Delhi Public School Srinagar
Aftaab Zaar
An Editorial Board Initiative
Patron: Ms. Shafaq Afshan
Table of Contents
HERITAGE & FOLKLORE
1. Paradise & the Promised Land
2. The Fading Echoes of Kashmir
1. Spotlight
2. To Put a Man in a Box is to Create Symbolist Art
1. Belief
2. What does it take for you to be happy?
1. Pavlov... Hm... That Rings a Bell
HISTORY
1. Hourglass
2. Frailty, Fury and Mankind
The Poster Child Of Postmodernity
Skepticism. Disquiet. Anger. Guilt. Reason. Romance.
Every Age has a poster child: a whimsical subconscious undertone that tiptoes along people’s palates as their tongues tip against their teeth when they speak; it travels along their fingertips to leave its lingering smear on everything that is touched.
The Age is disquieted by the Poster child’s omnipresence. And as human instinct directs, we turn our backs on the discomfort of this Truth, until its disgustingly intimate hands grip us by the face and dig their claws into our necks, yanking us into looking at its skinned face.
Yes, Truth’s face is skinned. Its eyes, gorging out. Its smile, depraved.
And our collective subconscious knows—that’s why we’re so afraid of Truth.
Our epoch’s ‘Truth’ is the Trinity of Nostalgia.
At some point, we all started looking at the world through the candy red- rimmed, coffee hue- lensed, vintage glasses of nostalgia.
Intellectual pursuits became commodified through a neatly packaged dark academia aesthetic, evoking the Victorian era; fashion became increasingly reminiscent of Y2k (2000s decade); pop culture relied on nostalgia trips for garnering public attention; songs became more ‘retro’; internet trends began to romanticize the ostensible simplicity of traditional society; 90s became a unanimously yearned for era, even by those who hadn’t been alive to witness it.
In all our nostalgic yearning, for the lived and unlived, the past and the future, we became pretentious caricatures devolving our identities into labelled sub-cultures that perpetuated some form of distant longing.
Such caricature-ish nostalgia arises out of discontent.
Discontent out of meaninglessness.
This is the spirit of nostalgia.
The second aspect of this Trinity is nostalgia for God. Nietzsche famously stated: “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us...”
If this proclamation be true, that we have deliberately and diligently erased God’s traces from our lives, then we carry an immense nostalgia for Divine presence in the banal progression of time. We long not for the past, but for an era where God was still alive, where Divine signs answered prayers, where worry and anxiety crumbled under Faith. We long not for the past, but for certainty. For with the death of God, comes the death of certainty. And the tumultuous uncertainty of our era leads to a preoccupation with not only the past, but also the future. And this forms the final aspect of nostalgia’s Trinity: nostalgia for the future.
We look back, through the shattered glass of time, at our Future. We imagine it to the point of nostalgia. Therefore, I say, the poster child of postmodernity is nostalgia.
SUALIHA KHAN
CLASS XII
HERITAGE and LINGUISTICS
Paradise & the Promised Land
Could Kashmir be more than just “Paradise on Earth”? Some suggest it may also be the “Promised Land,” a home for the ten lost tribes of Israel. According to the Hebrew Bible, the Promised Land is the territory that God promised to Abraham and his descendants. But could this sacred promise have led exiled Israelites all the way to Kashmir?
The story of the ten lost tribes of Israel begins with the Assyrian conquest of the northern kingdom of Israel, a powerful event in the 8th century BCE. Originally, the united kingdom of Israel split into two after King Solomon’s death: the northern kingdom (Israel) and the southern kingdom (Judah). Israel, comprising ten tribes, was strategically located and became a target for Assyria’s expansionist ambitions.Around 732 BCE, Assyrian King Tiglath-Pileser III began his invasions, capturing territories and deporting Israelites. By 722 BCE, after a siege led by Shalmaneser V, the Assyrians captured the Israelite capital, Samaria, ending the northern kingdom’s independence. Assyria implemented its standard policy of forced relocation, exiling many Israelites to other regions of the empire to prevent rebellion. After the Assyrian conquest, the lost tribes were dispersed, and forced to flee and resettle in distant lands. According to certain interpretations, some of these tribes travelled eastward, across Persia and Central Asia. Kashmir, located along ancient trade routes, would have been accessible for a group moving eastward. The valley’s relative isolation could have provided refuge for exiled people, allowing them to preserve parts of their identity over centuries. In this context, Kashmir would have been an ideal location for the lost tribes to settle, away from the political and religious upheavals of the ancient Near East. The idea of the ten lost tribes of Israel settling in Kashmir due to its various benefits sounds good on paper. However,the idea of the ten tribes travelling over thousands of miles, across deserts and mountain ranges, to reach Kashmir is also difficult to substantiate. In the ancient world, such journeys would have been exceedingly dangerous and logistically challenging, especially for large groups without an organized exodus. The Assyrians strategically relocated populations to manageable distances within their empire—not halfway across Asia. While the Silk Road did link distant regions, mass migrations as complex as this one were highly improbable but not impossible which is clear due to presence of Bukharan Jews in Central Asia.The Bukharan Jews are a unique Jewish community with a long history in Central Asia, particularly in regions like Uzbekistan and Tajikistan. Over centuries, they established communities along the Silk Road and became a significant minority in cities like Samarkand, Bukhara, and Tashkent. The delineation Of Kashmir as the promised land dates back to The Great Persian Polymath Al Biruni who stated “Kashmir lies on a plateau surrounded by high inaccessible mountains. The south and east of the country belong to the Hindus, the west to various kings, the Bolar-Shah and the Shugnan-Shah, and the more remote parts up to the frontiers of Badhakhshan, to the WakhanShah. . . The inhabitants of Kashmir . . . are particularly anxious about the natural strength of their country, and therefore take always much care to keep a strong hold upon the entrances and roads leading into it. In consequence, it is difficult to have any commerce with them. In former times they used to allow one or two foreigners to enter their country, particularly Jews, but at present time they do not allow any Hindu who they do not know personally to enter, much less other people.” As of 17th century François Bernier, a scholar, and traveler, Bernier reported that Jews had once lived here, but that they had converted to Islam. He said “There are many signs of Judaism to be found in this country. On entering the kingdom after crossing the Pire-penjale mountains the inhabitants in the frontier villages struck me as resembling Jews. Their countenance and manner and that indescribable peculiarity which enables a traveler to distinguish the inhabitants of different nations all seemed to belong to that ancient people. You are not to ascribe what I say to mere fancy, the Jewish appearance of these villagers having been remarked by our Jesuit Fathers, and by several other Europeans, long before I visited Kashmir. A second sign is the prevalence of the name
of Mousa, which means Moses, among the inhabitants of this city, notwithstanding they are Mahometans. A third is the tradition that Solomon visited this country and that it was he who opened a passage for the waters by cutting the mountain of Baramoulé.”
Other commentators such as Tyndale Biscoe likened Kashmiris to Jews because of congruent physical features and their own antisemitic and anti-Kashmiri rhetoric,equating the “ shrewdness” of Kashmiris to that of a Jew. Capitalizing on this already present belief, Mirza Ghulam Ahmad the founder of the Qadiyani Movement, made Kashmir the epicentre of his religious narrative. He declared himself,the messiah and floated Roza Bal to be the birthplace of Jesus. He stated that Jesus had survived the crucifixion and migrated to Kashmir to find and preach to the lost tribes of Israel. Ahmad claimed that Jesus lived in Kashmir, had children, died at the age of 120, and was buried in Rozabal. It is worth noting that most Muslims do not consider Mirza Ghulam Ahmad and his sect to be representative of Islam and rather see them as heretics. Apart from all these narratives, many words in the Kashmiri language share roots with Hebrew and Aramaic, both Semitic languages associated with ancient Israel. Some scholars argue that these linguistic parallels hint at a shared origin or prolonged contact between the people of Kashmir and the Israelites. The titles of roughly 350 towns and villages in Kashmir exhibit some correspondence to place names in the holy land. These include Bandpoor (similar to Beth Peor), Naboo Hill (similar to Mount Nebo), Pishgah (similar to Mount Pisgah), and Mamre (similar to Mamre). The publication in which I originally wanted to publish this piece “Gaash” interestingly also happens to be a Hebrew word. It should be noted that isolated vocabulary similarities can be found across many unrelated languages due to chance, trade, or mutual influence. Kashmiri is an Indo-Aryan language, fundamentally different in structure and origin from Semitic languages like Hebrew. True linguistic connections would require consistent grammatical and syntactical parallels, not just a handful of similar-sounding words challenging a linguistic link between Kashmir and ancient Israel.
A 2018 study, “A Genome-Wide Search for Greek and Jewish Admixture in the Kashmiri Pop- ulation,” conducted by researchers from the University of Utah School of Medicine and Sher-iKashmir Institute of Medical Sciences (SKIMS), investigated genetic links between Kashmiris and Jewish populations. The study utilized genome-wide genotyping and admixture detection methods, but found no significant Jewish genetic admixture in modern-day Kashmiris. Instead, researchers discovered evidence of southern European and Mediterranean ancestry, which could potentially indicate Greek or Sephardic Jewish roots. However, this genetic pattern is also common among northern Indian and Pakistani populations, making it inconclusive. The study’s findings are compromised by significant limitations. With a sample size of only 15 Kashmiri individuals, the research cannot be considered representative of the larger population. Furthermore, the study due to its small sample size may have inadvertently selected participants with specific genetic traits, introducing selection bias. These limitations undermine the study’s scientific credibility, but do not necessarily disprove the theory. To draw conclusive findings, further research with larger, more diverse samples is necessary.
The theory of the ten lost tribes settling in Kashmir is indeed captivating and could reshape historical narratives if proven true. However, even if it were, this doesn’t change the deeper reality for Kashmiris: that their promised land is just beneath them, shaped by a diverse past. People from all backgrounds have left their mark in the valley, creating the collective identity that is uniquely Kashmiri today.
As the great poet Amir Khusro wrote: Agar firdaus bar roo-e zameen ast, Hameen ast-o hameen ast-o hameen ast. “If there is a paradise on earth, It is this, it is this, it is this.”
Fading Echoes Of The Kashmiri: Achieving Closure With The Long Forgotten Culture
As golden shikaras glide across the calm waters of the Dal, the call for the evening prayer is heard echoing all around, signaling the end of the day and the incoming night. Not so long ago, people would’ve closed the floating markets on the Dal, the families out on a picnic would have wrapped their picnic baskets up and headed home using the canals which connected the city with the lake. However, all that is left of the evening rituals of the lake, is the memory carried in the hearts of those who wit-
nessed it, and the stories they passed on. Kashmir is known for its stunning landscape, its rich culture and traditions and an authentic experience of life as it was in the valley a hundred years ago, yet as time passed and the great chinars shed their leaves every autumn, Kashmir began to lose its ‘kashmiriyat’ to the ways of modernization. What remains now of the Kashmir people were familiar with years ago, is a faded memory and a few remnants of the old past.
The Lost Dal
Every morning, when Srinagar city is shrouded in a misty haze, a spectacle like no other world could be witnessed in the world, as dozens of shikaras emerge on the lake being paddled by farmers, and with it the floating vegetable market of the Dal Lake would be opened. Sounds of bartering would fill the air around this bazaar, however soon after, more audible the sounds of laughter and gossiping would be. This wasn’t just a place to buy vegetables; it was also a social gathering point where people would gossip, interact and laugh with each other as the real spirit of Kashmir surfaced. However, as few and few pursue the jobs their families were once known for in the community, the floating market has begun drifting into obscurity. Today, the market is still there due to the courtesy of the tourism industry and a few stragglers determined to keep their identity afloat. Tourists from all over the world descend upon the lake to view the fabled market, that unknowingly to them, is but a mere shadow of its former self.
Venice Of The East
As people went on about their lives in a Srinagar long forgotten, they did so with the help of Shikaras which are now relegated to the waters of Dal only. Canals criss crossed the city, linking major water bodies and giving locals in the vicinity an easy and convenient method of transporting goods and people, but as motor vehicles were starting to become the prominent method of transport, these canals were filled and paved over. Canals like the “Nallah Mar” are now roads linking parts of the city. Once an almost picturesque experience, now just another one of Srinagar’s roads, such is the fate of the Venetian like canals that used to be.
Remaining Links To The Past
Fading away in the narrow streets of the city, lie unique shops, which carry with them a tradition that is quietly slipping away. Kashmir is known for its authenticity and the involvement of the human hand in almost all of its crafts and businesses. However, the authenticity that many people are seeking is hidden away now, collecting dust in these shops filled with the scents of roses and saffron. The Downtown area of Srinagar is known to house the last remaining ‘original’ shops of Srinagar. Once everywhere and a cherished sought after business, the slow decline in desire for handmade products coupled with the availability and increase in quality of machined goods, led to the dismal state of the Kashmiri handicraft industry which it is in today. Few know about the existence of these shops nowadays, which are Kashmir’s last remaining connection with its rich past, and as the sands of time pass, eventually these shops will close their doors too, bringing an end to one of the richest heritages of the Valley.
Falling Leaves, Fading Traditions: Some Things We Hold, Others We Let Go
The vanishing market on the Dal, the long forgotten waterways, the weakening chains holding the present and the past together, all are ultimately connected. Cultures are like sand dunes, and ours is no exception. With the winds of time, the dunes will shift and change will be brought. Cultures are created by change and also draw to a close because of it, however a part of them still lives on. Change is an enigma, we often find ourselves on the line between preservation and acceptance when change is occurring. With such important parts of our rich cultural heritage fading right in front of our eyes, we must come to accept that even though we can preserve some of it, it is time to let go. Letting go is not about letting everything be erased. It is about accepting change, cherishing the things we had, appreciating what we have now and hoping for, and taking action for what we might have tomorrow. With some chapters of Kashmir’s culture inevitably coming to a close, we must allow it to rest peacefully, hold pieces of it close to our hearts, but most importantly learn to let go, as we have done in the past and as we will continue to do so in the future, for better or for worse. As the Shikara is rowed across the Dal to the shore, as the birds fly away to their nests, we must too hold on to what is actually here, and finally let the fading waves of what once was, come to a still.
Art Spotlight
Basit Learning Resource Center
Abdul
Nailah Kuchey Class X
To Put a Man in a Box is to Create Symbolist Art
When there is nothing worth looking at, a man will only stare at himself. Naturally. Put the same man in a white cage devoid of substance or Instagram reels, and he’ll entertain himself with blood on his hands. Throw him in someplace with even less spirit (urban society), and you get symbolists. Exactly what symbolist art is all about is discovering significance in the brick of flesh within you rather than the concrete blocks around you. It takes romanticism as a whole and discards everything that makes it romantic, stealing only metaphors that it deems symbolic enough.
Moreau is a master of his craft, a lover of his work. From being obsessed with every inch of whatever he paints, to the way he portrays his subjects, it’s all a dream. His style reveals his close study of masters like Vittore Carpaccio, Mantegna and Giovanni Bellini. First shown in the Paris Saloon - Oedipus and the Sphinx show his love for the detailed. He poses the sphinx in reference to the Greek word for it, which roughly translates to “to hold”, he portrays Oedipus as not the dominant figure, but rather the sphinx latches on to his chest, seemingly ready to pounce on Another victim, which is quite a deviation from Ingres’s or François-Xavier Fabre’s version. In this instance, he has to answer the riddle from the sphinx to pass. So answer fool, or the solution will be death. Oedipus cannot waver. If even a trace of uncertainty creases his voice, the beast will be upon him. He must have confidence in his response. He tenses his javelin for what he is about to say could save his life and spare Thebes. When Moreau gained recognition for talent, he received a position as a teacher at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, and he never deterred his students from the imaginative.
In 1896 Roger-Marx wrote, “The fires of insurrection have been lit in the very heart of the École des Beaux-Arts: all the rebels against routine all those who wish to develop in their own individual way, have gathered under the shield of Gustave Moreau.” He taught many famous later artists like Simon Bussy, Charles Camoin, Henri Matisse, Albert Marquet, The-
Oedipus and the Sphinx
Gustave Moreau, 1864
1810
Oedipus and the Sphinx François-Xavier Fabre,
odor Pallady, Georges Rouault, and Fernand Sabatté. Redon wrote, “Moreau, a bachelor, produced the work of an elegant bachelor, strictly sealed up against the shocks of life; his work is the fruit of it, it is art and nothing but art, and that is a saying a good deal.”
Redon wasn’t just an art critic, he was a painter himself. Mentioned in the cult- classic Joris-Karl Huysmans À Rebours (Against Nature) (1884), he first gained popularity for his “Noirs” Masterfully crafted lithographs, where he employs black as the most essential colour. His lack of colour does not however make the piece jarringly boring to look at, rather it amplifies its beauty. In “Apparition” (ca. 1880–90) the charcoal is a crucial component of the dreamy subject, as it lies in large amounts in front of a strange bearded figure. You’d imagine his work to come right out of a weird dream he had, and well, that’s essentially what he’d want you to think. His imaginative work was something never seen before, and it matched the “fin de siècle” vibes of the time. In “The Eye like a Strange Balloon Mounts toward Infinity”(L’Œil, comme un ballon bizarre se dirige vers l’infini) (1882) Redon’s mysterious creature, which at first glance looks like a hot air balloon made of human parts and instead of carrying passengers, it carries a severed head on a platter. Released from the mind and the body, It leaves the physical world and explores the infinity.
A nonconformist James Ensor was a painter from Belgium. His father was an engineer, and his mother managed a curiosity shop where she sold a variety of unusual items, most notably artistic masks. At the outset of his career, he was a professional in realism, however, he was also fascinated by the Avant Garde movement, which encompassed impressionism and symbolism, and this influenced his distinct style. His style was entirely at odds with what the establishment at the time considered high art. At this stage in his career, his art is characterised by bright hues blended charmingly, and bizarre jester-like characters. He enjoyed the sarcastic and despised the irony and social hypocrisy that were prevalent in the world at the time, and this became increasingly apparent as his work evolved. His “Man of Sorrows” (1891) is a mash-up of Jesus Christ (Pbuh) with a devil’s mask from Japanese Noh theatre, perhaps inspired by the character “Hanya”. Christ (Pbuh) was frequently referred to as a man of sorrows in early European paintings to remind the audience of what he had gone through, but here the Messiah is depicted with a blood-stained visage and a devil’s mask, establishing a stark contrast.Perhaps the man in the painting (since it has facial characteristics similar to Ensor’s) is a self-portrait of sorts, depicting his broken metal state on his own canvas.
Symbolist’s works are always up for interpretation, but they have such a personal touch that an observer will not understand them the same way the artist understands them. First starting as a literary and philosophical movement, Charles Baudelaire and Stephane Mallarmè encouraged artists like Gustave Klimt, Edward Munch and many others to be primitive and creative, to break the barriers between all creative outlets. Symbolism has had an outstanding legacy in the history of arts and hasn’t failed to show us masterpieces like The Kiss(1907-1908) The Demon Seated (1890) , Jupiter and Semle (1895), Death and Masks (1897), the Dance of Life (1899-1900) and Death and Life. (1815-1816).
Maria Parvez Wani
Man of Sorrows James Ensor, 1891
Eye Like a Strange Balloon Toward Infinity Odilon Redon, 1882
Philosphy Belief by Kawkab Lone Class XII
Oh pills pills pills, booze and cars. Money and fame. Drugs and diagnosis.
I am the 21st century prophet. I am one of a kind. I walk in silicone shoes and my teeth are all gold. I flow through this world and you’ve heard of me, The Internet Prodigy.
I’m young and immortal. I will remain long after myself. I’ll gnaw at your screens, I will chew on your archives.
I am I am I am I am.
POV (used incorrectly)
You’re just a girl who is living in a patriarchal world, nobody cares for anybody, medication is so expensive—diseases are monopolised by the government—Marx was a dirty filthy commie but he low-key knew what he was saying, my notes app poetry is so raw and unfiltered (just don’t ask me what any of it means), it’s all up for interpretation. Oh, Kafka, had so many daddy issues, he gets me so well, my dad doesn’t like me either, I know this because he doesn’t let me smoke. Cannibalism, oh cannibalism, it’s the metaphor for love. Of course I know what a metaphor is, shut up lil’ bro. Anyway, have you heard of this really underground band? No, well they’re just like Camus. They also want you to stop believing. Meaning? What meaning, Camus had nothing to do with meaning. Gender is a social construct, none of it is real, all of my pronouns are linked in the bio, mainly I go by The/Prophet. Oh did you not hear? Nietzsche said God Is Dead.
Media is convoluted with images of false idols, the next big thing(s). Where religion is now considered a cult and worship hysteria, it is but natural that Man look for some semblance of God. Man’s nature demands belief and God demands His due.
So, unknowingly, Man looks for God. On twitter, at the bar, at a Taylor Swift concert. Any place that lets him worship, makes him feel worthy of the herd.
Man’s separation from God starves him. He begs for his roots, the New World is all saltwater.
Oh is he not the worthiest lamb?
Today’s distress is unique to it’s time. This doesn’t go on to say that Man hasn’t been faithless before, indeed, he has. Only that faithlessness has never been preached this well. Infidelity is a young sport.
The overlap between popular culture and religion is sparse. It is difficult, and you will agree, to endorse both Jesus and Doja Cat in the same breath. Gradual evolution has made Man a critical thinker, bestowed upon him the ability to choose. And so, critically Man has chosen.
Deciding between watching Oppenheimer and Barbie has a direct link to Your superb superiority over all other earthy species.
But let us, for a moment, move back to faith. Faith stems from need, it is a response. Wether God exists and then as a result Has died, is a decision. Faith, therefore, validates your response and ultimately culminates all its nuances into this decision. You decision forms Godly Intent and Identity. The average Joe cannot and should not decide on the mass’ God. His God is an individual decision. This is where, historically, religion came in. It served as a cohort of decisions. A garden of faith, if you will. In turn, major religions shared a common principle. Unsurprisingly, the principle wasn’t God but an acute admiration for organisation. Even today, it is observable in the stress put on the word of God rather than God Himself.
Let us look at another aspect of religion—its stipulation that you be Good. It asks you to overcome your innate tendency to be Evil and Weak, overcome your inborn temptation which is characterised by rebellion, greed, and mud. This, it asks you—depending on the religion—to reward you, take you closer to God or to simply make you fulfil your purpose.
But then, what is so charming about the Bad Man? Is it the sinister wordplay? The infamous tilt of mouth?
Humanly, it has always been easier to be Bad. Guilt and conscience are a different ball game. They do not mediate the action or the consequence. Only the implication.
Simply put, being bad has quick(er) benefit. One ought not wait for heaven to reap its fruit.
Man is a social animal, he must and often even needs to be herded. Religion did that. The black sheep were always there. The bad sheep were always there. There were wars and crusades and executions. However, the objective was met, organisation remained and sheep baa’d the gospel. But with the advent of
mass media and especially the internet, worship came to be identified as the practice of all failed narrative. Man orphaned himself of God. However, one cannot take the village out of the girl, and thus, Man continued to harbour his need to believe. And as a result, conflicts that once arose at borders now exist as self-inflicted cerebral-terrorism. This is especially apparent in people who have had access to the internet from a young age; many of them profess that they do not believe but it is becoming increasingly clear that they do preach. The internet is a habitat for such prophets and their confounded (lack of) belief. The simple onset of global “micro trends”, popular misinterpretation of masterpieces, misinforming mental illness in the name of destigmatisation, and the truly touching words—connecting youngsters from all walks and languages of life—that are “skibidi toilet” all attest to this.
It is simple, Man cannot exist without belief. This he must acknowledge. There isn’t any pertaining obligation to prove or disprove God. It is counterproductive to abandon God and then search for Him where He doesn’t want to be found.
To simplify it further:
Man has a hole in his stomach and it reeks of hunger.
What does it take for you to be happy?
In a world full of desires and dreams, there resides a place named contentment. Contentment; a feeling of satisfaction and peace. You expect yourself to be happy. What we don’t realize is that all these states of mind are perishable: that is the law of nature.
On a journey to explore downtown, Srinagar; I discovered the true meaning of life. While exploring the streets of downtown: I found myself walking around Shaheed Gunj, where I saw a tailor stitching clothes. To my surprise that tailor did not have an established shop or a place to sit and continue with his work. He was sitting on a small wooden made booth with a tall framework supported by four wooden legs. I initiated a conversation with the man, and got to know his way of life: simple yet different. He was happy the way he was living. In his ideology the best way of living life revolved only around building / maintaining trust and living a virtuous life. His heart did not ache for anything more. That was the time I discerned that he was happy than most of us.
Our entire life, we persuade ourselves into not accepting things. In the race of chasing our dreams, we quite often forget that while time needs to be treated as a commodity; we must be present in the moment. A person’s time is utilized to its maximum capacity when they are present. In the fear of losing out on life, all of us are losing out on life. And all these things should be taken under consideration.
Understanding the trivial parts of our everyday that constitute our life is just as important as understanding oneself. As we come together and contemplate on the various aspects of life, we must ask ourselves–What does it take for us to be happy?
Zaara Farooq Class XI
Psychology Pavlov... Hmm... That Rings a Bell
Ivan Pavlov, widely renowned for making one of the most significant discoveries in psychology, was in fact a physiologist. Born in a town southeast of Moscow, he had an ‘instinct for research’. Given the context of his background around the Enlightenment Period, Pavlov moved away from religion, and instead aimed to understand the world through scientific inquiry. During his years as a professor, he was known for his explosive temper—‘spontaneous morbid paroxysms’ as he called it.
In the 1890s, he examined how the salivary glands in dogs responded to food under different conditions. Initially, the dogs only salivated when food was presented directly. With time, specific sounds (like the footsteps of the feeder and the sound of the food cart) evoked a response similar to the salivation triggered by the food. To put it simply, they began to salivate before the food had even arrived.
This phenomenon is called Classical conditioning (or Pavlovian Conditioning), a behavioral procedure in which a conditioned response (e.g; salivating) is associated with a specific stimulus (e.g; sound of the footsteps).
Unlike his earlier experiments, which resulted in the animals’ death, Pavlov’s approach prioritized the well-being of the dogs. To conduct these experiments, it was essential to keep them alive and healthy. He used not only bells and metronomes, but also electric shocks to condition these dogs to anticipate the arrival of their food. As part of his study, he would create a surgical opening in the dogs’ eso-
phagus. This enabled him to measure the salivary response to the conditioned stimulus without the food passing through the digestive tract. Readers may feel this sounds unethical by contemporary standards, but at the time, it was a common approach in physiological research. The picture below depicts the way in which the experiment was conducted,
Though his methods were controversial, he genuinely seemed to care for the dogs he experimented on, believing that they had full-fledged thoughts and emotions. He once said, “We must painfully acknowledge that, precisely because of its intellectual developments, the best of man’s domesticated animals—the dog—most often becomes the victim of physiological experiments.” Strangely enough, he expressed a strong dislike for cats, commenting that only dire necessity could lead one to experiment on such loud, impatient and malicious animals.
In 1904, Pavlov received the Nobel Prize in recognition of his work on the physiology of digestion. This caught the attention of Lenin. The notion that all animals (including human beings) can be taught to react to stimuli in a desired way, appealed to the tyrants of his time. It was this, which accounted for the tolerance with which Pavlov was treated by the Soviet regime.
In conclusion, some of the most renowned figures in psychology have frequently put their subjects through inhumane treatment. Leon Trotsky, Pavlov’s contemporary (not friend, as Pavlov was anti-semitic), once said, “A means can only be justified by its end. But the end, in turn, needs to be justified”. Despite the cruel nature of his experiments, one might wonder, did a cat-hater really deserve a Nobel Prize?
Rest in Peace, Pavlov (1849-1936)
You would have loved notifications.
Manahel Khan Class X
HISTORY HOURGLASS
September 15, 1951
September 2, 2014
India-Pakistan floods. It marks the beginning of one of the more recent natural calamities taking place in northern India and Pakistan, with disastrous floods across the Kashmir region, with some places in the valley up to 12 feet deep in water.
Marks the first elections held in Jammu and Kashmir, which were to play a significant role in the functioning of democratic governance in the state.
September 23, 1989
September
The first ever daily issue of the Kashmiri newspaper Greater Kashmir was published shortly after the onset of the Kashmir conflict, providing a notable platform for the people to voice their concern and perspectives.
October
October 4, 1957
Marks the launch of Sputnik 1, by the Soviet Union, the first ever artificial satellite to ever orbit the Earth and initiate the Space Age.
Freddie Mercury, of the British rock band Queen
Born September 5, 1946
Born October 25, 1881
Pablo Picasso, Spanish painter, sculptor and designer
Winston Churchill, statesman, military officer, writer, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom
Born November 30, 1874
November 4, 1922
The discovery of the tomb of Pharaoh Tutankhamun, i.e. King Tut, after years of searching and excavations through the Valley of Kings, by British archaeologist Howard Carter.
October 14, 1964
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in the auditorium of the University of Oslo on 10 December 1964 for leadership of the Civil Rights movement and aim to end racial bias through non-violence.
November 17, 1869
The Suez Canal, the most notable maritime trade route linking Europe and Asia, is officially opened after a decade of construction through Egypt.
November 24, 1989
English biologist Charles Darwin’s book On the Origin of Species is published, introducing the idea of a common ancestor for living entities and evolution through natural selection.
November
October 24, 1945
The United Nations comes into existence, upon approval of the Charter by the member of the Security Council: the US, the UK, the Soviet Union, France and China along with a majority of other nations
HISTORY
FRAILTY, FURY AND MANKIND
Augijyot Kour Bali, Class XII
The moment a mother senses the first kick of her unborn child, it is a celebration of the emergence of life in her womb. A shine of hope and life fills her eyes and a serene smile accompanies her dreams. Yet, in the abhorrence that fills the trembling hands of a murderer and his indifferent eyes, a hint of fragility screams through his pounding heart. He is now aware of being a murderer twice; he had to kill the human in himself first. Both these experiences knit the greater circle of Life and Death, the infinite loop of human fury and frailty. As far as a human can look inside the infinite tunnel of the history of our kind, he can see an endless gloom of human wrath extending at both its ends. The world—shattered and wounded—as we know it today is engulfed by a fire. This fire is formed by the shattering economy of countries, the tears of unborn children in wars, the voices suppressed under the weight of overpopulation, the climate change eroding Mother Earth, and the rise of unbalanced power in the hands of incompetent greedy world leaders. We—humans born to the so-called modern world of the 21st century—are facing ironic failure, a consequence of the victories won by the generation prior.
Are we failing the Mankind we so believe in? What went wrong? And what makes us think of this mankind so highly? Are we really the ideal species on Earth?
Now, as homosapiens with our beautifully complex minds, we are wired to find patterns around us; we like to categorize everything we come across and this often means we employ ‘extremes’ in everything—especially for good and evil. With a sea of such extremes, we ignore the streams of ‘in-betweens’ that form it in the first place. Regardless of how obsessed humans are with the categorisation of data, we are simply going about our daily lives: from waking up to delayed alarms and sleeping to the horrific symphony of lies that one hums to himself, to sometimes the suppressed sympathy for the so-called helpless criminals or to the frightened love for their parents harboured children of abusive families. Nothing feels exactly right nor exactly wrong. Irrespective of the great books, produced by perhaps the best of our kind, telling us to view the world through a thick lens of black and white and nothing beyond, to pose expectations and rules based on the same from and on you, these narrow terms can never express reality. Through whatever you and I experience in our daily lives as ordinary human beings, we know that nothing is black and white. We have known and seen: deep down humans cannot be imprisoned in limited terms. For a human is but the spectrum of heartbreak, loyalty, deceit, hope, skepticism, faith, disappointment, satisfaction, anger and yet, love. We are the ugly and the beautiful together. For there exists no good without the knowledge of evil. We, be it the humans born to the 21st century or the preceding and succeeding generations, are all beyond good and evil.
The age-long history of countless belief systems of the world hints at how the universe is in tune with us humans, how there is no universe if there is no man. Nevertheless, one cannot resist the manifestation of this idea being that of the geocentric model of the universe which was the predominant description of the cosmos in many an-
cient European civilizations, such as those of Aristotle in Classical Greece and Ptolemy in Roman Egypt, as well as during the Islamic Golden Age. Although it is well known to man today as well, from the late 16th century onward, it was gradually superseded by the heliocentric model of Copernicus (1473–1543), Galileo (1564–1642), and Kepler (1571–1630).
This makes one wonder. Whenever we say that the modern world is falling apart and failing the expectations of the ancient one, is the real truth subsided under the furious desire of the same homosapiens to be the most special and supreme species in the world ? Does the same breed the idea that we can never go wrong in future with mere advancement in technology? Is this greed for significance and perfection so innate to human psychology that it makes us think of going wrong as humans becoming unnatural?
The horrors of the modern world sure leave us in disappointment and shock but perhaps what makes this pain slightly lesser is to acknowledge that nothing is black and white, to acknowledge the gray of the human existence that is spread between the frailty and fury, hope and despair, strength and weakness, love and hatred, right and wrong, and to acknowledge that one must see beyond good and evil. For humans might be the most intelligent species on the planet but we mustn’t forget that we are, after all, the same gray lodged between the spectrum of life and death. Perhaps ‘Mankind’ is not a strict term filled with an otherworldly perfection but is rather just a spectrum of imperfections and perfections. The graph of Mankind is not an increasing function approaching perfection, the improvement in technology can never be an index for measuring the betterment of human wellbeing and spirit. To conclude, we are humans, strong and weak. Mankind: an infinite loop of countless trails and errors, beginnings and ends, we are the yin yang of frailty and fury.
Credit: Refael Idan Suissa https://www.irefaels.com/products
Fiction
Fire
I stood atop the small hill; overlooking the houses and the field like a little messiah, like a noble saviour of my humble Vietnamese village and its inhabitants. Of course, there was no-thing and no-one to save from the fire.
“The war will never reach us”, my father repeatedly assured his wife and young children, even when they did not ask for reassurances. Ironically, he always remained the least assured:
a knock at the door?
a sound in the fields?
a shadow behind the trees?
The fires burned almost like an elegant assassin. They took their time but did their job almost perfectly. Nothing remained of my house, or my uncle’s, or my grandfather’s.
My father despised the Sun. Not because he had any contempt for it, but because its absence made him paranoid. Paranoid that a bomb shell would decimate his family and house and the village. The village: his fields, his lands, his house, the school.
The school was engulfed by the fire. A roofless structure smaller than most houses, made entirely of wood and straw. I saw a personified coward which submitted to the fire instead of fighting against it. But alas, it never did have the strength to fight; at least not when the conservatives decided to close it down.
It was nighttime which haunted my father. As if any possible attacks had restricted themselves only to the night. He would profess his love and care for us more frequently than he meant it. If a man is worried that a war puts his family at risk, why not take his family somewhere else; unless the family was never the worry, but rather the lands which the man was going to inherit.
The rice fields blazed furiously, as if the sweat of the women and the children during cultivation was fuelling it. Countless hours of involuntary labour, by myself and my friends and our mothers. The rice field was the only “playground” we had. Vietnamese rice grows to about 4’2; perfect for children to play hide-and-seek, perfect for soldiers to hide from the enemy.
His paranoia became uncontrollable when soldiers started walking and hiding in the fields and the jungles; soldiers both like and unlike (although the unlike ones were generally better dressed than the like ones). The war did in fact reach us: War cries, pungent smell of gunpowder, corpses of foreign men and local boys. Eventually, however, “we” came victorious; “we” defeated “them”. “Our” flags flew atop households, households now devoid of any occupants. My father never left. Even when his family remained the sole occupant of the village. For the lands, perhaps?
Yet what land remains now?
What village remains now?
The sirens started crying. Must be a call for evacuation.
Best Day Ever
The rain tapped against the windows of Philip’s penthouse as he sat on his leather couch, nursing a glass of whiskey and staring at the silence around him. Philip had everything he’d once thought he wanted: wealth, power, a grand view of the city skyline. But something in him felt deeply hollow, like the success had seeped through his fingers and left him stranded on an empty island of his own making.
One afternoon, while looking through the drawers in his study, Philip found a small, dusty video tape. The words “Best Day Ever” were scrawled across it in an obviously childish handwriting. A flicker of interest, almost hidden by his sadness, touched his lips as he half-smiled. Taking the tape to the old TV in his guest room, he slid it in and was delighted hearing the familiar hum of the VCR as the screen lit up.
The tape began with a shaky camera shot of his childhood self, no older than eight, grinning and holding up a new toy—a brightly colored truck. Little Philip spoke excitedly about how he’d convinced his parents to buy it and how he’d played with it all afternoon. He was happy, joyful in a way that felt achingly foreign to the man now watching. Little Philip kept repeating the phrase “today’s the best day ever”.
A sense of connection and happiness spread through Philip’s heart upon seeing this small glimpse of his childhood. It wasn’t much, just a few minutes of his young self, but it was genuine. It stirred something inside him, like a door creaking open for just a bit. For the first time in weeks, he felt a strange, comforting sense of peace.
The next day, Philip found himself reaching for the tape again. It was just as enchanting. The laughter, the unfiltered excitement—it felt like a lifeline. He was addicted. And so, day after day, he watched “Best Day Ever.” repeatedly.
As time went on, though, he began to feel frustrated, comparing his childhood joy to the struggles he’d faced later in life. He felt wronged by his parents, by his friends, and by life. He felt all the struggles, all the problems were unjustified. Watching the tape only kept reminding him again and again about how difficult life
had been and that the little kid recording his best day ever should not have had to suffer so much.
In time, he began to resent it. “This stupid tape,” he muttered one evening. “I hate it.” His frustration built until he grabbed it, held it in his hand, and snapped it into two.
Suddenly, everything around him spun, the tape started pulling everything, and the room melted away. Philip found himself standing in a strange, white void, staring at a large, flickering screen. Suddenly, this screen turned on with a question written on it.
“Would you like to delete the suffering?”
“Yes!” Philip yelled without a second thought. “Take them away—all the suffering, all the hardship.”
The screen faded, and everything went black. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in his penthouse. He was standing on a street corner, the chill of the city wind biting through his thin clothes. He looked down to find himself in worn shoes, his pockets empty. Cars sped by, the pedestrians didn’t meet his eye. No one knew him. No one cared.
As he wandered in confusion, he caught his reflection in a shop window. The face staring back was his, but dressed up in torn clothes, with badly groomed hair and beard, and smelly-looking teeth.
He panicked; he couldn’t understand what was happening. He started touching his face and gave himself a strong pinch on the arm to check if all this was a dream; it wasn’t. He started screaming and running away in fright. He didn’t know what to do.
As he was running, again felt everything vanishing, everything turning white.
He had reached back to the white void with the TV screen. The screen turned on again, but this time the question was “Would you like to end the suffering?”.
LITERATURE Framed- Astonishing True Stories of Wrongful Convictions
John
Grisham. Jim McCloskey.
The Criminal Justice System is based on the basic principle of assumption of innocence and ultimatum of punishment. But what happens when an error occurs, a wrongful conviction. Individuals are sentenced to a hell of someone else’s doing. John Grisham and Jim McCloskey portray the numerous battles fought for absolution.
The Bullet Swallower Elizabeth Gonzalez James.
Antonio Sonoro is a ruthless, desperate man of the 19th century who is also good with a gun. His desperation leads him down a path of death and revenge as the legend of the legendary bandido El Tragabalas, The Bullet Swallower is made.
Jaime Sonoro is Mexico’s most renowned actor and singer whose life is disrupted as he finds a book that, through its ancient pages, presents the history of his family and the bloodladen path they had taken.
Brave New World
Aldous Huxley.
A dystopian world which may reflect our eventual future. A technologically advanced society where humans are bred artificially, Indoctrinated and pharmaceutically anaesthetised to allow inhumane authoritarianism.
Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee- An Indian History of the American West.
Dee Brown.
This book, through various documents and firsthand descriptions, narrates the systematic destruction and violation of the American Indians during the second half of the nineteenth century. It allows the words of members and chieftains of various tribes to show the world how they were left broken and demoralised.
East Of Eden
John Steinback.
The magnum opus of all his works, John Steinback masterfully recreates the story of Cain and Abel, exploring themes of disintegration, human moral flaws, death and forgiveness through the lives of two generations of brothers who betray one another.
Thoughts Recollected: Autumn
I pick up a pen and resolve to write, but the pen refuses to budge. And I sit there, the blank paper staring at me, waiting. Forever patient, unyielding in disposition. Words elude me, so I dwell on unkempt thoughts instead. But my mind, a barren landscape, bears no harvest.
This is useless, I decide, and my gaze settles instead on the vibrant hues outside my window. Ah Autumn, a bittersweet symphony: not bustling like spring or flamboyant like summer; nor cold and calculating like winter … A time of beauty and decay. A warning and a comfort. Elegant, yet not flawless.
Perhaps I should write a poem—the season is certainly poetic.
Red of the Chinar shrouds the land Reminiscent of a river—long-dead And tears on a frosted face In anticipation of Winters yet to come…
No. I decide against it. I’d stopped writing poetry; it was draining, it left me too bare… I travel through the mirage of my thoughts: Autumn… Falling red Chinar leaves, symbolising— what? Dead leaves falling from a weary branch… preparation for the oncoming hardships? A release— letting go of burdens? Outgrowing your past self? The caress of a withered hand?
A Story: a container for your hopes and dreams and fears—all that you are and everything you’re not. Perhaps the final goodbye? The last-but-one scene of a play coming to a close: a tragedy at that; the crimson curtains begin to fall—one, two, infinite: ephemeral and everlasting all the same— are the leaves tears? Can grief be so mesmerising? The crunch of dead leaves, music to my ears— delicious cruelty, malicious joy. Suffering is the cost of such beauty—does it matter? They’re dead. Why are they screaming then, wailing—and what does that indicate— Are the Dead alive or are the Living dead?
Click
I jolt and look at the black mass that snapped me out of my reverie: A Raven.
Perched on my windowsill. Its head askew, blank eyes staring at nothing, seeing everything. How fitting.
Thoughts of Damnation. Death. A Raven. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it were an omen… It might as well be: it did lead to my odyssey’s demise. I look back at the paper, unrelenting still; waiting as it always does. But this time my mind doesn’t fail me. And thus, I begin to write … ‘Thoughts Recollected: Autumn …’
Bazilah Kirmani
Dostoyevsky’s Nostalgia: A Quest for Meaning Beyond Time
While in literature, nostalgia is considered a hankering for times that were always better, Russian writer Fyodor Dostoyevsky once had his own way. His characters’ memories are Daedalian reflections on life and the quest for meaning instead of an already basic glance backward to a golden past.
For instance, in “The Brothers Karamazov”, his characters are not just longing for lost ideals or morals but are rather craving innocence, spiritual completeness, and places in life which modern life can hardly provide. In this regard, nostalgia is quite different from any longing for times now gone; more fundamentally, it touches upon the issue of clarity and direction within blurred sight through the messiness and pain of life. Indeed, Dostoyevsky often relates nostalgia to the theme of lost innocence. For his characters, childhood is a point in life, but also serves as a symbol of a time when faith, goodness, and meaning appeared incontrovertible—a haven to revisit. If this purity is reduced through harsh reality setting in due to the growing-up process, it proves quite well. A very good example of this is Alyosha Karamazov, the youngest brother in “The Brothers Karamazov”, who idealizes purity and remembers his teacher Father Zosima as an icon of moral clarity. His memories stipulate his longing for simplicity in a world that appears evermore dark and fragmented. Through Alyosha and others, Dostoyevsky shows that nostalgia often expresses a thirst for a lost feeling of connectedness which provides comfort and emotional security.
Figures like Dmitri Karamazov dream of close family ties, yet their dreams are never fulfilled. Dmitri longs for the world of love, trust, and forgiveness, for what was whole, intact, unfractured in relations. This universal longing of Dmitri speaks to a universal desire, a harking back to a time during which relationships seemed so whole, stable, steady, even though that “time” was only a fiduciary recollection. Meanwhile, Ivan Karamazov—like another Daedalian character—experiences nostalgia very differently. Intellectually tormented, Ivan longs for a time when suffering had been able to be recognized within a context of belief. He is nostalgic for a lost simplicity, for the ability to believe without needing to question.
It is very important in the way Dostoyevsky projects nostalgia, for this is a fast-changing, often fragmented world. The more serpentine society becomes, the more a lot of whole people look backward to the past for some kind of centre of gravity, identity, or meaning. In his characters, Dostoyevsky really shows us that perhaps what is most destructive about nostalgia is not a yearning for another time but rather for the parts of ourselves, such as innocence, connection to others, or even a sense of direction. For him, his portrayal of nostalgia is not just a theme but a mirror to our very selves, reminding us of searches for purity, connection, and meaning so oft by retrospect. Yet, Dostoyevsky argues that nostalgia is limiting if we believe the answers reside only in the past. His characters would seem to indicate we are to take memories not as an escape but integrate them into our understanding of who we are today. It is in this manner that for Dostoyevsky, nostalgia is hardly any form of escape at all; rather, it is the bringing of past experiences into a fuller view of ourselves in the present to help find our place in an uncertain world
Abdul Muqtadir
Poetry Pilgrimage
So twist the rays of unending ruin
My bleak beacon of perpetual woe
I loathe the sun’s charming company
The clouds ought to remain merry too
I was a Kim, dwelling with gypsies
Behold my spirit of piety
It bled, and ceased to return I possess memories of bleakness
Damned, I implore to the skies
A sin laid out through the clouds
My beggars bowl I desert I tread back outside, longing for crimson.
I sought rest, I beckon to a shroud
But sleep fritters away
The agony of my odious alms
Even hell had little to offer
A Majnoun I was to be evermore
I lift my veil of ecstasy
No one is to be discovered I persist with my trail.
Ahmad Abrar Class X
A HeartfeltParadox
Beneath its cage of bone, the heart beats a tale, A beacon of life, yet fragile and frail. Bold in its rhythm, it charges each vein, Bearing both ecstasy and burdens of pain.
A blaze of passion, it burns in its rage, But softens like whispers on love’s tender page. Its anger, a tempest that lashes the shore, Yet it kneels to forgiveness and craves even more.
Boundless in strength, it endures every trial, An ark of resilience, crossing each mile. It weathers the storm, it bleeds, it may break, Yet rises with dawn for every wound’s sake.
A labyrinth carved of zeal and desire, Its paths interwoven with flickering fire. It holds ancient sorrow, yet treasures each laugh, Its echoes eternal, though moments may pass.
In silence, it listens, absorbing life’s lore, A zenith of power, yet humbled to core. Its rhythm unites us, a symphony vast, Binding our futures to shadows of past.
It glows with compassion, it blazes with zeal, Lending courage to shatter or patience to heal. A paradox living, its strength born of grace, The heart is both fortress and life’s tender face.
Oh, blessed the heart that learns how to grow, An infinite vessel for love’s ceaseless flow. Though battered by time, it beats a refrain, Singing of beauty in joy and in pain.
Sheikh Eisa Class XI
2ND PICNIC DROPPED 12TH GRADERS DOUBT HOSTING OF FAREWELL
ut qui audae necto modignis rem inti ommolec temperum illaborernam dolum non re ratur abo. Nimoluptata nam lique videsse cturis endebitasi officta tempedigni sint maximet hil moloreheniae nist quatecatem quia nat omnis quiame quatem este voloribus, toribus dolupta perae nus andempos molestibus et fugia voloressit inctationet dellore nimperuptate eriatempore volore non eos aut optiunt voloriate perferum esto et volorpossi quis quam as sum, aut exero beatur? Urecturem autas net ut voloriame cullent fuga. Ut earuptatur sam cus recus mincte as disquis quam fugiasp itint. Derfernatet pa quiat evellabori dolupit alitias everian dessed quo con corporepero dolupta tempernam ducilit omnimetus atem alignat uresed quassimus, seruptibus, con essim que nobis ressimagnam sunt ulpa conem reperia nimporem inis niet et aut vercienist et plabo. Nequasp erepelendis et magnam, il mo et aut officipicit quis dolut as mos prem et qui nos estiusa pidebist, odissit et odis eum velit lauda dolupti blatias corum fuga. Et officitis eius doluptas eligendae verorro imin rersped es molor samet, occus et am, quat quodi corae invel miliquis entium quaecto taspeliciti ommo que vella coratur ionsed es et peres cus el inusaperciis autatint, qui omnim etumquo quat eum eum, tem. Nequame et quissi net quatem iuscil ipsum repudis eumquidi as ad que num dem hitates dent rerem explabo rrovit aruptat esciur mos ea cor as et rempore mporissunt evendi cus dolorem et re ipiendes dolore conem fugiat. Lut ataquat ectatem. Nam voluptatem aut offic tet, volorio ommos plibus autatec aboritat dusame quis sumquo is esti si tem ut quia dolor sequis quidebisit vit, consequi nis
dissimo ssiminci blat.
“EUREKA!” SCREAMS MED STUDENT AS THEY REALISE THEY CAN PRINT
iligeni hilique perspe quaepta doluptatemo quam quiamusda sam alignih icipidebis quat offic tecepuditis ducit reptur adi cullace pudiae eos maximi, saniscius de volupta tectusd andelic ienihit preruptae. Uptae placcae. Sed minverorias et acessed et officip sumenisit quia nossincid ut laut as nonem dolupid ebitate mporro beation eius destis doluptat. Et que landandi ilitas doluptium atus, tem reiciatae nus cus dic tet denihit lanto qui nobis conse nonse venti volesti uscipidiam quia dolor sed quidusam nulparum ea acillaborum estio. Uptatur epudiciis magnisit dolupta eresequ iandandi cor auda esti ommodit, cupienda veles simenis utendant voluptatiam aut veratatatium ipiduci di in rempos pe verrum landa des videm rem inus, conse pa dolo mo conem. Res nihitaere velenis senditi de volor ab illuptae. Hicipie ndantiant odit autenda sape dolectiatur aborepe ribeaquae pa dolupta quidell uptat. Pariam nonsed magnis plabo. Dem haribus quo cones sit esequatiis ad mo et escipsaeste sectiun tiorem voluptati blaut aut volorepel ilit voluptatur rerae ex eturibuscit ut pedis aut poreri destioraecto cum, omnime sit lit earum remossundic temporae custotat explita tessum int aut odiam volupta sus inulluptate dem quodio dessitasped quae aut autest anisquia si autate sunt mo quam, exerum re nullia sim fugia di nos ea doluptas re moluptas dolorro remollit es dent velest dollit re dolorio necullab invel ellanditiis sum qui ommod mo vellabo. Bit, officilia inctore perist, sunduciasped que nus, sae etus as vendia incte pro dolorro blaut recae illam, nulpa veritius moluptianda ped quibus, nis auditat usapis si ratium fuga. Et quis simolor ioriamus di in possiti orporatque solesequis si cullorpor aut aliquos reictaq uibus, sitati idellab orrumen duntus, coria vellandi repra volente ndipicte cus, officiandem ut il modisci tiatur archita ex ex et officto quunt moluptur autatendaest quia quatur? Onsequo velique eostior essendia dolorum fuga. Nimolo bero opti coreped quisse veles conet pro maioreped ulpa volorit et explit ut utenimi, consequos expedio renesti andandignis rae pos mint de lam et rem fugia cum quibus accum et fugias maionsende as nimi, voluptas maxim volorem oluptatur? Qui ius et dis sum sam ex exerio blandit es mincti ad eostrum utectatus audam recto esto exces volore, cullor sae re ad ea sunt et lam sim rerspel modiosam, cum lacea doloreped qui aut iscid ullique con eum nis dolest, tent est, ommolor iorem. One sereptatur aut quideliquunt laut eum comnis ernam inis
doluptae magnimoles eniendis volupta sim volorum quaeped modi consed que pliquis am fugiam quo eum acero dolor sere con nus accullibus denimus daerorum, audigni mentest otatis eos sus. Es volesequamus a volescium vellupta dolo bla quam hil endio to cone ipidere vitis essim ipienti aestio volupti anditam quatus alicipiet et eatur, venimpossit fugiand ellestios
“TIME IS RELATIVE.” EXPLAINS PHYSICS TEACHER WHEN ASKED ABOUT SYLLABUS COMPLETION
Assed quo cus eatquam quuntiunt eiumque conecus alist vernatu riatiis dessit, qui ute si ne rerum intio. Ut quas dem sitia venisciis dus re voluptas pori renisci commo officiu stentis dolorro rrovidi gnimpos conse qui consed et ideliaspis il int quam exercite dolorum sime cusam, ut re magnis dici sitis ist lit, ut dolorem fugitis idunt, eum quiscia conet et inctis miliquo qui te none volupiciet iduci odiam, sequam, sant. Ihil maiorer eruntistin nonemolo te nullabo. Ihitaqu aturendam latures doluptatem nimi, od mo ma doluptatqui di abo. Erae parum quis aliciuntur? Quidunt, ipiendandit, sectorecabo. Citem quoditis ad qui imiligenti doloreres dus eum resti que nobissedios eictat.
Rit minctur anias non nobis dolupta dolore doluptate debis porrum et, tempore hendund icaborerum inctibus debis evellor soluptatiur sum nonsero volum fugiaerehent alibus aborehenis dolorem ipiciminis volliquas auditasperi invendigenda consed quis ipsunte sequae endendi genisque omnimi, to eatia volupta plibus adis niminvel eiciatur? Qui solorem. Erias cullabo. Ori omnietur, cor si dem ea dolorup tatenimenet la dolo to cullici enihicae doluptatem at.
Bis velluptae. Gitati velitiu ndiorrum hilibus inctasp eleserorrum aut ullamusam voluptio minctem quibus.
Pos sima dicatia cus dendit estios sequia vero beatet alitiunt lat. Lorupid etur? El ipsam laborepedis porio. Maximi, si sunt aut dolor simus, ne ipsus eaque volore posant enecto dolor reriae cum corumquod quosam, ipsum qui conet illit mod magnata conecea runtur, odicia quatioribus di deliatus, conseque nonempossit essit lab ium hit aut quist, ut unt, cuptatque aut eum am sent et quod que nos exces es eveliquuntur re parunt identiati re aut que num que abore, et, natisti verorum, tecepudae plit et laturesed quias doluptur aliqui ipic te comnis eos eum apelitiae nos saperem rerrores am etur apid quid mo veritat as maximag nimagnat esedipsantur accus dolupta tissim vel ipistia erumquo temque iumet lam, sit audit quia nem quundi adiostem qui repeliq uosapic ationem qui ulparum des essintecto tectibus il eos sit eatur autendis et dolorum nihit, volupta quassequae pere dolescime videssus atet quat atum eatio cones ea volorem restori simi, veles adita se dendus rem ate vid quos ea poribus. Ita ventiam volo volupta quas et volore ipsum vollab id quae nonsendic totate simpore ritam, iunt, sumqui consendit, illiquunt que libus none doluptatibus mo ommodis aut eaquibus doloriam excerum dunt volo eictore, corem dolo doluptas doluptat ut optatquis reptatias maximperum et unt vel il im eum rehenti berepel loratur autem volum es sum harum diorpor
JEE Students Prepare To Hibernate As PreBoards Draw Close
Ore con re dolupta tiumquatium exped quas estia des utatur sam experferci od mi, toriandi quodignimodi officab ipsa quaspedipsum facipsa ntotat. Alique omniminctore laccatianto temodis ipienim est eum veris doluptas rent incillaborem et lignis quo dolorum ut excerfera aturia non pratatior maio cum quam asi omnisci veleniet fuga. Sam nonsed ulparuntiis sitatur as et etus remque volupta tiatem doluptati con eos doluptaqui rehendu ciendicto conse viduciam num et voloreribus ut aliqui ommolorrum quae plab ium utaquatur susdaecabo. Ebis maximus voloreribus volorei catur?
Um estiist, cusdam faccull ecesequunt et fuga. Arum aperferum net et audae. Offictota endenihil iminverum imaxim quossit doluptatque mod magnat am im veria cuscimo ssimaio ressuntus, et, nos magnim ratio consequae sitam hit rest eictur sunt officiur aperibus et que estia il inus.
Im asperia culpa volut que natur, in re debis doluptata illam, audant aliquissint, omnimod itatem volo elenissim quatem illes ellesci occabore con re expedi re ma num nulparcil excea si repres consecus mi, consequo optatio veni doluptam am, con nonse volum nihil intis quatum id quam qui quaectius est que porum quo quiduciet re in nonem none eni del ipsa dis aut asinullest il ilitae ex et reptatem faccuptae vid et et, odia deror min paris di restis nonseque dolupic te nesedit optatectur andunt. Modi necto tem aut omnist voluptam, quas ditia qui di des nulpa ad min et ratur ad qui sum nus, cor sus dest que sum expedi aut offici omnimax imporiatios volo qui dolorera volupta speritatur, sum resti veriatin cullore dus dita quae volorro tem qui omnimin ulparchil mos explam quam dit as nus doluptam quia qui odis nam, si dolum eost, sumque restia net, quassin ctionseque sumque eum sequiae nis estis atiumquatus auda coris assitatumet adis sit ommolor eictaercient aut magniet fuga. Ita qui blab ipit vent lab intur asperum aut veris eosse id qui di te ma sunt qui nissim res voloremos ut voluptus dolupid iciet, sapid et as millenimpora consequ iatenditiant rernatumquas acerepta cum ex everchiciis andeliae vitam voluptas etum, que lam ullacit officipsa voluptis es ea nitae veles et fugitia ectotat arum assimus aut et ut acipici lloritempor re doluptum numendae es aliquis arum consequas aut delicab oriori conserro id quaectiore, quibusdae aut aute rerrovid modis modic tet, in prem ipsanis non nobit laborerum veni dolo velecto bla solestrum et eum quiat volupta quiam essequo dolo et volupit et in escimi, si sinciure voloremquam veligenducit est, occaest, omnisci picitio nsequident est re, il maxim la ditaspe rumquam re volupta etur siniand andunt iume odi cus aut andis magnam et pro vel illatquia nem. Musant et vendus magnisquam es eatqui volupti oreribus aperferitae quo cus del illam apere volupta nihicil luptium aut premperem quiatio omniat.
Technology ,Lost & Found Again
“Let me Google that” has become one of the most common phrases in the vocabulary of today’s world. It signifies how prominent the search engine has become in our everyday life. But when we actually try to use Google nowadays, we find it clogged to the brim with ads, bias and flat-out misinformation. What happened to the friendly, laser-sharp search engine we were used to?
Google’s early years were marked by rapid innovation. The clean, fast search engine quickly displaced the titans of the time, such as Yahoo and AltaVista. By introducing targeting advertising in 2005, they adopted an extremely profitable business model, beginning their ascension to one of the biggest tech giants in the world. The releases of Gmail, Google Maps, Chrome, and Android in the late 2000s marked the next phase of the company’s plans. Expanding outside of just the search function allowed Google to embed itself into every aspect of digital life. Through strategic acquisitions like YouTube and partnerships with device manufacturers, Google slowly but surely created an ecosystem of its own, all reinforcing its core search engine.
A particularly masterful step towards dominance was the idea to make default search agreements with manufacturers. By these agreements, the manufacturers would ship their devices with Google as the default search engine, making Google the natural choice for billions of customers. These deals however, also started to draw increasing scrutiny towards Google’s practices – a fact they would have done well not to ignore.
By the 2010s, Google’s search engine was processing over 90% of global internet searches, marking its parent company Alphabet as one of the most valuable companies in the world. This dominance was unperturbed by
rivals such as DuckDuckGo and Bing, and seemed to be untouchable. This attracted worldwide suspicion, and between 2017 and 2019, the EU investigated Google’s anticompetitive practices. Their findings were severe enough to require multiple billion-dollar fines to be levied against Google.
The most recent case, filed by the USA’s Department of Justice (DOJ) in 2020, is the most significant challenge to their business model yet, ruling this August that Google held an illegal monopoly over the search engine scene, particularly thanks to the default search deals. While the DOJ is still considering what action must be taken, this is no doubt a monumental landmark in the history of the internet.
What began in a Stanford dorm room in 1998 has become one of the most significant antitrust cases of the digital age. Larry Page and Sergey Brin, with the creation of Google, promised a free, quick and accurate search engine. Twenty-six years later, Google has become a proof for the age-old adage: “Absolute power corrupts absolutely”. The DOJ’s ruling could, once and for all, force Google to return to what it once was – a quick, clean, honest search engine that gave you results based on what you looked for, not which advertisers could afford to pay the highest.
Mohammad Saad
Class X
A Journey Through the Early Internet
Imagine it’s the early 1990s, and you’re just logging onto the internet for the first time. There’s no Google, no YouTube – the internet here is quiet and text-based, more of a digital library than the vibrant social networks we know today. It feels unfamiliar and even a bit mysterious, but exciting, like there’s something valuable waiting to be discovered.
To get online, you need a dial-up connection. The computer, a hefty desktop with a bulky monitor, connects through your phone line. There’s a pause – a faint hum, followed by a quick series of clicks – and then you’re in. Once connected, you’re not entering the polished, multimedia-filled web we know now. Instead, you’re entering a sparse, text-based world that feels more like a network of bulletin boards than a global platform.
The internet has just begun its shift from research tool to public resource. The original form of the internet, a network called ARPANET, was a government-funded network that connected universities and research centres. While it was phased out in 1990, its legacy lingers in the form of ‘protocols’ that allow computers to conduct long-distance communication. The internet, by this time, is becoming a platform open to anyone willing to explore, not just researchers. We owe this change to British scientist Tim-Berners Lee, the inventor of the World Wide Web. Without it, connecting to different servers required textual commands and technical skill. With the web, it became a simple matter of clicking on a few links. Web browsers, still in their infancy, have made the internet accessible to the general public, who can now “surf” from page to page with ease.
As you browse, you might stumble upon Usenet, one of the first online communities. Launched in the late 1970s, Usenet is like a vast noticeboard where people post thoughts, ask questions, and engage in discussions on everything
from science fiction to current events. It’s a gathering spot for people across the world, united by shared interests rather than face-to-face connections. Early forums like Usenet shaped what we in the present call social media – places where people could come together to talk and debate, forming communities based on common interests.
Websites at this time are very simple – just plain text and basic links. Many people have “homepages,” small personal websites where they share hobbies, interests, and maybe a few links to related content. Images are rare, as uploading even one picture could take several minutes on a slow connection. Instead, most web pages look more like text files than the dynamic multimedia sites we know today. Browsing feels personal, almost like reading a handwritten note from the author. To navigate this world, you might use an early search tool like Archie or Gopher. These aren’t “search engines” as we know them, but rather indexes of files and information that you can browse. Searching means entering keywords and hoping for relevant results – no algorithms predicting what you might want to read next. This early internet feels a bit like a small town. There’s a communal feel, a sense that this space belongs to everyone who’s curious enough to join. There’s no government to speak of, no corporate control – just a hub of community, and those willing to explore it. People share what knowledge they have without wanting anything in return, and the joy of discovery is enough to keep people coming back.
Fast-forward to today, and the internet has morphed into a vast commercial platform. Privacy, accessibility and data control are hotly debated topics, and yet the earliest principles – openness, shared knowledge, user autonomy – remain core values. The early internet may have been simple, but it provided a strong foundation, one we would do well to follow the ideals of.
Mohammad Hammad Class XII
Autumn Playlist
1. Aao Chalein - Taba Chake
2. Kyon - Pritam, Papon, Sunidhi Chauhan
3. As - Stevie Wonder
4. Só Danço Samba - Stan Getz, Luiz Bonfá
5. Buddy’s Rendezvous -Lana Del Rey, Father John Mitsy
6. That’s Life - Frank Sinatra
7. The Girl Is Mine - Michael Jackson, Paul McCartney
9. Eat Your Young - Hozier
10. Halah - Mazzy Star
8. A Lovely Night - Ryan Gosling, Emma Stone
11. Ajib Dastan Hai Yeh - Lata Mangeshkar
12. Franklin Ave - Ghost Funk Orchestra
13. A Fond Farewell - Elliott Smith
14. Heart To Heart - Mac DeMarco
15. About You - The 1975
16. The Moon Will Sing - The Crane Wives
17. ingydar - Adrianne Lenker
18. Pyaar Ka Pehla Khat - Jagjit Singh
19. Um Rosto de Mulher - Garoto
20. Aaye Kuch Abr Kuch Sharab Aaye - Mehdi Hassan
21. Flowers Grow Out of My Grave - Dead Man’s Bones
22. Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon - Urge Overkill
23. Buffalo Replaced - Mitski
24. The Times They Are A-Changin’ - Fort Nowhere
25. Francis Forever - Mitski
CREDITS
EDITORIAL BOARD
Ahmad Abrar
Abdul Muqtadir Wani
Bazilah Kirmani
Hadi Imtiyaz
Imad Tahir
Kawkab Lone
Khalid Khursheed
Manahel Khan
Maria Parvez Wani
Mohammad Hammad
Mohammad Saad
Mohammad Sawood Mir
Shazia Fida
Sualiha Khan
Syed Imaad
Zaara Farooq
Zainab Iqbal
ART EDITOR
Zainab Iqbal
LAYOUT DESIGN
Maria Parvez Wani Zainab Iqbal
This page has been left intetionally blank
Delhi Public School
Athwajan, Srinagar – 190004, J&K
P: (+91) 194 2467550
F: (+91) 194 2467669
M: (+91) 7051533207