<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;A08AQ3s7fyp7ImA9WxBSEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734</id><updated>2009-12-18T23:40:42.507+05:30</updated><title>Literary Jewels</title><subtitle type="html">'Literary Jewels' is a creative insight into the world of literature. It is about the jewels of literature - fiction, non-fiction, poetry, drama and much more. I have attempted to interpret literature from my point of view. It also contains my little ramblings about general topics related to life.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>252</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LiteraryJewels" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>LiteraryJewels</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUMRnc_fyp7ImA9WxBSEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-3985148857087909512</id><published>2009-12-17T21:41:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-17T21:41:27.947+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-17T21:41:27.947+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>I still believe</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xU6vNosIG_ai2n9rVtJLTLr0iWE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xU6vNosIG_ai2n9rVtJLTLr0iWE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xU6vNosIG_ai2n9rVtJLTLr0iWE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xU6vNosIG_ai2n9rVtJLTLr0iWE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i379.photobucket.com/albums/oo235/abcpoet/rose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://i379.photobucket.com/albums/oo235/abcpoet/rose.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I fall upon the thorns of life&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;belittled, I bleed,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but life has roses somewhere&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I still believe.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;No matter how dark and dreary&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;the tunnel of life seems&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;there’s light at the end&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I still believe.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;What if the roads don’t lead anywhere?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;What if I see a dead end ahead?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Life’s a journey ongoing&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I still believe. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Doesn’t matter if someone’s bad&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;doesn’t matter if he punches you hard,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;the world is essentially good&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I still believe.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-3985148857087909512?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/ICztBrfnqhs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/3985148857087909512/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=3985148857087909512&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3985148857087909512?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3985148857087909512?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/ICztBrfnqhs/i-still-believe.html" title="I still believe" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-still-believe.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkECQno_fCp7ImA9WxBTGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-3450656848618553788</id><published>2009-12-14T22:35:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-14T22:41:03.444+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-14T22:41:03.444+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>The Fury of a Patient Man</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RZk_kItV7_aaMUG_IzJMLMHS3CI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RZk_kItV7_aaMUG_IzJMLMHS3CI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RZk_kItV7_aaMUG_IzJMLMHS3CI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RZk_kItV7_aaMUG_IzJMLMHS3CI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.tribuneindia.com/2002/20020309/ldh4.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.tribuneindia.com/2002/20020309/ldh4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.tribuneindia.com/2002/20020309/ldh4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;pic src: &lt;a href="http://www.tribuneindia.com/2002/20020309/ldh4.jpg"&gt;The Tribune&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;John Dryden wrote, “Beware the fury of a patient man.” Indeed, this statement has much more depth than seems at a superficial level. The violence that happened in Ludhiana (for those who don’t know…Ludhiana is a city in Punjab, India) recently was a perfect instance of the pent-up anger being spilled out on roads. Very often it happens that we continue to suffer in silence. We make it a habit of not speaking up for ourselves even when it is the most essential. When we allow ourselves to be exploited, it is only then that seeds of fury are sown in our hearts. A phrase that is commonly used in English is ‘the calm before the storm’. When we keep stored our ill-feelings or justified anger or our voices of protest against the wrong-doings, we are making the ground for an imminent storm. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The poor protest because they have been deprived of what they deserve. They are exploited only because they are poor and don’t have enough resources. The division between the haves and have-nots has been continuously widening in Ludhiana. This accounts for the increase in the crime rate. I say this because crime too has a psychological dimension to it. And it is because of the psychological influence that the analysis of a particular violent protest can be analyzed. If we allow the strong to exploit us then we are giving them the license to do so always. And we are pained only when the exploitation is turned into a habit and we are reduced to mere helpless victims. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In life we have to stand up for ourselves. It is ourselves only who have to defend our self-respect. Otherwise people would always take us for granted and we would be left nowhere…with nothing to protect and nothing to own. So rather than giving a vent to your anger in the form of fury at one go …give it out in bits, that is, by taking a firm stand whenever required and whenever time demands so. This would make things all the more simple and you will be assured a bit smoother sailing in life…we can’t have a perfectly smooth ride after all!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-3450656848618553788?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/NGIb8EWITVY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/3450656848618553788/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=3450656848618553788&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3450656848618553788?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3450656848618553788?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/NGIb8EWITVY/fury-of-patient-man.html" title="The Fury of a Patient Man" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/12/fury-of-patient-man.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcFRXc4eSp7ImA9WxBTEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-6298264783518113805</id><published>2009-12-08T23:43:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-08T23:43:34.931+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-08T23:43:34.931+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>A Place to Earn</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/O57k7yTdtLP3Hi9mlIsgpURTZcE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/O57k7yTdtLP3Hi9mlIsgpURTZcE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/O57k7yTdtLP3Hi9mlIsgpURTZcE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/O57k7yTdtLP3Hi9mlIsgpURTZcE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We often tend to measure our achievements in monetary terms. We are so proud of our worldly possessions that we don’t look even an inch beyond those. We restrict our success to the amount of wealth we have, or the number of luxury items we own. But remember even someone as great as Alexander the Great had to go away empty handed from this world and he wished to show to the world this fact by wishing to keep his hand out of his coffin. We fail to realize that we should not measure our wealth by the money we possess but by those things which we won’t give away even for money. These are the precious relationships and the memories that we cherish forever. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We measure our earnings by the amount of our salaries. But there are other important things we earn in our lifetime and it is those things that stay with us throughout our lives and some even stay back after our span on this earth has ended! You must have judged by now what I want to say: it is the place we earn for ourselves in society. But I must mention here that it is not something related to our socio-economic status or the status related our profession. Rather it is the place that we earmark for ourselves in others’ hearts. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Our actions either make or mar our personality. We can either soothe a heart with warm words or simply add to its woes with piercing words. And it is but obvious which words continue to stay on after we cease to exist! The other aspect is as a proverb goes ‘our actions speak louder that our words’. We make a mark in this world with whatever we do. We continue to etch on new marks with each passing day rather with each passing moment. The blank pages won’t be rewarded, neither would the badly scribbled be. So the best approach is to write the pages of life beautifully so that we are rewarded in the end for our brilliant performance. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So how do we come to know that we have earned a place for ourselves? Is it possible to realize in our lifetime? Or do we have to die before coming to know about it? Of course, it is possible that we have clear proofs of the coveted place that we have for ourselves. Let us take a very simple example. Sometimes it happens that a person blames a man for a misdoing. The accused is innocent in that case and he is being blamed just because the person has a personal grudge against him. Now in this case if the accused has a reputation attached with him, he won’t need to prove his innocence; other people would speak up for him. Now this is a place we all would want to earn!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-6298264783518113805?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/TuTxV1fpdDM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/6298264783518113805/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=6298264783518113805&amp;isPopup=true" title="11 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/6298264783518113805?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/6298264783518113805?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/TuTxV1fpdDM/place-to-earn.html" title="A Place to Earn" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">11</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/12/place-to-earn.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMBRns7eyp7ImA9WxBTEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-7400406498009244735</id><published>2009-12-08T23:17:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-08T23:17:37.503+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-08T23:17:37.503+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hamlet" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Shakespeare" /><title>Hamlet's Soliloquies - I</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8jvDDtUEjkmnD-ilrjXd1tCU008/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8jvDDtUEjkmnD-ilrjXd1tCU008/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8jvDDtUEjkmnD-ilrjXd1tCU008/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8jvDDtUEjkmnD-ilrjXd1tCU008/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The peculiar feature of William Shakespeare's ‘Hamlet’ as a play is that it is characterized by five soliloquies, each one of them being spoken by Hamlet on different occasions. They lend to the character of Hamlet a different hue and make the play a philosophical one rather than a mere revenge play. Some critics like T.S. Eliot have pointed out that the soliloquies are a serious drawback of the play and manifest an excess of emotion improper to action.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;D.H.Lawrence in his essay, ‘On Drama’ points out that Hamlet’s personality is in a state of disintegration, that is, his head, heart and hand do not work in unison but reflect Hamlet’s nature. Apart from this, we cannot conceive of his character.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;The first soliloquy of Hamlet from Act I, scene ii is:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt &lt;br /&gt;
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! &lt;br /&gt;
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd &lt;br /&gt;
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! &lt;br /&gt;
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, &lt;br /&gt;
Seem to me all the uses of this world! &lt;br /&gt;
Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, &lt;br /&gt;
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature &lt;br /&gt;
Possess it merely. That it should come to this! &lt;br /&gt;
But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: &lt;br /&gt;
So excellent a king; that was, to this, &lt;br /&gt;
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother &lt;br /&gt;
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven &lt;br /&gt;
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! &lt;br /&gt;
Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, &lt;br /&gt;
As if increase of appetite had grown &lt;br /&gt;
By what it fed on: and yet, within a month-- &lt;br /&gt;
Let me not think on't--Frailty, thy name is woman!-- &lt;br /&gt;
A little month, or ere those shoes were old &lt;br /&gt;
With which she follow'd my poor father's body, &lt;br /&gt;
Like Niobe, all tears:--why she, even she-- &lt;br /&gt;
O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, &lt;br /&gt;
Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle, &lt;br /&gt;
My father's brother, but no more like my father &lt;br /&gt;
Than I to Hercules: within a month: &lt;br /&gt;
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears &lt;br /&gt;
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, &lt;br /&gt;
She married. O, most wicked speed, to post &lt;br /&gt;
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! &lt;br /&gt;
It is not nor it cannot come to good: &lt;br /&gt;
But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This soliloquy is a remarkable indication of the state of mind Hamlet is in. we have before us a simultaneous presentation of the present chaos and the past orderly conditions. The death of his father and over-hasty marriage of his mother creates a terror in his mind and he begins to contemplate committing suicide. But then as a true Christian he remembers he ought not to follow that urge and instead wishes that the Almighty had not made any law forbidding suicide. So we come to know that Hamlet is a true Christian at heart inspite of his education.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Hamlet is not able to reconcile himself to the hasty marriage of his mother; it had only been a month since his father died. Hamlet’s statement, “Frailty, thy name is woman!” sums up his views about women in general, to be analyzed in context of his shock experienced at his mother’s behaviour. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This soliloquy is a beginning of Hamlet’s journey towards self-understanding. He says “I must hold my tongue”, he clearly sees through the urgency of keeping quiet and maintaining his silence at this point of time. He needs to watch the situation to unfold itself, a deeper analysis would be required before coming to any conclusion as far as fixing the blame for his father’s murder on his uncle Claudius (whom now Hamlet’s mother has married) is concerned.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-7400406498009244735?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/ylzAs2PqzfE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/7400406498009244735/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=7400406498009244735&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/7400406498009244735?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/7400406498009244735?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/ylzAs2PqzfE/hamlets-soliloquies-i.html" title="Hamlet's Soliloquies - I" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/12/hamlets-soliloquies-i.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcBR3gyfSp7ImA9WxNaGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-2624306036236645594</id><published>2009-12-04T22:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-04T22:47:36.695+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-04T22:47:36.695+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>I know I am normal because...</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aLhbMjnLDgO7JWgDrR6rLtyNyY4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aLhbMjnLDgO7JWgDrR6rLtyNyY4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aLhbMjnLDgO7JWgDrR6rLtyNyY4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aLhbMjnLDgO7JWgDrR6rLtyNyY4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxlD01OdIFI/AAAAAAAAAdA/hYQCLvLiy-Q/s1600-h/Graphic_Girl_Birds_Sun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxlD01OdIFI/AAAAAAAAAdA/hYQCLvLiy-Q/s320/Graphic_Girl_Birds_Sun.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;pic src: &lt;a href="http://g.astrology.com/course/dreams/Graphic_Girl_Birds_Sun.jpg"&gt;picture&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I know I am normal because…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
•I am affected by what’s happening around me.&lt;br /&gt;
•I do get disappointed by the failures of life.&lt;br /&gt;
•I try to hide my tears behind my smiles.&lt;br /&gt;
•I wish to fulfill my dreams no matter how far-fetched they seem.&lt;br /&gt;
•I find it hard to change myself just because the world wants me to be like the majority.&lt;br /&gt;
•I take life as a challenge.&lt;br /&gt;
•I wish to change what’s wrong with the world.&lt;br /&gt;
•I try to hide my weaknesses.&lt;br /&gt;
•I wish I was not a puppet in the hands of my fate.&lt;br /&gt;
•I am furious with the injustice being meted out to the deserving.&lt;br /&gt;
•I feel the pain of unfulfilled dreams.&lt;br /&gt;
•I can’t detach myself from the cherished memories of the past.&lt;br /&gt;
•My heart longs to go back to the things I have left behind.&lt;br /&gt;
•I hope for a miracle every day I wake up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-2624306036236645594?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/UA9RpwOycs0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/2624306036236645594/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=2624306036236645594&amp;isPopup=true" title="9 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/2624306036236645594?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/2624306036236645594?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/UA9RpwOycs0/i-know-i-am-normal-because.html" title="I know I am normal because..." /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxlD01OdIFI/AAAAAAAAAdA/hYQCLvLiy-Q/s72-c/Graphic_Girl_Birds_Sun.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">9</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-know-i-am-normal-because.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEICSX85cSp7ImA9WxNaFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-5913892522013583260</id><published>2009-11-30T23:06:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-30T23:06:08.129+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-30T23:06:08.129+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>'Recollections' - a poem</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qQ4cM7D5_DQVEwKT6Z4gk0PXeJw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qQ4cM7D5_DQVEwKT6Z4gk0PXeJw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qQ4cM7D5_DQVEwKT6Z4gk0PXeJw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qQ4cM7D5_DQVEwKT6Z4gk0PXeJw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxQCLzGMc_I/AAAAAAAAAc4/1JlVN9FstXY/s1600/child-at-play-copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxQCLzGMc_I/AAAAAAAAAc4/1JlVN9FstXY/s320/child-at-play-copy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;pic src: &lt;a href="http://www.photoschool.co.nz/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/maria-kozlova-inclusion-exclusion-child-at-play-copy.jpg"&gt;PhotoSchool&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I relishingly recollect&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;the much cherished  moments,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;those that have stayed back&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;those that never did backtrack;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when I only had skinned knees&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when dreams were stringed to toys&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when nothing in the world was bad&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when all I had around were joys…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The time of innocent wisdom&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and not of wise deprivation&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;nothing of the chains that bind&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;nothing of that long silence;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;the time I heard myself prattle:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;didn’t have to unravel my silence.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It’s that time I was reminded …&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Something that’s not yet detached,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;no matter how far away&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;a memory in mind that forever will stay.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sitting, I travel far a mile &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and I smile for a while…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;© Amritbir Kaur &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-5913892522013583260?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/x7jl6cjtwFs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/5913892522013583260/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=5913892522013583260&amp;isPopup=true" title="10 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5913892522013583260?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5913892522013583260?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/x7jl6cjtwFs/recollections-poem.html" title="'Recollections' - a poem" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxQCLzGMc_I/AAAAAAAAAc4/1JlVN9FstXY/s72-c/child-at-play-copy.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">10</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/recollections-poem.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUYHQH4yfCp7ImA9WxBTEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-1715031978139040066</id><published>2009-11-29T23:11:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-06T22:02:11.094+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-06T22:02:11.094+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>Words are all I have...</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OC5WmZhmuWWLP5Upev5RnofXZ9s/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OC5WmZhmuWWLP5Upev5RnofXZ9s/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OC5WmZhmuWWLP5Upev5RnofXZ9s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OC5WmZhmuWWLP5Upev5RnofXZ9s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxK6PkZzRzI/AAAAAAAAAcw/egjEUEs3WVg/s1600/_Words_can_Hurt_or_Heal_small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxK6PkZzRzI/AAAAAAAAAcw/egjEUEs3WVg/s320/_Words_can_Hurt_or_Heal_small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;pic src: &lt;a href="http://www.wordscanhurtorheal.com/Words_can_Hurt_or_Heal_small.jpg"&gt;Words&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;Words are all I have…I consider them to be my best friend. The term ‘best friend’ says it all.&lt;br /&gt;
•The words never make me feel lonely.&lt;br /&gt;
•They are always loyal.&lt;br /&gt;
•They don’t fail me when I need them the most.&lt;br /&gt;
•They help me to be just myself.&lt;br /&gt;
•I feel at home when I am in the company of my  own words.&lt;br /&gt;
•They help me to express my innermost thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;
•They help me to unlock the mysteries of life that surround.&lt;br /&gt;
•They help me to free myself from the ties and the chains that always do bind.&lt;br /&gt;
•They are a means of protecting myself from the onslaught of the cruel world around me.&lt;br /&gt;
•They lend me a shoulder when I need support the most.&lt;br /&gt;
•They don’t change with time, they are always constant and ever unchanging.&lt;br /&gt;
•They are a silent promise that they’ll always be there when I need them the most.&lt;br /&gt;
•They are something that’ll be always present even if they are absent.&lt;br /&gt;
•They are always there when all others abandon.&lt;br /&gt;
•They don’t demand an explanation.&lt;br /&gt;
•They have full faith that whatever I say is correct and should not be doubted.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The list seems to be endless. I felt as if I could go on and on. But then had to stop somewhere… else my words could get out of my control and I would never want that to happen. After all, best friends are a promise that they’ll there forever and ever, no matter what…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-1715031978139040066?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/jCKFTUhXD0M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/1715031978139040066/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=1715031978139040066&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1715031978139040066?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1715031978139040066?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/jCKFTUhXD0M/words-are-all-i-have.html" title="Words are all I have..." /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxK6PkZzRzI/AAAAAAAAAcw/egjEUEs3WVg/s72-c/_Words_can_Hurt_or_Heal_small.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/words-are-all-i-have.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYNQHs_fCp7ImA9WxNaFEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-5763170538746189035</id><published>2009-11-28T08:15:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-29T11:59:51.544+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-29T11:59:51.544+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>'That Place' - a poem</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjnuD9tp3N25J6xSr09-VY77hKo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjnuD9tp3N25J6xSr09-VY77hKo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjnuD9tp3N25J6xSr09-VY77hKo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjnuD9tp3N25J6xSr09-VY77hKo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;There’s something amiss:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don’t know where, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but the completeness is lacking…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The soul yearns, yet,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;cannot be there;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;that much coveted place – &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;a place I relinquished long ago.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And now is the nothingness&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;of being and existing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If life could be relived, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;if time rewinds itself,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;if fate could be written afresh, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I would have achieved&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;of which now I am deprived.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Alas! the moving finger continues&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;to ink on new marks,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;on the pages of my life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And I strive and strife,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;against fate:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O! to be myself,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;just to be myself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;© Amritbir Kaur &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-5763170538746189035?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/uaIA4p2NN_A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/5763170538746189035/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=5763170538746189035&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5763170538746189035?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5763170538746189035?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/uaIA4p2NN_A/that-place-poem.html" title="'That Place' - a poem" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/that-place-poem.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUABRHszcSp7ImA9WxNaE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-3789258655606968244</id><published>2009-11-28T00:19:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-28T00:19:15.589+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-28T00:19:15.589+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>The film '2012' and me...</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XYNb4YGQ2tHKMBJgyWdNQifczck/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XYNb4YGQ2tHKMBJgyWdNQifczck/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XYNb4YGQ2tHKMBJgyWdNQifczck/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XYNb4YGQ2tHKMBJgyWdNQifczck/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxAfIP-UkCI/AAAAAAAAAco/KzsEdWpx_vQ/s1600/2012-poster-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxAfIP-UkCI/AAAAAAAAAco/KzsEdWpx_vQ/s320/2012-poster-4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;Watched the film ‘2012’ yesterday – I found it to be quite an interesting and a brilliant film (P.S. This is totally my personal opinion as I have read reviews that have totally rubbished this film.). And I say this not just because of the breath-taking graphics of the film but also from the point of view of the story and most importantly the way things have been portrayed. What added weight to the story line is, the touch of humanness.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What first came to my mind was that what if we know we are going to die in some specific time period, how would we react to it? That’s a question I asked myself. In the film we have instances of those who resign to their fate, those who fight for survival  and those who live even after their death because they gave their life so that others could live. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Out of all the memorable ones, one incident stands out prominently. The one where the pilot carrying the protagonist of the film and his family…after saving them, prays just before his plane hangs from a cliff. For a fraction of a second, the plane stands still before falling down. For that fraction it seems that the prayer worked and pilot has a smile on his face…only to be condemned to death the very next moment. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then there was the moment when the general public was to be allowed to board the spaceship…and the man (Jackson’s boss),  who by hook or crook got entry to the ship (had got the passes and kept it as a secret…the height of selfishnes has been portrayed through his character)..but what happens in the end he could not be on that ship…I was reminded of the saying ‘Man proposes and God disposes’…how true!!! We all make efforts, but we don’t know whether they’ll turn out to be just the way we want them to be. Nevertheless, we have to play our part. And also as they say, when you can’t have what you want it is time to start wanting what you have...Isn’t it? So we have make time, as the President in this film says.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Moreover, it was very well said that the apocalypse is when we stop fighting for each other…because that is the death of  humanity. We should all unite when faced with a challenging situation…then in the fight between life and death, we’ll surely be able to defeat death.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What I learnt was that death is not to be feared, it is just a moment..we should live life to its fullest, so that we don’t have any regrets. And as Abraham Lincoln has rightly said, “And in the end it is not the years in your life that count, it’s the life in your years.” &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So overall I thoroughly enjoyed the film.. I always believe we should not only consider a film in totality. I say this because later on when we recall a film or anything else it is not the whole thing…we remember the particular scenes or some meaningful dialogues that stand apart from the rest of the film. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
P.S. May be I’ll add some more inputs in this post later on….&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-3789258655606968244?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/MukMmsNQi2o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/3789258655606968244/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=3789258655606968244&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3789258655606968244?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3789258655606968244?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/MukMmsNQi2o/film-2012-and-me.html" title="The film '2012' and me..." /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SxAfIP-UkCI/AAAAAAAAAco/KzsEdWpx_vQ/s72-c/2012-poster-4.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/film-2012-and-me.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQCRns4cSp7ImA9WxNaE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-140000116657156026</id><published>2009-11-24T17:27:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-28T08:16:07.539+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-28T08:16:07.539+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>An Honest Confession</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qahg9X8M2MhbyqwwSc6t0FOW240/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qahg9X8M2MhbyqwwSc6t0FOW240/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qahg9X8M2MhbyqwwSc6t0FOW240/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qahg9X8M2MhbyqwwSc6t0FOW240/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm155/jaylin96/teardrops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="235" src="http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm155/jaylin96/teardrops.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;img src:&lt;a href="http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm155/jaylin96/teardrops.jpg"&gt;Photobucket&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nobody says a word, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;voices are hushed&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;my dreams subdued.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I made a mute appeal&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;to vent the tongueless grief;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and then…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;the barriers broken,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;silence speaks out&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when the words refused:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;it’s the heart that listens.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Dreams don’t die then,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;they come back to me&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;with a rejuvenating strength.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Waters flow down the dried stream&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and I begin to sail along…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;© Amritbir Kaur &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-140000116657156026?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/-YaADvTxn6A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/140000116657156026/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=140000116657156026&amp;isPopup=true" title="23 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/140000116657156026?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/140000116657156026?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/-YaADvTxn6A/honest-confession.html" title="An Honest Confession" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">23</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/honest-confession.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUUHQHgyfCp7ImA9WxNaEEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-1672848980769120775</id><published>2009-11-24T11:42:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-24T11:43:51.694+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-24T11:43:51.694+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>The Mantra of Successful Relationships - part I</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZaCkv-F_drruqhOo4joN4VbvohE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZaCkv-F_drruqhOo4joN4VbvohE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZaCkv-F_drruqhOo4joN4VbvohE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZaCkv-F_drruqhOo4joN4VbvohE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“The moment you think of giving up any relation, think of the reason why you held it so long.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The relations are given the last priority in today’s modern materialistic world. A good relationship lies actually not in understanding a person thoroughly but in how well we avoid misunderstandings. The success lies not in moulding the other person according to your own choices, ideas and interests; it lies rather in accepting the differences and respecting the individuality of other person. Even in the closest of the relationships, a breathing space should be there. Don’t try to suffocate the other person with all your worries and don’t smother him with twenty hour care…give him/her the much-needed breathing space and you’ll have a healthy and flourishing relationship.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One more thing that needs to be kept in mind is that we should be open to suggestion. Nobody is perfect, we should always accept it. Controlling our anger is also of utmost importance. The best way to avoid a fight is that the person who is giving vent to his anger should be allowed to do so even when it is unjustified sometimes. The other person should keep his cool during that downpour. The things can be explained later on when things have cooled down. And then the mind can understand the logic behind the wrong arguments that had taken place earlier.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Having given a serious thought to all these factors (there are many more actually, I’ll keep on adding them…), the moment we decide to break off a relationship we must recollect all the beautiful memories associated with it. The result will be that from amongst the heap of the bitter moments, those cherished moments will shine bright and stand above the rest…and we’ll never ever walk away…it’s worth trying!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-1672848980769120775?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/Z5TrQkjqgJM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/1672848980769120775/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=1672848980769120775&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1672848980769120775?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1672848980769120775?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/Z5TrQkjqgJM/mantra-of-successful-relationships-part.html" title="The Mantra of Successful Relationships - part I" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/mantra-of-successful-relationships-part.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4GQ3g9eip7ImA9WxNbFUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-6224118960302711715</id><published>2009-11-18T22:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-18T22:35:22.662+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-18T22:35:22.662+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>Identity</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EOP2vR5nd5_yR-OmULP6rfbglMU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EOP2vR5nd5_yR-OmULP6rfbglMU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EOP2vR5nd5_yR-OmULP6rfbglMU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EOP2vR5nd5_yR-OmULP6rfbglMU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i379.photobucket.com/albums/oo235/abcpoet/identity-crisis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://i379.photobucket.com/albums/oo235/abcpoet/identity-crisis.jpg" width="254" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;pic src:&lt;a href="http://www.sojones.com/news/1095-lifestyle-brands-what-are-they-and-why-do-we-want-them-so-badly/"&gt;I am?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Who am I?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don’t know.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nobody recognizes me!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;An ordinary being &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;am I to look at,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but carry a world inside me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;With a façade of disguised feelings,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I chase a thousand desires:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;may be a day’ll come&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when my boat crosses the sea.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Waiting for the cherished dawn – &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when I won’t be struggling at sea,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when I see the sought after shores,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when I glance around and find&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have arrived somewhere:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;at a place where I can be myself,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;just myself…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;© Amritbir Kaur &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-6224118960302711715?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/a0iGtx69fp8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/6224118960302711715/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=6224118960302711715&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/6224118960302711715?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/6224118960302711715?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/a0iGtx69fp8/identity.html" title="Identity" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/identity.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUECRn44fip7ImA9WxNbFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-5823164317650382219</id><published>2009-11-16T23:41:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-17T11:31:07.036+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-17T11:31:07.036+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>This Life that is...</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bO4vSVXkELdgaWPhUKxdKB405YE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bO4vSVXkELdgaWPhUKxdKB405YE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bO4vSVXkELdgaWPhUKxdKB405YE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bO4vSVXkELdgaWPhUKxdKB405YE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Various philosophers have tried to define life in their own unique way. But when we try to analyze the concept deeply, we find there are certain ideas that simply don’t go with each other. It is these very contradictions that we try to reconcile to all through our life. Let’s take for instance,the thought that we need to live in our present. Even H.W. Longfellow in his ‘A Psalm of Life’ wrote:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Trust no future, howe’er pleasant!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Let the dead past bury its dead!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Act – act in the living present!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Heart within, and God o’erhead!”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But is it possible to completely detach ourselves completely from our past?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We often say, we should live life by each passing moment. At the same time isn’t life a collection of moments chained together?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Life is a book. In my words, “Life is a book that contains various chapters and each chapter is an important part. We cannot simply do away with that or tear off the pages just like that…they stay there and keep cropping up like &lt;a href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/obscure-traces.html"&gt;the obscure traces&lt;/a&gt;…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What I wrote above was just a spontaneous overflow…What do you have to say?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-5823164317650382219?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/jVeZmKa0Bbw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/5823164317650382219/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=5823164317650382219&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5823164317650382219?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5823164317650382219?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/jVeZmKa0Bbw/this-life-that-is.html" title="This Life that is..." /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">8</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/this-life-that-is.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMBR3o8eip7ImA9WxNUFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-1010907240910857411</id><published>2009-11-07T22:50:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-07T22:50:56.472+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-07T22:50:56.472+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>The Obscure Traces</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LfKXYl5dJDAZwpdGlDzXXrpRlrs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LfKXYl5dJDAZwpdGlDzXXrpRlrs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LfKXYl5dJDAZwpdGlDzXXrpRlrs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LfKXYl5dJDAZwpdGlDzXXrpRlrs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SvWrz6cAa4I/AAAAAAAAAcY/MZUMh-rWuN0/s1600-h/obscure+traces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SvWrz6cAa4I/AAAAAAAAAcY/MZUMh-rWuN0/s320/obscure+traces.jpg" width="418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;pic src: &lt;a href="http://th08.deviantart.net/fs7/300W/i/2005/206/a/4/I_m_Falling_Into_Memories____by_smashmethod.jpg"&gt;Deviant Art&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;I follow the traces&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;in my mind:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;some faces lingering there I find,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;they have no names,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;no voice, no visage;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;forgiven but not forgotten&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;they hang on to haunt.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I try not to cast a glance&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;to come out of the momentary trance&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;but they continue to stay on:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;as a faceless, nameless&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;obscure identity.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Mindful of those I move on,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;swear not to turn back ever&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;yet being wary of their eerie existence.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;© Amritbir Kaur &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-1010907240910857411?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/FHsUahUnhvg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/1010907240910857411/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=1010907240910857411&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1010907240910857411?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1010907240910857411?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/FHsUahUnhvg/obscure-traces.html" title="The Obscure Traces" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SvWrz6cAa4I/AAAAAAAAAcY/MZUMh-rWuN0/s72-c/obscure+traces.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/obscure-traces.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4NR34yeCp7ImA9WxNUFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-9073159006778061588</id><published>2009-11-07T22:43:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-07T22:43:16.090+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-07T22:43:16.090+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Macbeth" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Shakespeare" /><title>Character of Macbeth in Shakespeare's 'Macbeth'</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vRmF-CmGRfvwUWyncylM4zSAG7Y/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vRmF-CmGRfvwUWyncylM4zSAG7Y/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vRmF-CmGRfvwUWyncylM4zSAG7Y/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vRmF-CmGRfvwUWyncylM4zSAG7Y/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;‘Macbeth’ is universally recognized as the tragedy of ambition. It is a tragedy, which revolves around the ambitions of a great, noble Macbeth, who aimed at becoming the King of Scotland and succeeded in achieving his objective by killing almost all of those who stood in his way, as well as many innocent persons. Macbeth is the Thane of Glamis, whom King Duncan has sent to fight against his enemies and rebels. One of them is the Thane of Cawdor. Macbeth fights against him bravely. Cawdor is defeated and captured. When this news reaches King Duncan the latter not only praises him profusely but also confers on him the title of the Thane of Cawdor. In the second scene of Act One of the play, the author Shakespeare shows how brave and loyal Macbeth is to the King. When Duncan hears about Macbeth’s bravery, he calls him “noble Macbeth” and “valiant cousin”. Even the sergeant, who brings the news of the victory of Macbeth over Cawdor calls him “brave Macbeth”. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the third scene of the opening act, Macbeth, returning from the battlefield meets three witches who hail him as the Thane of Slamis and Cawdor as well as the future King. Macbeth knows that as a birthright he cannot become the King of Scotland but, by and by an ambition to become the monarch becomes stronger when he is told by Ross that the King has conferred the title of ‘Thane of Cawdor’ on him. This news confirms the truth of the predictions made by the witches. But being gentle Macbeth cannot think of any treachery against the King. He argues the forebodings of the supernatural beings (the witches) cannot be either “ill or good”. Then he argues, in an aside “If chance will have me King, why chance may crown me, without my stir.”  Then, in next aside he resigns to fate saying “Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. After saying so he and  Banquo go to the King, who hails him as a trusted subject. Macbeth returns the King’s compliment saying: “The service and loyalty I owe, / In doing it, pays itself.” The King calls him “my worthy Cawdor” and expresses the desire to be his guest that night. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Macbeth who has been stung by the bug of ambition is unable to decide upon the evil course of murdering his King who has been kind and generous towards her. When his wife Lady Macbeth suggests to him that after dinner the King should be killed he tells her not to even think of it. His argument is that the King has come to his home in “double trust”. Firstly, he is the King’s relative. Secondly, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“…as his&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Who should against his murderer shut the door&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Not bear the knife myself.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Indeed, Macbeth is too noble to perform this criminal act. His wife knows that her husband is a person with “full of the milk of human kindness.” Therefore, she taunts him in every possible manner to suggest that he is a coward. He can only imagine and fancy, but cannot act when the time comes. At last, Macbeth, after her taunts determines&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Whilst I threat he lives&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;When the truth of Duncan’s murder comes to light Macbeth pretends to be innocent in the whole matter. He is made the King of Scotland as foretold by the witches. But because Macbeth has achieved this throne by evil and unlawful means he feels insecure in his position. Now one after the other visions appear before him and he imagines that everybody may play false to him. He knows that the same super-powers which predicted kingship for the sons of Banquo. Therefore, his first enemy becomes Banquo with his son Fleanes. He goes still lower and hires murderers to kill Banquo and Fleanes. Banquo is killed but the latter escapes. After this when he learns that Macduff may be a trouble spot for him he takes help of murderers to kill not only Macbeth but also his whole family. Infact, the sense of insecurity and the sense of guilt from which Macbeth suffers after Duncan’s murder lie heavy upon his mind and soul and he feels that now as there is no turning back, therefore, he must go forward with his plans of murders. He says:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;…I am in blood&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;returning were as tedious as go over.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Macbeth is in a state of mental conflict which is reflected in his words: “Strange things I have in head, that till to hand.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In other words, for Macbeth nothing is evil or unlawful if it gives him a sense of security and safety. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Macbeth is brave and successful warrior. His bravery continues to accompany him till the end of his life when face to face with his inevitable death in battle with Macbeth he determines “Yet I will try thee last”.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He is a person with enough philosophical musings. When the news of his wife’s death reaches him he finds himself bereft of that voice of insipiration which could have helped him in his present circumstances also. He says “she should have died hereafter.” Then in one of his philosophical moods he contemplates:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;That struts and frets his hour upon the stage&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;And then is heard no more.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In conclusion we may say that Macbeth is, inspite of his Kingship of Scotland a villain. He succumbs to temptations and taunts of his forgetting all the niceties and virtues of life. His cruelty and terror becomes so strong and mean that everybody begins to hate him. When Malcolm and Macduff meet, they talk of Macbeth’s meanness and cruelty. Macduff says:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;…each new morn&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;New windows howl, new orphans cry…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Malcolm refers to Macbeth as “this tyrant”. He further confirms Macbeth’s view by saying that his country:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Is added to the wounds.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;All this shows the villainy of coupled with cruelty and meanness. The terror and horror created by Macbeth. We conclude this discussion about Macbeth’s character with the words of D.F. Macae:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“We hear from his own heart of his ambition, his weakness, the wrongness of his behaviour, his deceits and his own evil.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-9073159006778061588?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/Mq4dS9HZ4nY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/9073159006778061588/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=9073159006778061588&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/9073159006778061588?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/9073159006778061588?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/Mq4dS9HZ4nY/character-of-macbeth-in-shakespeares.html" title="Character of Macbeth in Shakespeare's 'Macbeth'" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/character-of-macbeth-in-shakespeares.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEFRHk4fip7ImA9WxNUEUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-8916086933531873263</id><published>2009-11-02T21:46:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-02T21:46:55.736+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-02T21:46:55.736+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>The Greater Pain</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wxx2PD-1coJJIQDuVHnyAQQXa_k/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wxx2PD-1coJJIQDuVHnyAQQXa_k/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wxx2PD-1coJJIQDuVHnyAQQXa_k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wxx2PD-1coJJIQDuVHnyAQQXa_k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i379.photobucket.com/albums/oo235/abcpoet/kevin_carter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="262" src="http://i379.photobucket.com/albums/oo235/abcpoet/kevin_carter.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Photo copyright: Kevin Carter &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“I wish I were a child again because skinned knees are better than broken hearts.” It often happens that our pain seems to be unjustified and too much to ourselves. This situation arises when we give too much importance to our own self. Even a casual glance around us is sufficient to shake us out of the self-centred approach towards pain and suffering. The above photo by Kevin Carter serves as an alarm bell. It forces us to shake ourselves out of the personal grief. Silence prevails there but often silence is just another word for pain. It was O Henry in his story ‘Grief’ who wrote “To whom shall I tell my grief!”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But then by seeing things in larger perspective, we often see our personal grief dwarfed and even vanished after a while. I am reminded of an incident I heard long ago. There was a poor boy, who used to grumble about the condition of his school shoes. But a day came when he stopped whining because he had seen a boy, who had not feet...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So while handling grief we should not stretch it that it covers the whole of our life. Instead, learn to live with it because forgetting is not that easy. Living with it means keeping in mind the troubles of the world. But one thing which needs to be kept in mind here is that focussing too much on the greater cause too might lead to creeping in of depressing tendencies. In that case the shift from personal grief to the suffering of humanity would be like jumping from frying pan into fire. It’s just that we have to accept the state of things (no matter how difficult the task is!). Acceptance means giving in to the incompetence of life. It is this sense of lacking that moves us forward...we learn to put up with what life offers...instead of wanting to have something, we learn to want what we have. And the caravan marches on....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-8916086933531873263?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/VIJpo2bVFoE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/8916086933531873263/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=8916086933531873263&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/8916086933531873263?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/8916086933531873263?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/VIJpo2bVFoE/greater-pain.html" title="The Greater Pain" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/11/greater-pain.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYFR34zeyp7ImA9WxNUEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-5180850835461512532</id><published>2009-10-31T23:30:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-31T23:48:36.083+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-31T23:48:36.083+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>Martin Luther King on Justice</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2OmN8IfQSdShjuN45x56pfVcUdA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2OmN8IfQSdShjuN45x56pfVcUdA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2OmN8IfQSdShjuN45x56pfVcUdA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2OmN8IfQSdShjuN45x56pfVcUdA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Through violence you may murder a liar, but you can’t establish truth. Through violence you may murder a hater, but you can’t murder hate. Darkness cannot put out darkness. Only light can do that. Difficult and painful as it is, we must walk on in the days ahead with an audacious faith in the future. When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of now way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.&lt;br /&gt;
American Civil Rights Leader&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Very well said! But the concept of justice is subjective I suppose. We all define it in our own terms according to our own circumstances and a personalized attitude towards life. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A very meaningful thought that we can’t establish truth or wipe out hatred through violence. Indeed, “Darkness cannot put out darkness.” We have to fight the darkness of ignorance in all aspects with the light of knowledge. Just as every night has a day, we too need to hope that the dark and dreary clouds of disillusion will disappear with the arrival of a new dawn as a harbinger of hope and expectation. But again as they say ‘Hope is a good breakfast but a bad supper’.  There should not be an overdose of anything not even hope. Rather our actions should match our expectations. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the last line when the leader writes that the “arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice”. But sometimes we feel that the innocent are punished..how do we justify that? It’s only time that’ll tell….&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-5180850835461512532?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/VrWDP6yXjBE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/5180850835461512532/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=5180850835461512532&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5180850835461512532?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5180850835461512532?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/VrWDP6yXjBE/martin-luther-king-on-justice.html" title="Martin Luther King on Justice" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/martin-luther-king-on-justice.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcCRXkyfSp7ImA9WxNUEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-2022123757381920218</id><published>2009-10-31T22:57:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-31T22:57:44.795+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-31T22:57:44.795+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="The Outsider" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Albert Camus" /><title>'The Outsider' - A Critique</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YWbhkyAimkupi9LPrpxtHHrRyCc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YWbhkyAimkupi9LPrpxtHHrRyCc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YWbhkyAimkupi9LPrpxtHHrRyCc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YWbhkyAimkupi9LPrpxtHHrRyCc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Camus’ ‘The Outsider’ (The Stranger) is a novel projecting the dilemma of man in post-industrial society. He has not been carved out to be an ideal. On the other hand, he is just one of the ordinary, simply the run-of-the-mill member of humanity. He can’t lead the life like the heroes of the old. He accepts his destiny, compromises his lot, lives in isolation and tries ot be human in theory and practice. Ultimately, he is snubbed by the civilization (state) by means of law. His life remains absurd. He is totally indifferent. This is how Meursault leads his life. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;To put briefly, we may say that he is a clerk, his father is dead and he lives in Algeria. His mother lives elsewhere. Occasionally, he sees her. She dies. He goes for her cremation. The funeral ceremony is over. He comes across Perez, who is the friend of his mother. He is not happy over this. He lives in a shabby house. Raymond is a pimp. He develops friendship with him. This happens just by the way. Raymond seeks his help. He has a quarrel with certain girl. He pretends that she has been unfaithful to him. Infact, he desires to write the girl a letter so that she may come back and he can get an opportunity for revenge.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Following this, there is a quarrel in the apartment of Raymond. He beats the girl. She is an Arab woman. The police appear on the scene. Meursault says that his friend has acted under provocation. The girl’s brother begins to haunt Raymond. Next week, Raymond invites Meursault and his girlfriend to spend the day at the beach. The two Arabs come up. There is a quarrel between the Arabs on one side and Raymond and Meursault on the other. They both teach the Arabs a lesson. Time passes, then one day when Meursault is walking all alone on the beach. Suddenly, he meets the Arabs a third time. There is scorching heat of the sun. The Arab pulls out a knife and dazzles Meursault, who then gets nervous and fires at the Arab. After a moment he shoots four times into the dead body. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the second part of the novel, Meursault is tried before a court of law. Meursault is indifferent to his fate. Even after being provoked by the magistrate and his lawyer, he does not repent. The argument switches over to his not expressing grief over the death of his mother. Meursault has no religion. He says that all men must die whether they are guilty or not. Otherwise, it doesn’t matter how he spends his life or whom he kills. He begins to feel why at the end his mother “had taken on a fiance”. She wanted to make a fresh start. She was alone. He too feels that he is ready to start life afresh. He knows that at his death “people will denounce him”. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The novel is certainly a displacement from hero to anti-heroism; from the ideal to the real, from rejection to acceptance of the futility of existence. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-2022123757381920218?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/ZazbochxPdk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/2022123757381920218/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=2022123757381920218&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/2022123757381920218?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/2022123757381920218?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/ZazbochxPdk/outsider-critique.html" title="'The Outsider' - A Critique" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/outsider-critique.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEICQHczfip7ImA9WxNWGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-5368857304372288321</id><published>2009-10-18T22:50:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-18T22:52:41.986+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-18T22:52:41.986+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>'Fate' - a poem</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Tlj6Vv1diZ0zkyYaL3p4DAD6_ps/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Tlj6Vv1diZ0zkyYaL3p4DAD6_ps/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Tlj6Vv1diZ0zkyYaL3p4DAD6_ps/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Tlj6Vv1diZ0zkyYaL3p4DAD6_ps/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SttOVfhuqkI/AAAAAAAAAbw/6BsT1BAA6u0/s1600-h/wall-mirror-reflection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SttOVfhuqkI/AAAAAAAAAbw/6BsT1BAA6u0/s320/wall-mirror-reflection.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Img. src.&lt;a href="http://www.hotelvaticangardeninn.com/photo-gallery/index.php"&gt; Wall Mirror&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
The mirror calls&lt;br /&gt;
it invites,&lt;br /&gt;
it watches me&lt;br /&gt;
tells me my identity.&lt;br /&gt;
But I visualize the ideal,&lt;br /&gt;
my search, my goal.&lt;br /&gt;
Attainable? May be not.&lt;br /&gt;
Waiting for the miracle,&lt;br /&gt;
for an angel to descend&lt;br /&gt;
to fulfill my daring dreams.&lt;br /&gt;
There’s the brooding silence,&lt;br /&gt;
the silence over fate.&lt;br /&gt;
Life looks on with tightly pursed lips.&lt;br /&gt;
Not a sound to be heard;&lt;br /&gt;
then mirror itself speaks&lt;br /&gt;
mutters something inaudible;&lt;br /&gt;
God drops a hint,&lt;br /&gt;
but no sound again.&lt;br /&gt;
Watching my path&lt;br /&gt;
I move on listlessly…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;© Amritbir Kaur&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-5368857304372288321?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/jRFuOLhs_aU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/5368857304372288321/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=5368857304372288321&amp;isPopup=true" title="12 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5368857304372288321?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/5368857304372288321?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/jRFuOLhs_aU/fate-poem.html" title="'Fate' - a poem" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/SttOVfhuqkI/AAAAAAAAAbw/6BsT1BAA6u0/s72-c/wall-mirror-reflection.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">12</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/fate-poem.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkYHSXk_eip7ImA9WxNWGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-9127810598994573053</id><published>2009-10-18T22:12:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-18T22:12:18.742+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-18T22:12:18.742+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Shakespeare" /><title>'As You Like It' as Pastoral/Romantic Comedy</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/83k1C4MzYw1cs_xHDDV06aiwsV0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/83k1C4MzYw1cs_xHDDV06aiwsV0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/83k1C4MzYw1cs_xHDDV06aiwsV0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/83k1C4MzYw1cs_xHDDV06aiwsV0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;C.L. Barber says that ‘As You Like It’ is one of the sweetest and sunniest comedies of Shakespeare. Cheralton observes that it is satirical and realistic, other critics have said that it is a pastoral comedy. According to Nicoll, “a comedy ends on a note of tinkling of marital bliss. A Shakespearean comedy is different from classical comedy in which society is justified and individual is held up to ridicule so that he may conform to the social standards. Let us take the example of ‘As You Like It’. It is at once romantic ad realistic, critical and poetic, rational and imitative allowing individual freedom and justifying society. It is flexible and accomodating. It ends on a note of forgiveness. A note of reconciliation is affected between Oliver and Orlando, the senior Duke and his younger brother, Fredrick in the end. The comedy begins through a fissure in the courtly order but it ends on a note of resolution. The characters assume their normal routine. Orlando is united with Rosalind, Oliver with Celia, Silvius with Phebe and Touchtone with Audrey. After their adolescent love-making, it is expected that these pairs of lovers will lead a mature, balanced and suitable life. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Romantic comedy is a comedy that suggests a variety of senses and means. Jonson and other playwrights have written realistic and satirical comedies. These comedies have ugly and harsh realities of life. But a romantic comedy creates imagination. Laughter, in realistic comedy, is directed as the follies of characters designated by another term: ‘comedy of manners’. In these comedies we laugh at characters and we find them in ourselves. Here the attitude is more sympathetic than criticism. We understand the characters and not judge them. Shakespeare demands greater involvement in his characters. The focus is on the individual and individual alone. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We can call it a romantic because it concerns with love, youth, happiness and marriage. Music makes us experienced, emotional and imaginative. It has sense of gaiety and spirit of joy. As a romantic comedy, it has loose structure also. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In ‘As You Like It’ Shakespeare takes different aspects of love between lovers and between the friends. Shakespeare has borrowed the cliché of “love at first sight” from Marlowe’s ‘Hero and Leander’ (“whoever loved who loved not at first sight”). Rosalind is banished by her uncle. She comes to the forest of Arden. Here all lovers are united. Before this, when Orlando fights a wrestling match, Rosalind is one of the onlookers. Spontaneously she offers him a gold chain as a token of her appreciation. This is the symbol of love at first sight. In doing so, she hands over her heart to him. In the forest of Arden, their love reaches at the climax. Rosalind points out the symptoms of a traditional lover and defines Orlando’s asserting that he is truly in love with her:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“A sunken eye you have not&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A pale cheek you have not.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;When orlando boasts that if he does not meet her, he would die, Rosalind says: “From time to time men have died but not of love”. Another realistic and satitrical note is struck by Rosalind when she says, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Men are April when they woo,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;December when they wed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Women are May when they are maids,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But sky changes when they are wives.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Sometimes we find Orlando as a conventional lover. He writes love poems but they lack “feeling”. It is bad poetry and invites the reader to laugh at the form of rhetoric. He carves Rosalind’s name on the trees. All these things reveal Orlando as a conventional lover. Then their marriage takes place in the forest. Rosalind describes how Celia fell in love with Oliver at first sight: “No sooner they must but they saw/ no sooner they saw but they fell in love with each other”. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Shakespeare has presented the love of the pastoral characters. Phebe is a pastoral nymph unwilling to surrender to her lover Silvius who makes obsequies. He complains to Rosalind about her harsh treatment. Phebe on the other hand, falls in love with Rosalind disguised as Genymede.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The love of Touchstone, with Audrey is a kind of satire on love and marriage. Touchstone does not seek to marry a genuine priest, for in that case it will not be easy for him to divorce his wife. Through Touchstone and Audrey, Shakespeare presents some kind of physical love. Touchstone is too much interested in physical relationship. Shakespeare avoids the games of love like seduction or physical love. Even Touchstone is interested but Shakespeare does not develop this love. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Love experience in the play is happy and good challenge because no restriction is from the outward. The story ends on a note of rational explanation. It does not injure the expectations of the reader. The atmosphere in the forest is interesting. It is something more than romantic comedy. The play reflects Shakespeare’s ability, a certain attachment is there. Here romantic means highly sentimental and artificial. It is not only Orlando, who is mocked. The pastoral love and sensual is also mocked here. Rosalind mocks at romantic love. She is very frequently suggesting that infidelity is a challenge that lovers must accept. Her cynicism can be understood when we think that she speaks for Shakespeare. The writer insists on the reality of love. Phebe is in love Genymede. But Shakespeare does not want the settlement as Jonson or other playwrights. In this sense, it is philosophical too; Silvius and Phebe are highly sentimental characters. Touchstone and Audrey present sensual love. They are cynical, physical and sentimental both in words and actions. Marriage has a strange kind of value for Touchstone when he says: “Faithless wife is better that no wife.” Audrey too does not escape from the criticism of writer. She scores the good villain, Oliver and Celia present sudden love. Celia shows herself to practical, resourceful, even emotional and becomes a rash woman till this happens. Curing of Orlando by Rosalind is healthy and real relationship, which comes to existence and accepts the reality of love. The pair of Orlando and Rosalind has personified the refined love, true love and pure view of love. They also reinforce the idea that is romantic. This pair has stability and maturity of love. High romanticism is when Rosalind feels difficult to part from Orlando even for two hours. Then Silvius uses love conceits and these have been used by dramatist to expose the unnaturalness of pastoral love. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;To conclude, it may be said that a Shakespearean comedy is a complex irreducible to one level of meaning and is aimed at nature and society, lower classes and upper classes, individual and society; contemplation and action; cynicism and love; satire and spontaneity. In fact, it is as wide and varied as the modern sensibility. It does not give a picture of untainted joy, which verges on the border of melancholy and resignation. It is tolerant, human, liberal and is definite experience contributing to the art of living boarding on common sense and outlook. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-9127810598994573053?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/J8WXKjVIINk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/9127810598994573053/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=9127810598994573053&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/9127810598994573053?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/9127810598994573053?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/J8WXKjVIINk/as-you-like-it-as-pastoralromantic.html" title="'As You Like It' as Pastoral/Romantic Comedy" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/as-you-like-it-as-pastoralromantic.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMEQn4yeCp7ImA9WxNVEUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-2385515030680317612</id><published>2009-10-14T11:16:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-21T23:20:03.090+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-21T23:20:03.090+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>The Colour of Dreams...</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6FF_q7G5Kc759jEuPYNidd9qhTY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6FF_q7G5Kc759jEuPYNidd9qhTY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6FF_q7G5Kc759jEuPYNidd9qhTY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6FF_q7G5Kc759jEuPYNidd9qhTY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/StWkMQey5gI/AAAAAAAAAbo/yD0oWi1FyLU/s1600-h/midnight_dreams.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392396659335554562" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/StWkMQey5gI/AAAAAAAAAbo/yD0oWi1FyLU/s400/midnight_dreams.jpg" style="display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 314px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;“You see the thing and say ‘Why?’. But I dream of things that never were and say ‘Why not?’”&lt;br /&gt;
G.B. Shaw&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It is often surprising to see how quickly our dreams lose colour, even before the feeling of their existence sinks in. sometimes they do materialize as our companions but at other they simply fade away into oblivion. And we keep on glancing back in the same old direction just to catch a glimpse of the gone by. The mind wants to detach itself but the heart stays steadfast holding on to the memories so tight as if fearing that the dreams might abandon us. The fact is that dreams never abandon us, they might relocate themselves into the background and stay put in a quiet corner of our heart…but then, they are again lit bright in our eyes at the slightest hint of remembrance. Remember its not the dream that is broken it is the sleep which comes to an end. Waking up does not mean the death of a dream but stopping to dream again is certainly is. Former Indian President, Dr. Abdul Kalam rightly said, “Dream is not that what you see in sleep…dream is the thing which does not allow you to sleep.” How well put! Never let your eyes feel lonely without the dreams; they’ll lose their beauty without them.&lt;br /&gt;
The quotation by G.B.Shaw presents before us two different viewpoints about our approach towards life. The person who asks “Why?” is the one who complains about the existence of everything, the one who feels everything happening around him is wrong. He is always at a loss to find out an explanation to find out the reasons for the events taking place around him. The persons who ask “Why not?” is the dreamer (someone like me!!!) who is always weaving stories around something that never materializes in his life, and someone who is always wanting to fulfill his dreams, which vanish in no time…leaving only a trail of memories behind. But life moves on, adopting new hues and new externalities with each passing moment. But we all carry our past within us…total detachment is never possible. This attachment to the past is what carries us forward, providing us with new hopes to achieve what we aspired for and always dreamt of…May God give us the courage to work towards achieving our dreams and also the courage to move forward with a view to continue this chain of dreams even when some of them stay unfulfilled…. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-2385515030680317612?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/F5s7hCbOgaw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/2385515030680317612/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=2385515030680317612&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/2385515030680317612?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/2385515030680317612?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/F5s7hCbOgaw/colour-of-dreams.html" title="The Colour of Dreams..." /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/StWkMQey5gI/AAAAAAAAAbo/yD0oWi1FyLU/s72-c/midnight_dreams.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/colour-of-dreams.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUMRHk6cCp7ImA9WxNWFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-1145824430038326388</id><published>2009-10-13T23:16:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-13T23:21:25.718+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-13T23:21:25.718+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Wordsworth" /><title>Democratic Note in Wordsworth's Poetry</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HDtL2xH_ay6VXzqnXXQJLnkxQMI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HDtL2xH_ay6VXzqnXXQJLnkxQMI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HDtL2xH_ay6VXzqnXXQJLnkxQMI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HDtL2xH_ay6VXzqnXXQJLnkxQMI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;SOME VIEWPOINTS:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wordsworth was brought up in a democratic environment. The principles of the revolution were ingrained in his nature.&lt;br /&gt;He is the first to strike the true democratic note in English poetry. He makes the lowliest rustics the heroes of his poetry, glorifies them and brings out the essential heroism of their souls. He learns lessons of virtue, faith and fortitude from them.&lt;br /&gt;It was the French Revolution which made him the poet of Man by bringing him into contact with human misery. Hence, he became as much a poet of man as of Nature. Nature herself took on a sober colouring in his poetry.&lt;br /&gt;It was through Nature that Wordsworth came to Man and not vice-versa. He loved Nature and also those who live in her lap. He shows man in his surroundings. Nature glorifies Man and reduces the intensity of his suffering.&lt;br /&gt;He believes in this basic identity of all, to his mind there is no essential difference between Man and objects and creatures of Nature. This oneness is indicated through numerous comparisons. Many of his characters are incarnations of the particular mood and spirit of nature.&lt;br /&gt;The same laws govern Man and nature. Hence, Nature can be the moral teacher of Man. Life in the lap of Nature is best: materialism is the cause of all human suffering.&lt;br /&gt;Why does Wordsworth prefer humble rustic life? He explains his reasons in the Preface. He wanted to understand the heart of Man. Therefore, he studies the essential human passions, and this can be done in the simplest societies. He studies Man rather than men. His characters are types rather than individuals.&lt;br /&gt;His study of Man is limited and one-sided. He could draw only simple natures. He has no evil characters.&lt;br /&gt;He went to the child for the same reasons as he went to the humble rustics, that is, to see into the heart of things.&lt;br /&gt;He attached great importance to childhood memories. He believed that the child symbolically lives the various a stage of life through which human race has passed. Hence, a study of childhood memories can help much in the study of the growth of human consciousness.&lt;br /&gt;In the great ‘Immortality Ode’ the child is glorified as ‘the mighty prophet and seer blest’ for he has visions of a prior existence in the blessed world.&lt;br /&gt;Wordsworth’s attitude is poetic and mystical rather than philosophical and should be taken as such.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-1145824430038326388?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/daYcMxr_iKw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/1145824430038326388/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=1145824430038326388&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1145824430038326388?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/1145824430038326388?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/daYcMxr_iKw/democratic-note-in-wordsworths-poetry.html" title="Democratic Note in Wordsworth's Poetry" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/democratic-note-in-wordsworths-poetry.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08CQ3w7fyp7ImA9WxNWF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-8713632944718496582</id><published>2009-10-09T23:20:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-16T23:27:42.207+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-16T23:27:42.207+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my poems" /><title>The Absence</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EmwmjAY_yWUYmcOrjnDhlWCKYis/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EmwmjAY_yWUYmcOrjnDhlWCKYis/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EmwmjAY_yWUYmcOrjnDhlWCKYis/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EmwmjAY_yWUYmcOrjnDhlWCKYis/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Ss94pR3fFAI/AAAAAAAAAbA/0haQDh_NmIA/s1600-h/solitude_by_serhatdemiroglu.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390659929551868930" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Ss94pR3fFAI/AAAAAAAAAbA/0haQDh_NmIA/s400/solitude_by_serhatdemiroglu.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Img. source: &lt;a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/102106623/"&gt;Deviant Art&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
My hands are full&lt;br /&gt;
but not  a speck carried,&lt;br /&gt;
I have lost being the winner&lt;br /&gt;
I am an innocent sinner.&lt;br /&gt;
This world that I have –&lt;br /&gt;
it’s something so strange,&lt;br /&gt;
something so familiar yet&lt;br /&gt;
miles apart…&lt;br /&gt;
there’s nothing I can change,&lt;br /&gt;
nothing, nothing…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;© Amritbir Kaur&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-8713632944718496582?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/36aJiy0UxLE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/8713632944718496582/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=8713632944718496582&amp;isPopup=true" title="14 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/8713632944718496582?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/8713632944718496582?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/36aJiy0UxLE/absence.html" title="The Absence" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Ss94pR3fFAI/AAAAAAAAAbA/0haQDh_NmIA/s72-c/solitude_by_serhatdemiroglu.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">14</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/absence.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YHRn45eSp7ImA9WxNWEE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-3543318145146563557</id><published>2009-10-08T23:34:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-08T23:35:37.021+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-08T23:35:37.021+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my articles" /><title>Emotions...</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p7D3yUD2kx4ed9AQWcCoWKni0JI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p7D3yUD2kx4ed9AQWcCoWKni0JI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p7D3yUD2kx4ed9AQWcCoWKni0JI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p7D3yUD2kx4ed9AQWcCoWKni0JI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Emotions are a God’s way of way of making life beautiful. Writing, especially poetry, is simply emotions put into words. And when once penned down, lead to a relaxed state of mind. Some might feel it is easier to pen down one’s thoughts rather than expressing them verbally. It varies from person to person. The thing that matters is that we need to express ourselves. Piling up all the thoughts and emotions inside us takes its toll on the mental equilibrium. Even otherwise, saying the thing is better than not expressing ever. Words might be misunderstood sometimes but silence is often the most misquoted one. So the next time you have an urge to go vocal, go ahead with courage. Have the conviction that either things would turn out to be the way you want or you will have a new lesson to learn with a host of beautiful memories stored in some lonely corner of your heart, raked up by a stray thought years later when you think you had forgotten all…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-3543318145146563557?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/rS68jnhvV3I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/3543318145146563557/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=3543318145146563557&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3543318145146563557?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/3543318145146563557?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/rS68jnhvV3I/emotions.html" title="Emotions..." /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/emotions.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUEGRng8cCp7ImA9WxNWEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002024985856080734.post-6654164709533377394</id><published>2009-10-08T21:22:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-08T21:30:27.678+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-08T21:30:27.678+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Literary awards" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Man Booker Prize winner" /><title>Man Booker Prize 2009</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HGqrnR5FrX72j86YGG4IdyjwB5k/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HGqrnR5FrX72j86YGG4IdyjwB5k/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HGqrnR5FrX72j86YGG4IdyjwB5k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HGqrnR5FrX72j86YGG4IdyjwB5k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Ss4MXVwACcI/AAAAAAAAAa4/n_d6C-XHTyE/s1600-h/hilary_mantel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 285px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Ss4MXVwACcI/AAAAAAAAAa4/n_d6C-XHTyE/s400/hilary_mantel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390259399124060610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Man Booker Prize for the year 2009 has been won by Hilary Mantel for her book ‘Wolf Hall’. The book deals with the fictionalized life of Thomas Cromwell. It is set in 1520s, related to Cromwell’s rise to power in the Tudor court of King Henry VIII. The book has been a favourite ever since the release of the shortlisted entries.The other shortlisted authors were:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# A.S. Byatt for ‘The Children’s Book’&lt;br /&gt;# J.M. Coetzee for ‘Summertime’&lt;br /&gt;# Adam Foulds’ ‘The Quickening Maze’&lt;br /&gt;# Simon Mawer’s ‘The Glass Room’&lt;br /&gt;# Sarah Waters’ ‘The Little Stranger’&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5002024985856080734-6654164709533377394?l=literarybonanza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~4/hMEVGkbvIPU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/feeds/6654164709533377394/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5002024985856080734&amp;postID=6654164709533377394&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/6654164709533377394?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5002024985856080734/posts/default/6654164709533377394?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LiteraryJewels/~3/hMEVGkbvIPU/man-booker-prize-2009.html" title="Man Booker Prize 2009" /><author><name>Amritbir Kaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11421174480905206379</uri><email>abcpoet@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00313376117169616167" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_P9ry5ZPQ9do/Ss4MXVwACcI/AAAAAAAAAa4/n_d6C-XHTyE/s72-c/hilary_mantel.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://literarybonanza.blogspot.com/2009/10/man-booker-prize-2009.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>
