Star Wars: Lost Stars - Claudia Gray [Book Review]

Star Wars: Lost Stars (2015)
Author - Claudia Gray
Genre - Science Fiction

A tale of two lovers with allegiance to opposite sides in a seemingly endless war.

🌟🌟🌟🌟

Thane Kyrell is an upper class boy and Ciena Ree a rural villager from the backwater planet of Jelucan. They are united by their love of flying and joining the Imperial Navy. Everything is surreal until Thane, witnessing the myriad atrocities committed by the Empire - topmost of which was destruction of an entire planet, finally loses faith in the Empire and decides to defect from his post of Lieutenant in the Imperial Fleet to join the Rebel Alliance. Now witnessing the war from opposite sides, they are racked with constant fear of meeting each other in the battlefield, all along nursing their flaming love for each other.

The book was just amazing. Though I've not watched the original trilogy of Star Wars - the backdrop of Lost Stars, I still managed to get thorough enjoyment out of the book. This book, to me, gave me the exact feels when I watched The Force Awakens, the first of Star Wars movie that I watched. Though I'd still wish Star Wars would lose that elementary Dark-Light chasm shit and mix the whole thing into glorious shades of grey. (Can I be excused if I say I didn't intend it to come out this way?) But this book does tread a bit of my fantasy with one of the leads being a cynic and pointing out that people from both sides: the Rebels and the Empire considered themselves to be doing the right thing and the other trying to sabotage them.

Despite not being an avid Star Wars fan I finished reading the book in less than five days. I just couldn't put it down. I can't begin to imagine what it would be like to a fan of the franchise.

The Immortalists - Chloe Benjamin [Book Review]

Book - The Immortalists
Author - Chloe Benjamin
Genre - Literary Fiction
Year Published - 2018

Does knowing about your death change the way you live your life?

☆☆☆

The Immortalists regales the story of four siblings: Daniel, the stoic oldest brother; Klara, the rebellious magician; Simon, the repressed youngest child and Varya, the pragmatist who seek out a fortune teller in 1969 and the fortune teller tells the children individually the exact dates they are going to die. The novel follows the story of each sibling - with their wildly different personalities - how they live knowing full well exactly when they are going to die. The major question the novel asks is whether it was fate that led the children to their prophesied demise or did they self-fulfill the prophesy.
The story-telling is rivetting, all the Gold children are super interesting, their disparate goals and lifestyles fun to read about (except the death part). The book is divided into sections, each one following different siblings. The first section is about Simon, who is to die at the age of 22 according to the prophesy. He goes to California and decides to make some risky choices and later contracts AIDS because of them and meets his demise on the prophesied date. Likewise, the theme of whether they were destined to die or was is their choices that self-fulfilled the prophesy is recurrent with every sibling hereon after. Despite not believing the prophesy, it still affects how they live their lives.
The book is an easy read, the pacing quick, the premise interesting nothing I can complain about those though I still felt up until the last page that this book was going to give me an answer stringing the siblings' death together through something - be it science or the supernatural or something. I found the ending provided by the author very lacking and misleading altogether, especially after the first chapter about the gypsy seer.

Kasari Bhanu – Swoopna Suman - Samsakaran (2017) [Lyrics and English Translation]

Andhyaro Chha Yo Raat Aaja Kina Laamo Lagdai Chha?

Sanyau Kolte Feri Sake Tara Nindra Aaudaina

Sadhai Jhai Aajapani Juna Chamki Rahexa

Tara Badal Pari Luki Malai Jiskauchha Kina?

The night is dark today and feels overlong

I’ve tossed and turned a hundred times

 but sleep still eludes me

As always the moon is sparkling overhead

But why does it tease me from its 

hiding place behind the clouds?

Ho… Aaja Dherai Pachhi Timi Sanga Boleko

Tara Juni Bityo Hola Maile Mutu Sumpeko

Sadhai Jhai Aaja Pani Kura Adhuro Nai Rahyo

Bhanchhu Bhane Man Ka Kura Tyo Mutu Mai Lukyo

Yes... it had been a while since we last spoke

But perhaps it’s been an age that I’ve lost my heart to you

Like always our conversation today was incomplete

What I planned to say never escaped my heart

Kasari Bhanu Timilai?

Timro Aankha Ma Euta Jaadu Chha

Timro Muskuraune Parama Euta Beglainai Aavaash Chha

Khai Ta Timle Bujeko?

Kina Mutu Mero Choreko?

Ajhai Yaad Chha Timile Pahilo Palta Malai Chhoyeko

How do I say it to you?

Your gaze holds a surreal magic

Your smile elicits a novel tranquil feeling in me

Why wouldn't you get it that it is you who has stolen my heart?

I still remember the first time you touched me

Thaha Chhaina Timi Ko Hau Mero

Thaha Chhaina Kasari Aayou

Tara Samjhera Timilai Haraune Garchhu Ma

Sochera Timilai Nindaune Garchhu Ma

I don't know what you are to me

I don't know how you came around to be (what you are to me)

But I keep getting lost in your thoughts

My sleep is only fantasies about you

Laa…Laa…Laa…Laaa…

Chiso Chiso Mausam Tara Yo Mutu Nyano Chha

Sirani Lai Angalera Tolauchhu Kina?

Chaldai Chha Batas Herana Badhai Chha Yo Dhadkan

Aankha Ko Saamu Timi Dekhdai Chhu Kina?

The weather is cool but my heart warm enough

Why do I space out clutching my pillow?

The wind is blowing and my heartbeat racing

Why am I conjuring you infront of my eyes?

Hoo. Aaja Dherai Pachhi Timi Sanga Boleko

Kina Timi Dekhdai Nau Maile Mutu Sumpeko

Kasari Pokhu Timilai Mero Man Ma Lukeka Kura Chhan

Jati Tadha Huna Khojchhu Uti Maya Badhai Janxa Chhan

Khai Ta Timle Bujheko Timile Nai Mutu Chhoreko

Ajhai Yaad Chha Timile Malai Herdai Muskurayeko

  

Yes... it had been a while since we last spoke

Why cannot you see that I’ve lost my heart to you?

How do I divulge my heart’s true confessions?

The more I try to distance myself from you,

my love for you grows even stronger

Why wouldn't you get it that it is you who has stolen my heart?

I still remember you smiling when you looked over at me

Thaha Chhaina Timi Ko Hau Mero

Thaha Chhaina Kasari Aayou

Tara Samjhera Timilai Haraune Garchhu Ma

Sochera Timilai Nindaune Garchhu Ma

I don't know what you are to me

I don't know how you came around to be (what you are to me)

But I keep getting lost in your thoughts

My sleep is only fantasies about you

Composition/Lyrics/Vocals - Swoopna Suman

Abum: Samsakaran (2017)

The Accidental Creative - Todd Henry [FRESH Technique]

The Accidental Creative explains how you can unearth and carefully manage your creative potential. The book explains how everyone has that "creativity potential" and the tools to unleash that dormant possibility by a technique to stay FRESH (focus, relationships, energy, stimuli and hour)

The book starts off with Three Assassins of Creativity:

1. Dissonance

2. Fear

3. Expectation Escalation

Now, let's look at each of the keys to creative insights:

Focus : A lack of focus comes from two key factors : unhealthy assumptions and ping. The former arises because our brains are preconditioned to predict what's going to happen based off of past experiences and the latter is the sudden and uncontrollable urge to divert your focus and respond to those pings of social media. In order to parry them off, we must do three things:

           - define your work

           - refine your work

           - cluster your similar tasks together

Relationship : To build strong relationships, there are three main strategies:

             - start a circle (friends and colleagues)

             - head to heads (one-on-one meetings)

             - establishing a core team (long-term student-teacher relationships)

Energy : Though the brain is only 2% of our total body weight, it uses 20% of the available total energy. Ergo, if we're tired or low on energy, we won't be able to function properly. Author Tony Schwartz says we're most productive when switching between periods of high focus and intermittent rest. Also, every month, "prune away" the least effective and the most energy draining activity in your life.

Stimuli : To help you effectively manage your challenging, relevant and diverse stimuli, there are three things you should do:

            - cultivate (while making study plans, allocate 25% to the areas relevant to your job where you lack information, 25% to your blind spots and the stuff that will benefit you in the wider sense, and remaining 50% to your passion.)

             - process (take notes on your insights, review and extrapolate a pattern there.)

             - experience (get out there, live a little)

Hours : Apart from putting in efforts to your passion everyday, the author recommends incorporating fun activities to your routine.

A High School Story [Part - I]

Autumn was oncoming. Wind had gathered a bit of pace and the sun's boisterous energy was on the wane. It was also the first day of my high school. Me and my friends from our secondary school had decided on Western Academy of Computer Science (WACS) for bearing the setting for our high school adventures. 

"I hope our class has some pretty girls."

"God, let the principle be lenient in matters of tardiness"

Our conversation entailed the usual stuff as we were making our way towards the school gate. Brown, withered leaves eddied with the wind all around us. I was particularly rapt in one of these protracted eddies of swirling leaves when after a harmless giggle someone speared into my back. I, along with the girl, fell over, somehow ending up - as it is wont to do in these type of stories - in an embrace as we collided with the asphalt. Though the leads in so many of  romantic stories don't seem to register any pain incurred through such collision, I can personally vouch that it hurt like hell when I fell that day. It was a full week before I would let anyone ever so touch me on my shoulder blades. Though perhaps the pain of the leads are quelled - if not miraculously unfelt - by having a gorgeous pair of alarmed eyes sharing the fall with them. That was not the case for me. First up, my partner in this embarrassing montage was this chubby clumsy neighbor of mine, with I went to school with as well. And secondly, did I mention chubby, alright, I did. The whole crowd of on-lookers erupted in a laugh as we got up.

Embarrassment level - 110%

That too on the first day of school. Not off to a flying start I was hoping for.

"You have eyes." I fumed. " Ever thought about using them once a while."

"Ever thought about the general etiquette of not stopping dead still on the road when people are walking behind you."

That was Omita Gurung, my quick-with-a-reposte next door neighbor.  

"You're the one to talk --"

"Zip it, shorty." Omita walked off with her friend who was asking if she was hurt.

"Damn bro. You just set the precedence for an awkward first day of high school." My fiend, Yogesh, chided through his cackle. I had a uncalled-for feeling of punching his face in.

If he was not so painfully right. 

Rapunzel - A Dark Fairy Tale

Some days I like to imagine that I'm Rapunzel, although not as pretty, locked up in an ivory tower - just switch those ivories with bricks and that tower with a whorehouse while you're at it. The setting's far from fairytale-like now, is it? Anyway, I wonder for a moment why protagonists in every fairy tale are exceedingly... beautiful.

Pinching my mouth to one corner in a travesty of a pout, I ponder the asinine question for a while but break into a snort as I discover its asininity.

Asininity. The word sounds funny. I almost say it out loud for a chuckle. Slippery syllables strung together like a garland of hyperbolic promises.

"Radha, a costumer. Report to the lobby."

My brain screeches, almost makes me jump. Savita Di, our curator's shadow darts across the corridor to summon other nymphets of the brothel.

A sluggish minute later, a panoply of nymphets gather around in the lobby, flavors of flowers for our nectar-fancying honeybee to choose from. He looks rich - gentleman-like, Savita Di would say - middle-aged, probably no more than thirty-five, and ever so slightly scruffy beneath his suit and tie. His gaze travels from one deflowered blossom to another before his eyes balk on mine, a mere bud amid the blossoms.

His mouth twitches; for a moment, I feel like he is repulsed by the mere sight of me. He nods towards me wordlessly. And just like that everybody around me dissipates to their rooftop quarters in this ivory tower.

In silence, I make my way to my room. The client follows me wordlessly as I ascend the stairs and walk through the door. A slice of light peers through the gap in the curtains and onto the edge of my bed, reminding me it's close on sunset.  Close on the end of another day of accursed living. As a custom, I sit down at the edge of my under-stuffed bed - the one that has seen too many dances, the one that knows too much about me, more than I'd like anyone or anything to.

I let my eyes slowly fall on the face of my guest this evening. I used to imagine in the early days of mine that I wasn't looking at a client but an endearing husband who after having toiled tirelessly abroad for many years has finally returned and is seeking the warm love of his wife for this one gloriously awaited night. It made what followed easier. But after not few of some horrendous incidents from not-so-empathetic clients, I have learned to harden my resolve and not resort to fanciful reveries. But this evening that feeling somehow returns and trembles like a burgeoning fire inside my breast. My client's lips are disturbed in what I can only deduce is a smile. After a plateau of drawn-out hesitation, I reciprocate his gesture. He steps closer to my bed bathing in the crowning rays of the sunset. It makes him gleam; washed up in gold, he looks stately. My imagination runs amok once again. I picture him as my knight in shining armor, the savior who will whisk me away from this life fraught by iteration of countless death. Only his steely eyes betray the spell.

He takes a step forward into the unenchanted static light filling the rest of the room. And the moment is gone. With a curt gesture, he ensconces  himself beside me on the bed. I trail my gaze from his eyes, down his torso, his leg up to my thigh where his bent knee slightly touches me. Leeching my momentary lack of repose to feed his dignified tranquility. 

He takes my hand into his delicately like it was a withered peepal leaf that he found between the pages of an old book. My eyes trace traces of old wounds on his hands. White remnants of slits and cuts that gradually climb up his arms like mehandi on a bride's hands. He relinquishes my hands in favor of my chin so my deadpan gaze will find him. His face is unblemished, unlike his arms. Like he has nothing to hide, unlike me. Running his fingers along the contours of my cheek so lightly that my skin finds it difficult to register his touch, he lets his lips curve ever so slightly upwards.

"You're beautiful." he says. I want him to say more; delineate to me a beautifully poignant description of my lashes, my lips, my face but he says nothing else. He has that spark in his eyes that he lacked earlier but the rest of his body is incapable of following suit. 

Dusk has made the ambience grainy when we are done with our performance. The voyeuristic light is gone, like me, courteously dying its ritualistic death. 

A for Adolescence [Slam Poetry]

A for adolescence and anxiety

B is for break-ups and break-downs

C for cursing cravings of cigarettes

D for dick pics and depression

E for elegant attires and economic hardships

F to the fucking future of society

G for the god of social media

H for the #hubriticheavenofhighschool

I is for the indispensable internet  

J for "j paye tei" to every

K for dozer-kanda, jems-kanda and bhut-kanda 

L is for love, lust and loneliness

M for the middle finger to the migraine-inducing media

N for the noose you want to hang yourself from

O for OMG! and OCD! and OVER!

P for poverty, politics and porn

Q is for those queasy feelings you keep quietly entrapped

R for the rioters and renegades

S for sex and swaggy filers on snapchats

T for twitter and tumblr trends

U is for un-fuckin-believable unemployment rates

V for the sweet violin voice of violence 

W for who, where, when and whatsapp

X is for X,X and X

Y for the useless years of youth

And finally Z for the zero that we all are