Proyaaxh 1st Edition Dr.Ashok Kumar Pansari Dr.AshokChancellor Kumar Pansari RoyalChancellor Global University Royal Global University Patrons Patrons Sri A.K. Modi SriPro A.K. Chancellor Modi RoyalPro Global Chancellor University Royal Global University Prof. (Dr.) S.P. Singh Prof.Vice (Dr.) Chancellor S.P. Singh RoyalVice Global Chancellor University Royal Global University Mr. Ankur Pansari ExecutiveMr. Ankur Vice-President Pansari ExecutiveGyan Sagar Vice-President Foundation Gyan Sagar Foundation Ms. Angira Mimani Ms. AngiraRegistrar Mimani Royal GlobalRegistrar University Royal Global University Prof. A.K. Buragohain Prof.Chairperson A.K. Buragohain - Academic ChairpersonRoyal Global - University Academic Royal Global University

Members Prof. (Dr.) Krishna Dr. Jasmine Choudhury Dr. Nilakshi Ms. Indrakshi B Ms. Riju Devi Ms. Chandni Khaund Ms. Tamsin Islam Ahmed Confluence of thoughts What's Inside?

5 The Boatman's Song - Prof. Krishna Barua, Department of English

6 Kumiho - Parismita Baruah, M.A. English, 2nd semester

8 জীৱনৰ ৰং -ড° িদেলাৱাৰ হক

9 A Tragic Thought - Biraj Poddar, B.A. English, 6th semester

11 Jacaranda- Prof. Krishna Barua

12 Abode of clouds- Samayeeta Singha, M.A. Geography

13 Art According To Me – Dianalaxmi Nameirakpam, BFA, 6th semester

13 The Incredible Story of Bhoot Jolokia - Senorita Das, 4th Sem RSHMCT 13 One Day - Biraj Poddar, B.A. English, 6th semester

15 আশা- িৰকী তালকু দাৰ

17 The Only Constant – Change - Parismita Baruah, M.A. English 2nd semester

18 The Poesy Closet

23 on Crutches - Pratik Deka, B.A. Political science, 4th semester

Is the catalyst of the “longest” budget enough to fight slowdown? - Namrata 27 Nandi, Parbin Sultana , B.A. Economics, 4th semester 29 Chakpa Phayeng - Fiza Choudhury, B.Sc 4th Travel and Tourism Management

Through the eyes of Rene Girard - Petrus Baraik, BFA, 2nd 30 semester

32 Photo Stock

33 In Art

Inside Poesy Woman with a Red Shawl Reema Swargiary, M.A 2nd Closet English

ফানীৰ িবয়া by Jeemani Chowdhury, MA Economics

নাৰীৰ িনিমে আহা যু িদওঁ এবাৰ by Prantik Prabal Roy, MA English

The Green Eyed Monster by Syeda Mehnaz Jahan, MA History

The Golden Bird - Prajoyeeta Kashyap, MA Political science.

Pink and Black - Firoza Kauser, BA English.

A Woman's Memories - Nayanika Saikia, BA English.

Blackwater Bleeding - Anuraag Das, BA English. The boatman's song -Prof. Krishna Barua, Dept. of English

Leaning on the forehead of a dusty day, we crossed avenues lined with trees mimosa green and scarlet from the big river to the small river Kulsi .The river, saffron mantle clad, combing with a comb that is golden the wet hair of memory as white as snow. The teeming river flowed on, through the eternal longing of kohl lined eyes astir in floating clouds and the sighing trees. This magh ,and so many other maghs was suddenly a joy , a surprise, bursting into a blaze of flames.

The boatman sang the song of the Bard, ‘Moi jetia ai jibonor maya ari gusi jaam ….” then with the beating of the oars he sang a rabha song,handed down to him a thousand aeons back, the words and language lost in the folds of time. “What is the meaning of the song” asked Ayushman. The boatman shook his head and sang on. the song, reverberating in anguish under overcast skies caressed the slumberless river with the hues of the blazing terracotta sun, burdened with betrayals and years of grief. It echoed over the scorching earth uncovering and peeling off layers and layers of scorned loves and tales; as the unseen sun filtered through the river,creating thousands of colliding, cascading, dilating desires ! And Chandni’s tinkling laughter touched the shadows slowly sliding up the edges of the dusky sky , like a soft silken scarf with scarlet dreams — sky the color of amethyst,of russet leaf . A walk back, still. Then the sun was endless and so was the February sky, Playing on each day apiece.and as I pressed my fingers on the the ripples of the river time disappeared for a moment. Down the bend, the dismantled ribs of the dry trees stretched out, across the riverway, pondering whether this was any time to lament a loss. At that time the light crossed the threshold to start the days of a sun drenched summer. On another boat I embarked once more,with new mates, off an alien shore .

Maybe at night, the sapphires and diamonds would come out in their thousands and a poet with a quiet voice and wistful eyes would carry those gems over to that secluded green bank pure and clean, with drooping trees and the inky bower overhead. What sky? What lane? What words? Someone else. Something else. .

0 5 . THERE IS SOMETHING MORE COMPLICATED THAN FALLING IN LOVE ITSELF AND THAT IS FALLING IN LOVE WITH A NINE TAILED FOX

KUMIHO Parismita Baruah

Love is never a blinded voyage into the sea. No one ever goes on a quest, searching for it. In most cases, love simply happens without anyone ever hoping for it or even consciously looking for it. Love finds you, you don't find it. Love comes into your life as unexpectedly as a storm and tangles itself into it. And once it tangles itself in, it will never let go. If what I have just said about love makes you think that love alone is complicated enough, then that is wrong. There is something more complicated than falling in love itself and that is falling in love with a nine tailed fox. What is a nine tailed fox you ask? Well, that is where my story begins.

I went to the enchanting country of Arcadia once, and to an equally enchanting forest known as the Forest of Shalom. Being a city dweller, I took quite a while to really explore the place that I was visiting for the first time in my life. And it appeared to be so breathtakingly beautiful that I and my friends decided to go for a forest walk. Due to the scorching heat of the sun, we thought it would be best to venture out in the evening. So, we all embarked on our trip to the Forest of Shalom. Darkness made its way into the forest. I almost lost my senses when I found myself all alone. I got so involved in watching the beautiful peacock and following it, that I got detached from my group. It was pitch dark by then. I could just hear the rustling of leaves and the strange cries of some animals. I had no idea what to do and so I thought I'd better wait for the night to get over. As night fell, the forest looked scarier as ever. I climbed up a tree, and decided to spend the night there. I was tired and so I fell asleep after a while. It was not long when I woke up with a start, hearing a loud cry of what seemed like a woman. It nearly made me fall down the tree branch I was perched on. I peeped through the branches of the tree, trying to see if there was somebody out there in the dark. I saw a human like figure advancing towards the tree in which I had taken shelter. It was a girl! Her face glowing so bright in the dark, she was an extraordinarily beautiful young lady.

0 6 Never had I seen a lady as magnificently beautiful as her. She was in white and looked so serene. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. In no time, she was standing right near the tree, looking up at me. I decided to climb down the tree, thinking she must have lost her way, just like me. She was looking straight into my eyes, as if she was in a constant quest of something. As I stood in front of her, she gave me the sweetest smile ever. I couldn’t help but admire her. I asked her if she lost her way back just like me. She said nothing at all but smiled. After sometime she said something that left me in utter shock. She was a nine tailed fox! Being a skeptic I did not believe her at first but the few moments that transpired after, convinced me beyond any doubt, that I was in the presence of something or someone supernatural. A moment right after her mysterious confession a wild boar came out of the woods into the clearing, charging at us. I could see my life flashing before my eyes. The lady’s (kumiho's) eyes started to sparkle a bright green and she was able to hypnotize the boar into pausing for a brief second and bowing down to her while I remained still, as an innocent child , a mute spectator peeping through tightly shut eyes from behind her. In fear as well as in a newfound intrigue for the woman who had rescued me, I hugged her tight and whispered into her white and tender elf like ear that I loved her with all my heart, with all my being. You see, kumihos eat human hearts and livers in order to survive and so technically you could say that I fell for my predator. The kumiho looked at me with silver lined tears creeping down her face. Most men would fall in love with her instantly for her beauty and would runaway when they found out who she really was, not giving her a single chance to show the genuine goodness of her inner being and this made her drown in silent ponds of sorrow and melancholy. I loved her despite who she was and she loved me for loving her. And with my love for her, I had the power to change her into a human being, as her godmother had always told her about another Kumiho who had come to earth a million years ago and had found her true love, got married and was able to become a human being. You see, a Kumiho is capable of changing herself if she marries a devoted human man as per traditional customs. It was becoming darker towards midnight and with great elation at the thought of me marrying her, the Kumiho flew as a gust of wind into the air and under the silent sparkle of the silver moonlight, I could see her nine tails of white feathers congregate like a peacock fan around her as a halo. Her immortal and pure beauty made me look at her as a human, a woman and I loved her even more. On the day of our wedding I looked into her porcelain face and called her by a name I had given her. The name was Ruth, inspired by the beautiful and pious Ruth of the bible. The days after our wedding were the most beautiful days of my life. We lived predominantly in the Forest of Shalom. Every day I would awake to her strawberry scented fragrance. She would already be awake, staring innocently into my sleeping and silent face before dawn approached. Her kiss every morning would remind me of the wild eyed faery in Keats’ “la belle dame sans merci”. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Lily garlands would cascade down her golden brown tresses. No matter how busy she was, she would always surrender her porcelain body into my warm and tentative embrace. Her smell was the fragrance of the first day of spring soothed by summer rain, the undying, eternally powerful scent of a woman in whom, I would fall into a powerless trance. She was an amazing woman and with her, I felt like a new man. She made me the most powerful man with her tender and deeply faithful touch as well as the most powerless one, in the way she would tease me playfully everyday by the lake. Her presence and her absence meant everything to me and every breath that she left behind in the transparent frozen air became a permanent aching as well as a blissfully soothing deep imprint inside every chamber of my heart. 0 7

One day we were playing as usual by the lake, when I suddenly heard a gunshot and felt a sharp jab in my right shoulder. Ruth came running to me and as I fell into her arms my blood began to spread its crimson talons into her white porcelain palms. A hunter had shot me by mistake while attempting to kill one of the many deer that roam around the forest. It was definitive soon that I was beyond all aid and would die in a few moments. And then my darling Ruth did the most unimaginable thing to save her lover’s life. I suddenly felt her warm and trembling lips on mine while one of her brave and silent tears rolled across my slowly dying face. As she kissed me I could feel something coming into my mouth. It was a sort of an orb of some kind. I could slowly feel the pain that had previously clutched at my body, numbing away until it began to feel as though it had not been wounded in any way at all. It was nthen that I realized what she had done. She had given me a magical bead that resided in her body (in others words her magical heart, the source of all her extraordinary powers). Even though after the wedding, she was slowly turning into a human, she was still only half a human being. Five of her tails had withered and had fallen off. But four still remained and this was what had made her half a human and yet half an animal. After she gave me the bead, the most important and essential thing in her, that kept her alive, she slowly fell unconscious in my arms. I could feel her cold body against mine. She collapsed in my arms and a round heavy tear came rolling down my eyes and fell on her weak lifeless body. Her now-olive toned skin looked pale winter white in the bright daylight, her silky smooth mess of golden brown tresses turned into deep black locks. My eyes were murky with tears; my whole body slumped as I put my arms around her and pulled her close to give her the last kiss of my life. She had died, my lover, quite literally by giving her heart to me. And yet even though she was dead physically with her body decaying, she’ll always live in this world through my love, for my love is immortal. The memories of our life, of our moments of happiness and love will জীৱনৰ ৰং be forever etched in the tumultuous scars upon my heart and shall forever be ------ড° িদেলাৱাৰ হক there until life closes its curtains on me. সেপানৰ বীজ িসিচঁ

সেপান ভঙাৰ আখৰা চলায়…

জীৱন নাটৰ কােনা চিৰৰ

িনিবচৰাৈকেয় এেনদেৰই ৰং সলায়

সৰল মনৰ গৰাকীেয়

কৃ িৰমতাৰ চাকৈনয়াত িদক হৰুৱায়

কপালৰ িলখন বুিল সানা িদ A Warrior Within, Pringsrang W কৱল িনজৰ ভাগক িধয়াই… Sangma BFA 6th বােৰ বােৰ মৰমৰ সেপানেবাৰ sem medium Acrylic on Canvas আশাহত হ আঘাত ৰা হয়

পূৰৰ ঘাঁ নুকাওঁেত

পুনৰবাৰ আৰা হয়…

ভাগিৰ যাৱা মনেটােৱ

তথািপেতা হািৰ নাযায়

সুগম বাট িবচািৰ পাৱাৰ আশােৰ

জীৱেন গিত পথ সলায়

সময়ৰ সাঁতত সৰল মনেটােৱ

িনজৰ গিত পথত আগবািঢ় যায়…! 0 8

A T R A G I C T H O U G H T

B i r a j P o d d a r

Have you ever wondered what you mean to the author, the one who wrote what you are reading, or the one whose work you like to read? The hours it took; the exhaustion of words, synonyms of better words but with deeper meaning. I believe that the reader is the most insignificant fraction of a book.

In its broader scheme of ideas and the dimensions it touches, the aim of the book is to tell. The aim of the book is to let know. The aim is to tell, but to the society as a large and not one particular reader per say. Yes, people make up the society and these people are the readers. But, people perish one after another and they are renewed and replaced by more people born from the ones who died and it carries on. The society on the other hand exists as a constant fact of life. The society always survives; it thrives in all manner and matter. The society evolves, it changes, and it both develops and decays. But, it always exists. It always survives and that is what the author seeks for their work; survival. The desire for existing with the society, in the society, throughout the many societies that already exist and the societies those are yet to evolve. You reader have never been short in number, never been short of criticism, of your own little words about how and what should have been written. Does all of this matter to the writer? It does for the ones whose idea is not to tell but to sell. I believe that all great writers are great because they tell and though the idea to sell is necessary for their sustenance, it was never their priority. To tell a story is the innate desire of a genius author.

0 9 You postmodern, post-colonial, millennial reader. You are not the society of the yesteryears. You are the society of the decadent future that the poets and writers correctly predicted. Though, some were optimistic about you, but at least once all of them despised the inevitability of you, your existence, you being the future, your present which they did resent. You, the reader of today, you need cafés and coffees and corners to read. You, full of void, fallen from nature and frivolous in mixture, what do you understand of the immense gravity of epics and sonnets and poems of the Great War, of the Great Time and the Great Dream? You do not, you cannot; you can just vaguely comprehend but never truly Be understand. But, there is still hope for you. There is still time, because even if you perish while trying, the society will still exist. Even if you fail, your attempt for renewal, for survival along with the society is a rebel in a sea what will matter. Because it is you who will shape the future of tomorrow, it is you who will give birth to the people of tomorrow, it is you who will fill up and influence the society of tomorrow. So think well, of corrupts and understand well, and most of all; read well. Do not read for the sake of reading, do not read for the sake of measuring, and do not read for the sake of boasting. But, read for your own self and for the sake of degenerates.Ini tomorrow. It will be a lot of labour that you will have to undertake. A humungous task consisting many painstaking labours. But, that is what is required to repair the present and restore the future. Be a rebel in tiate revolts a sea of corrupts and degenerates. Initiate revolts not for disturbance but for betterment. You are the present, but you shape the future. Thus you are the future; the hope of rejuvenation. You are humanity. not for You are mankind. disturbance And me, who am I? I am a tragic figure. Not a tragic hero, but just a figure. What is my tragedy? but for I am part of you. I am you. And I have a lot of work to do, both for you and our children of tomorrow. betterment. And even though I tend to be indolent like you, I cannot afford to be you. I need to be a rebel within.

You need to be a rebel within. I am a tragic figure, not a tragic hero…yet.

Skull and Bolts, Techi Tagu The Bronze Man, Bedanta Whirl of life, Daina Laxmi N Tara BFA 6th Sem Medium Das 6th sem BFA Medium BFA 6th sem medium Found sculpture Fiber object Sculpture

1 0 JACARANDAI n s i d e t h e I s s u e Prof. Krishna Barua, Dept. of English

It was only yesterday, on the dusty lanes lined by the aged trees and the staid concrete structures of the ancient city, that I saw that single tree. A lone Jacaranda , delicate and young, yet flowering, a whiff of poetry as it were, in defiance as it were, round the bend of the stone quarries. If it pleased me to appear to you thus! The Jacaranda ,replete with the indigo, lilac, purple shades of some other life, of shades of some other childhood, and the rolling mists of some other time when the sun would go to sleep in the gorges which had hidden itself between the two mountains. The Jacaranda.

And as quickly, the train whistled past the long stretch of the blue hills,like a lighted caterpillar, and the swirling dust of March blotted the distant sun and the Jacaranda tree. Down the bend,the dismantled ribs of the old city stretched out, across the river-way, pondering whether this was any time to lament a loss.

Even before that, perhaps many aeons ago, when the Jacaranda bloomed, scattering its lilac petals over the lawn, embroidering it as it were, Ma would open her bedroom window just as the dawn broke out , and exclaim: “See the colour of the Lord, Shri Krishna,come a visiting in the morn!” It was much later, when I was about thirteen, that there arose in me a strange feeling of a single acquaintance with this other private boudoir bending overhead, building a cocoon of experiences, intangible and clinging, reflecting and reverberating like waves in a long forgotten tune.

1 1 L I T E R A R Y J O U R N A L

A B O D E O F T H E C L O U D S

Samayeeta Singha

Ibn Battuta rightly said,“Travelling- It leaves you speechless, and then turns you into a storyteller”, for I have been speechless after my trip to Meghalaya with our class.

On the 15th of February 2020, we, the students of the department of Geography, of the second semester, along with our tourism teacher, Mr. Ritwik Sharma, went tracking to the beautiful hilly terrain of Meghalaya. It was a short trip of two days and one night but quite a memorable one. The Living Root Bridge and Wei sawdong were the two places we looked forward to visit. It was my first time and I was thrilled.

We packed our bags with home-cooked food and snacks, and got picked up by the bus. That's when our journey started. First, we decided to visit the Living Root Bridge.

Although, Meghalaya is not far from , it took us almost three hours to reach the Living Root Bridge. Located in the Jaintia Hills, the members of the Khasi tribe, trained them to grow from the roots of ancient rubber trees, native to the northeast region. There were more than 3000 steps and everyone had to trek up and down. We bought bamboo sticks from some teenage boys to help climb the steep stairs. The same day, we went to see the Double Decker root bridge, after settling our luggage in our home-stay. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Made out of aerial root of rubber fig, it is 50 meter long and 1.5 meter wide and estimated to be around 500 years old. The other highlights were the waterfalls and the natural swimming pools that made the whole surrounding seem like paradise.

1 2

After a long day, we returned to our homestay. Exhausted, we freshened up and started munching on the home cooked snacks we brought. We played games, told stories, and even heard a few spine- chilling ghost stories from our khasi friends.

The next day, we went to Wei sawdong waterfall, which is located in sohra. Dareenia, Venetia and Lawanri happily guided us to it. We had to walk through a whole forest, but it was all worth it. The Wei sawdong fall is beautiful beyond words. Untouched and pure, this 3 step waterfall is the most beautiful thing I experienced from nature. I tried to capture the mesmerizing view in my mind.

It was almost lunchtime and since, we could not find any restaurant there, we travelled an hour to Cherrapunji and had our lunch in Cafe Cherrapunji, then traveled back to Guwahati around 10 pm.

My trip to Sohra was a wish fulfilled and I realized how magnificent our world is, and how wonderfully blessed, we are, to live in it.

The trip ended but my mind still wanders in Meghalaya.

Anatomy of a wooden slab. Ankita Das 2nd Sem BFA Medium Pen and Ink

A RT ACCORDING TO ME

D i a n a L a x m i n a m e i r a k p a m

For a long time art has played a very important role in man’s life. Art is universal and because art is everywhere, we experience it on daily basis. From the houses we live in, the movies we watch, to the books that we read. Even in ancient culture art has played a very important role; in prehistoric times cave dwellers drew on the walls of caves to record history. Most art is created for a specific reason or purpose, it has a way of expressing ideas and beliefs, and it also recorded the experiences of all people. It might be religious, symbolic, literal, traditional or just a glimpse of the artist’s experience. “Art is an emotion flowing in a river of imagination”. Art, everywhere, is the result of one’s creativity and imagination. Art is in the things we use every day, and always come across without paying attention. Without art one cannot see anything beautiful because art adds attraction and beauty to anything. Art may also help in forgetting the world and letting the mind be a free bird soaring the skies, safe from the dangers of life. Art is very important in our life, because without art the world be extremely depressing, without inspiration, and boring!

1 3 ONE DAY

B i r a j p o d d a r

One day. There will be no regrets

No shying from the truth No need for contempt

No sighing in debts.

One day. We can all sit in peace

Have no more worries Be wholly at ease

Bid not an ear to A Guwahati Skyline, Rebek Rothangmawi Leiri BFA 2ND SEM Medium watercolor fear. And in joy we will pay a visit

To discern how we lived And missed it all before this.

One day.

THE INCREDIBLE There will be time For both you and I

STORY OF BHOOT For both fancy and sublime As we stare at the open sky.

JOLOKIA With broad minds and streets And no bleating retreats;

b y S e n o r i t a D a s Roads all straight with no bends Abating the hideous intents.

That one day,

The king chilli is everywhere at the Ima Keithel. Located in Imphal, the capital of the Northeast We will not be n state of Manipur, it is the world’s largest women-run marketplace as well as a de facto showcas for the here Or the world for us to bear. chilli, with flaming-red piles on blue tarpaulin where it has been set out to dry. October is the best season if Nor to see the you want fresh and great quality chillies. children grow And avoid the ranting row;

The king chilli is known by many names in northeast India: Bhut Jolokia in , Umorok in Manipur, and As we bid farewell To all who are still well, Raja-Mircha in Nagaland. Although its size, texture and heat level differ depending on the region it’s grown in, it is always plump and smooth, typically as long as an index finger, and can be distinguished by its glossy, As they sell my books and me saturated, red colour and acidic penetrative smell. This pungency divides the loyalists from the naysayers, but Which were ever personal. everyone agrees that the chilli possesses layers of flavour that are expressed differently based on whether it is One day! pounded, sliced or fermented. But in the United States, where the chilli is known widely as the ghost pepper, I still wait for it’s infamous for its fiery heat, not its flavour. In India’s eight north-eastern states, populated by 225 ethnic the day to come, tribes, the chilli has been a way of life for generations; it prevailed even during the decades of violent ethnic Until then sink in conflicts and insurgencies that plagued the region. whisky and rum.

And I think – the ancient order, Everyone thinks chillies only have heat, but they are about much more. Indigenous food culture may be That follows a drink. considered vague in the West, but in the forests of Manipur and the mountains of Nagaland, the king chilli is a “When was it that reminder that spice is a matter of taste, as well as a method of survival. With the constant chaos around, living I last lived?” It was when I still had pomp, a peaceful life has become difficult. Maybe our ancestors knew that hard times would come. So they gave us the malcha, which we put it in meat, grind it, and consume it, that it may keep us safe during trying times. And men had grit.

1 4 আশা

"মিণ, অ' মিণ, ভাতেকইটা দ ঐ!" এইবুিল দীপৰ িচঞৰ িণ মিণেয় তাইৰ িতিনমহীয়া সানেটাক কাচত ল চৰুত ৰাি থাৱা ভাতেকইট বািঢ় িদেল িগিৰেয়কৈল। িদেপ ক'ল, "বুিজছ মিণ, আিজ টকােকইটা পােলই সয়ত গ িদ থ আিহম, ঋণেবাৰ এেনৈকেয় পিৰেশাধ কিৰব লািগব।" "িপেছ, িকবা হেনা সুেতা িদব লািগব। যাৱােবিল ৰাইেজ আিহ সিকয়াই থ গেছ। নহ'ল আইহঁেত িদয়া কৰুেযাৰেক িদ িদম। ঋণ নমিৰবেন তিতয়া?" মিণেয় বজাৰ মেনেৰ ক'ল। ভাত খাই থকা দীেপ চকু েলা টু িক-টু িক উৰ িদেল, "তাক অকেণা সুখ িদব নাৱািৰেলাঁ ঐ মিণ, তাকেনা িকেহ পাইিছল মাৰ দেৰ এটা অকৰ্মণৈল আিহবৈল? কণমািনজিনৰ িচিকৎসাত ইমান ধন লািগব বুিল মই কাহািনও ভবা নািছেলাঁ!" "এহ, তই একা এইেবাৰ এিতয়ােহ উিলয়াব পাৱ ন? শািত ভাতেকইটা খাই কামৈল যা চান। এেনও কােনা সদৰ মূল তাৰ আৰু কণতৈক বিছ হ'ব নাৱােৰ। ঈৰৰ কৃ পাত থািকবৈল এটা পজাঁ আৰু দুেবলা দুমুিঠ আহাৰ আেছ, গাটৰ পৰা লাৱা ধনেকইটাৰ ঋণ পিৰেশাধ কিৰ যাম দ নেদখাজনৰ আশীৰাদত! বন কৰা ঘৰৰ মািলকনী বাইেদেৱ এেহজাৰ িদম বুিল ক থেছ ৰ'।" তাইৰ কথাত মনেটা অলপ সবল হ'ল দীপৰ।

আিজ সামবাৰ। িৰাৰ যাৰীও পাৱা যাব িযেহতু ু ল, কেলজ আিদ সকেলা খালা। কণৈল চাই দীপ গ'লৈগ িৰাখন ল। ৰিববাৰ দিখ ঘৰৈল যাৱা সকেলা আিজ কৰ্মমুখী হ'ব। ভাল ভাড়া পাম বুিল িস ঘাইপেথেৰ ঢাপিল মিলেল বাছ আানৈল বুিল। আিজ আচিৰতভােৱ িপেছ এখেনা বাছ নািছল। িস িনৰাশ হ পুনৰ টাউনৰ ফােল ৰাওনা হ'ল। সৗভাগৰেম িস বাটত এজন যাৰী পােল। যাৰীজেন ক'ল, "তামাক মই দহ টকা বিছৈক িদম, মাক এই িতিনআিলেটাৈলেক ল ব'লা। ব অসুিবধা বুিজছােন, এই বেবাৰ িদেছ িদয়ক িক যাতায়াত ব কিৰব নালােগ নহয়।" "িকহৰ ব দাদা?" "আিজ জাতীয় সংগঠনেবােৰ ব িদয়া নাই জােনা?" "অ' হয় নিক, িৰাৰ ব নাই িদয়ক। উঠক, অিতিৰ ভাড়া অিবহেনই আেপানাক ল যাম।" এইবুিল ক িস যাৰীজন কিঢ়য়াই িনেল িনৰ্ধািৰত ানৈল।

এইফেল মিণ ব হ পিৰল তাইৰ কঁ চৱােটাৰ সেত। টাপিন গ'লই তাই যাবৈগ দনিনৰ দেৰ আনৰ ঘৰত বন কিৰবৈল। তাইৰ সানেটাক যমৰ দৱু াৰডিলৰ পৰা ঘৰূ াই আিনব পৰােটা তাইৰ বােব তাইৰ মনৰ সাহসৰ এক চৰম পৰীা আিছল। টকাৰ অভাৱত তাইক ভাল িচিকৎসকৰ াৰা িচিকৎসা দান কিৰব পৰা হাৱা নািছল। অৱেশষত এক বজু ন পিৰমাণৰ ঋণ ল'ল তাই গঁাৱেৰ সয় গাটৰ পৰা, য'ৰ ঋণ হয়েটা তাই এই জীৱনত পিৰেশাধ কিৰব নাৱািৰব। যা হওক, ইমান সংামৰ িপছেতা

1 5 িনজৰ চকু ৰ মিণেটা সু-সবল কিৰব পৰােটােৱ তাইৰ আৰু দীপৰ বােব আিছল পৰম সোষৰ কথা।

গধুিলৰ বিল মাৰ যাঁও-যাঁও অৱা। িনশােটােৱ যন শংকাৰ দিলচা পািৰ িদেছ কমলাৰঙী আকাশখনত। আিজ দীপ দুপৰেবলা ভাত খাবৈল নািহল। হয়েটা দৈৰৰূ ভাড়া পাইিছল, এইবুিল ভািবেল মিণেয়। এইফেল আেবিল গাটৈল যাৱা কথা কথাও আিছল। িকজািন আেহােত সামােয়ই আেহ। চািকেটা লাই গাঁসাই ঘৰৰ পৰা ওলাই তাই তাঁহাতৰ ঘৰৰ ফােল এখন গাড়ী অহা দিখেল। পুিলচৰ গাড়ী যন লািগিছল। তাই পদিলমূ ুখৈল আৱাই গ'ল। পুিলচ এজন গাড়ীখনৰ িভতৰৰ পৰা নািম আিহ তাইৰ ফােল খাজ ল'ল। মনত অলপ শংকা আিছল িকয়েনা তাহািনৰ িদনত দীপ চু িৰ কাৰত িল হিছল। আিজও যিদ... "ইয়াত কােনাবা িৰা চালক থােক নিক?" "হা, অ' হয়, মাৰ ামী, বৰ্তমান কামৈল গেছ।" িঠক তেনেত দুজন কিনবেল বগা কােপােৰেৰ আৱৰা িকবা এটা নমাই আিনেল। মিণেয় এেকােকই বুিজব পৰা নািছল। পুিলচ জেন তেনেত ক'ল, "আিজ অসম ব আিছল। তামাৰ ামীেয় হয়েটা নাজািনিছল। টাউনৈল িৰা ল গিছল। ব সমাৰ্থক এচােম তাৰ িৰাখন চু ৰ্মাৰ কৰাৰ লগেত তােকা ৰুলা-ৰুিলৈক ৰহাৰ কিৰেল। আিম হাতালৈল তাক ৰৰণ কৰাৰ সময়েত িস শষ িনাস তাগ কেৰ।" মিণৰ মূৰত যন সৰগ ভািগ পিৰল। তাইৰ চকু ৰ আগত ভাঁিহ উিঠল তাইৰ আৰু দীপৰ কণমািনজিনৰ মুখখন। তাইৰ যন সাহস নহ'ল সই িনঠৰ হ পিৰ থকা দীপৰ মৃত শৰীৰেটাৈল চাৱাৰ, িকজািন সচাৈকেয়ঁ সইয়া দীেপই হয়! ধৰ হৰুৱাই শাক সহ কিৰব নাৱািৰ মািটত িবচু ৰ্িত হৰুৱাই পিৰ গ'ল তাই।

িপেছ ভু ল কাৰ? কােনা সংবাদ মাধমৰ লগত সৰ্ক নথকা, দিৰৰতােৰ জৰ্জিৰত, ব সৰ্েক অাত হ িদনেটাৰ হািজৰা আৰ্িজবৈল যাৱা দীপৰ, ন সই ৰিতবাদকাৰীসকলৰ, িযসকেল খঙৰ ভমকেত মানৱতা হৰুৱাই পলাইিছল, ন সই গাদীত বহা সইসকলৰ িযসকেল িহংসা অিবহেন হাৱা আোলনক ৰুই িনিদেয়। দীপৰ দেৰ পিৰৰম কিৰ খাৱা আৰু ঋণৰ বাজাত পাত গ পিৰয়ালক পাহ-পাল িদয়া লাকসকলৰ দুৰ্গিতৰ কথা ভািববৈল আহিৰ কাৰ? াৰ্থপৰ, আেপানেপটীয়া ভাৱধাৰীেনা দৰাচলেত কান? বৰ সৰাক ৰভাৱৰ বিল িচৰিদেন য এেন এচাম দিৰৰ লাক হয় সইয়া িনিত। ইয়াৰ িপছৰ পৰায়ৰ কথা িবেষণ কিৰ না কােন চায়? আোলনৰ িপছৰ পৰায়ত হয়েটা দাবীও পূৰণ হ'ব, িক িযসকেল তাগ িদেছ, তওঁেলাকৰ খবৰ লওঁতা বা িবচাৰ কেৰাঁতা কােনা নাই। আিম ইমােনই নীচ পৰায়ৈল নািমেলা ন য মানৱতা হৰুৱাই এচামৰ জীয়াই থকাৰ অিধকাৰ খৰ্গ কিৰব পািৰেল!

মিণেয় এিতয়া ইঘেৰ-িসঘেৰ বন কেৰ। তাইৰ কণমািনজনীৰ ােৰা অৱনিত ঘেছ। ঋণৰ বাজা লাৱােটা তাইৰ বােব ককৰ হ পৰাৰ বােব গঁাওখন এৰাৰ কথা ভািবেছ তাই। সকেলা সবা হাৱা মিণৰ 'আশা' বত মান তাইৰ কণমািনজনী। তাইেয় যন একমা ৰণাৰ উৎস মিণৰ বােব। এই 'আশা'ক লেয় তাই ভিবষতৈল আগবািঢ় যাব লািগব।।

গেটাৰ ৰচিয়তা:

িৰকী তালুকদাৰ

াতক (কলা), ইংৰাজী িবভাগ

িতীয় ষাািসক

ৰ'য়ল ােবল ইউিনভাৰ্িচিট

1 6 Through an autumn woodland Sabina Yasmin, MSW 4th Semester Time can alter anything. It is only with hindsight that we realise the amount of change that has occurred to us. We are all constantly developing, evolving and progressing. We are being unfolded slowly and gradually. We are unfinished as of now and subject to change. We are now as ephemeral, as fugitive and as impermanent as all the roles or characters we have ever played. The only thing constant is change.

We are all made of memories - memories that influence our choices, and choices that define who we are.

We can remember what we did ten years ago but we find it difficult to imagine what might happen to THE ONLY us in the future. CONSTANT-CHANGE Parismita Baruah

Understanding time has always been a mystery. Nobody has been able to decode the language of time or how it can be perceived or governed to a limit.

“People change with time.”

This is a very commonly used statement. But have you ever wondered the rate of the changes we undergo in our lives with respect to our age? Changes slow down as we become older. They are more prominent in children as compared to adults. Many of us live with an illusion that we now, at present, have finally become what we are meant to be. Irrespective of the age or the point of time in life we are standing at. We tend to underestimate how our values, preferences and personalities will change in the years ahead.

We often presume that if our preferences have not changed in the past, they cannot possibly change in the years to come. But as we grow older, we often find ourselves speaking about how our lives have changed over the years.

We all have favourites. We have favourite singers, movies, books, writers etc. But these favourites keep changing. The book you were willing to pay fifty dollars for at some point of time in the past, you probably wouldn’t even want to buy it any longer. Simply because, you have a new favourite book or maybe your favourite genre is no longer romance. You are more interested in a thrilling read now. Likewise, the concert you wanted to go to, when you were in high school, that cost a whopping two hundred dollars, could appear to be a total waste now. All this happens because our preferences are unstable.

We can remember what we did ten years ago but we find it difficult to imagine what might happen to us in the future. This is because remembering is easier than imagining. The difficulty to imagine the future does not indicate that events in the future are unlikely to occur; it only denotes the lack of imagination.

1 7 নাৰীৰ িনিমে আহা যু িদওঁ এবাৰ ফানীৰ িবয়া S e p t e m b e r 2 0 1 9 -Vাoিl 1ক I ss uৱeা ল2 1 ৰয় -জীমিণ চৗধৰু ী জানকীৰ িনিমে আহা THE যু িদওঁ এবাৰ, ৰঙা আভূ ষণ গাত মিৰয়াই দৰাচাৰীূ ৰাৱণৰ কপট বাসনা

লাচনী পাচনী মদাৰ আিহেছ, POESY

িনৰীজ কেৰা জতায়ু হ

ফানী আইক জাৰণ িদবৈল । আহা , ৰামেকা িদওঁ িধাৰ এবাৰ I

CLOSET বানৰ কু লৰ সাহস কিৰ ল ীকাৰ

সখীেয়ক পেছাৱাই উল-থুল মেনেৰ নহ'লেনা িক সেত িসিদনা

the green eyed ; ধূিল উৰুৱাই কব পােৰ ৰােম

monster সীতা উাৰৰ বােব নািছল যুজঁ িবিৰখক সাষণ জনাইেছ ।

Syeda. Mehnaz Jahan ৰাৱণৰ স'ত

Why ৰঘুকু লৰ মৰাদা আিছল ৰিতা মাৰ ফাণীৰI জাৰণতn s i d এেকe মtুেখh িবয়ানামe I s গাইেছs u e do we build spaces for ধৰ্িষতা নাৰী ৰহণ নহয় পণ মাৰ! - সউজীয়া আভূ ষণ পিৰিহতা গছ লিটকাই । odium and rancour, লণৰ অনুেৰাধ নথকােহঁেতন

সেতজ ঘাঁহিনৰ দিলছা পািৰ িদেছ discontent

দাশৰিথৰ িবেবচনাৰ িনৰ্মম আঘাটত and distrust? ফানীক বহাবৈল। Why আিহলেহঁেতনেন িসিদনা সীতা ঘিৰূ অেযাধাৈল ?

be the green eyed monster? নায় িদওঁ আহা সীতা হৰণৰ

খাপাত তজ ৰঙা গালাপ নায় িদওঁ আহা সীতা উাৰৰ When

কপালত সুৰৰ িচকিমকিণ, all we have is just কােন সািৰ যাব পােৰ

one ৰ অসুৰ ন ৰ মানৱ ৰতাৰ ?(!!) ওঁঠত বৰ্হমথুিৰ, life to board;

কাণত থুৰীয়া, Maybe some in the garden of Alcazar, দৗপদীৰ িনিমে আহা িডিঙত হাচনাহানাৰ গলপতা, While যু িদওঁ এবাৰ , হাতত সাণাৰু হালধীয়া । some in the grimy, filthy streets. দুৰ্মিত দুৰ্মদ দুেৰাধনৰ উৰু ভািঙবৈল

দহত লপীয়া আভূ ষণ ।

But ৰজঃলাৰ কশ ধৰ্ষণকাৰী দুঃশাসনৰ

ভিৰত লাজকী ফলৰ জনকা । ু ু ু ু why oh why do we neglect শািণত িপবৈল দুহাত তােলা আহা - To সাইলাখ পাত গাভৰুৰ সাঁজত ফানী । বৰকিঠন িননােদেৰ িবকৰ্ণ হ এবাৰ embrace the classic reality? ৰিমক 'শীত' আিহেছ দৰাৰ সােজেৰ The ৰিতৰুিত ৰিতা আনুগত আৰু

actuality and the truth? ফানী আৰু শীতৰ লগত উৰুিল িদেছ কৃ ততাত কৰায়

ভী ৰাণ কৰ্ণ কৃ পাচাৰ উেপাৰত ফচাই । ঁ That

in the end অনায়ৰ অনুা িদয়া অ ধৃতৰাৰ

Be িবেবক ভংৰ কৰা মহাানী িবদুৰ অিম ণত চকু েলা বেছ ফানীৰ, the king or the serf, অনায় অনায় অনায় বুিল All চকু েলা বেছ কু িল -কেতকীৰ । shall wind up কেনৈক কিৰবা নিতকতাৰ িবচাৰ

মদােৰ ফানীক দালাত বৱাইেছৈগ । Buried ৰিতবাদৰ মুি নােতালােহঁেতন

deep under the rocks িবকৰ্ণ হ এবাৰ Or - ; শীত ফানী দালাত িপেছ িপেছ বাট বুিলেছ মদােৰ set in flames. িনিদয়ােহঁেতন িথয় ৰাকাৰী হ

ৰাংঢালী ফানী গ'লৈগ বাসুেদৱ কৃ এবাৰ What থািকলেহঁেতনেন িসিদনা ভাৰতত সতীৰ মান ? লেগ লেগ পেছাৱা আৰু চৗিখন মদাৰ। shall remain is the spring of memories,

িধক ! িধক !! ফাণীৰ ৰানত িচপিচপীয়া বৰষণজােক Memories ু

tattooed in every solidified grave, কু ৰুেৰ কু লেৰ ানৰ ভাৰতসান ! ৰাংঢালীৰ দুখত িৰয়মান িবিৰখক Echoing 1 8

When the tree slowly came back to life For, today there was no fresh fruit Continued.. With luster on the new leaves No cheerful song. হ নাৰী, তু িম ভূ িম তু িম সৃি And fruits sweeter than the sweetest, So the little golden bird কােন কেৰ ৰ্শ তামাক ? A tiny lost boy Flew down to his feet তু িম ভূ িমৰ পৰা ভূ মা হাৱা And dusted her golden dust. তু িম অপমািনতৰ পৰা সাহসী হাৱা Happened to chance upon the tree

Today, তু িম লািতৰ পৰা অি হাৱা At his hungriest.

তু িম সীতা হাৱা ; And when he saw the little golden bird, A little too deep.

তু িম দৗপদী হাৱা - For every tomorrow of theirs that ever He held his cap came তু িম নাৰী হাৱা !! And called his mommy She dusted her golden dust The And called his daddy Until there was none left To show them Golden To validate her fame. What their proud little chap had discovered. Now that her luster, Bird Gradually as people began to come And her shine was gone, Prajoyeeta Kashyap From far and wide He did not house plain birds I’d tell you a story To taste the fruits The tree claimed If you’d care to listen. Of the tree that housed the golden bird, His trunk was not a place for them to About a bird with glitter wings The tree began to blossom with pride belong. With a body of gold dust and silver fins. And started to neglect the golden bird. She flew above the clouds So she flew away As they relished

And scanned the Earth His yummy fruits one-by-one High up into the clouds

With jeweled eyes. He refused to be able to save With her strong wings

Looking for a home- For her even one. Bereft of its golden dust.

A place safe and sound But she sang him happy song everyday And finally landed tired To rest her precious self And dusted her golden dust On a patch of fresh green grass. Away from the hunter’s piercing eyes. And watched the red ripe apples, bloom

And when she landed On every bough She lay there thinking On a stranded apple tree that night, Late into the darkening dusk.

Of her jeweled eyes She made its hollow bark, her home Then one morning

When she parted her lips, for a beautiful song Granting the forgotten tree, a new form. And the night sky.

And found nothing in her throat But thoughts about her dear apple tree She sang a new song each day But a quiver born, For a tree that no longer did last. Wouldn’t leave her heart. The tree fed his seekers And dusted her golden dust Fruits of the yesterday gone. At the foot of his dying trunk.

1 9 Continued... PINK AND BLACK Then in the morning Firoza Kauser

When the little chap The smoke surrounding his silhouette Found what remained Another cigarette burnt without regrets Of the little golden bird, Pacing back and forth in the empty room

He called his mommy Yet flashbacks never escape the emptiness.

And he called his daddy Inhales another toxic puff, exhales out the air

To look at what lay in their Toxic – the thoughts which escape garden Slowly dancing and tempting him towards invisibility -A broken little golden heart. Comes the soothing music and he dreams

While the mirror stares back at him

A handsome face, the boy tall and slender

It looks behind the insecurities that the smoke wickedly hides

Gazing in his eyes under which sacred tales are written,

Tales, not meant for you and me

But carved silently behind his cool endeavour

You would not know

His eyes had dreams

Visions he awaits for every dawn to chase.

The mirror stares back again,

Smokes now almost embrace him in echoes.

He hears nothing but his own voice

The past escapes and he reminisces...

The smoke slowly caresses him

Eyes closed, pillow held close

The boy who loved nothing more than pink

Now loved black and learned to conquer his two selves.

2 0 A WOMAN'S MEMORIES Nayanika Saikia My earliest memories of being a woman are from when I had my first bleed

A few drops of blood on my panty crotch decided my fate thereafter

- Don’t play rough with the boys!

- Don’t dress like that! In such loose billowy shirts and pants, and… my god! Are those even shorts?

- Don’t sit like that with your knees spread open! You’re inviting unwanted attention.

- Act like a lady! You’re not a child anymore!

I remember trying on my shirt,

Summer vacations had just ended,

But it’s too tight – the gaps between the buttons gape open!

(It’s indecent! Cover your breasts!)

That time of the month when once my grandmother shouted,

“Go away! ‘Nusuba’! Don’t touch me!

(You’re dirty)”

Recently, this random guy came up to me

Stared lewdly at my chest and commented,

“Do you have boobs?”

Was that an insult thrown for owing the same organs

His mother once weaned him on?

I’m glad to say I punched him,

Though not at all glad that it did nothing

To assuage my guilt,

- Was I wearing a shirt too tight?

The Cambridge dictionary defines a woman as a “wife or a female sexual partner”

As if my body, this temple to worship

As a rest house for men to sate their hunger

As if it wasn’t my own. 2 1

BLACKWATER CONTINUED.. BLEEDING Tom foolery Anuraag Das And so, unfortunately, my memories of being a woman It is Aren’t that good, but they aren’t all bad either. To embrace a cursed blade When my friends and family applaud

My successes and hardwork, They said

I swell a tiny bit. When the night comes

New age philosophy and self love, And the children cry

So often propagated by lifestyle/fashion bloggers Mothers tell them stories

Reinforce my belief And kiss them goodnight. - I am responsible for the memories I let linger henceforth. Come my king

Bleed me dry But I’m slowly learning to deal with

The bad memories of being a woman The drunk father hits her

With a violent pride And the insecurities that stem from them.

Blackwater bleeding

Don’t you dare cry Maybe one day the memories my daughter I’ll rip your heart open Will have of being a woman Or burn you alive. Won’t be bad at all. The sleepy eyes turn into hollows Maybe, just maybe, they will be normal. And the silent footsteps go back to bed

Tears moisten their pillows

“It’s only a nightmare,

I’ll be okay.”

Wish I could take your place instead

I do not want to see another cursed night

Blackwater bleeding

In a cold, dark night

Blackwater bleeding

I am dying inside. 2 2 ASSAMESE CINEMA ON CRUTCHES

Pratik Deka

C for Cinema

Cinema and cricket are two integral parts of our entertainment diet in India. Even in Assam, the craze for cinema is quite alive. Indian cinema is 108 years old and still growing. Assamese cinema is 85 years old but not growing. Let us explore the reasons why the Assamese industry is stuck in stagnancy.

Jollywood: Still casts magic?

Jollywood, the Assamese film industry, has been quite jolly and active since its inception. The origin of Assamese Cinema can be traced back to the dreams and imagination of a revolutionary visionary Rupkonwar Jyotiprasad Agarwala. He was instrumental in the production of the first Assamese film, Joymoti in 1935. This film was followed by various radical but quality . Films that were released the subsequent years of 1940s were Rohini Kumar Barua’s Manomati followed by Parvati Prasad Baruwa’s Rupohi, Kamal Narayan Choudhury’s Badan Barphukan, Phani Sharma’s Siraj, among others.. Thes elementary films of the inceptive decade were followed by several critically successful films. The 1950s and 60s saw several important Assamese films being made. The 1950s saw films like, Phani Sharma’s , Nip Baruah’s Ronga Police, ’s Era Bator Sur, and Prabhat Mukherjee’s , which was screened at the prestigious Berlin in 1959. The 1960s saw popular films like Sarbeswar Chakraborty’s Lachit Barphukan, Bhupen Hazarika’s musical Sakuntala and Chik Mik Bijulee, Nip Barua’s Narakasur, Brajen Baruah’s Itu Situ Bahuto and Anwar Hossain’s Tejimola. One major achievement of the 1960s was the crime thriller, Dr. Bezbarua (1969) directed by Brajen Baruah. Th film went on to become the first commercially successful film of Assam, and was declared a blockbuster. The period between 1959 and 1969 is generally regarded as the golden age of Assamese cinema. Among the 25 films made during the decade, 9 of them won a National Award.

2 3 The 1970s is marked as the decade that brought colour to the film industry. Kamal Narayan Choudhury’s Bhaity (1972) was the first colour film. Other films worth mentioning are Manoranjan Sur's Uttaran, Pulok Gogoi’s Khoj and Dr. Bhabendranath Saikia's Sandhya Rag and Atul Bordoloi's Kollol.

The 1980s also witnessed some great films and emergence of two of the most prominent filmmakers from Assam, and Munin Barua. Jahnu Barua’s Halodhia Soraiye Baodhan Khai went on to win the National Award for the Best Feature Film and various other awards at the Locarno International Film Festival. These two filmmakers went on to deliver some of the most promising films. Some worth mentioning Jahnu Barua films are Aparoopa, , Konikar Ramdhenu. Munin Barua delivered hits like, Nayak, Bidhata, Barood, Dinabandhoo. Hence, after tracing the history of Assamese cinema, we find that, cinema was an appreciated and successful form of art. It made a good and lasting impression, both regionally and nationally. But, towards the early 2000s Assamese cinema faced a dull phase. It is undeniable that we got to see some fine films in the last 10 to 15 years. Some worth mentioning are Munin Barua’s Dinabandhoo (2004), Maniram Singha’s (2008), Jahnu Barua’s Baandhon (2012), Bhaskar Hazarika’s Kothanodi (2015). Also, quite recently, Assamese cinema was lifted to new heights by remarkable filmmakers like, Rima Das, whose (2018) was India’s entry to Oscars and Bhaskar Hazarika, whose film, Aamis (2019) was screened at numerous film festivals across the world. But even then, it is strongly felt and seen that Assamese cinema is in a miserable condition. The Assamese film industry is fraught with innumerable bottlenecks, be it financial constraints, technological shortcomings, quality content, non-supporting audience or competition with other states. So, it’s pretty evident that the magic over the years has faded.

Various inadequacies or shortcomings acted as nails in the coffin where Assamese cinema lies today. As the primary audience of these films, we should take the responsibility of keeping the industry alive, which we can easily do by watching the films in the theatres. But how often do we go to movie theatres to watch an Assamese film?

People in Assam tend to accept things quickly, now its hard to say whether it’s flexibility or insensibility. We have enough flexibility to accept all the Hindi films that seize the movie theatres every Friday, but lack the sensibility to lend our support to our regional films. The film industries of the South, or even the Bengali film industry is flourishing, because of the local audience they get. The locals give a higher preference to their regional films. Whereas, the culture of going to the theatre for an Assamese movie has almost vanished in our state. There are two reasons for this.

2 4 Firstly, there prevails a dearth of good writers and film directors in Assam. Quality films can only be made if we have professionally trained and creative people in the industry. We need filmmakers who can tell original and engaging stories to their audience. Again for good scripts, one has to give immense importance to research.

. Redefined and Limitless Storytelling

Secondly, from the early 2000s to about 2010-12, a very pathetic trend of VCDs (Video CDs) started in Assam. Unskilled and unprofessional people started to produce small scale VCD movies which were worthless and insignificant. This lowered the status of Assamese cinema. People started resorting to this affordable way of entertainment. This also led to the closure of some of the cinema theatres in small towns, as people ceased coming to the theatres, instead bought a VCD player and VCDs for cheap entertainment.

Another reason why Assamese films don’t get the audience, is the lack of awareness about the films. Film promotion is one of the best way to do a larger business. Sometimes, average films do great business only because of active promotions. Assamese films are not promoted enough, mostly due to budget constraints, and hence do not yield the desired as well as deserved results.Be it Tamil, or Telugu, or Bengali, or Marathi, these flourishing regional film industries are getting adequate support from their governments. The same can be done by the Assam government as well. The first and the foremost thing, the governme nt can do is to increase the number of screens Assam has. Even the big multiplexes of Guwahati having 2 to 4 screens do not provide justice to the Assamese films. Government funded cinema theatres should be built, where people can watch films at a subsidised price, because going out for a movie in a multiplex is still expensive for most of the people. Also, there must be some theatres to showcase only Assamese films, be it new or old classics.Accordingly, by doing so, our government can support filmmakers in distribution of their films. Film distribution is a game that many independent filmmakers, sometimes even noted filmmakers, lose, as it’s a costly affair. For example, Jahnu Barua’s film “Bhoga Khirikee” did not even get the minimum screens it deserved, especially in Guwahati. Hence, could not reach the audience

2 5 Accordingly, by doing so, our government can support filmmakers in distribution of their films. Film distribution is a game that many independent filmmakers, sometimes even noted filmmakers, lose, as it’s a costly affair. For example, Jahnu Barua’s film “Bhoga Khirikee” did not even get the minimum screens it deserved, especially in Guwahati. Hence, could not reach the audience.

Another step, the government can take is to promote and develop the Bhupen Hazarika Regional Government Film and Television Institute, so that the industry gets trained and professional people, at least in the technical fields.

One of the most important factor is money. The Assam State Film Finance & Development Corporation should be made New Age Masterpieces more active and the government should increase the production capacity of the organization through steady and adequate flow of finance. Filmmakers like Rima Das, whose films- Village Rockstars & Bulbul Can Sing were screened at film festivals all over the world, struggled to promote an. distribute her films on a large scale. The government should realise that organizing glamorous award functions will not help our filmmakers or our artistic industry flourish.

So, let us do our part in making our regional film industry prosper by supporting the films in the theatre.

Classics of Veterans

2 6 IS THE CATALYST OF THE “LONGEST” BUDGET ENOUGH TO FIGHT SLOWDOWN?

Namrata Nandi and Parbin Sultana Saikia

The golden bird of India was gifted with yet another admirably strategic Bahikhata, Budget 2020, “the one with vision as well as action”- as proudly held by Prime Minister of India Narendra Modi. However, the Indian economy has been undergoing a very rough patch recently, with GDP growth rate below 5%, and unemployment rate at 6.1%, being the highest in the last four decades, according to NSSO raising key concern. The private consumption expenditure growth rate saw a huge crash from 11% to 3% between the last two quarters. The manufacture sector is moving towards stagnation, led by dismal performance of the automobile industry. The IMF has lowered India’s economic growth forecast to 4.8% for this fiscal year and it has also slashed down the world’s estimated growth rate. The IMF Chief Economist, Gita Gopinath said in a blog post that the biggest contributor to the revision of global economic growth was India, where growth slowed down drastically owing to stress in the non-banking financial sector and weak rural income growth. India’s net export, one the four key components of the GDP, has been in the negative zone for decades, providing a big drag on its growth story. India’s Trade Balance recorded a deficit of 15.2 USD billion in January, 2020, as updated by Ministry of Commerce and Industry. The higher the negative trade balance, the higher is the current account deficit (CAD) and thus, higher the drag of foreign exchange reserve. This has been a cause of prolonged anxiety. Such a grave slowdown in the economy is attributed mainly to structural causes and bottlenecks in the manufacturing sector, along with a severe fiscal situation and the actual fiscal deficit nearing to 3.8% calls for bold structural reform in expenditure, tax and deficit management.

2 7 The silver lining is that crises bring about reforms and there is no reason not to be optimistic in this situation. Budget 2020 is admirably pragmatic and is expected to serve the required growth needs in multiple sectors in both rural and urban areas. The longest budget speech by Finance Minister Nirmala Sitharaman unveiled several reforms aimed at energizing the Indian Economy. This Union Budget has been structured with an overall theme of “ease of living”. Major highlights include farmer-friendly initiatives such as the agricultural credit target of Rs. 15 lakh crore for 2020-21, and the scheme of ‘Kishan Rail’ and ‘Krishi Udaan’ for a seamlessly national cold supply chain for perishables. The budget proposes more than 20,000 empanelled hospitals under Prime Minister’s Jan Arogya Yojana for poor people and infrastructure is slotted to received a boost with the proposal for 100 more airports and 5 new smart cities by 2024 through PPP model. An appreciable step is the proposal to establish Indian Institute of Heritage and Conservation. To simplify the tax system and to lower tax rate, around 70 of more than 100 income tax deduction and exemption has been removed, rendering tax payer with three tax slabs. Under this system, tax payer have the liberty to choose the new tax slab by foregoing exemptions. Other highlights include :- Tax on cooperative societies reduced to 22% without exemption.

Aadhar based verification of tax payer proposed to be introduced to weed out dummy or non-existent units.

Start-ups with turnover Rs. 100 crore to enjoy 100% deduction for three consecutive assessment years out of 10 years, which is phenomenal step to boost up investment and business potential in the country.

To help bank depositors and foster faith in the system, the government has increased depositors’ insurance to Rs. 5 lakhs from current Rs. 1 lakh.

To promote transparency in the administrative recruitment, new common entrance test for non-gazetted government jobs and public sector banks has been proposed.

This budget sets an ambitious target of expanding India’s economy from the current $2.7 trillion by 2024. However, this target seems farfetched as it requires a real GDP growth rate of 8% which is much higher than the current rate of budget.

Whether this plan for 2020 has enough muscle to fight slowdown is still a question, as it is not free from loopholes. The bewildering three tax slab system could increase complicacy and TDS threshold did not find any mention in the budget as formerly promised in interim 2019-20. Instead of surcharge tax rates for the super-rich, imposition of a wealth tax regime is believed to be more beneficial for revenue generation in a developing economy, as it does not make the economy uncompetitive. Budget 2020 scored a ‘big miss’ in the defense and job sectors, as these key heads did not get much attention even in the longest budget even after being India’s biggest pain points. The government plan to sell part of its holding in the LIC could reduce financial security and public faith. Current economic slowdown is mainly attributed to the shortfall of aggregate demand whereas budget 2020 seems to focus only on the supply side, neglecting consumer perspective. Amidst such crises, more prudent steps such as adoption of zero-based budgeting, models of direct benefit transfer (DBT), tax rebates, indirect tax reductions, reforming custom duties to help correct the unfavorable Balance of Payment situation and boost aggregate demand, need to be taken. However, the quote by Swami Vivekananda, “Take risk in your life; if you win, you can lead; if you lose, you can guide”, could stand out to be India’s ‘mantra’ for growth.

2 8 “ALCOHOL TOURISM PRODUCT – Chakpa Phayeng BECAUSE NO Fiza Chowdhury GREAT STORY EVER STARTED Chakpa Phayeng is one of the indigenous liquor of Manipur. It is also widely known as ‘YU’ in Manipur, ‘YU’ WITH means liquor in Meitei. Phayeng, origin place of Chakpa Phayeng, is a small village in Imphal West district of SOMEONE Manipur, India. The local people of Manipur not only produce ‘YU’ for consumption purpose, it is also used for EATING A SALAD” medical purposes. Its production is a cultural ritual followed by Manipuri people, which has been passed down from generation to generation. The ingredients of the ancient method of preparing Phayeng is simple; they use rice and yeast and store it for a number of days which never exceeds a year. As time passes, people have begun producing different flavours like pineapple, banana and other fruits, to have a wide variation of choice. People use the first distilled drop of Chakpa Phayeng, known as ‘kallei’, for medicinal purposes. It cures headaches and other diseases. 1l of Chakpa phayeng costs around ₹800 - ₹900 approx. Chakpa Phayeng should be encouraged because the wine tourism is boasting up, tourist are interested in knowing the process of how alcohol is made. So promoting tourism will bring more FTAs (Foreign Tourist Arrivals) and FEEs (Foreign Exchange Earning). Wine tourism will also bring Global attention towards the region, and allow it to have a global market standing. Furthermore, tourists can enjoy other tourist attractions of the Phayeng village and uncover its full potential as a tourist destination. After recently hosting the World Tourism Day celebration, the village, one of the oldest in Manipur, has now become a vibrant tourist hotspot of the state. Known for its sustainable tourism, the village is considered one of the scared places of the state as cutting down trees and spitting is prohibited here. Therefore, their efforts should be encouraged by the government through subsidies and exhibitions where the ‘YU’ can be show cased. Government should try to promote novel areas for betterment of the country. The changes will bring newness into society. The Chakpa Phayeng festival is celebrated every year in the month of April and everyone is welcomed!

A word of caution: Alcohol should be consumed in a limited about because excess of it might harm your health. SO LIMITED DRINKING MORE THINKING.

Bagurumba chasing away the blues by Reema Swargiary, (M.A 2nd English)

2 9 THROUGH THE EYES OF RENE GIRARD Petrus Baraik

A group of tourists were watching the spectacular sight of Niagara Falls falling from about 167 feet height. They were enjoying the glorious fall when they noticed a carcass floating and edging towards the waterfall retreat, and upon it was seated a vulture, digging its claws into the rotten flesh. It was busy eating the rotten meat of the carcass, without being aware of where it had reached and the impending danger ahead. People were watching this sight with great curiosity and were waiting to see whether the vulture would fly away or die falling into the gorge. To everyone's surprise, the vulture fell along with the carcass into the plunge pool and died.

The vulture stands for each individual who is engrossed in seemingly attractive but intrinsically rotten things. Buddha said, “Desire is the root cause of all evil”. Human beings desire things. It is innate to animal and human beings. Rene Girard gives an interesting theory of Mimetic Desire that enlightens us to understand the desire in us. He says, it is not an autonomous process but a collective one. We want things because other people want them. We want things that others have. This can be things, information, persons, power, experience, influence or ideology. As long as we are far, we admire each other. The moment we are put together, we look at each other as threats.

In an experiment, two babies were introduced to a room full of toys. One baby picked up a toy. The other saw it and ignoring the other toys, wanted to have the same toy that the first baby picked. This is what he calls Mimetic Desire. The second baby copied the desire of the first. Hence, for the second baby, the first baby becomes a model to emulate and also a competitor who is a potential threat. There is a conflict between them to have the same toy. This conflict is due to the scarcity of the desired object.

3 0 Historically, mimetic conflicts have been managed through scapegoat mechanism. If for a community, conflict over scarce objects or resources become too intense, it looked for a scapegoat or a sacrifice, literally or metaphorically. The moment the sacrifice is accomplished, there is peace for some time. The moment, next conflict arises, there is hunt for a new scapegoat. Over the ages, human society have managed conflicts by excluding and scapegoating someone whom they considered, a potential threat. Fear of the "other" or "competitor" constantly haunts us even now. Most of the narratives in the world are fixed in the play of mimetic desire and scapegoating. Mimetic desire and scapegoatism is playing its trick in every sphere of our society, in politics, sports, business, economy, fashion, entertainment, dominant ideologies like consumerism, globalization etc. Where to look up to? Buddha talked of desire to be the root cause of all problems and Jesus presented himself as the supreme sacrifice after which no sacrifice is required to bring peace, provided we love our "enemy".

Indigenous Thespians by Reema Swargiary, (M.A 2nd English)

3 1 PHOTO STOCK

Coming of Age by Shraya Chowdhury (BA Sociology 4th sem)

Dignity of labour by Reema Swargiary, (M.A 2nd English)

Youthful courtship by Reema Swargiary, (M.A 2nd English)

Handmade Heritage by Shraya Chowdhury (BA Sociology 4th sem)

3 2 In the Edens of Assam by Reema Swargiary, M.A 2nd English (3)

A treat for sore eyes - Wei Sawdong, Meghalaya by Asifa Jahan Nuri, MA 2nd Geography

Endangered crossroads by Shraya Chowdhury (BA Sociology 4th sem)

Redefining universality of motherly love by Marvin Nameirakpam (BA Sociology 6th sem)

3 3

In Art Zayn - Angel or the spawn of Satan by Deba Pratim Bora BA 6th English

A Maze of Masterpieces by Techi Tagu Tara BFA 6th Sem Medium opaque

Blooms of myriad hues by Petrus Baraik 2nd sem BFA Medium acrylic on canvas Challenging Norms of Masculinity by Pringsrang W Sangma 6th sem medium Acrylic on Canvas 3 4 Puddle of the neon hues by Ankita Das 2nd Sem BFA Medium opaque

War and deceit by Partha Pratim Goswami, BA 6th English

Red Indian Little Boy by Edajingsuk Sungoh (BA Political Science 4th sem)

A dainty bug by Subhalaxmi Dutta (BA 6th English)

3 5 A picturesque palmy afternoon at RGU. Bode Swuro 2nd Sem BFA Medium Watercolor G R O U P B

R o y a l S c h o o l o f L a n g u a g e s R o y a l S c h o o l o f h u m a n i t i e s a n d s c o c i a l s c i e n c e s R o y a l S c h o o l o f F i n e A r t s R o y a l S c h o o l o f H o t e l M a n a g e m e n t R o y a l S c h o o l o f L a w & A d m i n i s t r a t i o n R o y a l S c h o o l o f T r a v e l & T o u r i s m M a n a g e m e n t