...THE JOKE: IT WAS AN ENGLISH CLASS

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Hey guys, Sushant here...up with an article, called 
 'ENGLISH CLASSES.'

For most of my childhood, my impression about an english class was like:

But, as we all know, The greatest events in life often occur unplanned. Well,  the idea of authoring this blog alongside my co author(s) was one such unplanned event, which no doubt, is induced by the offensive attitude by our college towards literature....
I would like to share my present conditions in the english classes, rather consider this to be the description of  my eternally prolonging massacre...(I do come up with crazy stuff.)

My co author(s) and I come from a school where our literary talents were born. (assuming we have them, well, you decide) We are trained in English grammar to a sorta professional level. ( damn, I do make up things pretty quick.) (All thanks to the greatest english teacher I've ever met, Tr.Mary Fernandes)

So, when we entered our college for the first time, I never would have imagined that a college with such wonderful infrastucture, could even throw up such low standard of English lectures!...
from the day on which i first attended my english classes, i started turning into an insomniac..."is this happening for real!?" i used to ponder...

  
So, Here's a fragment of what once happened in my english class. I'll narrate the situation here:




The fan was spinning its day out, as grumpily as the rest of us. It was the dusk of summer and the monsoons were yet to start. It was thus quite hot and humid most of the day....
It was an English class. The usual time for it was just before the lunch break, around 1pm. The class usually lasted for an hour, draining the much needed enthusiasm which I don't know why or when it would be used. 

It was only the beginning of the first year in my college and not many classes had passed, clearly I had no idea of how the staff really was. (My first impression although, proved to be right.)  
The lecturer walked into the class and stepped on the mini stage. (she was really short so she had to do so.) She picked up a chalk and wrote the title on the board, "GRAMMER." 
I almost died.
I sank into my desk and a rally of thoughts raged through my head.
"Are you serious!?"
"Am I where I really am!?"
"Is this a nightmare!? My my...is this really happening!?"

Just then, my pal sittting right beside me, rose up to the situation and pulled me out of my misery.
He just said, "dude, we are in !@#$. What do you expect?" (thats just the college name i am trying to hide, thanks to my kindness. No abuses)

It was a while later when when i realised that i had been thinkning about it for almost half an hour and the word "grammEr" was now replaced by 'Do as directed.' I looked around the class, just casually. I found faces worn and torn by the tormenting lectures.
 (I later found out that they were caught under a partial hypnotism, while in the pursuit of comprehending on what was being taught.)
The class went on normally for a few minutes. 

The lecturer had asked us to frame a sentence using the word written on the board. She had written four words before and I had already framed sentences using them....piece of cake.

Then...the fifth word followed, "THREAT." Yeah, what's so special? I framed another sentence on the go. But, when the lecturer prononced the word, the class was like:

The class burst into laughter when the lecturer pronounced the word threat as "THREET"

I was like:

....and

   

Come on man...you call yourself an english professor and you can't even pronounce a word? You've gotta be kidding me!!! 
Yet, you are like:

 THIS WAS ONE OF THOSE CHRONICLES...

ONE PIECE OF ADVICE: 

KEEP YOUR MIND OPEN AND KEEP READING WRITERS' RETREAT TO STAY UNHYPNOTISED!

-SUSHANT KULKARNI
sushya28@gmail.com

REVOLUTION! (sounds scary?)

                           REVOLUTION

Hi guys... This is Sushant, a co-author of  'Writers' Retreat'. 

Surely, the name suggests, 'retreat'.. which is a clear indication of  a unified war against 'THE LITERATURE DESTROYERS' (I just made that up. But you do get the point right? )**

We live in a world in which greatest literary works, epics and plays, are made a mockery of, by their transformation into movies....(one such disaster : Percy Jackson)(the movie, i ain't talking about the book)  

Now come on... are you going to tolerate this for life!? Are we just gonna keep quiet and let the 'literature destroying aura' (I made up that as well :P) take control over our minds!? Its time to bring our perspectives and perceptions into action!

Yeah, just like my buddy (#Ashutosh)  said earlier in his blog about the 'quick and reflex-y' review given by the college faculty (well, I'll spare them by not quoting the college name for now, or great violence may follow ) did really offend me as well, in fact it would offend any literature lover... 

I won't repeat what my buddy said earlier, but remember, you've gotta give your BEST! 

So, Its time to take your pens out and get ready for war, because they really are mightier than swords! (uh wait, i guess we might prefer keyboards these days, but anything will do.)

Cheers,

SUSHANT KULKARNI :)

**Retreat, in the title actually refers to a place used as shelter or where one can gather his/her thoughts.

DISTORTED MELODIES

And this, the second one:

DISTORTED MELODIES

Many a moon had passed

Since creation’s seventh day.

Faced by Judgment, man was asked,

(Or so the legends say)

“For aeons thou haft lived a lie.

Thy end thou see’st now!

Yet thou art not awry.

To this, what say’st thou?

Speak well, O pawn of God,

For the morrow thou shalt not see.

Choose thy words of gold or of sod,

Thy final words they shalt be!”

Then’st spake the wisest man;

“The truth it is, thou speak:

We live a lie. From truth we ran.

Our hearts, our souls are weak.

Yet, this I ask of thee,

For angels of God thou art!

(thou art) Symbols of love that thou have us see;

Doth thou, indeed have hearts?

Born of melodies that distorted rang,

We are creatures worthy of love!

We lived in fear, in His praise we sang,

From creation’s ocean, to existence’s cove.

Beyond the skies and into the stars

The thing called ‘Perfection’ we chased.

Yet imperfection we embraced as ours,

For of it we were made.

Thee, who, of perfection, are born,

And know no fear, and know not death;

And the Seven Poisons who scorn.

I ask the so upon my last breath:

Is Envy not thy fatal flaw?

Of that envy, are we not the cause?

Is that not what He saw,

That thou art now disavowed?

We, whose life is but a moment’s flash,

And live it to the fullest through every bend,

Know not which day shalt be our last,

Thus, have no regrets at the very end.

Thus, drowned forever, in envy of us,

The world shalt not remember thee!

How bravely we fought, how fiercely we loved,

(tales of) Our valor shalt legend be!”

And then’st spoke, in his benign glory, He,

In a voice like the autumn sun:

“Well spoken, my beloved being,

For, afore perfection, thou haft won.”

-Ashutosh Galgali

THE FROST WRAITH

This was one of the poems I mentioned in the intro:

THE FROST WRAITH

The heavens look upon the Earth,

With dark, sunken eyes.

The air is calm, yet shows no mirth,

And clouds still line the sky.

The sky, having cried three months long,

Is pacified once more,

But you still can’t hear the birds’ song,

Which all but none adore!

Winter’s season is upon us,

With its cold, frosty bite.

You may not rush, nor make a fuss,

Just sit by fires, bright!

The harshness of the sun relents,

It is now pleasant and pale.

The fields are filled with wayside scents,

And the stiff wind yet not a gale.

The fields feel that they are blest;

For in rich hues they bloom.

It seems as if the Winter Harvest

Makes up for the gloom!

Then from the west, the Wraith appears,

The mighty spirit of frost!

She brings with her a herald of fear,

And joy that can’t be lost.

The air, once more, is filled with joy;

With young ones’ mirth, the day bright.

The wraith-like luminescence in every eye

Welcomes with joy, the Winter’s White!!!

-Ashutosh Galgali

Intro

Introduction

          We live in times when creative writing is fast losing its importance among the youth of our generation (trust me, I know. I happen to be one of the youth of our generation). Let me narrate an anecdote. Being a writer of sorts, I took the trouble of supplying the college I attend with some of my works (which I did only because they asked me for them) to publish in the college magazine. And when I did, you’d suppose they’d be pleased to publish them, right? WRONG! They said, (and I quote), “He must’ve copied them from the internet”.

          So I suppose I took it rather offensively and the result of it was this blog. I came up with this because I’m sure all around, there must be people like me, struggling to find a stage to show off (in the good sense, of course). So if there’s anyone out there, who would like to contribute your works of literature, be it articles, stories, poems, prose, we would like to bring it before the world. Please contact any one of us:

amgalgali@gmail.com 
sushya28@gmail.com

Thank you for visiting!!!