(A review by Sidharth Vardhanof ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ – a novel by Nobel laureate Gabriel García MárquezFirst reviewed on August 27, 2014) “How are you, Colonel?” he asked in passing. “Right here,” he answered. “Waiting for my funeral procession to pass …..” Gabriel García Márquez (One Hundred Years of Solitude) “The world was so recent that many things lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to point” Gabriel García Márquez (One Hundred Years of Solitude) “He really had been through death, but he had returned because he could not bear the solitude.” Gabriel García Márquez (One Hundred Years of Solitude) You know what is common between “One hundred years of solitude’, Pride and Prejudice’ and ‘Twilight’?…You either love them or make fun of them. This one fell in the first category for me. The things that make this book so special to some are also the things that make it boring top others. The theme of time moving in circles with names and events repeating is both beautiful and boring. Look at names for example. There are twenty-two Aurlianos in it, four Arcadeos and three Remodeos. There is an Ursula, an Amranta and an Amranta
(A novelette first written on March 28, 2018) “Without Music, life would be a mistake” Friedrich Nietzsche Part IKhamoshi 1. From my earliest memories, I have had this curiosity regarding how people with physical disabilities experience the world differs when compared to others. Does a person who has been blind all his or her life know what colors are? How do we define the concept to them? And if that is not possible, what pangs they must feel when we talk about colors and physical beauty of things? Or does the person who has been deaf all his or her life understand the concept of music? And what about someone like Helen Keller! how lonely a life hers must have been, with nothing but touch and smell to make her conscious of other person’s presence? If you ask me, verbal conversations are only the most deliberate way in which we feel the presence of other people and enjoy their company; but it is hardly the strongest (that place goes to touch) or most common (which is a sight). In the presence of the right kind of company, words aren’t necessary to hold a conversation – in fact, the best of
(A short fiction by Sidharth Vardhan April 7, 2018) I am imagining what a tree would think if it could. How it would look at the seasons as they come and go – the spring that brings with it flowers and birds, the winters that take them away – how with death of every flower would be for it like dying a little too and how with birth of new one, it would be reborn to that extent. Does it get tiring for trees, this perpetual cycle of little births and deaths? Is that why their branches are hunched so often?