WritersWorld

Persepolis

Short Review

**Persepolis** **by Marjane Satrapi**
[Source – diggitmagazine]

Stories are happening, stories are being written, stories are being ended, stories that are new meets stories that are old, everywhere, in every life a story is taking place.

Now imagine a place, long back in time, a grand place, the centre of a huge empire that today rests quietly, patiently the ruins hold itself against time, vanishing slowly but never getting defeated.

Persepolis, the city of the Persians, awaits quietly and patiently a time, it stands composedly and accepts what it witnessed, giving one a good hint of its past who then leaves taking along an unfinished story that also awaits a time, a time of completion.

**Book cover**
[Source – Cult of Pedagogy]

Marjane Satrapi has a story, it’s titled Persepolis. A beautiful way to begin a story, to merge the storyteller with her past, present and future, to the place she belongs.

Marji’s story is a story of constant reminder – a reminder about the holy myth, burden passed on by the lineage, large scale bloodshed done by mistake, wars of the sexes; it is also a reminder of true love, beautiful dreams, hope and faith, strength to stand up, courage to bow down, belief in freedom and humanity.

Marji’s story is a fusion of all of this and more that makes life, life. Marji shares it wonderfully from her perspective and whether you know her or not, you will connect to it, for your life too is a story.

So much to be explored, many such Persepolis to be seen, a Marji waiting to tell her story everywhere, a life to be lived today, in the present, a story to be written, today in this very second.

Embark on a similar journey and you will reach a Persepolis and be enthralled by its mere presence. You will become Marji and look back with a smile.

Weekly Newsletter

Recent Posts

Gloriously Ordinary

Posted on December 2, 2016 by Jagriti Rumi A Wave Admire Dancing Dirt Gloriously Ordinary Light Sky

Perception

**Starstruck by the ordinary.**
[Image by Jo Justino from Pixabay]

Today is boring, today is dull. How can I float up high without looking at the sky? Keener eyes not grounded, but in the middle of this and that, hers and mine, cries and sighs, laughs and jitters, cuckoo and balderdash, all this and a pinch more with a tinge of lustrous gold, confronts me every lethargic moment asking me to be agile and give an answer not a reply, one that is worthwhile.

Sham, it is a sham, I shout. The next moment I am out in the middle of that riddle, attacked badly by the crowd. Glares wicked or kind, I tell you are invincible.

Hush! Hush! Staying quiet is the key.

A fresh beginning, in between, for me as I get up to admire the quagmire that glows and shows me nothing. And what do I do? I hum a rhythm, I jig a little. Smoothly I begin dancing, hand movements and the twist and then the circle. Round and round and round.

I see an image in and around me crystallising, a translucent image, spreading like a wave, filling the ceiling, passing through the windows, leaving behind glorious dirt particles and a thin film of light.

And so I sit and admire the ordinary.

Weekly Newsletter

Recent Posts

One, Two, TREE

Posted on November 21, 2016 by Jagriti Rumi Danced Friend Gaily Life Loving One Two Tree Short Animation Film Stories

A Dedication

*One Two Tree*, a short animation film
directed by Yulia Aronova.

Gaily it began to tread,

Gaily it danced ahead,

Twirling through the rise,

Twirling beneath the white shine,

Rhythm in the advancing days,

Rhythm in the Junes and the Mays,

Forever a loving friend,

Forever a bestowing hand,

Warmth of the light so bright,

Warmth hidden in all its might,

Carrying gloriously the life,

Carrying till the last goodbye.

Gaily I began to tread,

Gaily I danced ahead,

One two TREE.

**Watch the teaser of this fantastic short animation film here.**
**Do so NOW!**

Weekly Newsletter

Recent Posts

In This Second

Posted on November 18, 2016 by Jagriti Rumi Flower Golden Light In This Second Leaves Meaningless Meaningful Journey Skylark

Observation

**Golden Leaves Art.**
**A painting by Jose Tonito.**
[Source – Deviantart]

In this second when I think about the bluish green, maroon flower and the wavy lines, I am reminded of the golden thought full of bright light and a rush of sparkling trail which, if I follow, and I do follow, I reach a melodious moment, it is certainly true as I feel its charm and floating I land back, touching the soil I understand my presence and the leaves sing together a hymn of the past, I smile and feast on the warmth of this meaningless meaningful journey that quietly adores the skylark’s secret and freely shines, glad to be and not be, everything merging in this second.

Weekly Newsletter

Recent Posts

That Which Is Not Yet Is

Posted on October 31, 2016 by Jagriti Rumi Breathe Bright Light Dandelions Dream Continues Golden Wings Memory Swirling That Which Is Not Yet Is

Spirituality

**Happy dandelions with yellow friends in the sun.**
**[Source – Pixabay]**

This bright light that surrounds, that has soaked, that is soothing is one with me. This cottony soft memory is a truth. I breathe, I hear it.

A melodious tune played on the lyre flows in the air. We are all dancing to it.

A sea of dandelions… Running as if I have wings, golden wings, I cross the sea. When did I start swirling? A gush of harmonious wind surprises me and I fall down, laughing loudly.

The dream continues every time I quietly see this bright light.

A painting Dandelions in the Sun by Oleg Riabchuk also presents one with such a bright and beautiful dream.

Weekly Newsletter

Recent Posts

The Answer Is Blowin’ In The Wind – Bob Dylan

Posted on October 17, 2016 by Jagriti Rumi Blowin in the Wind Bob Dylan Brusque Thoughts Meanderings Mind Music Stopped and Listened Truth

A Fictive Take

**The Living Legend. [Source – Wikimedia Commons]**

It was her version of the truth and she tried to separate it from mere meanderings of the mind.

She walked ahead unsure if she had succeeded or not. Autumn winds brought along something that made her cry.

Alone, sitting on that bench, she asked herself about right and wrong. Pendulum like, silly, brusque thoughts!

Why did she participate in the parade? For letting the confusion rise and fall? For the questions to disturb and the answers to convey…

She stopped and listened…

Bob Dylan – Blowin’ In The Wind

How many roads must a man walk down

Before you call him a man ?

How many seas must a white dove sail

Before she sleeps in the sand ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many times must the cannon balls fly

Before they’re forever banned ?

The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind

The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

Yes, ‘n’ how many years can a mountain exist

Before it’s washed to the sea ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many years can some people exist

Before they’re allowed to be free ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many times can a man turn his head

Pretending that he just doesn’t see ?

The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind

The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

Yes, ‘n’ how many times must a man look up

Before he can see the sky ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many ears must one man have

Before he can hear people cry ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many deaths will it take till he knows

That too many people have died ?

The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind

The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

Blowin’ In The Wind, the song.

Weekly Newspaper

Recent Posts

I Was Born But…

Posted on September 20, 2016 by Jagriti Rumi Childhood Classic Comedy I Was Born But... Japanese Masterpiece Silent Film Yasujiro Ozu

Short Review

Keiji and Ryoichi.
[Source – UCL Film Blog]

Keiji comes running to his elder brother Ryoichi and tells him about the bullies. Ryoichi, a great son of a great father, stands up and assures his brother not to worry. Keiji trusts Ryoichi. They can handle the bullies, they are confident. The next morning their father walks with them half way to the school and then leaves for office. Keiji and Ryoichi, near the school gate, find the biggest boy amongst the bullies challenging them. They then look at each other, deciding with a nod what they should do. They run away and don’t attend the school that day.

Yasujiro Ozu’s ‘I Was Born But…’, a 1932 silent film, will remind you of your childhood, the challenges you faced as a child – winning some and losing some, the faith you had in someone great and the dream of becoming someone great. Children’s world comes in contact with the adult’s world. The innocent child doesn’t understand hierarchy or hypocrisy, though he understands power as he finds it in his world as well; power to not to be bullied, power to bully the bully, power to be the group leader.

How in the adult’s world dreams become unreal, fantasies die and realities are numbered, given a name, a social status and bit by bit life is compromised, is what we see in the film, but from the children’s point of view. Children are lively and so is the film. Its comical timing is fantastically perfect. Slowly with the shifts from this to that world, the tone changes, yet maintaining the rhythm throughout.

Keiji, Ryoichi and their father, Mr Yoshii.
[Source – IMDB]

Understanding anything, anyone is a tough job, some fail to and some refuse to do it altogether. This film takes up this job and finishes it successfully, understanding the child’s dilemmas, beliefs, hopes and displeasure, understanding the adult’s demeanor and how they accept a denouement, understanding the familial ties and the need of tuning it, understanding the melodies of life and how it makes everyone laugh all the time.

Ryoichi, Taro and Keiji.
[Source – Wikipedia]

An amazingly marvelous film, it must be watched by all those who want to feel the magic of cinema. ‘I Was Born But…’ is one of my favourite films of all time. It is introduced as ‘a picture book for grownups’ and rightly so. The fact that it’s a silent, black and white film doesn’t make it a difficult watch at any point rather this masterpiece flows so wonderfully that colour or sound seems redundant.

All you have to do now is to watch this film, appreciate and thank Yasujiro Ozu for making this superlative work of art.

[Source – IMDB & The Criterion Collection]

Weekly Newsletter

Recent Posts

In This Infinite Moment

Posted on September 13, 2016 by Jagriti Rumi Breathlessness End For Now In This Infinite Moment Quiet Running Voices

Flash Fiction

Running… Heavy rain has made it more fulfilling. Only the breathlessness accompanies. Running like there is an end.

Running… I throw the jacket away. Running in the woods, hoping to escape somewhere in this infinite moment.

Running… Eyes shine bright, but nothing is clear. Slowly, the speed becomes visible. Running fast I hear the voices within.

Running… The voices overpower me effortlessly. I rub my eyes only to make it worse. I fall down. I cry, shout loudly as I remember.

Earth is cold, but I rarely feel so.

Sitting, I look all around. Loneliness seeps inside.

Who said I understand it better now, no, I don’t. I have just agreed to be quiet. For now.

Weekly Newsletter

Latest Post

Thoughts Versus Giggles

Posted on August 31, 2016 by Jagriti Rumi Beautiful Dreams Eyes Flash Fiction Hopes Life Pink Umbrella Radiant Smiles Rain Road Thoughts Versus Giggles

Flash Fiction

**Giggling, a shade of pink.**
[Source – Pixabay]

Samira was walking briskly. Her thoughts followed her where ever she went, in shade and dust, amongst the crowd and throughout the dim alley with matted hoardings. Life in its minute detail, including the folded chit in a jeans pocket, spoke to Samira. Thoughts dappled with plaintive acceptances and mellowed retraces were highlighted.

Everything was perfectly normal when Samira turned in slow motion, her hair flying dramatically, her eyes looking for… Alas! There was nothing filmy to see, except something comic – pigeon droppings dropped on a man’s head. Samira grimaced as if she knew the pigeon or the man.

It started to drizzle. Samira smiled, almost chuckled, why, because she had an umbrella. And then came the moment – heavy, pouring rain made the pedestrians hide in shops, except a bunch of few who had an umbrella. Samira shined with a beautiful pink umbrella.

La la la laa laa, la-la la la laaaa! She was reminded of the grand music score from Chariots of fire.

But all this for a few minutes and she was back in shade and dust, amongst the crowd and on the rough road. She looked at the people around her and wondered about their life, sufferings, dreams and hopes. Gosh! In a puddle, Samira saw her gloomy face and noticed her laces. Now, just like the others, she looked for a corner and sat to tie her laces.

Umbrella on a side, down on her knees, Samira got drenched as a rusty, rickety roof pipe broke brazenly. Pedestrians saw it, ignored it and then saw it again. Sheepishly Samira got up, then acted brave till the road curved to the left. “It is over”, she said.

Samira walked, deep in conversation with herself when a little girl, a beggar, came running towards her and started to walk with her. She thought, now she will ask for some money, now she will beg, now. But the beggar smiled and said, “I just want to go till there”. Samira nodded and looked at her pink umbrella happily. The beggar giggled as her little brother joined them. Samira looked at both of them and saw the two most radiant smiles she had ever seen.

Gladly she walked with them, not thinking anything, quietly and happily. Giggles overpowered her thoughts.

Weekly Newsletter

Recent Posts

Friend Anything For You Except The Green Umbrella

Posted on August 7, 2016 by Jagriti Rumi Fog Laughing My Friend Rain Raincoat Spooky Umbrella Walk Ahead Together

Flash Fiction

**My funky umbrella that I forgot in a bus and so I had to buy a silly raincoat.**
**[Source – Pixabay]**

It’s a foggy day and I am walking to somewhere all alone, carrying a green umbrella pendulum-like. Rain shower won’t stop me. The blinding whiteness won’t scare me. I check my watch, it assures me time is good.

Hearing footsteps following me, I try to hasten, only then I realise it is no one, but me. These gumboots I tell you. It is all very funny, but still I cannot take a chance to laugh aloud.

Never knew the fog could trick. The fresh green plants and giant trees that till now looked painting-like, now seem spooky.

Suddenly I hear fresh footsteps running from a direction towards me. Numbly I tell myself don’t move, still I turn and find someone in a funny raincoat running towards me.

Then a voice, “Smarty pants, give me back my umbrella, don’t want this silly raincoat of yours’. It is my friend Marcia. I smile and say, “But you look good in it.”

We fight and then laughing aloud walk ahead together.

Weekly Newsletter