INTO THE DARKEST TRENCHES OF OCEANIA!

War is Peace!

Ignorance is Strength!

Freedom is Slavery!

It's an accepted fact that 1984 is the OG of all dystopian thrillers. Long ago, I watched a dark science fiction movie by the name "Zero Theorem". It certainly gave me an understanding of the world in its advanced age of revolution and technology. That was cataclysmic enough to portray the evils of a power-intoxicated Mankind. This book is a fictional account of how through the eyes of a man called Winston Smith, George Orwell imagines our world's political landscape in the year 1984. Winston is a duty-bound citizen of Oceania immersed in waves of mass cults constantly proclaiming their nationalism and love for a staunch authoritarian saviour,' Big Brother'. Bound by terrifyingly unique ministries and Party protocols, Oceania keeps waging wars against Eurasia and Eastasia in order to maintain the internal social pyramid. After all, Hierarchy yields power and Ingsoc (English Socialism) is fuelled by fear and feudalism. A great author invents his/her own language. Newspeak, the official language of Oceania is Orwell's sinister brainchild. As we advance through the pages, a feeling of horror and panic engulfs our minds pushing us to speculate if we really are a part of a similar world today. Dominated by Social Media and Spyware, chained to the invisible rhythm have we finally become the sheep of an Orwellian farm?

"Under the spreading Chestnut Tree, I sold you and You sold me.", says Winston to his girlfriend Julia. It goes without saying that Love conquers all except Fear.

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THE CASTLE OF HOPE AND FAITH!

THE CHARIOT OF OUR ANGELS! After so many phases of colour transformations, finally, our bus has become yellow....Yellow????.sigh........ Anyway, I've seen blue with penguins but not this. Sometimes I hate our buses for chasing us away with our books and lunch boxes during the casual turns...so much remodelling..so many cras.....ssshhhesss... oopsie!!! I didn't mean to say that...Well..now it's a vibrant bucket of bolts...good! THE GRAND GATEWAY! It's hard for me to not keep thinking about our old watchman. Sharp at 8:45 these huge pair of gates would be closed.There would be a little door too...for other people to enter..and the notice board that you see right there always captivated us during monsoons....we'd wait for some holiday notes to be written so we could run back home. Emails or Phones or WhatsApp didn't exist then. Though these gates did scare us a few times...it very well taught us the bottom line.."Be Punctual!

THE SWEET SMELL OF SELF-RELIANCE

The beach has always intrigued me. It's the feeling of home that makes travelling to or residing in coastal areas a heavenly experience. That way, Tahiti is now on my bucket list. Rain or shine, from now on, my spirit to visit the islands in French Polynesia will remain staunch. Stories that are raw, fresh, original, and organic stand the test of time, whereas those that are polished to suit the intellectual needs of readers fail to leave a meaningful footprint. frangipani belongs to the former category. Survival struggles for women across the world are more or less the same. No surprises there. Materena Mahi brought back memories from my childhood and replayed conversations I had with my mom at our kitchen table. Despite the endemic cultural conditioning, women are naturally free-thinkers. Lack of financial independence and self-love has pushed them into the web of unhappy family units where they are expected to take care of everyone around them at the expense of their dreams, d

A PERFECT CARVING

Every school has an exclusive tree. A tree that wasn't just a provider of shade on sunny afternoons to lunch under but something of a quiet onlooker that stood steady against the backdrop of changes. We had Banyans, Peepals, Neems and Jojobas decorating the school compound like ornate Chandeliers. Flowers rained from the Cassia Fistula a.k.a the Golden Shower tree kept us busy as we created arty arrangements on the muddy ground. Those patterns lasted until the sound of school bells and a dash of cool winds dispersed everything. The Copper Beech set in the beautiful village of Shancarrig invoked my dormant childhood memories. At times, we deliberately lock up good moments in a corner of our brains lest it should arouse tearful nostalgia. Let the good old days stay tucked in because earnestly missing something isn't going to bring it back. It was a painful reminder of how much things have changed and how much we missed cherishing those moments when we had it all for ourselves.

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