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Melody of Maladies

Robin Banerjee

4.9/5 (19573 ratings)

Description:The story is set in Calcutta, now Kolkata, in the somnolent, orthodox, lazy and tradition-bound, ritualistic Bengali culture of the mid-seventies. It revolves around the self-opinionated Lily, with her disdain for laid-down convention of the times. Her schooling in the English medium, much against established norms of the day, infuses her with a rebellious attitude. This makes her voice her dissent against established, and deride laid down practices within her family and society. Her convictions are driven by Kafka, Nietzsche, Shakespeare, and other English poets and novelists. Influenced by them, she sets out to carve her own destiny bursting into her own poetry at times.“The pavements lay littered with an alchemy of garbage, bedded in gay abandon with burnt coal, ash from the kitchen fires and of course the omnipresent fish-bones. The Municipal Corporation people came only once in three or four days. Rubbish multiplied and was left to putrefy as the days went by. A Nandagopal brushing his teeth on the balcony would spit out a mouthful of phlegm and datoon down into the pile below. Mongrels and street dogs fought with each other to munch at pieces of fish-head and bones and the rotten vegetables. Left-over food attracted swarms of mosquitoes, and the large rats that came to forage after dark. Nobody bothered much. The dumps grew exponentially, every day, every few yards away from each other. Clothes left to dry, dangled from the many balconies wherever the eye wandered. Some worn-out sarees of various colours, old bed sheets, interspersed with the odd dhoti, ganji and jangia, undergarments, drooped dangerously onto the electric wires and lamp posts that criss-crossed the streets.Lily Ganguly, the agnostic charmer, advocate of what-is-right, cemented with her no-nonsense attitude, looked down and around her. The street lights had been switched on. It was almost dusk now. The man-in-khaki, with a hook at the end of a long stick, went about turning on the switches high above on the lamp posts on the streets. How many more years would he doing this, she wondered? She had seen him doing so, every evening since so many years now. He went about his dull job every single day attending to the city lights with an impassive face. A dreary chore, an uninspiring existence; it bordered on compelling monotony. Why was she thinking about him? Did his moribund existence resonate with her own life, now strangely with a lack of heft?”...............“I am looking to frame a copy of the painting of Miranda and The Tempest (1916), by John William Waterhouse. Lily was at her argumentative best. Have asked a chap on College Street, to get it for me. Will take time, he said. It’s been two months since, and I am yet to get it. Will show you when I have it Dadu. Now please let me carry-on with Macbeth. This play on BBC is near textbook-seamless, she continued. Appropriate sound-effects complimented the Shakespearean aura Lily had sought to build-up around her. Please be quiet now. Listen and feel the intensity of Lady Macbeth’s motivation:“The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of DuncanUnder my battlementsCome you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me hereAnd fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of direst cruelty” Macbeth Act I, Scene V”.....................As if it were a buffet meal offered at a discount, Lily tended to gobble-up the fare in uneven gulps. And so it was with Kafka. He demanded to be read, re read, masticated, ruminated and contemplated upon. Rest awhile, then it had to be internalised, after which, attempt to digest it began. A tall order for most, more so the hoi polloi, by a long shot. Lily had read him only in bits and pieces. She somehow liked to believe that like Kafka, she could also model herself as an atheist. Kafka, she felt, eloquently echoed her situation; “I am a cage, in search of a bird”. Her imagined, lightly flawed reasoning echoed his, “Better to have, and not need, than to need, and not have”. Lily was not certain if he was talking about the need for God in all the religious rantings of the praying masses she came across. “God gives the nuts”, he had further added, “but does not crack them”. Hence these nutcases waste so many hours taking a crack at doing so. Or was it that they needed a God because she felt they did not have one? A hero worship of sorts? Clutching at the wind, maybe?”................“Two, not entirely unrelated events, were simultaneously being enacted at virtually the same time. Somewhere in the far horizon, a flock of white Storks, were lazily winging their way towards the City of Joy. At the same instance, Lily was letting-out a half-stifled sigh while an X chromosome from her lover’s sperm gleefully made its way towards the eagerly waiting, free-floating anxious egg deep inside her. Lily pushed her lover aside and pranced up to the terrace. Looking-up at the endless blue sky stretching yonder, ...We have made it easy for you to find a PDF Ebooks without any digging. And by having access to our ebooks online or by storing it on your computer, you have convenient answers with Melody of Maladies. To get started finding Melody of Maladies, you are right to find our website which has a comprehensive collection of manuals listed.
Our library is the biggest of these that have literally hundreds of thousands of different products represented.

Pages: —

Format: PDF, EPUB & Kindle Edition

Publisher: Kindle

Release: 2012

ISBN

Description: The story is set in Calcutta, now Kolkata, in the somnolent, orthodox, lazy and tradition-bound, ritualistic Bengali culture of the mid-seventies. It revolves around the self-opinionated Lily, with her disdain for laid-down convention of the times. Her schooling in the English medium, much against established norms of the day, infuses her with a rebellious attitude. This makes her voice her dissent against established, and deride laid down practices within her family and society. Her convictions are driven by Kafka, Nietzsche, Shakespeare, and other English poets and novelists. Influenced by them, she sets out to carve her own destiny bursting into her own poetry at times.“The pavements lay littered with an alchemy of garbage, bedded in gay abandon with burnt coal, ash from the kitchen fires and of course the omnipresent fish-bones. The Municipal Corporation people came only once in three or four days. Rubbish multiplied and was left to putrefy as the days went by. A Nandagopal brushing his teeth on the balcony would spit out a mouthful of phlegm and datoon down into the pile below. Mongrels and street dogs fought with each other to munch at pieces of fish-head and bones and the rotten vegetables. Left-over food attracted swarms of mosquitoes, and the large rats that came to forage after dark. Nobody bothered much. The dumps grew exponentially, every day, every few yards away from each other. Clothes left to dry, dangled from the many balconies wherever the eye wandered. Some worn-out sarees of various colours, old bed sheets, interspersed with the odd dhoti, ganji and jangia, undergarments, drooped dangerously onto the electric wires and lamp posts that criss-crossed the streets.Lily Ganguly, the agnostic charmer, advocate of what-is-right, cemented with her no-nonsense attitude, looked down and around her. The street lights had been switched on. It was almost dusk now. The man-in-khaki, with a hook at the end of a long stick, went about turning on the switches high above on the lamp posts on the streets. How many more years would he doing this, she wondered? She had seen him doing so, every evening since so many years now. He went about his dull job every single day attending to the city lights with an impassive face. A dreary chore, an uninspiring existence; it bordered on compelling monotony. Why was she thinking about him? Did his moribund existence resonate with her own life, now strangely with a lack of heft?”...............“I am looking to frame a copy of the painting of Miranda and The Tempest (1916), by John William Waterhouse. Lily was at her argumentative best. Have asked a chap on College Street, to get it for me. Will take time, he said. It’s been two months since, and I am yet to get it. Will show you when I have it Dadu. Now please let me carry-on with Macbeth. This play on BBC is near textbook-seamless, she continued. Appropriate sound-effects complimented the Shakespearean aura Lily had sought to build-up around her. Please be quiet now. Listen and feel the intensity of Lady Macbeth’s motivation:“The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of DuncanUnder my battlementsCome you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me hereAnd fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of direst cruelty” Macbeth Act I, Scene V”.....................As if it were a buffet meal offered at a discount, Lily tended to gobble-up the fare in uneven gulps. And so it was with Kafka. He demanded to be read, re read, masticated, ruminated and contemplated upon. Rest awhile, then it had to be internalised, after which, attempt to digest it began. A tall order for most, more so the hoi polloi, by a long shot. Lily had read him only in bits and pieces. She somehow liked to believe that like Kafka, she could also model herself as an atheist. Kafka, she felt, eloquently echoed her situation; “I am a cage, in search of a bird”. Her imagined, lightly flawed reasoning echoed his, “Better to have, and not need, than to need, and not have”. Lily was not certain if he was talking about the need for God in all the religious rantings of the praying masses she came across. “God gives the nuts”, he had further added, “but does not crack them”. Hence these nutcases waste so many hours taking a crack at doing so. Or was it that they needed a God because she felt they did not have one? A hero worship of sorts? Clutching at the wind, maybe?”................“Two, not entirely unrelated events, were simultaneously being enacted at virtually the same time. Somewhere in the far horizon, a flock of white Storks, were lazily winging their way towards the City of Joy. At the same instance, Lily was letting-out a half-stifled sigh while an X chromosome from her lover’s sperm gleefully made its way towards the eagerly waiting, free-floating anxious egg deep inside her. Lily pushed her lover aside and pranced up to the terrace. Looking-up at the endless blue sky stretching yonder, ...We have made it easy for you to find a PDF Ebooks without any digging. And by having access to our ebooks online or by storing it on your computer, you have convenient answers with Melody of Maladies. To get started finding Melody of Maladies, you are right to find our website which has a comprehensive collection of manuals listed.
Our library is the biggest of these that have literally hundreds of thousands of different products represented.

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Melody of Maladies

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