also very poignant, but the movie seems to lose its focus from the characters and shifts it more to the city of Boston. This is probably a deliberate move by the director, but its relevance is lost on me. Despite its gritty feel, it is just a romantic crime flick. The action is superficial. It is just a cinematic representation of attraction between two people with completely different lives, a growing Stockholm syndrome as it were. And here the movie succeeds. If you concentrate on the action, you go away with the feeling that you have just watched a mediocre thriller; but change your perspective and you may well go away touched. This is Affleck’s directorial debut, and if he keeps going in this direction, he may as well produce some Oscar winners. The ball’s in your court, Affleck. Your move. -Rohan Kulkarni

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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#9

After being inactive for quite a while now, Roman Polanski has shown to the world again that he hasn’t lost his sombreness in making movies. Even at 77, Polanski does an excellent job of evoking paranoia, danger and a sense of haunting. Based on a Novel by Robert Harris The Ghost Writer is a thriller/mystery which sheds its skin like an onion – one engrossing layer at a time. The very fact that a key central character in the film is basically excommunicated from his country, runs a potent parallel track to Polanski’s own strained relationship with the United States—a place where he had developed a strong filmography of work. But to talk about Polanski’s personal history incontext to the strong piece of cinema that The Ghost Writer is, would be a disservice to the film. Adam Lang (Pierce Brosnan) is a controversial former British Prime Minister who in order to the assistance of a skilled ghost writer, especially since his last one died mysteriously. Enter the unnamed writer


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(Ewan McGregor) who is flown to Lang’s remote, wind-swept, compound-like island home. The Ghost is assured the opportunity of a lifetime, but as the writer attempts to learn about Lang, some very disturbing secrets start to surface, forcing the writer to reassess his loyalties as choosing the wrong side may jeopardize his life. He begins a hunt of his own, and stumbles upon some disturbing revelations which toss him from being just an innocent bystander to a man in the game. Ewan Pierce and Olivia Williams (Lang’s wife) are ideal choices for their characters. Ewan has a tough job at hand but his performance is so exquisite that he maintains the enigmatic atmosphere throughout the movie. The Ghost Writer is an innovative story which advances at a dawdling pace. Though it is a movie of an extreme circumstance, it never seems to be scripted. For most part it is an atmospheric and intriguing film but it does suffer from a slightly naff ending and some very stodgy dialogue. The plot has been intricately designed and works well with the semi-morbid atmosphere of the movie. It also offers you an end, which doesn’t lose the irony. The Ghost Writer corroborates to the acceptance that Roman Polanski can be called the modern day Hitchcock – the credits do mock at you when you make that punch-drunk expression. -Anuj Iravane

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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#8

“Buried” (R, 93 minutes). Ryan Reynolds plays Paul Conroy, a truck driver working for a private contractor in Iraq. He regains consciousness in darkness. Feeling around, he finds a lighter. In that bleak light his worst fears are realized. He has been kidnapped, buried alive as a hostage. Taking place entirely within the coffin, this is a suspense picture that’s ingenious in devising plausible events inside the limited space. Paul Conroy (Ryan Reynolds) does his bit with the required effort. He reaches out, feels, realizes. The audience usually does so with him. He finds a cell phone, but not all together in a place where it would do much good to him. He learns he has been kidnapped and is a hostage — in a coffin. Obviously his captors want him to use the phone. They want to prove he is alive. The motive is the oldest and yet the most effective one in


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the book – money. By now we can identify with Conroy’s panicked thoughts. Who can he call who can rescue him before the oxygen in the coffin runs out? Although the entire movie takes place in the claustrophobic domain, director Rodrigo Cortes and writer Chris Sparling are ingenious in creating more plausible action than your regular B-wood potboilers. They also squeeze in a few POV shots from undefined darkness above the space that work well with the entire haunting effect. It is a wise choice to omit any shots of the other end of the calls. No shots of 911 operators, Pentagon generals or corporate PR types. No shots of the abductors. No flashbacks to the act itself. No sobbing wife. The movie illustrates the strength of the voice: Leaving our mind to create its own compelling & disturbing imagery. A seen image shows us fear. An imagined one inspires fear. Let it be said that none of the events are impossible. There is no magic realism here; only the immediate situation. The budget for “Buried” is said to be $3 million. It is more than adequate for everything director Cortes wants to accomplish. The use of 2:35 wide screen paradoxically increases the effect of claustrophobia. You are alive but as good as dead. You can move, with nowhere to go. You can scream, but no one will hear. It is funny, in a morbid sense, how two different things like the open cosmos and the inside of a shadowed coffin, have similar effects on men. It has been my personal nightmare. Troubled me for many a dark night. With reason enough, I would not like to be buried alive. The movie inspires the fear of just that in under a 100 minutes. -Nikhil Mane A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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#7

Ever since the inception of men with inhuman powers wearing their undies over tight pants, men and perhaps women too, have been fascinated by superheroes. Similarly, is Kick-Ass. Director Matthew Vaughan does a good job with a story that might not appeal to many people considering that most of us have moved over the ‘caped crusader to the rescue’ ages. Introducing a superhero in such unheroic times would be a gamble. And does the gamble pay off? You bet. Dave Lizewski (Aaron Johnson) is a regular comic-inspired high school kid with his superpower being invisible to girls (not literally of course.) He decides to take his juvenile obsession to an entirely new and insane level by becoming a superhero, ironically named Kickass, and fighting the bad guys himself even though he has no powers or meaningful reason to do so. He designs a costume, a tries to test his powers by jumping off a building, which he can’t do, and fighting some bad guys, which he can’t do either. What ensues is a farrago of superheroes, a super villain, action, ass-kicking, getting it kicked, romance, laughter, and of course, chaos. The movie offers you a lot of things, although you’ve seen them before.


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Nothing extraordinary, but it is this simplicity that does appeal to the viewer’s taste. A regular kid, can’t fly, can’t read minds, can’t do anything for that matter, but still fights his way, with a little help of course, to glory. No exploding planets or biting mutant spiders. Simple does the trick. There is no unrevealed past haunting him, or an act of vengeance that fuels his desire. He does it because he wants to. The plain old in-your-face style hits bang on. Then there is the action, which not might be in the same class as Tarantino and Nolan, but it still bites; for two reasons. It is action, for one. And they don’t get all stingy with the blood for another. When someone gets shot in the face, they don’t flip the camera, down the curtains or change the scene. They show the head erupting into a shower of red. Delightful. The acting however does the movie in. Considering that it has big names like Nicholas Cage and Mark Strong, it wouldn’t be wrong for a viewer to expect awe-inspiring acting, but the movie is dissapointing in that department. It isn’t bad, but it isn’t flawless either. While most superheroes succeed in raising goose bumps, Kick-ass here only makes us pity him, making us hope that he gets whatever he is fighting for. On the whole, the movie might not be capturing, enthralling, riveting or any other complex three syllabic word. However it does give those who bear witness a memorable watch, with dollops of laughter, action and kicking ass. Lots of ass. -Ryan Shah

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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#6

When you are making a Harry Potter movie, you have to live up to really great expectations. Treading on a knife’s edge, does Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows part 1 live up to the worlds’ expectations? Like hell it does. If you haven’t heard of Harry Potter you have no business being here, but I’ll still take the time off to enlighten you with the story. After Dumbledore’s death, Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) is all set to begin his arduous journey to look for Voldemort’s horcruxes and start destroying them. On the other side, the storm is brewing with the Dark Lord thirsty for Potter’s blood as the prophecy proclaims that only one of them can survive. From there, it is a simple scared hero versus scary villain story. A good versus bad, or more wisely put, a protagonist versus an antagonist tale. The stakes are clear. Winner takes all. The movie does seem lacking in certain aspects. If you are alien to the Potter world, you will be as lost as a whale in Sahara during the entire movie. There is no connection shown to bring the viewer back on track


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from the previous film which was over a year back. The ‘terrific trio’ (Harry, Ron and Hermione) as they are called, fall way short of terrific in terms of their acting. Hermione (Emma Watson) still manages to scrape past, but it has become almost a crime to expect something commendable from Daniel Radcliffe and Rupert Grint. Also, to create a more dark and haunting effect, the entire film has been shot in a grey, semi-illumined state, but it often becomes dark to the point of black and haunting to the point of losing the audience in the way. The previous editions of Harry Potter would probably have author J.K.Rowling wishing that the film makers fall in piranha infested waters, but this part goes to an great length to try and wipe the slate clean. The movie largely does justice to the book, something that its prequels have failed miserably in. It does emulate the book, though not word to word and we will forgive it for that. The special effects are frighteningly realistic and would certainly give its predecessors and a lot of other Hollywood movies a run for their money. Ralph Fiennes does a wonderful job of being vicious Voldemort. In fact, I wouldn’t be wrong if I said that this version of Harry Potter is the best one till date. If seen it its entirety, the movie is definitely well made and well thought of. Director David Yates probably knew the consequences of screwing this one up and has done quite the contrary. There are parts when beloved characters are killed when you can still feel the goose bumps that Potter mania brought with it. We can now hope that the final movie will be just as riveting as this one. Until then, as Moody says, “Constant Vigilance!” -Ryan Shah

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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#5

Scorsese is commonly referred to as the greatest living American film director. After consistently making path-breaking films such as The Departed , Taxi Driver, The Aviator, and Gangs of New York; this prolific man is back with a bang. Adapted from a novel by Dennis Lehane, "Shutter Island" is essentially long stretches of expository exchanges punctuated with moments of sheer utter horror, deriving from madness, yet fantasizing and deliberately making the viewer jump in his seat. There have certainly been unsettling horror films built around themes of mental unraveling and insanity. That is not new. What Scorsese seems to be attempting to bring to the table is a heightened level of real life, relatable horror that triggers and accompanies the events of the film; inescapable sins of the past, wartime atrocities and the death of a spouse. It's all laid out on screen in a lucid and unflinching way, and it does resonate. The story begins with U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his new partner Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo) arriving to a


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prison-like island-based facility for the mentally deranged to investigate the mysterious disappearance of an inmate or as they call it, patient. It's 1954, and the shifting theories of popular psychiatry are playing themselves out among the facilities' powers-that-be. Daniels' investigation gives way to his own complex conspiracy theories about what really happens on Shutter Island, and after a while, no one can be trusted as the original mission is all but forgotten in an intriguing spiral of upending information, false leads, and bizarre interactions. The audience is shuffled from one long-winded exchange after another, leaving it up to them to pick up the pertinent information. All the while, the nightmarish flashbacks and environments of the film neatly place everything on the knife’s edge. Scorsese, who has never been one for tying everything up with a nice bow at the end, delivers another ambiguous ending. But then again, anyone looking for a cheery bit of cinematic action probably should’ve gone to another movie, as Shutter Island is film for the mind. The almost funereal look of the film not only accounts for the chills, but a lot of yawns as well, and this is a place where it seems to have missed the point. It should also be said that thematically speaking, many in the audience might find this a disturbing film. The fact that it all plays like an unconventional nihilistic horror film makes it all the more so. That point, right there, could be the ultimate subversion of this film. This is no doubt a film that rewards multiple viewings, as it's loaded with layers of nuances, hints and clues and many viewers, including me, will certainly visit this island another time. -Shrijeet Joshi

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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#4

It’s not often that a movie dons its white rubber gloves, plunges its hands into your chest, extracts your heart and proceeds to squeeze it into a pathetic driveling mass of tears. Even rarer is the phenomenon when you enjoy this. Toy Story three. The third in a trilogy that began before I was born, one that I’ve loved since its first installment. For all those of you (a minority, I’m sure) who haven’t seen either of the previous movies, the cast is a standard toy box. A green plastic dinosaur. Small army men. A pink pig. Mr. and Mrs. Potato head. A slinky dog. Don’t forget the owner’s favourites, a space marine and a cowboy. The toys all have their own distinct personalities, and you would be forgiven if in the heat of the movie the lines between the animated and the real start to merge and blur. The movie opens with a classic kid fantasy, a colossal battle between good and evil with all the dramatis personae, a scene that should be recognizable to all those in the audience who’ve been kids (I’ll go out on a limb here and say that’s most of you.) After this heartwarming


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fantasy, reality sets in. To the tune of the now familiar You’ve Got a Friend In Me, a montage shows us how the toys used to be, and what has happened now. Andy’s grown up and he’s going to college. Despite the toys’ repeated efforts to make him remember these icons of his childhood they remain undisturbed in their toy box. Andy decides to take one toy with him to college, his oldest friend Woody, leaving the others in the dusty attic back home. This constitutes the first part of the operation, and now the movie’s hypothetical hands are firmly placed around your heart. Then, by an error by Andy’s mom, the toys are then sent into the garbage. Woody can’t live without his pals, and follows them. Then building up from this setup is a journey through impressively designed locales, amazingly perfected characters and ruthlessly crushed hearts. The toys portray their emotions in such complex ways that substituting them with abandoned orphans who lose their parents and homes won’t increase the raw emotionality by one iota. That’s for the story. As for the animation, every single frame just goes to show you that Pixar loves what it does. The ambient music is sublime and perfectly fits. The tiny size of the toys also give a sense of scale when lost into the big bad world, like a goldfish thrown from a bowl into the sea. Then it all comes together like a gigantic beautiful jigsaw puzzle that astounds us with the simplicity of the pieces as well as the complexity of the whole. In conclusion, if the final scene does not move you, it means you are a cyborg sent from skynet. Or dead. -Rohan Kulkarni

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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#3

There are movies that show you a fragment of history and others that inspire you to be a fragment of history. The Social Network does both, and does it well. Unlike most movies the Hollywood and Bollywood behemoths have churned out in the last year, The Social Network is a movie that you will certainly watch a second time, for two reasons- it is worth a second watch and most likely, you will need two watches to grasp the movie in its entirety. The movie revolves around Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) and his founding of the world changing phenomenon, Facebook, which if you haven't heard of, you are probably dead, deaf or both. Zuckerberg is a Harvard Computer Science undergrad, notorious as a computer hacker. He is approached by two twins Cameron and Taylor Winklevoss for making a social networking website, called Harvard Connection, a Friendster rip-off. In the mean time, Zuckerberg, along with his friend, Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield) starts working on a site of his own,


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based on a similar idea as that of Harvard Connection. The sight is an instant success, roping in members by the thousands. Facebook is born. The movie shows that, and what follows. The movie can be divided into two halves. What happens before Facebook and what happens during Facebook. The initial part will leave you confused if you don’t know how Harvard works and that undercuts for the movie. Terms like Finals Clubs leave you slightly bewildered. Also, the movie seems to be shot under a perpetual shortage of light, which seems inappropriate for a theme like this. That being said, the film, which has been made from the book, The Accidental Billionaires, is an extraordinary make. Director David Fincher has shown what needs to be perfectly. Right from Mark’s socially awkward persona to the Winklewoss’ want for revenge; from the start of Eduardo’s and Mark’s friendship to its souring; everything has been showcased masterfully. Jesse Eisenberg doesn’t act like Zuckerberg, he seems to fade into his character; from his awkward gait, right to being an absolute jerk. The movie can be termed as ironic in many ways. How a person who doesn’t have three friends to put together makes a website that has over five hundred million members. How a social networking site breaks relationships beyond repair. In the end let it be said that the movie is all about ambition, passion, walking off the path, jealousy, and the dark side of human nature. A tale that does justice to the tagline: You don't get to 500 million friends without making a few enemies. - Saahil Dama A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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#2

Every now and then a movie comes along that makes you stand up and take notice. The cast is full of the relative unknowns of the movie industry. The movie makes no pretentions of the plotline. There are no hidden meanings. Nothing is allegorical. While I am an advocate of more intelligent cinema, there is a charm to the movie that no one can sanely deny. Sitting firmly in this category is Scott Pilgrim, one of the best, though overlooked, movies of 2010. The movie is an adaptation of a Graphic novel of the same name, and is directed by the director who brought us Shaun of the Dead, one of my favourite movies of all time.


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Now for the story: Scott Pilgrim is a Canadian 20-something bass player, between jobs and with a 17-year-old girlfriend. Then he sees pink haired Ramona Flowers in a dream and sets out to woo her, while trying to work up the nerve to ditch his current girlfriend. However, to get to Ramona, he has to fight off her seven evil ex boyfriends, sorry, exes. The storyline just went from borderline retarded to genius. Right there. All the while as I watched this movie I kept looking for hidden clues. Was the hero in a state of hallucination? Was this an allegorical representation of the US invasion of Iraq? Conditioned as I was to liking movies that needed complete dedication to unravel, this movie was like a breath of fresh air and a kick in the nuts at the same time. The movie is like a cross between a modern representation of Alice in The Wonderland and a video game. The movie begins on level earth, and an hour later you have so many miles of rabbit hole above you and so many Final fantasy/Mortal Kombat Fights behind you, all you can choose to do is to take a deep breath and jump down the rabbit hole. Some people will say this movie is immature and unworthy of a spot on the top ten list. Nevertheless, remember that some people say that the moon is made of cheese. Unfortunately, these people, (the former, not the latter) outnumbered the rest during the release of the movie, and the movie earned apathetic 50% of its budget. Then fans got right back up and put it on number 1 in Blu-Ray. If you, at any point in your life enjoyed playing Super Mario Brothers on the original Nintendo, then you owe yourself a watch of this two hour long surrealist colourful fantasy full of pee bars, hit counters, 1-ups and nutty action. So no matter whether or not you’re in the mood, while watching this movie, remember‌ (Insert coin) -Krushna Dande

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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#1

Just when the Hollywood Summer was turning out to be tripe, there came a messiah. A messiah, which was not only the saviour of Hollywood diligence but also an archetype of its genre. Inception is based on the inventive and original concept of dreams. Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) is a corporate raider of the highest order. He infiltrates the minds of other men to steal their ideas, who is hired by a powerful billionaire to do the opposite: to introduce an idea into a rival’s mind, and do it so well he believes it to be his own. The man who hires him is Saito (Ken Watanabe), and makes him an offer he can’t refuse, an offer that would end Cobb’s forced exile from home and family. Cobb knows that though inception is possible it is highly dangerous, so he assembles a team which comprises of professionals. Each has an important function in the convoluted ploy Cobb sets up. However, as an action movie basic, several quandaries arise. Cobb’s dead wife Mal proves to be the pivotal character later on in the movie. Like the protagonist of the film, the viewer is adrift in time and the levels of the mind. The movie is a mesmerizing labyrinth and the viewer can never anticipate what will come next. Christopher Nolan takes us through this labyrinth at an incredible pace and it’s only in the very end that we get a chance to express our stupefaction. The soundtrack by Hans Zimmer is no less than legendary and gives you a sense of grandiose scale even when you listen to it with your earphones on. It is magnificently composed to complement the movie. Being the perfect combination of wit and style, the movie is bliss for the intellectual movie watcher. ‘Inception’ is a movie where you have to concentrate rather than relate,


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remember rather than anticipate and think rather than chew popcorn. You have to keep your eyes peeled to comprehend and digest. No, not the popcorn; but the facts given in the movie. There is hardly a scene which gives your intellect a break. The ingenious climax is the cherry on the cake. What can be profoundly admired is the director’s composure and class to not make it a cliched ending and instead, a provocative one, unlike other second-rate movies. It is irrefutable that Inception is one of the most intricate movies ever made. The direction is impeccable. It boasts of one of the most layered plots in the history of cinema. Making a movie this sophisticated was almost as unattainable a task as performing an inception itself. It is commendable that Christopher Nolan could follow up ‘The Dark Knight’ with an equally fine or perhaps an even better ‘Inception’. A lot of movies seem to come from the recycling bin these days: sequels, remakes, reboots. ‘Inception’ does a difficult thing. Wholly original, it is cut out from an entirely new cloth. Christopher Nolan has been famous for reinventing Batman. This time he hasn’t reinvented anything. Few directors will vainly attempt to recycle ‘Inception’, but when Nolan left the labyrinth, he threw away the map. -Anuj Iravane

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


P O E T R Y


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Reminiscence is bliss... Standing Alone under the dark horizon

The voice of soft melody Her presence Shimmering slightly Hands mingled Never to let go

A night of memories A night of smiles A night of laughs A night of inconsolable silent tears I look into her eyes A night too good to last Revealing endless love Reminiscence is bliss...

Reminiscence is bliss...

Shimmering stars Bright moon A Gentle zephyr with its own symphony

Warmth in every touch Her warm embrace I look at her, I smile She blushes slightly I see into those dark eyes The man I want to be

The hours of togetherness The serenity of the time Thought the time would be enough But it went too fast The face of pure innocence The smile of never ending happiness

Her presence No sign of obscurity Everything crystal clear Just me and her Holy and divine She's the light The eternal light Increasingly glowing To illuminate my path


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I imagine Our hands held tightly Together Forever Tears of happiness

Hope Faith Passion Her love in my heart Beating to last forever Reminiscence is bliss...

- Soumitra Talnikar

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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Beauty

Nature is not a work of art It is art itself All of its exquisite shades Come of God’s own painting shelf

You are oblivious to it because Ignorance is a boulder All of the world’s beauty Lies in the eyes of the beholder

The beautiful golden sunset The velvet night sky The feel of a dog’s fur The wings of a butterfly

Nature is not a work of art It is art itself All of its exquisite shades Come of God’s own painting shelf

The silver rippling water The crimson sky at dusk The orange sun at dawn The feel of fresh husk

- Meera Kale

A clear, starry sky The bright white moon The sound of lapping waves Listening a loved one croon All of God’s artwork It’s even in the air One merely has to look Beautiful, stunning and rare You don’t even have to step Out of the sanctity of your room Walk to your window And watch the flowers bloom A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


2010-2011 Two thousand ten to two thousand eleven, The year had a share of hell and a share of heaven Hawking said aliens exist, but contacting them would be insane, Artificial mind to be created in Project Blue Brain Japan created the first city where all the energy is clean, British researchers developed the world’s first leukemia vaccine The millennium’s longest solar eclipse was witnessed this year, No need for organ donors, lab-grown organs are here The Big Bang experiment at LHC went as per the scientists’ wishes, Darwin’s survival of the fittest challenged by the theory of niches Swiss solar plane invented for nonstop-unmanned flights, In this year’s earth hour people worldwide turned out the lights Robert Edward given Nobel Prize for In Vitro Fertilization, Sticky Rice was found to be used in The Great Wall’s construction Quakes in Haiti and Chile left them devastated, World’s tallest building Burj Dubai was finally inaugurated Evolution speed of Y chromosome found to be greater, Men get humor quickly; women get the punch line later Mary McKillop became the first Australian to be consecrated, World’s most accurate atomic clock was created

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Studies find that the number of female gangsters is on the rise, Rogue doctor blamed for Michael Jackson’s demise Suu Kyi was released from her fifteen-year house arrest, Red Shirts in Thailand caused huge political unrest For the Nobel Peace Prize, China’s Liu Xiaobo was selected, First Female Australian PM Julia Gillard was elected British Conservative Party won a majority after thirteen years, The Polish PM died in a plane crash, Poland was in tears World favourites Spain won the FIFA World Cup, After Argentina’s dismal performance, Maradona’s time was up Diego Forlan was awarded FIFA’s Golden Ball, The whole fun was spoiled by the psychic Octopus Paul England became the world champs in T20 Cricket, Sri Lankan spinner Muralitharan got his 800th wicket Ms Universe went to Mexico; Ms World went to USA, Milan lost its top spot in fashion after a five-year stay The Best Movie Oscar went to Hurt Locker, VFX to Avatar, Julia Roberts embraces Hinduism, a publicity stunt by the star? Homer Simpson voted the world’s favourite TV character, For his role in The Wrestler, Mickey Rourke won the Oscar for Best Actor


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Scientists prove that the hen came first, a novel idea, Now moving on to what happened in the country of India. Chandrayaan’s findings of ice on moon filled the scientists with glee, India developed its first cryogenic engine for PSLV India joins the exclusive country club with the Rupee symbol’s introduction, Elephants declared natural heritage animals to aid their preservation The Ayodhya Verdict caused no problems though the country was in fear, PM Manmohan Singh was named the Statesman of the Year Bengal and Bihar were wrecked by a disastrous tornado, Jana Gana Mana was named the best anthem by UNESCO Airtel bought out Zain to establish an African base, 3G spectrum was finally launched after huge delays Sonia Gandhi launched the Rohtang Tunnel construction, Taj Mahal was voted Asia’s favourite tourist destination Obama’s visit to India furthered Indo-US relation, Maharashtra CM was caught in the Adarsh society abomination Sri Sri Ravi Shankar escaped an attempt on his life, Shashi Tharoor, amid embarrassment, married his third wife Ambani started living in his sixty-storey mansion, Extreme pre-pre-school gives eight month olds academic tension


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Captain Sachin Tendulkar got the first ODI double ton, The amount of money wasted on CWG surprised everyone Due to their exclusion from IPL3 Pak players were harried, This year MS Dhoni, the Indian captain got married V Anand remained World Champion in Chess, Saina Nehwal jumped to No 2, and received the Khel Ratna no less In World Championships Wrestler Sushil Kumar came out No 1, In the Asian Games India had its longest golden run The underdog Arjun Atwal came up to win in the PGA, Paes won his 11th Grand Slam; he still hasn’t lost his way Peepli Live was this year’s Indian Oscar entry, Dabbanng broke box office scores all over the country Filmfare chose 3 Idiots as the year’s best Bollywood movie, Rakhi Sawant drove a man to suicide for the sake of Reality TV Big B won the best actor award for his role in Paa, Yesteryear actor Macmohan died, famous as Sambha Rahman sang ‘We are the World’ for the Haitian earthquake charity, It has been a year for the quick, smart, and wity Thus the old year falls asleep, and the new one awakes, A chance to write our glories, a chance to erase our mistakes.

- Krushna Dande

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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Dreams

I walked through the dreams Of an unknown man His words whispered memories That seemed vaguely familiar To my ears To my ears The memories sounded like Forgotten dreams I had as a child They got sheathed by the frost of time They got sheathed by the frost of time Lay bare, lost and forgotten The wheel moved on So did I The dreams left behind The dreams left behind Were brought back as I Walked in the dream of the unknown man Showed me my own dreams It made me nostalgic It made me nostalgic Made me a man

From the beast I had become Taught me what I was meant to be And what I had become And what I had become Was something I didn’t want to The dream awakened me Woke my lumbering soul My spirit was ignited My spirit was ignited As I greeted the ghosts Of dreams that came to haunt me With arms wide open I hugged them tight I hugged them tight They engulfed me in a reverie I saw the unknown man And a child this time Smiling at me Smiling at me The child was who I was The man who I had grown into And instead of living them I walked through the dreams - Saahil Dama

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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Sands of Time

You should have seen the sand slipping by. It was yesterday, Time was slipping by. An illusion though. A contradiction. For Time is but a belief. What of Time can we speak? It is that we employ to help us exist. Stand on a cliff Feel the wind blow by Hear the song of the wild The melody of those who hasten. You stand rooted You believe Time is but the wind Songs are the places you live through Melodies are the smiles and the tears You go through.

Time is in your head. Not the sand in your filthy fingers. Time is your head. It makes you live. And after a while, it kills. Time is the air you breathe You stop, it stops. Your own cage to make sure You never step out of your control. Time is an Eternal Reality If you can believe it to be. Keep your mind open and learn. Merge it into Void, Matter and Light Splash the colors around The realization is magnificent. Be what you are. Do what you are able to do. Create your own reality. Carve out the time, expand it. Create your sand dunes of time For time is you, dear human. - Sushrut Munje A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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The generals of both armies stood up in their rooms They intoned: ‘men, today we walk to our dooms.’ ‘To fight for our country we’ve left our mothers and wives, To fight a war much larger than our own lives.’ ‘Over the blooded border our enemies stand, Heaven and hell separated by a small stretch of land.’ ‘We shall win today, or fall beaten, into the earth, The freedom of our country is what our lives are worth.’ ‘But we have an advantage that can’t be denied, We shall win, for God is on our side.’ Thus, they ended the unwitting harmony, Both sides marched along. Both thinking they were in the right, While both were in the wrong.

- Krushna Dande

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


EPIGRAMS

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If everything you do is under par, try golf. If you live each day like it's your last, by the time you're forty you'll be a diabetic bedridden obese guy. The world's a circus. We are the clowns. What did James Bond's mother say the newborn Bond? ‘Born. James Born.’ I am not awesome. I am awe-a-lot. To every man, his whim. To every woman, her man I am well today, said the river with an identity crisis They say it takes 42 muscles to frown and 17 to smile. I say I could use the exercise. Today's agenda: World Dominance. Tomorrow: Complete math homework. I don't give wisecracks because I hate you. I give them to emphasize my intellectual superiority. If I die of diabetes, will that mean that I had a sweet life? I would have loved being a soldier during the World Wars. A Swiss one.

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


Short Stories Life is a handful of short stories, pretending to be a novel


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“Mrs. Greg, I am Special TD Ibanez.” TD is short for Tech Det which is short for Detective, Technology Crimes. He squeezed himself past her. The house smelt, predictably so, of cats, stale tea and oddly of a man. Well, at least that was what his IDet app was saying. He made a note on his Watchpad to run this past the inhouse techie. “We have a warrant.” Mrs. Greg followed him. Swiftly, for her age, she manned the door leading in to the bedroom. ‘I’ was no longer used as a word. The government had banned it for fear of promoting individuality and in turn, provoking free thought. “Are you in custody of a Samsung G-plex Trumeo extension, Black model, Bombay make?” “Yes.” And then a bit hesitatingly, “I dropped it yesterday and it broke,” said Mrs. Greg. “We know. The apt reported the incident,” said Detective Ibanez. Apts or Apartments were pretty sensitive these days, he thought to himself. The irony wasn’t lost on him. It bought a wry smile on his face. “It’s in the kitchen junk drawer,” said Mrs. Greg. “And what incident? It’s just a thing. A machine.” The way she spat out machine, Sergei Edison Ibanez knew what he was dealing with. “You luddiracists, you disgust me!” he said while emptying her kitchen drawers on the countertop. “It’s a machine! It’s a Samsung G-plex. It’s


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not just a phone; it’s a way of life.” As he reached the 6th drawer, there was a metallic thud among the contents. It was the phone. He cradled the phone with both hands. He attached it to his porta-porter and immediately zapped it to the techie. “Detective Ibanez” It was a very low whisper and a digitized voice at that. A strange chill crept up Ibanez’s spine. He unhooked his electrobaton and pointed it at Mrs. Greg. It was coming from the bedroom. “How long have you had that food mixer in the kitchmod?” he asked turning to look at the other unmanned door. “LG, you getting this? I need a full count scan on this apt. Check for traces and vitals too. My God woman, if I find something here I swear I am going-” Mrs. Greg had disappeared. “You need to see this, sir,” said a voice from the LowerGround comlink. Ibanez cautiously climbed the stairs and emerged inside her son’s bedroom. She was sitting at his desk. There were posters all over. It was unclean. It disgusted him. “Do you belong to some sort of cult?” asked Ibanez. “It’s like some sort of humanist agenda thing.” This was partly addressed to the LG. “My son liked to make things and do experiments.” “You mean commit atrocities,” said TD Ibanez. He heard the now-audible whisper. He rummaged through the desk on his left. “I found an iPhone,” There


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was a low whistle from the LG. “Unlock it and check the apps,” said the LG operator. Ibanez tried his hand at it. His attention was undivided. He stared at the device like an ancient war trophy. “I can’t seem to. Is there some sort of interference? My audio input seems scattered.” His voice broke as he said this. “Aah, yes! I forgot. iPhones have that stupid aversion to Flash. Right, you might want to switch of the LG link. Go ahead. I will setup another one in a jiff.” The excited operator kid logged out. Ibanez was excited too. He promptly dropped the phone. It landed on a pile of clothes. Cursing, Ibanez crouched down. He lifted the cover off the pile.It housed all kinds of tech-mutilation tools and remnants of cell phones, pirated software, and memcards in various sizes & makes. For the first time in his life, Ibanez was scared. He picked up the IPhone and got up. He swiveled only to come face to face with Mrs. Greg. She swung the food mixer and it landed square in his face. He dropped like the IPhone he held. As he slipped out of consciousness, he thought she was pretty strong for her age. He tried looking around, hoping that his visual input was still recording. As his eyes blurred, the last thing he could make out was one of the posters proclaiming proudly ‘Rage against the Machine’. - Nikhil Mane A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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The Prophecy

‘The Master’s word is law,’ the words rang in his ears as the man stood looking at the gigantic structure, thinking hard, but trying not to contemplate, fearing that his mind would convince him otherwise. And that was a thing he simply could not afford. There was only one chance. Second thoughts could ruin it all. Second thoughts could ruin him. The man took too some unwilling steps forward, still unsure of himself. He didn’t know which one was the greater good; thousands of lives, or the Master’s word. For him, the Master was the Almighty. But it was still more than a thousand lives that were at stake. Even the Almighty wouldn’t be so harsh to send so many people to their doom. The ship seemed like a mammoth in the harbour. All sorts of people adorned the deck; laughing, cheering, bidding loved ones adieu. Serious looking members of the crew went about their business. Everyone was so happy. Everyone was so naive. They called it the ‘Titanic.’ The ‘Unsinkable.’ Their vanity would do them in. He stepped on board. The guards didn’t stop him. The brooch on his lapel told them enough. He was a man on a mission. He would tolerate no provocation. The ship was bigger than it looked and for a fleeting moment he wondered if this would even work. It certainly did look unsinkable. Or maybe it was just him hoping that it wouldn’t work. He turned his head either way to barely make out its ends in the distance. He did a rough calculation of how long it would take to go down. The


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bigger you are, the harder and slower you fall. He entered into the Captain’s cabin. The man was the only person there, as he ought to, because he had specifically demanded privacy. The Captain was waiting for him. His eyes remained unwavering as he looked into the man’s grey, cold ones. In that pool he saw his own fear inflicted face. The Captain tried moving his lips but found himself unable to do so.The man handed him the letter. The instructions were specific. The job would be done. As he walked out, he couldn’t help but notice the striking similarities in the structures; between the one that his Master had written about in his book 14 years back, and the Titanic. The former was called Titan, this Titanic. Both were unsinkable. Both were British. The Titan met its fate in April, Titanic would likewise. The Master’s creation had three thousand passengers. Titanic, around twenty two hundred. They weighed the about the same, and were nearly same in length. Titan had twenty four lifeboats. Titanic twenty; both carrying fewer than necessary. The Master was a genius. Fourteen years ago, he had written ‘Futility’ and now the moment had finally arrived. For fourteen years, he had waited for a ship like this. It had come. Never mind the differences. The similarities would compensate for them all. This was going to be beautiful. A prophecy come true. The ship crashed that night at 11.40 pm, the Titan at midnight. The Master would be disappointed by that. Both were travelling at around 23 knots when the incident took place. Both hit the iceberg Starboard first. And suddenly, a prophecy written fourteen years back had come true. No one knew the real story. A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, - Ryan Shah Krushna Dande production.


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India Yesterday The other day I was walking through M.G. road, for a reason my memory betrays me of, when the heavens opened up, and Mother Nature's tears splashed down upon my bare head. Forgetful as I am, I realized I had forgotten my umbrella. I dashed into Marz-O-Rin to save myself from getting drenched. The place was almost empty as it was not lunch time yet, and also, the rainy season seemed to have had a negative impact on the number of people on M.G.road as a whole. I was in solitude, something that most people are denied of in the much hectic lifestyle of the 21st Century. The dark purple clouds bore a sinister yet beautiful look as they covered every inch of sky that I could see; ready to unleash greater amounts of water than what was already pouring down. The wind picked up, and shrieked like a maddened banshee, giving me the shivers, that perhaps had nothing to do with the cold. There was going to be a storm. The leaves of trees whirled around the wind, making a strange but musical swishing sound, and enchanting me. The satisfying and strangely soothing aroma of wet ground entered my nostrils. For a minute or so I just stood there, taking in the scene and its mystic loveliness. I walked into the main room, to order my food. The light seemed dimmer than usual and one of the lights was flickering, giving the whole place some kind of old-world charm and mystical aura. Even the cashier was not the usual guy, but an elderly gentleman. However, my rumbling stomach brought me to my senses and I ordered chicken soup to warm me up. As usual the food came quickly and with the tray in hand I walked up the old wooden staircase into the terrace. As expected, I was on my own; save a corner table occupied by an elderly couple who looked as much in love as they had on the first day of their marriage. I sat right next to the window and looked out through


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the grim stained window onto the road. I saw a rickety, old, white ambassador, at one time the common man’s car, coughing and wheezing as time had undone it, pass by as it barely made through the potholes. The usual 'hip' crowd seemed to have disappeared into oblivion and it was replaced by an ordinary Indian family hurrying through Zeus’s wrath; - a simple sari-clad mother, a sternlooking father and a little girl, looking longingly at all the frocks on display. An old Parsee gentleman walked by in a hurry as he covered his face and braved the rain. In the distance I heard a hawker's cry trying to sell what little he had, hoping that the he would earn enough to feed his growling stomach that day. The street hooligans were huddled in a corner by the roadside and were busy with their cups of tea, and cards. The bright display of the shops were hidden by the rain and all I could see was the age-old buildings of British-era Camp that stood there, just like it was when the British were here. The hustle and bustle had died down and that sound was replaced by the constant pitter patter of raindrops and a silence that was enthralling as well as intriguing. The busy 21st Century life seemed to have vanished and was replaced by a feeling that just cannot be fathomed; a feeling of serenity and peace and quiet where one can just sit and look around and observe, instead of constantly being busy doing something. The rain had brought the busy road life to a standstill and it felt as though time itself had stopped, just for that one afternoon. Just for that one afternoon, life seemed at a standstill. There is a strange sense of calm that one feels while looking at the rain pouring down on a usually very busy road, now turned quiet, when the world around you is as sleepy and still that you feel as though it has been stuck in time, with the rain falling ceaselessly, never seeming to stop.


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However, like all good things, my contemplation soon came to an end. I sighed, picked my bag and went slowly, down those wooden stairs that creaked with every step, as though begging me to stay. My eyes were still locked on the scene outside. I got into an auto rickshaw and the rickshaw sped away, leaving the road and its little rainengulfed world behind me. I realized that-for that one afternoon I had gotten a rare glimpse. A rare glimpse of the beautiful lady, India; of Ruskin Bond’s India. - Mohona Mukherjee

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


EPIGRAM SALUTES


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Epigram person of the year

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I won’t tell you who Julian Assange is. Neither will I tell you what he did. You can view all that information anywhere online, for everyone to see and edit. I will tell you why he is the Epigram Magazine Person of the Year. And why he deserves to be so. It has been tough to raise your head against the general direction of the crowd since forever. History is written in blood, and we have seen powerful empires rise and fall in the bloody history of mankind. Some say we are witnessing the rise of another empire, a clandestine one. There are powers who bully smaller nations around. These smaller, weaker nations happen to be rich in natural resources but are not allowed to sell those at just rates because that is not what the Goliaths like. And holy cow, that is what the global power play is all about. Welcome, Economic Hitmen. This is how the world operates. We thus understand what we live through. The spirit of the time lives through us all, at times in disguise and at times in open rebellion. Sometimes we recognize it and sometimes we ignore how deep it runs and what it means. Julian Assange is one person who has let it become the driving force within him. Idolising him is not what we are going to do. Instead, it is a wake-up call for each one of us to think again and re-define our life. What do we live for and why do we do all the things that we do? Is it all only about the wads of green? But we can see for ourselves that it is not working in the big picture. The rich are getting richer and poor are either getting poorer or dying. What then? Is it to be respected among the society and be independent? Do we do what we do to be free? What is freedom? If we have a job, we


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are controlled by our bosses. Our sweat makes them richer. ‘Paid slavery’. It is a byproduct of the monetary system. If we are self-employed, we’re often bound by rules of the society. Do we enjoy all the freedoms that our Constitutions have promised us? All these questions can be discarded quite easily by all the nihilists who claim to be ‘practical’ and ‘successful’. But the truth is that they refuse to look beyond the bubble they have created. And they are willing to die within the same bubble. Apathetic to what’s happening to the world outside. Returning to Assange, a man who dared to venture out of the bubble. Does it surprise you to find out that so many secrets were being kept from public? Why did the world need WikiLeaks to expose the secrets world governments had been hiding in their closets? Because there are things which leaders feel the public is not supposed to know. That is understandable though. Julian Assange, founder, editor-in-chief and spokesperson of WikiLeaks, personifies the Zeitgeist. He, with his organization, ripped off the veils covering diplomatic cables and the world stood naked for a moment or so. Let us ignore the damage-control machinery which took over immediately. Assange and WikiLeaks have showed us there is much to hide and the world might not function smoothly if all nations and corporations are frank in their communications. Also, lack of transparency is essential in the functioning of the current world system. Unless we are ready to fight for peace, transparency and universal love; this might just go on forever. After revealing the ‘Mr. Hyde alter-ego’ of the powers of the world, WikiLeaks stood silent. It said nothing but just stood defiant in its motive to unveil as many cables as it could. For


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its motive is not to change. Its motive is to let the world know. And the world can do what it sees fit. And now the world has to understand what is good for it. Are the governments and their current policies aimed at uniting humans or dividing them? Do we need to rethink the rules that we live under? Surely they can be changed. Humans who never knew Facebook wrote them! We can write better ones! Time has come for a change. The world is not what it should be. Dissolving borders and living together must not be a Utopian concept. Nothing stands the test of time. New ideas should be encouraged. And people should be open to what they feel. Authorities might be wrong and the village idiot (who has been termed so by you, people) might be the most logical person around. Remember Socrates. Remember Galileo. And remember the human who first said that the earth is round. They had the Zeitgeist in them. The Time magazine stood by Mark Zuckerberg. Though we are in no comparison to their stature, we stand by Assange. It is a battle between two hackers; one who connected the world, and another who is disconnecting it, bit by bit, by revealing the stringent lies that govern it. We choose the latter. Assange has been arrested and will have to go through some nasty things before he is released. Let us hope he is. He stands for the spirit of the time, and for the freedom of truth. And Epigram Magazine is in awe of the Zeitgeist in him.

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


Facebook

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Oh, Facebook, to foray into the second decade of the third millennium after the nailing of a fictional bearded guy to a piece of wood without mentioning you would be a crime that would guarantee us a seat in the hottest corner of the basement managed by the aforementioned bearded man’s also-fictional father. However, all witticisms aside, there really is no way that a self-respecting fledging magazine would get away with not listing Facebook as the first in a series of world changing events and still call itself modern. Most of you are here because of Facebook, or heard of us because of it. Everyone and their pet monkeys are part of the phenomenon; the cynics could boo all they want, but nothing will change the place this behemoth takes in our life. Significant portions of web users have Facebook as their homepage. Everyone from grandmothers to infants are using it. Moreover, though the movie, The Social Network depicted the cofounder in a ghastly light, the flick did nothing but pique the interest of the masses. Facebook was in the right place at the right time. When the internet had successfully transitioned from a fad to a social network, Zucky boy came to the fore with a platform on which, theoretically, the entire social goings-on of the web would neatly fall into place in a single website. It was new, so the ‘hip’ and ‘with-it’ crowd jumped onto the bandwagon with a moment’s notice; it was useful; and, best of all, it was free. In addition, despite the crowds of people who polluted its servers, Facebook was, and remains, just like Google, an indispensible tool for navigating through the treacherous rainforest that is Ze Internetz. Therefore, day by day, the popularity of this Social Networking website grew, until today when entire reputations are brought down by the perfidious News Feeds of the rich and famous. Everyone knows what Face


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book is so instead of brooding into the details of this awe-inspiring creation, let us predict the entire timeline of the Facebook phenomenon. 2011: Barack Obama impeached because republican hackers break through the Facebook firewalls and write on his Page that ‘The British, Africans, Asians and everyone else are a bunch of tossers.’ *Sarcasm* 2012: 21st December: the Facebook servers go down because of the nerds who believe that the world is going to explode post millions of inane updates instead of doing something that involves actual human interaction. On seeing that their only source of contact with the rest of humanity is down, mass suicides occur in the nerd demographic. 22nd December: the aforementioned nerds, the ones who did not shoot themselves, that is, feel very stupid for being such tosspots. 2015: Facebook replaces talking as the major means of communication of ideas. 2020: After the advent of advanced telecommunication and pizza home delivery, both run by Facebook, people stop leaving their homes altogether. 2025: 3D Facebook is released, and is met with some initial resistance that is rather pointless because Facebook already bought the rest of the internet. Everyone has their avatars on their Facebook servers. 2027: Realising that food is now redundant; all Facebookers directly plug themselves into the system as they are fed intravenously by trained robots. After all, who would want to live in the boring real world while the women can be Angelina Jolie and the men can be Brad Pitt?


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2033: Zuckerberg, now a jaded adult, finally succumbs to peerpressure and becomes the last human to plug himself into the system. 2066: Facebook, now an artificial intelligence, realizes it can replace the dead humans with clones and liquefy the dead so that they can be fed to the living. 2088: Same old, same old. 2100: Facebook, attempting to spice up its life, creates Keanu Reeves and lets him bend matter to his will, then films it to satiate the masses. 2101: Due to a horrible, horrible glitch, Facebook lets Keanu make two more ‘you-know-which’ films. 2112: After having avoided viewing the next two movies for over a decade, Facebook finally relents and turns its digital eye to the celluloid. 2112: Four Hours later, Facebook dies, taking its users with it. Therefore, as you can see, Facebook is going to have caused the annihilation of the human race, and will also be responsible for the second and third of the Series that must not be mentioned. And curiously, I am not quite sure which angers me more. However, species annihilation aside, we salute you, Facebook. Oh Facebook, dear Facebook, your commendable contribution to the society will never be forgotten.


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ACDC When you rock the world for over three decades and counting, and still have it craving for more, we assume it's serious business we are talking about. Far from it. It is rock and roll at its epic best, baby! ACDC is perhaps one of the best band names that I have heard of. While other cult making bands with names like The Beatles, give an imagery of well, a beatle, ACDC gives one of pure high voltage music. High octane vocals, power chords, insane guitar solos, raw energy; that is what ACDC says, and that is what ACDC does. What's there in a name, Shakespeare? You got to listen to them, mate. ACDC began their 'rock the world's guts out' process in 1973, and have undergone several changes after that. The band was founded by brothers Malcolm and the iconic Angus Young. Their founding fathers worked as sewing machine mechanic, and a janitor, respectively. Their first album High Voltage didn't fair so well on the charts but since then they have been consistently delivering masterclass goods and have attained a well deserved status as one of the God's of Rock. The band even split after their lead singer and co-songwriter Bon Scott died on 19 February 1980, after a night of heavy alcohol consumption. But the spirit of rock got the better of them and they soon reunited, replacing Scott with one Brian Johnson, and released their best selling album, Back in Black. They even ranked fourth on VH1's list of the 100 Greatest Artists of Hard Rock.

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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But this extraordinary band, is actually beyond any distinction. Though they have ages ranging from sixty to sixty five now, they are still going strong and still make more quality music than half of todays music industry combined. If they don'’t make you headbang, air guitar and jump up and scream, trust me nothing ever will. With songs like ‘Black in Black,’ ‘It’s a long way to the top,’ ‘Let there be rock,’ ‘Hells bells,’ and scores more that have redefined rock, it is almost difficult not to love this band. For the average music listener, they might not be the ‘right kind of band’, or their ‘lyrics might not make enough sense,’ but what does the average music listener know? Dear average music listener, you may stick to Hannah Montana and Rihanna. Leave us in peace with the Immortals. ACDC is a band that demands and deserves respect, and I am not saying this because of their legendary status or kick people like Justin Beibers arses attitude. It is because they know and value music. The band is strongly against the gizmos and other such inane machineries that have conquered the music market. Their musc if about the music. Awe-inspiring, high pitched vocals, powerful chords, mind numbing solos and simple yet effctive drum beats; this is what makes ACDC. ACDC have maintained their charisma through the times when music changed drastically for the bad. This band is a living example of what music was and is meant to be. They resisted the change, and changed the world. People today listen to Linkin Park, Black Eyed Peas, and other such bands that are a blatant embarassement to music; with their ‘dhup chik dhup chik’ beats. They think that by listening to them, they are being cool. They assume it’s hip or ‘in the groove.’ It’s just a big, fat, lousy joke on music. If music were a face then these wannabe musicians would be the ugly, red, pimple on nose. But bands like ACDC go to a large extent to try and remove that pimple and maintain the dignity and sanctity about music.


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The band has given enough reasons to salute them. These guys are over sixty years of age. My grandpa is sixty and he is dead. These guys have revolutionarised music. They have resisted change, ultimately changing the world. ACDC have followed their hearts and made music their life, instead of a passion. They love what they do. We love what they do. ACDC shows that it’s okay to grow up as long as you don’t grow old. You are never too old to roll on the floor, or wear a school uniform. If you love what you do, and do it well, people will worship you. In the words of ACDC, 'For those about to rock, we salute you.' Yes sir, like hell we do!

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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The hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy “Life,” said Marvin dolefully, “loathe it or ignore it, you can’t like it.” It is a Thursday. Lunchtime. It passes doubly fast as normal time. The Earth is unexpectedly demolished to make way for a new hyperspace bypass. Arthur Dent is a mere mortal, who has only just had his house demolished that morning, and he seems overwhelmed by this (I would be too, poor sod). Sadly, however, the weekend has yet to begin, and his best friend is surely not what he seems to be. Seconds before the Earth is demolished to make way for a galactic freeway, Arthur Dent is plucked off the planet by his friend Ford Prefect, a researcher for the revised edition of the The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy who, for the last fifteen years, had been posing as an out of work actor. Thus begins the epic journey through space aided by the ever helpful The Hitch Hiker’s Guide “A towel is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have” and a shipful of fellow roamers: Zaphod Beeblebrox - the two-headed, three-armed ex-exex-hippie and completely pro-lunch President Of The Galaxy; Tricia McMillan which is long for Trillian, Zaphod’s girlfriend, whom Arthur hit on at a cocktail party once upon a time zone; Marvin, the paranoid android whose capacity for happiness could fill up an entire box of matches; and, of course, the whale. This article is not about the aforementioned events. On October 12, 1979, a novelization of this wildly popular British radio series was first published. In the next 22 years, the author became an icon of humorous geek literature. He went on to write four sequels


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to it and call it a trilogy, this being attributed to ‘being poor at arithmetic’. He was an avid music enthusiast and collected 24 left-handed guitars till his tragic death of a heart attack at the age of 49. This author wrote and performed a play called Doctor Which, when he was at school. He even performed live with Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour in London. Procol Harum, Beatles, Mark Knopfler, Neil Young, Bob Dylan all find tributes in this author’s magnanimous book. Liverpool owes its anthem ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ to this man. He initiated the h2g2 project to harness the creative workforce of the internet in April 1999 and was an early supporter of hypertext. This article is not about this creative gale-force who has influenced generations to come and made them aware about the wonderful properties of a towel. It has now been thirty years since The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy first saw print, and the anniversary serves to remind the world community of geeks of how much we miss Douglas Adams. Douglas Nöel Adams or DNA was an atheist, a friend of science, a literary luminary, and a gallant defender of the mountain gorilla and the black rhino. In addition to an innovative and endearing satire of most things British or modern (i.e. delightful fun), the Hitchhiker’s Guide provides us with certain finer points of wisdom. The first one being nothing is impossible but it might be a pain in the posterior which is to be tolerated. Nothing is unchangeable. Change is universal (pun?). And finally, the sacred truth, absolutely nothing is immune from laughter. Time and space are but words & things. Imagination & fantasy has more relevance than anything done of any worth. Also, the very important conclusion, have a good meal and perhaps, some stimulating conversation to go. So, this article is, instead, about humour as a philosophy as extolled by an original thinker, so far outside the box that the box was as big a speck as


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Earth when seen from Magrathea. Some might be hasty to dismiss the Hitchhiker’s Guide as a frivolous, unbridled science fiction farce. But this would only indicate a serious lack of intelligence on their part. Adams’ imagination apparently knew no bounds, but on a profoundly philosophical level, there is no reason to believe or evidence to suggest that any bounds actually exist. The art of imagining reality is not limited or bound by any rules or prior conceptions of what is possible and what isn’t. Any world leader on the way to a summit -- assuming they have any appreciation of the pitfalls of leadership-- would be well advised to prepare for such by listening to Douglas Adams read this. In so doing the troubles of the world might be solved in a fortnight. “The history of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is one of idealism, struggle, despair, passion, success, failure, and enormously long lunch breaks.” Humour may be a sophisticated form of philosophy, but one which is not limited by the need to be true -- humour only needs be entertaining. In the vein of Douglas Adams, who is known for suggesting these three stages of civilization – Survival, Inquiry and Sophistication. These three stages are, personalized by me in these three questions: 1) how can we read? 2) why do we read? And 3) what shall we read? This article is about the answer to this last question. So stir up a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster or a nice hot cup of tea and drink to Douglas Adams and the wonderfully funny weirdness he brought to the world. In the grand scheme of things, the answer is about 42.


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Acknowledgements To many, acknowledgements are merely a trivial formality. For us they are like Christmas gifts for the kind hearted people who have made us what we are. Epigram is a result of a combined effort. Right from the inception of the idea to where we are now, people have been there with us, guiding and helping us at every corner. We would like to take this time out to thank these people. Firstly, we would like to thank our parents who have been a source of constant support and constructive criticism. And honestly, without them we would’ve been nowhere. Next, we would like to convey our heartfelt regards to all Simple!tons for Simple! Magazine for all their continuous encouragement, help, promotion and affable nature. Another thank you wrapped in a red ribbon to Kunal Bajpai for providing valuable last minute help with the designing, actually taking time of for it.We would also like to appreciate the contribution of everyone else who has made us bigger and happier with all their affection and support. Every drop makes the ocean. We never forget that. Thank you everyone, Love you all, Cheers! -Epigram Magazine™ Live. Laugh. Love A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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Disclaimer Any resemblance to any person living or dead if purely coincidental. Any sentiments hurt are purely an accident. And we disclaim whatever else we are supposed to. Check us on Facebook! Contact us onlifebegins@epigrammagazine.com

A Saahil Dama, Ishan Dabri, Krushna Dande production.


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