Sleeping Beauty

Did you know the origins of sleeping beauty? It's had many versions over the years, the best known of which is, of course, the Disney movie. However the first. Published record of this story dates back to 1634 by a man called Giabatta Basile. It was a story about a girl called Talia who falls into a coma when pricked by  a thorn and fell into a coma. Se was then raped by a. King who happened to be passing by and came upon this beautiful young unconscious woman.

The next version, published 60 years later was written by Charles Perrault, a French man who told stories to the children of royalty and nobility. He modified the story so that the king in the story was not shown in such a negative light and sugar coated it by adding frivolities of fairies and magic. This is usually used as the base inspiration for the future versions of the story. Recently, the story has been given a lot of attention, through movies such as 'la belle endormie' and 'sleeping beauty' in 2011, as well as many plays, ballets and performances about the same.

Personally I was both intrigued and enraged at the original version, and even Perrault's version to some extent as all I see is the complete lack of any sort of control this girl had over her own life. And the audacity of the king and his behaviour, it's a bit sickening. Later in the story when we are introduced to the vengeful queen, I finally find a relatable character, who I agree may have over reacted to the situation, but was the only one who's intentions made sense. I was then enraged that a mere cook would think to defy and fool her even though what she asked of him was terrible. Did women really have it that bad that a servant would dare dupe a queen who outranked him in every way, but would not have dared to do so to a king?

Anyway, I decided the real story needs to be told and shared, but it is fairly cumbersome to find, I'll admit. So I wrote a basic simplified version for anyone who would like to read it.:

once upon a time, many moons ago,

A great King loved his daughter so!

At age 16,

Through spindle prick and cursed spell,

Into an enchanted sleep she fell.

Her 'loving' father laid her on a rock somewhere,

and returned to his castle with no further care.

A knoble King, who came across the beauty in her sleep

Tried to help her,
               and when she did not wake, 

                          help himself to her, like a creep.

When he was done, the king continued on into the wild,

Leaving poor sleeping beauty with child

Not one, but two children were born soon,

A son named "Sun" and a daughter called "Moon"

And when Sun mistook her finger for her breast,

He sucked out the spindle and beauty awoke from her rest.

The King came back for seconds, only to find an heir.

For some reason Beauty forgave him, and they had an affair.

But the king faced internal strife,

for he already had a wife

Despite this he had beauty satisfy his needs

And soon the Queen caught on to his dirty deeds

The Queen, not one to tolerate a sinner,

Ordered Sun and Moon to be cooked for dinner.

After the King cleared his plate,

The Queen informed him of whom he ate.

Revolted at his punishment for being a liar,

The king threw the queen into the fire.

His Disgust was short lived as the royal cook arrived,

Confessing he fooled the queen, and the twins had survived.

And the only logical conclusion following this disaster,

Was for the king to marry beauty and live happily(?) ever after.

heres the link to the original story of sleeping beauty:

http://uncoy.com/2006/05/sleeping_beauty_1.html

-- 

Vanya Vaishnavi Singh

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

The war is over, The battle is won.
Tired and victorious, a soldier can collapse
He may reunite with his family, his wife and son
No more grenades and bombs, no plans or maps

But the war goes on, behind his eyes
Relief suppressed, mind alert
His dreams are consumed by the blood and cries
Of those whom he killed and those left hurt

Alone at night, the battle rages
Singular in purpose, to constantly haunt
And it will continue through the ages
To punish the soldier, to jeer and taunt

Adrenaline pumping, till its uncontrollable
His brain tries to explain, his body does not heed
Images burnt into his skull make him unable
To rest, and find the peace that he needs

One day, Exhausted, he will no longer decay
With paranoia filling him to the brink
And like a flood all the hurt and guilt wash away
As the peace and relief begin to sink in

But till that day, this carries on
Him fighting a battle he just cannot win
Hopeless and confused, conflicted and torn
He repents for his ordered sin

The Stalkers' Suicide Note

To whom so ever it may concern

Unfortunate enough to find me now

Allow me to explain this troubled turn

Of events. The who, the why, the what and the how.

The first time I saw her, the first time we met

I was blown away, dazzled and amazed

She was so sensational, one could never forget

She left me speechless stunned and dazed.

From then the need to see her just grew

To watch the dimples in her cheek when she smiled

To see her soft, gorgeous hair as it flew

When she danced and leapt like something wild.

She saw me once for a second or two

Our eyes met across the hall

It was in that moment that we both knew

That it was love, and I was about to fall.

Her skin was porcelain, pristine and white

Her soft pink lips were designed to mesmerize

Like and angel, she’d glow in the morning light

Entrapping me with her emerald eyes

She moved like a goddess, both fierce and kind

And I watched her whenever she was near

I loved her darkness, her light and anything I could find

Without her, it was like I wasn’t here.

Over the months our love affair bloomed

Our need for each other grew strong

The unsaid words had me consumed

I stopped caring for right or wrong

I hungered to touch her, to be a little closer

I saw her invite me nearer with her eyes

She was with him for show. He was just a poser.

And it was the same with the other guys

But what we have is a true romance

A forbidden love, destined and great

No one else even stood a chance

Why spend all this time fighting fate.

We couldn’t be together, she and I

But I wanted to hold her, to keep her and smell her sweet scent

She was too afraid of them to let herself try

And I knew what that meant

They wouldn’t let us be together, it wouldn’t be allowed

But life is small compared to our love

So why be miserable and apart in a crowd

When we could be happy and united up above.

With a story like ours, fabled and taboo

It cannot end riding into the sunset

There was only one clear thing to do.

For her to truly become Juliet.

And for me to follow her into this eclipse

Shed the pain and stop being sad

I shall take the same poison that touched her lips

Like the kiss we never had

Eclipse

Look at the mighty sun and the light it brings

Igniting our world day after day

But dominated by such a tiny thing

When the moon covers it one fine day

And shrouds our blue skies in a darker wrap

Dulls the colours that were joyous and bright

Lulls the sun into a trap

And for a moment it conquers the light

At The Edge.

It is not uncommon, at the end of something, to look back to its beginning. It is also not uncommon to look at the previous end leading to the beginning. Graduating from college may cause you to retrace your time spent there. Leaving a place that became as familiar as home, its tough, and it doesn’t get easier the second time around. You feel the same pang of sadness as you did when you first realized you wouldn’t be wearing your school uniform anymore as you do now, when you realize that you wont be walking down those college halls anymore. You feel the same anxiety of not knowing how college would be, how the other kids would be, how you would be in this new realm of freedom and opportunity as you do now, entering another realm of responsibility and high competition, where the stakes frighteningly do matter.

Right there, standing at one precipice, I watch my sister face the next. Its all so similar yet so wildly different. But the emotions remain a constant. A fixed biological reaction to any challenge, threat or change. Doesn’t matter the situation. It’s all the same. Maybe everything will be all right. Countless others have been in my exact position, and though nearly no one gets out scot free, everyone does survive the college experience. The only thing that makes it so stressful is the waiting and the speculation. The problem is that it’ll never live up to expectation. Especially if one spends hours and days, hell, years contemplating it. Whether it’s the best or the worst, reality can never compete with imagination, so why try?

I have 10 days to the moment of truth. Am I in or am I out? In other words am I good enough? The dread is that I get a letter saying, “No, we regret to inform you that you are not, in fact, as talented as you or we thought you were and best of luck for whatever else that you can manage”. Even worse than that would be to not get any letter at all, as if saying, “not only are you not good enough to join, you’re not good enough for us to reject you either.” That’s the dread. But the fear? The fear is getting a letter which tells me all my dreams have come true, that I’m good enough, that its time to say goodbye to this old life I was sick of anyway and come, running through mustard fields like an old Hindi movie, to this new adventurous place and then be let down by what I thought it would be like.

Using this fear as a mantra, I had made a resolution to not think about it. To keep an open mind and not look at the downside of everything. Or, on the other hand, lionize the future and possibilities. The future is nothing but the next line I’m about to write, the next two seconds of thought or the next five minutes where I may get up and go to the bathroom. The future is now. And then it’s gone. Just as fast as it came. So what do I do with the future? The answer seems obvious to me. I do nothing and I do everything. 

So it doesn’t really matter whether I spend the next year in India’s premiere design institute or I spend it working in an animal shelter while taking an English course. Because its just going to come and go so fast right? But the real question that plagues me is will I matter no matter what I do? Will I make a difference? Will I affect anyone the way I want to? I’m not saying I want to rule the world…I’m just saying I want to be able to change it. I read some where that a wise man asked in the arrogance of his youth to be able to change the world. Being humbled by the truth, in his middle age he asked to be able to change those around him and in the enlightenment of his old age he asked to be able to change himself when the people around him, or the world itself, actually changed. Chances are he was probably correct, but I think I can change my world. I can make it better, I can make it brighter, I can make it happier, and I can be relevant. But I need the opportunity.

So I stand at the precipice, at the end of all I can ever remember knowing, ready to plunge into an abyss of opportunity and failure. And just as I leap off, I look up at my sister already changing the world around her, without even knowing it, and I smile. I'll be there some day.

Arranged Marriage

I only ask you what is asked of me and perform in accordance to what I have received,
Be it your frigid shoulder or your razor sharp wit.
But not an excess favor, nor any subordinate grant will be retrieved
From this most formal association of mutual benefit

Be it clear that my silence is not at power with either tolerance or acceptance
And though my words may be kind, intonation is an art of its own
So I promise you, as agreed, minimal resistance
And shall leave all the intimates unknown.

And now, almost as equals, we sign our treaty
Of parallel accountability and social obligation
Betrothed are your status and my beauty
And we shall gracefully smile and accept this relation

Now, my husband, I wish you good night
I will lie on my side and you on yours
Through the day we have performed our duties, as is right
But all pretense can be dropped behind these closed doors.

Behind the lens- smiles and frowns

This is the second set of pictures I'll be putting up. Hope you like it!

It features the lines in one's face and how just a few shifts in the angles of the lines can completely change the whole context of a photograph.

wait, are you serious?

whaaaaaattt???

wishful sadness

thats too bad

and then they all laughed

huh?

Dont sass me!!!

And then Othello....

What is happening?!?!?!