Showing posts with label Objective. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Objective. Show all posts

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Becky Sharp: Character Sketch: Vanity Fair: William Thackeray

This is a formal start for the sketch, you will get a base then you have to put your own ideas in play.


One of the most animated characters, sharpest woman character, and perhaps the most cunning of all female protagonists that have been created so far by the pen of any author, Becky Sharp, the character of Vanity Fair, reflects all these qualities from her personality and actions. She is short but not at all short in her wit. She smiles with the most gracious movements of her lips but strikes the sentiments of the victim so ungraciously! Becky Sharp justifies her name and she is sharp from all the angles one can observe.

Becky, the ill-bred girl with some inherit gifts like French in natural accent and humour to amuse all around her, is very ambitious since her childhood. Ambition- something like integrated in the character of Becky, we may say that it is the gift of the society to her. When in the Pinkerton’s school, everyone is harsh towards Becky except Amelia only. (Amelia has the reason; Thackeray has made her stupid.) The harsh behaviour of the school, Pinkerton’s now and then rebuke on Becky makes Becky ill and sick with the typical Victorian arrogance to grow up and up in the society. Moreover, the Pinkerton’s style, the Pinkerton’s hatred, and everything about modern and socially aware Pinkerton enter into the life of Becky and later we see that Becky is the perfect resemblance of Pinkerton.    ..............


Saturday, July 27, 2013

Mighty and the Weak, A poem by Alok Mishra

Mighty and the Weak

Difficile est proprie communia dicere.

In solace of night, two tormented fought
Over the issue of right to exist,
It is though accepted, anticipated and sought,
Weaker for the stronger is always a feast!
Poor candle with her tender light,
In the dense dark, served a sight.
Mighty wind with his bloody eager sword
Was ready to slay the sweet poor chord.
‘Pardon me, my frail existence, show mercy
‘O broad chested, O devouring wind
‘Omit me of your morsel, set free
‘I beg you… my life, not you grind!’
Pleaded thus, she stood calm, and did wait
For the reply of her piranha, her fate,
And he, the swollen might, in anger tried
To make her afraid, he thus replied:
‘I’m mighty; I love mighty; you be mighty
‘Or I slay you, you feeble poor creature!
‘To do you justice, to endure propriety
‘Are for the mighty like me just a torture!
‘To maintain peace, you weaker must die
‘And with peace and hope in grave lie!’
The gentle flame, the thin spirit, the brave soul
Boldly stood but in calm pose she listened his whole.
‘For the perils like you, might is right.
‘In His abode, where justice happens always,
‘Still the echoes say that right is might,
‘There devils are imprisoned and put in cage.’
The candle, true and upright, but weak,
Said these in her tender voice, so meek.
Arrogant and wild, the mighty wind lost sense,
For the thirsty of blood, nothing is offense!
With a blow, he collected some dry leaves
And pushed the innocent flame over them.
Pathetic! How one of her life he bereaves
With no regret, no mercy, and no shame!
The melting candle, dying of enormous pain,
Thought she how her stronger sisters grew insane!
‘How your beautiful earth will survive?
‘Shall you see with silence, or thrive?
‘If your world is for the might and power,
‘Why do you make creepers sans bower?’
With these words, she melted; she did die!
But she left questions to God, to be done.
The God who sits and watches all from high
The world that with same Moon and Sun,
To escape from these questions always does try…

Alok Mishra
28-07-2013