Whenever we talk about literature in its form as a value to a society, we come with a clarity that the written word is still a/the magical potion in our lives. Literature has been a soil of metamorphic nature and seeds it can take anywhere until they grow to become, to be.
The Quiet Letter has reached somewhere, sailing through the waters of unknown histories. It is in a slow motion now that a wind has arrived for rain to breathe into saplings of last year that lived in thundery storm. First it was the unified croaking of frogs around night, and then the wind. We might anchor somewhere for a long time but we do not know. Hundreds of ideas have died so far and so far it is good to go slow.
The Quiet Letter
SOMEWHERE IN THE great beyond, which he knew so well, Dr. Vikram Sarabhai’s spirit must be having a good chuckle at the sight of me addressing this august audience on such an ambitious subject as “Managing socioeconomic change: the role of professionals.” Would that Dr. Sarabhai were still with us—he would have done this job much better than I…read now
It was a day during the rainy season—a day just like today. Outside the window, the leaves of the peepal tree stood drenched in the rain. A young woman from the hills, a ghatan, was lying curled up against Randheer on the spring mattress of this very same teak bed, which had now been moved away from the window a bit. Beyond the window, the leaves washed by the rain quivered like earrings in the milky darkness of the night, very much like the shivers the girl clinging to him sent coursing through his body…read now
Familiar though his name may be to us, the storyteller in his living immediacy is by no means a present force. He has already become something remote from us and something that is getting even more distant. To present someone like Leskov as a storyteller does not mean bringing him closer to us but, rather, increasing our distance from him. Viewed from a certain distance, the great, simple outlines which define the storyteller stand out in him, or rather, they become visible in him, just as in a rock a human head or an animal’s body may appear to an observer at the proper distance and angle of vision. This distance and this angle of vision are prescribed for us by an experience which we may have almost every day. It teaches us that the art of storytelling is coming to an end…read now
The Quiet Letter
June Edition 1