Monday, May 23, 2011

What's the big deal about virginity !

Virginity is not a sure shot formula for long lasting marital bliss.


From time immemorial a woman's virginity has been her prized possession. Throughout history one will read about cultures across the world placing a high value on a a woman's virginity. But times are changing and for an increasing number of young men and women, sex is no longer the kind of taboo that it earlier used to be. And much to our older generation's charging, pre-marital sex is a definite reality of our times.


In fact, these days, couples who are in a relationship have no qualms about getting sexually intimate with each other even though there may be no guarantee that the relationship will culminate into marriage. However, when it does come to the question of marriage, especially in the case of arranged marriages, a woman with a sexually active history still raises eyebrows and sets tongues wagging. What then is the big deal about virginity and how does this kind of a mentality hamper the lives of numerous women?


According to Dr Mahindra Vatsa, gynaecologist and sex counsellor, this kind of mentality is largely because our traditional values are still strongly embedded in us. "One of the most common questions I get, till date, is 'How do I know that my bride or girlfriend is a virgin?' The only answer that I have to such questions is that there is no way to know," says Dr Watsa. According to him, it's just the man's and his family's inflated ego that results in such unrealistic demands. How then, does our traditional culture not hamper couples from engaging in pre-marital sex? "Once a couple is engaged, it's like a license for marriage so they feel they can do anything," he opines.


"It's actually not such a big deal. However, I still get men who complain to me saying that the wife did not bleed on the first night and hence, they suspect that she's not a virgin. The truth is that the presence of the hymen which ruptures (resulting in the bleeding) is not a sure shot sign of virginity. Some women are born without it, there there are those for whom it is so elastic that it never ruptures while for some it is so fragile that a slightly intense activity may have ruptured it without them even realising it. It is just not possible to access whether a girl is a virgin or not by just examining her except if she's been through a pregnancy or if she admits to having sexual intercourse," says sexologist Dr Rajan Bhonsle.


He goes on to add that in a relationship, if a couple is to make it work successfully, it is more important for the couple to worry about virtues like trust and honesty. "If a woman admits to a sexually active past, it shouldn't be held against her. The very fact that she's even admitting it, even though she could have very well hidden it, means that she is honest and that's all that should matter," he says.


For some men, however, especially those raised in very orthodox families or old-fashioned joint families, it's the family members who tend to influence their decision. "In many of these families, something like falling in love or sex before marriage equates to the girl being bold. Their reasons, hence, for rejecting such girls is that post-marriage, too, the girl will continue with the same behaviour," Dr Bhonsle explains.


Commenting on the issue, actress Sophie Choudry opines, "Most people in Mumbai and other metropolitan cities do not expect their partners to be virgins anymore because India has gone through a dramatic change in the past 10 years. India is no longer the closed society it was. The modern young Indian woman is working, independent and makes her own choices in life. It's a change the Indian man has had to adapt to. Nonetheless, we cannot ignore that there is tremendous pressure on girls from smaller cities and more conservative families and virginity does still play a major factor when it comes to their marriage."


An intact hymen is not a sure sign of virginity.


A woman's hymen can be ruptured by non-sexual activities like intense sports, dancing, sitting astride on two wheelers, etc.


It is not necessary for a virgin to bleed the first time she has sex. In fact, is one goes by the statistics, only 42 per cent of women do so.


With the current advances in medical technology, a plastic surgeon can quite easily reconstruct a layer of tissue to resemble the hymen (the procedure is called Hymenoplasty).


Remember, virginity and chastity are not the only measures to base a happy marriage on, honesty and trust are far more important traits that both partners should possess.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Best 100 Novels


  1. 1984 by George Orwell
  2. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
  3. The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien
  4. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
  5. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
  6. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
  7. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
  8. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
  9. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
  10. Animal Farm by George Orwell
  11. The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
  12. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
  13. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
  14. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
  15. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
  16. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
  17. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
  18. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
  19. Lord of the Flies by William Golding
  20. Ulysses by James Joyce
  21. East of Eden by John Steinbeck
  22. Harry Potter Series by J.K. Rowling
  23. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
  24. Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
  25. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
  26. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
  27. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
  28. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
  29. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
  30. The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien
  31. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand
  32. Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes
  33. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
  34. The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis
  35. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
  36. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
  37. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
  38. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
  39. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
  40. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
  41. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
  42. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey
  43. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
  44. The Stranger by Albert Camus
  45. The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
  46. Moby Dick by Herman Melville
  47. Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
  48. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
  49. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
  50. On the Road by Jack Kerouac
  51. Watership Down by Richard Adams
  52. His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman
  53. The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown
  54. Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
  55. The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
  56. A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
  57. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
  58. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
  59. Dune by Frank Herbert
  60. Remembrance of Things Past by Marcel Proust
  61. Dracula by Bram Stoker
  62. Life of Pi by Yann Martel
  63. Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
  64. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
  65. The Stand by Stephen King
  66. David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
  67. Absalom, Absalom! by William Faulkner
  68. A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
  69. Middlemarch by George Eliot
  70. The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky
  71. Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
  72. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
  73. For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway
  74. The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
  75. Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden
  76. Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
  77. The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
  78. The Trial by Franz Kafka
  79. The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas
  80. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
  81. Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery
  82. A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving
  83. Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham
  84. The Road by Cormac McCarthy
  85. To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
  86. Persuasion by Jane Austen
  87. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
  88. The Twilight Saga by Stephenie Meyer
  89. The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
  90. Emma by Jane Austen
  91. Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
  92. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
  93. Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon
  94. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
  95. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon
  96. As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
  97. Siddharta by Hermann Hesse
  98. All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque
  99. Beloved by Toni Morrison
  100. Atonement by Ian McEwan

Friday, May 13, 2011

Freedom...


Once upon a time, there was a bird. He was adorned with two perfect wings and with glossy, colourful, marvellous feathers. In short, he was a creature made to fly about freely in the sky, bringing joy to everyone who saw him. One day, a woman saw this bird and fell in love with him. She watched his flight, her mouth wide in amazement, her heart pounding, her eyes shining with excitement. She invited the bird to fly with her, and the two travelled across the sky in perfect harmony. She admired and venerated and celebrated that bird.

But then she thought: He might want to visit faroff mountains! And she was afraid, afraid that she would never feel the same way about any other bird. And she felt envy, envy for the bird's ability to fly - And she felt alone.

And she thought: 'I'm going to set a trap. The next time the bird appears, he will never leave again.'

The bird, who was also in love, returned the following day, fell into the trap and was put in a cage.

She looked at the bird every day. There he was, the object of her passion, and she showed him to her friends, who said: 'Now you have everything you could possibly want.' However, a strange transformation began to take place: now that she had the bird and no longer needed to woo him, she began to lose interest. The bird, unable to fly and express the true meaning of his life, began to waste away and his feathers to lose their gloss; he grew ugly; and the woman no longer paid him any attention, except by feeding him and cleaning out his cage.

One day, the bird died. The woman felt terribly sad and spent all her time thinking about him. But she did not remember the cage, she thought only of the day when she had seen him for the first time, flying contentedly amongst the clouds.

If she had looked more deeply into herself, she would have realised that what had thrilled her about the bird was his freedom, the energy of his wings in motion, not his physical body.

Without the bird, her life too lost all meaning, and death came knocking at her door. 'Why have you come?' she asked Death. 

'So that you can fly once more with him across the sky,' Death replied. 'If you had allowed him to come and go, you would have loved and admired him even more; alas, you now need me in order to find him again.'

Sex !!!


The men she had met since she arrived in Geneva always did everything they could to appear confident, as if they were in perfect control of the world and of their own lives; Maria, however, could see in their eyes that they were afraid of their wife, the feeling of panic that they might not be able to get an erection, that they might not seem manly enough even to the ordinary prostitute whom they were paying for her services. If they went to a shop and didn’t like the shoes they had bought, they would be quite prepared to go back, receipt in hand, and demand a refund. And yet, even though they were paying for some female company, if they didn’t manage to get an erection, they would be too ashamed ever to go back to the same club again because they would assume that all the other women there would know.

‘I’m the one who should feel ashamed for being unable to arouse them, but, no, they always blame themselves.’

To avoid such embarrassments, Maria always tried to put men at their ease, and if someone seemed drunker or more fragile than usual, she would avoid full sex and concentrate instead on caresses and masturbation, which always seemed to please them immensely, absurd though this might seem, since they could perfectly well masturbate on their own.

She had to make sure that they didn’t feel ashamed. These men, so powerful and arrogant at work, constantly having to deal with employees, customers, suppliers, prejudices, secrets, posturings, hypocrisy, fear and oppression, ended their day in a nightclub and they didn’t mind spending three hundred and fifty Swiss francs to stop being themselves for a night.

‘For a night? Now come on, Maria, you’re exaggerating. It’s really only forty-five minutes, and if you allow time for taking off clothes, making some phoney gesture of affection, having a bit of banal conversation and getting dressed again, the amount of time spent actually having sex is about eleven minutes.’

Eleven minutes. The world revolved around something that only took eleven minutes.

And because of those eleven minutes in any one twenty-four-hour day (assuming that they all made love to their wives every day, which is patently absurd and a complete lie) they got married, supported a family, put up with screaming kids, thought up ridiculous excuses to justify getting home late, ogled dozens, if not hundreds of other women with whom they would like to go for a walk around Lake Geneva, bought expensive clothes for themselves and even more expensive clothes for their wives, paid prostitutes to try to give them what they were missing, and thus sustained a vast industry of cosmetics, diet foods, exercise, pornography and power, and yet when they got together with other men, contrary to popular belief, they never talked about women. They talked about jobs, money and sport.

Something was very wrong with civilisation, and it wasn’t the destruction of the Amazon rainforest or the ozone layer, the death of the panda, cigarettes, carcinogenic foodstuffs or prison conditions, as the newspapers would have it.

It was precisely the thing she was working with: SEX

Monday, May 9, 2011

पागल


जरुर साथी म पागल !
यस्तै छ मेरो हाल ।
म शब्दलाई देख्दछु !
दृश्यलाई सुन्दछु !
बासनालाई संबाद लिन्छु ।
आकाशभन्दा पतला कुरालाई छुन्छु ।
ती कुरा,
जसको अस्तित्व लोक मान्दैंन
जसको आकार संसार जान्दैन !
म देख्दछु, ढुङ्गालाई फूल !
जब, जलकिनारका जल चिप्ला ती,
कोमलाकार, पाषाण,
चाँदनीमा,
स्वर्गकी जादूगर्नी मतिर हाँस्दा,
पत्रिएर, नर्मिएर, झल्किएर,
बल्किएर, उठ्दछन् मूक पागलझैँ,
फूलझैँ- एक किसिमका चकोर फूल !
म बोल्दछु तिनसँग, जस्तो बोल्दछन् ती मसँग
एक भाषा, साथी !
जो लेखिन्न, छापिन्न, बोलिन्न,
बुझाइन्न, सुनाइन्न ।
जुनेली गङ्गा-किनार छाल
आउँछ तिनको भाषासाथी !
छाल छाल !
जरुर साथी म पागल !
यस्तै छ मेरो हाल !
तिमी चतुर छौ, वाचाल !
तिम्रो शुद्ध गणित सूत्र हरहमेशा चलिरहेको छ
मेरो गणितमा एकबाट एक झिके
एकै बाँकी रहन्छ !
तिमी पाँच इन्द्रियले काम गर्छौ,
म छैटौँले !
तिम्रो गिदी छ साथी !
मेरो मुटु ।
तिमी गुलाफलाई गुलाफ सिवाय देख्न सक्तैनौ,
म उसमा हेलेन र पद्मिनी पाउँछु,
तिमी बलिया गद्य छौ !
म तरल पद्य छु !
तिमी जम्दछौ जब म पग्लन्छु,
तिमी सँग्लन्छौ जब म धमिलो बन्छु,
र ठीक त्यसैका उल्टो !
तिम्रो संसार ठोस छ ।
मेरो बाफ !
तिम्रो बाक्लो, मेरो पातलो !
तिमी ढुङ्गालाई वस्तु ठान्दछौ,
ठोस कठोरता तिम्रो यथार्थ छ ।
म सपनालाई समात्न खोज्दछु,
जस्तो तिमी, त्यो चिसो, मीठो अक्षर काटेको
पान्ढीकीको बाटुलो सत्यलाई !
मेरो छ वेग काँडाको साथी !
तिम्रो सुनको र हीराको !
तिमी पहाडलाई लाटा भन्दछौ,
म भन्छु वाचाल ।
जरुर साथी ।
मेरो एक नशा ढिलो छ ।
यस्तै छ मेरो हाल !



By: महाकवि लक्ष्मी प्रसाद देवकोटा