Brief Answers to the Big Questions by Stephen Hawking

 Brief Answers to the Big Questions by Stephen Hawking

Hey there,

As someone who enjoys reviewing books from all genres, I recently decided to step outside my comfort zone and dive into a book by one of the greatest scientific minds of our time Stephen Hawking. The book is called Brief Answers to the Big Questions, and honestly, I didn’t know what to expect. I was a little scared it would be full of technical terms I wouldn't understand and to be fair, some of them were! Words like “event horizon,” “quantum mechanics,” and “artificial general intelligence” made me stop and Google a few times. But what surprised me most was how readable, thoughtful, and personal this book felt.

This isn’t just a science book. It’s a conversation between Hawking and all of us about some of the biggest and most timeless questions humanity has ever asked: Is there a God? How did the universe begin? Will AI take over? Should we colonize space?

The chapter that hooked me immediately was the very first one: Is There a God? I was curious to read Hawking’s take. But the way he explains his perspective is calm, respectful, and rooted in science. He doesn’t try to argue against religion or faith; instead, he gently walks us through why, in his view, the universe can be explained without the need for a divine creator.

He explains how time itself began with the Big Bang meaning there was no “before” the universe, because time didn’t exist. It’s a tricky idea to grasp, but Hawking’s examples and analogies really helped. He even compares trying to imagine “before the Big Bang” to asking what’s north of the North Pole. It’s not an attack on belief it's an invitation to think.

And then comes the chapter on Artificial Intelligence another favorite of mine. Hawking doesn’t paint AI as simply good or evil. Instead, he lays out the potential it holds and the dangers it brings. I found myself nodding as he explained how AI could either help us solve major global problems like disease, poverty, and climate change or, if left unchecked, become one of the greatest threats to humanity.

What struck me was how balanced he was. He wasn’t being dramatic. He was being realistic. He believed AI would eventually surpass human intelligence and warned that we must be careful about how we develop and control it. What captivates me in every book is the way writer use literary allusion of 2001 Space Odyssey, Brave New World, Hamlet and so on.

Now, I won’t lie the scientific terminology was one hurdle for me. Some chapters took a little longer to read and fully understand. But that didn’t stop me from enjoying the book. The book also talks a lot about the future of science, of humanity, and of our planet. Hawking was deeply concerned about climate change, nuclear war, and the rise of artificial intelligence. But he wasn’t a pessimist. He believed in the power of human intelligence, cooperation, and curiosity. His message is clear: yes, we’re facing big problems, but we also have the tools to solve them if we act wisely.

So would I recommend this book? Absolutely. If you're someone who's ever looked up at the stars and wondered about life, God, or the future of technology, this book is for you. Yes, you may stumble over some of the scientific terms like I did, but don’t let that scare you. Stick with it. Because Brief Answers to the Big Questions isn’t just about science it’s about the human spirit, our endless curiosity, and our shared future.

And in today’s world, I think we need that more than ever.

Thank you. See you again in next review. 

Satori by Nimit Oza

 

Hi there from here,

Today I want to talk about a book that left me thinking long after I turned the last page  Satori by Dr. Nimit Oza. As a student of literature, I always try to go beyond the story, into the layers that make a book powerful or problematic. Satori is one such book emotional, controversial, deeply relevant, and filled with moments that made me pause and reflect.

The story revolves around Swikruti, a young girl struggling with ADHD, depression, and a string of unsuccessful relationships. Her academic career in medicine suffers, and so does her personal life. But the root of her pain lies much deeper  in her childhood, shaped by an overprotective mother and an emotionally absent father. What touched me was how real her emotional struggle felt. Mental health is often ignored or misunderstood, especially when it happens in families that look “normal” from the outside.

Her only true companion is her best friend Dhruvi a strong, balanced, and supportive friend who is everything Swikruti is not. Dhruvi’s presence is like oxygen for Swikruti, and their bond is one of the most beautiful parts of the novel. It’s rare to see female friendships portrayed with such honesty and strength in Indian literature.

But the biggest twist comes with the character of Mr. Pathak, a man nearly double her age who enters Swikruti’s life not just as a romantic figure but as an emotional anchor. He guides her, listens to her, and helps her accept herself. Later in the story, it is revealed that he is actually her biological father who disguised his identity to be near her and help her come out of her depression. This moment hits hard and questions the traditional ideas of love, truth, and what it means to protect someone.

Now, here’s where my literary mind couldn’t stay quiet. I found myself asking: Why is it always a female character who is shown craving love, broken, searching for validation? Is it because women are expected to be emotionally dependent? Couldn’t this story be told through a male character too? It’s something worth questioning.

Another point that stood out to me was how the novel, at times, dismisses the Arts stream, suggesting it has low value. And yet, it is writing a core part of the Arts that brings Swikruti back to life. Isn’t that a contradiction? As someone who studies literature, I know the power of words, stories, and creativity. So why do we still look down on Arts when it’s often the path to healing and expression?

Despite these questions, I really appreciated the novel’s contemporary relevance. It talks about social media addiction, identity crises, and the silent suffering of mental illness. These are real issues that many young people face today. Swikruti’s journey isn’t just personal it’s also a reflection of the chaos many of us carry inside.

In the end, Satori is not perfect, but it’s honest. It gives voice to emotions we often silence. It reminds us that healing is messy, truth is complicated, and sometimes, we need to break completely before we find ourselves again.

If you’ve read Satori, I’d love to hear your thoughts too. Did it move you? Did it make you question the world around youor within you?

Until next time.

Thank you.

Grotesque Femininity and Gaze: A Feminist Reading of The Substance and The Ugly Stepsister

Grotesque Femininity and Gaze: A Feminist Reading of The Substance (2024) and The Ugly Stepsister (2025)

Abstract : 

This paper examines two contemporary body horror films Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance (2024) and Emilie Blichfeldt’s The Ugly Stepsister (2025) as cinematic critiques of patriarchal beauty standards and the commodification of the female body. Drawing upon feminist film theory, gaze theory, intersectionality, and poststructuralist thought, this analysis reveals how both films employ grotesque imagery and narrative disruption to expose the systemic violence faced by women in their pursuit of societal validation. Through visual and narrative analysis, the paper uncovers how these films reflect and resist the ideologies of gendered perfection and the internalization of objectifying norms.

Introduction: Reframing the Female Body in Contemporary Cinema :

Contemporary cinema has increasingly become a site for interrogating the complex social and psychological pressures women face in conforming to narrow ideals of physical perfection. Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance (2024) and Emilie Blichfeldt’s The Ugly Stepsister (2025) emerge as powerful case studies in feminist body horror. Both films use grotesque transformations to critique how beauty operates as a violent, commodified ideal. The Substance presents a decaying Hollywood star's desperate attempt to reclaim youth through an experimental clone treatment, while The Ugly Stepsister reimagines the Cinderella tale as a grim fable of bodily mutilation in pursuit of desirability and class mobility.

Theoretical Frameworks: Feminist and Poststructuralist Lenses

 Feminist Film Theory

Feminist film theory emerged during the second wave of feminism in the 1970s. It critiques how cinema reflects, reinforces, and shapes patriarchal ideologies. Ann Kaplan (1983) defined feminist film theory as the study of "how cinema constructs and maintains sexual difference and the patriarchal order." Central to this field is Laura Mulvey’s concept of the "male gaze," articulated in her seminal essay "Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema" (1975). Mulvey argued that mainstream cinema positions women as passive objects of male desire, designed to be looked at rather than to act. This gaze is enacted on three levels: by the camera, by the male characters within the narrative, and by the audience itself.

In The Substance, this theory is made visible through Sue, the idealized younger version of Elisabeth. Sue’s body is sexualized and fragmented for visual pleasure: "an ass, boobs, legs" – all dismembered parts tailored for consumption. Elisabeth, meanwhile, is hidden, decaying, and eventually disappears, illustrating how women outside the acceptable standards of beauty are rendered invisible.

The Female Gaze

In response to the male gaze, the concept of the "female gaze" emerged. Joey Soloway (2016) expanded this concept with ideas like the "gazed gaze," which expresses the emotional experience of being watched, and "returning the gaze," where women reclaim agency by confronting their observers. Unlike the male gaze, which objectifies, the female gaze seeks to evoke empathy and identification.

In The Substance, director Coralie Fargeat uses the camera to capture Elisabeth’s private moments in unfiltered lighting and unflattering angles, showing the female body not as spectacle but as lived reality. When Sue confronts the camera with a direct, defiant look, the viewer is made aware of the act of looking itself. This moment of "returning the gaze" critiques the consumption of beauty and the violence it entails.

Intersectionality

Coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw (1991), intersectionality refers to how overlapping identities gender, race, class, sexuality interact to shape one’s experience of oppression. It is not enough to examine gender alone; we must also consider how other structures of power complicate that experience.

In The Ugly Stepsister, beauty is linked to class. Elvira, who lacks the effortless beauty of her stepsister, is pressured to undergo painful surgeries to win the prince's attention. Her transformation is not merely cosmetic but survival-driven. In a society where marriage equals security, beauty becomes economic currency. This interplay of class and gender reveals how patriarchal oppression is not monolithic but deeply contextual.

Poststructuralist and Postcolonial Theory

Poststructuralism, associated with thinkers like Michel Foucault and Jacques Derrida, rejects fixed meanings. Foucault (1977) argued that power is not just top-down but operates through everyday practices, including language, discipline, and surveillance. Gender, then, is not a biological truth but a social performance, as Judith Butler argued in Gender Trouble (1990).

In The Ugly Stepsister, Elvira performs femininity in increasingly grotesque ways. Her body is molded by societal expectation, not personal desire. She becomes a "creature" through surgeries, corsets, and starvation. The process is not portrayed as transformation but as disintegration, emphasizing that idealized beauty is both unnatural and violent.

Although neither film is explicitly postcolonial, Fargeat’s depiction of Hollywood as a global cultural force resonates with Edward Said’s notion of "cultural imperialism" (Said, 1978). Western beauty ideals dominate global media, erasing diverse aesthetics and imposing a singular, white, youthful ideal.

The Substance: Horror of the Ideal Self

Elisabeth Sparkle, once a fitness icon, is discarded at fifty by the entertainment industry. In desperation, she uses an illegal procedure to create a younger, idealized version of herself: Sue. The two share consciousness, alternating time in the physical world. As Sue becomes more dominant, Elisabeth literally deteriorates. Her body withers, skin peels, and she is eventually consumed by Sue.

This narrative literalizes the psychological toll of internalized misogyny. Elisabeth's desire to reclaim societal relevance transforms into self-destruction. Her creation, Sue, is not freedom but a violent ideal.

Gaze and Grotesque

Sue is camera-ready, smooth, and hypersexual. She is welcomed by producers, the public, and even lovers, while Elisabeth rots in secrecy. This dramatizes Mulvey’s theory: only the woman who conforms is worthy of the gaze. But Fargeat subverts this through horror. Sue’s perfection is not seductive but monstrous. Her final transformation into a hybrid beast with Elisabeth is a grotesque manifestation of society's impossible standards.

The Director’s Intent

Fargeat has stated that the film emerged from her own struggles with body image. She describes beauty standards as a form of psychological violence. Through body horror, she externalizes the pain of aging, the shame imposed on female bodies, and the exhaustion of performance. By making this horror visible, Fargeat aligns with feminist aims: to challenge, expose, and ultimately reject the myths of perfection.

The Ugly Stepsister: A Fairytale of Deformity and Desperation

In this reimagined fairytale, Elvira is pushed by her mother to win the prince’s hand, not out of love, but to secure financial survival. Her stepsister Agnes is effortlessly beautiful, while Elvira must undergo painful surgeries, swallow tapeworms, and mutilate herself in pursuit of desirability. Her transformation is not triumphant but tragic.

Feminist Allegory

Blichfeldt presents Elvira’s suffering as a direct critique of how women are conditioned to view themselves as failures unless desired by men. Mirrors and corsets are not accessories but instruments of violence. Her body becomes a battlefield. The prince is less a love interest than a symbol of societal approval.

This film aligns with Crenshaw's intersectionality. Elvira's ugliness is not just physical but economic. Beauty becomes a means of class mobility, and failure to achieve it results in social death.

Horror and Narrative Reversal

Unlike traditional fairy tales where transformation leads to salvation, Elvira’s transformation leads to ruin. The final scenes depict her as unrecognizable, a creature shaped by fear, not freedom. Blichfeldt deconstructs the romantic ideal of becoming "princess-worthy" and reveals it as a myth of submission and suffering.

Comparative Analysis: Feminine Abjection Across Genres

Though differing in tone and setting, both films explore the violent consequences of beauty as currency. In The Substance, the horror is futuristic and surreal; in The Ugly Stepsister, it is medieval and grounded. Yet both arrive at the same conclusion: women who internalize patriarchal ideals are consumed by them.

Both Elisabeth and Elvira suffer bodily decay. Their transformation is not redemptive but punishing. These films suggest that to chase ideal femininity is to participate in one’s own destruction.

Moreover, both directors employ the female gaze. Fargeat gives us Elisabeth’s intimate breakdowns; Blichfeldt shows Elvira's agony from within. In both cases, the viewer is asked not to judge but to feel to inhabit the pain of being looked at and never quite measuring up.

Conclusion: Toward a Feminist Cinema of Resistance

The Substance and The Ugly Stepsister stand as urgent feminist critiques. They reject sanitized portrayals of femininity and instead reveal the grotesque truth: that beauty, as defined by patriarchy, is violent, consuming, and often fatal. By grounding their narratives in feminist theory from Mulvey’s gaze to Butler’s gender performativity and Crenshaw’s intersectionality these films contribute to an evolving cinema that challenges rather than conforms.

They also demonstrate the power of genre, particularly body horror, to make invisible pain visible. The body becomes a text of resistance, marked with scars, wounds, and mutations that speak louder than perfection ever could. In these stories, horror is not an escape from reality but a confrontation with it a mirror held up to a world that demands inhuman perfection and punishes anything less.

Works Cited : 

Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. Routledge, 1990.

Crenshaw, Kimberlé. "Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence against Women of Color." Stanford Law Review, vol. 43, no. 6, 1991, pp. 1241–1299.

Derrida, Jacques. Of Grammatology. Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976.

Fargeat, Coralie, director. The Substance. The Match Factory, 2024.

Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. Pantheon, 1977.

Kaplan, E. Ann. Women and Film: Both Sides of the Camera. Routledge, 1983.

Mulvey, Laura. "Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema." Screen, vol. 16, no. 3, 1975, pp. 6–18.

Said, Edward. Orientalism. Pantheon, 1978.

Soloway, Joey. "The Female Gaze: Definition and Examples." Backstage, 2016.

Blichfeldt, Emilie, director. The Ugly Stepsister. Nordisk Film, 2025.

Moshaty, Mo. "A Kingdom for a Face: The Violence of Beauty in 'The Ugly Stepsister.'" Night Tide Magazine, 5 May 2025.

I acknowledge the support of OpenAI’s ChatGPT in refining theoretical concepts and enhancing the clarity of this paper.

Here is the trailers of both film. 

Fathers and Sons by Ivan Turgenev

Fathers and Sons by Ivan Turgenev

 “We sit in the mud, my friend, and reach for the stars.”

― Ivan Turgenev, Fathers and Sons

Hello Bibliophile there,

I am again here with one onther book review.

This time it is directly from the Russian canon. 

Let me take you on a little journey through Fathers and Sons, a classic Russian novel written by Ivan Turgenev in 1862. But don’t let the date scare you! This book may be old, but it talks about things we still deal with today like generation gaps, changing beliefs, and finding our place in the world. There’s mud around us, the mess of society, emotions, expectations. And yet, somewhere, we still reach, question, rebel. I didn’t just read this novel; I felt it. Especially through the eyes of  Bazarov.

Turgenev’s novel beautifully shows the generation gap. On one side, there are men like Nikolai and Pavel Petrovich gentle, emotional, lovers of poetry and tradition. On the other side are young men like Bazarov and Arkady, who want to tear down the old and build something new.

But this gap isn’t just a difference of opinion it’s a deep wound. The fight between Pavel Petrovich and Bazarov makes this clear. Pavel is proud and old-fashioned. He values honor, romance, social order. Bazarov mocks him openly. Their arguments are sharp, almost painful. At one point, they even fight a duel not over love, but over ideas. It feels absurd, and that’s the point. Their battle is useless. Neither convinces the other. Both walk away bruised. And yet, both are somehow trapped in their own beliefs.

Bazarov is not an easy character to love, and that’s exactly why I did. He walks into Arkady’s quiet country home like a storm. He doesn’t care about manners or opinions. He laughs at poetry, mocks emotions, and sees people as bundles of habits and biology. He calls himself a nihilist not in a dramatic, hopeless way, but in the sense that he doesn’t believe in anything that can’t be proven.

Amid all this, the most touching part of the novel for me was the relationship between Bazarov and Arkady. At first, they’re inseparable. Arkady looks up to Bazarov like a hero. He repeats his ideas, copies his attitude. I’ve been that person too admiring someone who seems so sure, so bold. But slowly, Arkady begins to change. He softens. He falls in love. He starts to appreciate things Bazarov rejects.

Their friendship begins to fade, not because of a big fight, but because they’re growing in different directions. And that’s what makes it so real. There’s a quiet sadness when Bazarov realizes Arkady is no longer his shadow. He pretends not to care but we can feel it.

Then comes Anna Odintsova. The woman who quietly breaks Bazarov. She is smart, calm, beautiful and distant. He tries to keep control, but he falls for her. When he confesses his love, and she says nothing, we see Bazarov’s mask crack. For someone who doesn’t believe in love, rejection hits harder. Pretending not to care is easy until something or someone proves that you do. For Bazarov, this moment changes everything. He becomes quieter, more lost. Even his attempt to kiss Thenichka another moment of confusion and weakness shows he is no longer sure of anything.

In the end, Bazarov dies. Not dramatically, but quietly, from an illness he catches while working as a doctor. He dies as he lived alone, proud, misunderstood. But before his final breath, he calls for Anna. He wants to see her once. Not to declare love, but simply to feel human one last time.

Turgenev doesn’t glorify or punish Bazarov just like Hardy did with Sue in the Jude the Obscure. He simply shows him to us strong, stubborn, brilliant, but fragile. Through him, we see the pain of being too ahead of your time. The cost of rejecting everything. The loneliness of living by reason alone.

If you’re someone who questions the world, who struggles to balance heart and mind, or who has ever felt caught between two ways of living then Fathers and Sons is a book you must read. I highly recommend this novel to anyone who enjoys deep, thoughtful stories especially readers interested in philosophy, emotion, and the quiet pain of growing up.

Thank you for your precious time.

White Nights by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

 White Nights & Bobok by Fyodor Dostoevsky – Two Faces of the Human Soul

“What is a day but a little eternity?”

“I am a dreamer. I know it.”

“The darker the night, the brighter the stars.”

 

These lines stayed with me long after I turned the last page of White Nights. But before I could move on, I ended up reading Bobok too  and that completely shifted my view of Dostoevsky. These two short stories show two completely different faces of human life: one emotional, the other absurdly dark. Yet both left a deep mark on me. It is short. Just a few chapters. I read it in one sitting, and when it ended, I didn’t know what to do with the ache it left inside me.

The story is simple. A lonely man a dreamer  walks the streets of St. Petersburg at night. He meets a young woman named Nastenka. They talk. They share. For four nights, something magical happens between them. This dreamer he lives more in his imagination than in the real world. His emotions are intense, but hidden. For the first time, he feels truly connected to someone. And yet, like many dreamers, he does not get what he longs for.

While reading, I kept thinking of Sigmund Freud’s theory of the unconscious mind. The dreamer escapes into fantasy because reality is too painful. He wants love, but he cannot say it. He wants life, but he is afraid. His dreams are not foolish they are his way of surviving. There is also a layer of Jean-Paul Sartre’s existential thought. The dreamer chooses to love. He chooses to feel, even though it leads to pain. Sartre believed that humans are free, and with freedom comes responsibility. The dreamer takes responsibility for his feelings. He lets Nastenka go, even though it breaks him. That is what makes him human.

"I am terrified even to think about the future, because the future is once again loneliness, once again this stagnant, useless life " 

The line “I have lived through so much in just four nights, more than some live in a lifetime” stayed with me. Sometimes, the shortest moments leave the deepest wounds. Even though it was written in the 1800s, White Nights is not outdated. It's real. Honest. Raw. If you’ve ever felt lonely, or in love, or heartbroken this book will reach you. And maybe heal you.

After finishing White Nights, I wanted more. That’s when I found Bobok  a strange, haunting story that shook me in a different way. Bobok is about a writer who visits a cemetery and suddenly hears the thoughts of the dead people buried there. Even after death, they talk  not about peace or regret, but about petty gossip, lies, corruption, and filth just likr The Dance of Forest by Wole Soyinka.

It’s disturbing. The dead have no shame. They’ve lost everything, even the mask of morality. Dostoevsky uses this to show what happens when there’s no soul, no conscience  only the leftovers of decayed minds. Reading White Nights and Bobok back to back was like looking at two mirrors: one shows a dreamer’s heart, the other shows a decaying soul.

If you’re new to Dostoevsky just like me, start with White Nights. It’s emotional, gentle, and beautiful. Then, when you're ready to see the darker side, read Bobok. It's short, shocking, and unforgettable.

Thank You.

कांता भारती की रेत की मछली

 रेत की मछली: एक स्त्री की मौन चीख और साहित्यिक प्रतिरोध

"क्या तुम ज़्यादा प्रेम करना चाहोगी या ज़्यादा पीड़ा सहना?"
यह प्रश्न मेरे मन में तब गूंजा जब मैंने गुनाहों का देवता पढ़ा। परन्तु जब मैंने रेत की मछली पढ़ी, तो यह प्रश्न एक उत्तर में बदल गया "मैंने प्रेम किया, और उसकी कीमत चुकाई।" यह उपन्यास मैंने एक ही बैठक में, मात्र पाँच घंटों में पूरा पढ़ लिया। यह इतना प्रभावशाली, इतना बाँध लेने वाला था कि मैं इसे अपने हाथों से अलग ही नहीं कर सकी। हर पन्ना, हर संवाद, हर स्थिति मेरी चेतना को झकझोर रही थी।

सैंड्रा गिल्बर्ट और सुसान गुबार की Madwoman in the Attic ने साहित्य में स्त्रियों की आवाज़ को पुनः परिभाषित किया। उन्होंने बताया कि कैसे पितृसत्तात्मक साहित्य में स्त्रियों की आवाज़ को दबाया गया, उन्हें पागल घोषित किया गया, और उनकी कहानियों को हाशिए पर रखा गया। रेत की मछली इस अवधारणा का जीवंत उदाहरण है।

कांता भारती का यह उपन्यास उनकी अपनी पीड़ा, संघर्ष और आत्मा की गहराइयों से निकला हुआ प्रतीत होता है। यह उपन्यास न केवल एक स्त्री की व्यक्तिगत कथा है, बल्कि उन सभी स्त्रियों की आवाज़ है जिन्हें समाज ने चुप रहने पर मजबूर किया। गुनाहों का देवता में चंदर का चरित्र एक आदर्शवादी, संवेदनशील और त्यागी पुरुष के रूप में प्रस्तुत किया गया है। सुधा, बिनती और पम्मी जैसी स्त्रियाँ उसकी भावनाओं की परछाई बनकर रह जाती हैं। चंदर के निर्णय, उसकी आत्मग्लानि, और उसके प्रेम को महिमामंडित किया गया है, जबकि स्त्रियों की पीड़ा को नज़रअंदाज़ किया गया।

इसके विपरीत, रेत की मछली में कुंतल की आवाज़ है एक स्त्री की जो अपने प्रेम, विवाह और जीवन के लिए संघर्ष करती है। शोभन, जो एक लेखक और संपादक है, कुंतल के साथ भावनात्मक और शारीरिक शोषण करता है। वह अपनी "मुँह बोली बहन" मीनल के साथ संबंध बनाता है, और कुंतल को मानसिक यातना देता है।

यह उपन्यास एक स्त्री की आत्मा की गहराइयों में झांकता है, उसकी पीड़ा, उसकी चुप्पी, और उसके संघर्ष को उजागर करता है। शोभन का चरित्र धर्मवीर भारती के चंदर से मिलता-जुलता है, लेकिन वह और भी अधिक क्रूर और स्वार्थी है। वह कुंतल को मानसिक रूप से प्रताड़ित करता है, उसके आत्मसम्मान को कुचलता है, और उसे अपनी इच्छाओं का उपकरण बना देता है।शोभन का यह चरित्र उन सभी पुरुषों का प्रतिनिधित्व करता है जो समाज में आदर्शवादी, बुद्धिजीवी और संवेदनशील माने जाते हैं, लेकिन अपने निजी जीवन में स्त्रियों के साथ अन्याय करते हैं।

कुंतल का चरित्र उन सभी स्त्रियों की प्रतीक है जो अपने प्रेम, अपने सपनों और अपने अस्तित्व के लिए संघर्ष करती हैं। वह अपने परिवार के विरोध के बावजूद शोभन से विवाह करती है, लेकिन उसे धोखा, पीड़ा और अपमान मिलता है। कुंतल की चुप्पी, उसकी सहनशीलता, और उसकी आत्मा की गहराइयों में छिपी पीड़ा हमें यह सोचने पर मजबूर करती है कि समाज में स्त्रियों की आवाज़ को कैसे दबाया जाता है, और उन्हें कैसे "पागल" घोषित किया जाता है।

इस किताब का एक-एक पन्ना मुझसे जैसे सवाल कर रहा था कुंतल क्यों सह रही है? किस क्षण की प्रतीक्षा कर रही है? कौन आएगा उसे बचाने? मैं हर बार खुद से लड़ रही थी जैसे मैं खुद कुंतल बन गई हूं। शोभन के आरोप, उसकी कठोरता, उसकी आत्ममुग्धता और सबसे खतरनाक उसका भावनात्मक और शारीरिक शोषण  मुझे भीतर तक हिला रहा था।

शोभन ने कुंतल को न केवल मानसिक रूप से तोड़ा, बल्कि उसे “अशुद्ध”, “पागल” और “अयोग्य” सिद्ध करने की हर संभव कोशिश की। वह शब्दों के ज़रिए गाली देता है, कभी उसे पीटता है, कभी तिरस्कार से देखता है, और कभी अपनी चुप्पी से कुंतल की आत्मा को कुचल देता है।

यह सिर्फ घरेलू हिंसा नहीं थी यह एक बौद्धिक हिंसा भी थी, जहाँ एक लेखक, एक संपादक, एक प्रतिष्ठित पुरुष अपने सामाजिक मुखौटे के पीछे एक स्त्री को तोड़ता है। रेत की मछली न केवल एक उपन्यास है, बल्कि एक साहित्यिक प्रतिरोध है। यह उन सभी स्त्रियों की आवाज़ है जिन्हें समाज ने चुप रहने पर मजबूर किया, जिन्हें उनके प्रेम, उनके सपनों और उनके अस्तित्व के लिए सजा दी गई।

यह उपन्यास हमें यह सोचने पर मजबूर करता है कि साहित्य में स्त्रियों की कहानियों को कैसे प्रस्तुत किया जाता है, और कैसे उन्हें हाशिए पर रखा जाता है।

Thank you.

Here is the audiobook of the novel. 

I would like to acknowledge ChatGPT for assiting me in writing this review in Hindi.

धर्मवीर भारती गुनाहों का देवता

 गुनाहों के पीछे का देवता: चंदर की कथा, स्त्रियों की पीड़ा

"Would you rather love more and suffer more, or love less and suffer less? That is, I think, finally, the only real question."

-The Only Story

मार्शल मैकलुहान ने कहा था, “Medium is the message” और सच कहूं तो गुनाहों का देवता मेरे पास किताब से पहले सोशल मीडिया के ज़रिए ही पहुंचा। मैं यह समीक्षा हिंदी में इसलिए लिख रही हूँ ताकि भाषा को महत्व दिया जाए, और भावनाओं को उसी रूप में रखा जाए जैसे वे जन्म लेती हैं

इंस्टाग्राम पर रीलों में, किताब के आंसू भरे पन्नों की तस्वीरों में, और उस "अधूरे प्रेम" की पोस्टों में जो मेरे दिल को छू जाती थीं। ऐसा लगने लगा था कि यह सिर्फ एक उपन्यास नहीं, बल्कि हर युवा दिल की कहानी है  टूटे हुए प्रेम, न बोले गए संवाद और बलिदान के उस एहसास की कहानी।

लेकिन जैसे-जैसे मैंने पढ़ना शुरू किया, वैसे-वैसे परतें खुलने लगीं और मोहभंग भी। जब मैंने गुनाहों का देवता पढ़ना शुरू किया, तब मेरे मन में प्रेम की मासूम कल्पनाएं थीं। एक ऐसा प्रेम, जो त्याग, विश्वास और आत्मा से जुड़ा हो। लेकिन जैसे-जैसे चंदर और सुधा की कहानी आगे बढ़ी, मेरी आंखों के सामने सिर्फ प्रेम नहीं, सत्ता, पितृसत्ता, और एक पुरुष के ‘महान बनने’ की कीमत पर स्त्री की कराहती आत्मा खुलकर सामने आने लगी।

शुरुआत में चंदर मुझे संवेदनशील, भावुक और आदर्शवादी लगा। लेकिन जैसे-जैसे मैंने उसकी सोच को समझना शुरू किया, मैंने पाया कि वह सिर्फ सुधा से प्रेम नहीं करता था, बल्कि उस पर अपना नियंत्रण चाहता था भावनात्मक, नैतिक और सामाजिक नियंत्रण।

सुधा को वह सिर्फ प्रेमिका की तरह नहीं, एक आदर्श ‘भारतीय नारी’ की मूर्ति की तरह देखता है। सुधा हँसे, पर हद में, रोए, पर चुपचाप, प्रेम करे, पर सीमा में। वह सुधा को अपनी भावनाओं का केंद्र तो बनाता है, लेकिन जब समय आता है निर्णय लेने का, तब पीछे हट जाता है। क्यों? क्योंकि समाज, मर्यादा, परंपरा... और हाँ, उसके अपने ‘उच्च आदर्श’। सुधा चुप रही, लेकिन क्या चंदर वाकई इतना निर्दोष था?

सुधा की ज़िंदगी में चंदर की भूमिका सिर्फ प्रेमी की नहीं, एक फैसले लेने वाले पुरुष की थी। वह उसे न अपने होने देता है, न किसी और का। यह सत्ता है प्रेम नहीं।

एक और बात जो मुझे लगातार परेशान करती रही, वो थी चंदर की बौद्धिक स्थिति को लेकर उसका महिमामंडन। वह एक पीएचडी स्कॉलर है, बाद में प्रोफेसर बनता है, और समाज उसे एक गंभीर, ‘महान’ विचारक मानता है। लेकिन यह तथाकथित ‘बुद्धिजीवी’ पुरुष भावनाओं के सबसे मूल सवाल  प्रेम, स्वतंत्रता और स्वीकृति पर इतना अपरिपक्व क्यों है?

उसका सारा ज्ञान तब कहां चला जाता है जब सुधा की भावनाएं सामने आती हैं? चंदर अपने विचारों और दर्शन के नाम पर सुधा के प्रेम को त्यागता है, और जब वह किसी और से विवाह करने पर मजबूर होती है, तब चंदर को फिर वही सुधा याद आती है  उस रूप में नहीं जो सुधा सच में है, बल्कि उस रूप में जो उसने अपने मन में गढ़ रखा है।

और यही बात सबसे अधिक भयावह है चंदर कभी सुधा को एक व्यक्ति की तरह नहीं देखता, बल्कि एक ‘आदर्श की छाया’ के रूप में देखता है।

सुधा के पिता, जो स्वयं विश्वविद्यालय में प्रोफेसर हैं, आधुनिकता और पठन-पाठन से जुड़े हैं, लेकिन मानसिक रूप से गहरे पितृसत्तात्मक मूल्यों में जकड़े हुए हैं। यह विरोधाभास भारतीय समाज का यथार्थ है शिक्षा का स्तर ऊँचा, पर सोच वैसी ही संकीर्ण। वे सुधा के विवाह का निर्णय चंदर से किए गए गुप्त प्रेम के आधार पर नहीं, बल्कि सम्मान, मर्यादा, और सामाजिक प्रतिष्ठा के आधार पर करते हैं। उनकी नज़रों में बेटी की खुशी नहीं, बल्कि समाज का मूल्यांकन महत्वपूर्ण है।

और ऐसे ही पिता के घर में पली-बढ़ी सुधा, जो ख़ुद भी पढ़ी-लिखी है, अपने मन की बात नहीं कह पाती। उसकी चुप्पी हमें यह सोचने पर मजबूर करती है क्या पढ़ाई से स्त्रियाँ वाकई स्वतंत्र हो पाती हैं?

चंदर एक पीएचडी स्कॉलर है यह बात बार-बार दोहराई जाती है। वह ज्ञान की दुनिया का प्रतिनिधि है, उसे अपने विचारों पर गर्व है, और उसे समाज में एक विचारशील व्यक्ति के रूप में देखा जाता है। लेकिन यही समाज यह सवाल नहीं पूछता क्या प्रेम में असफल होना भी एक बौद्धिक असफलता नहीं है?

चंदर अपने हर रिश्ते को सुधा की परछाईं मानकर चलते हैं  चाहे वह पम्मी हो, या बिनती। उसकी हर स्त्री से नज़दीकी को लेखक ने एक ‘आदर्श स्त्री की खोज’ की तरह पेश किया है। लेकिन क्या यह सुधा के स्थान को हल्का नहीं करता? स्त्रियाँ सिर्फ पुरुष के मन की रिक्तता को भरने वाली छायाएँ नहीं होतीं। वे स्वयं में पूर्ण व्यक्ति होती हैं लेकिन चंदर कभी इस पूर्णता को समझ नहीं पाया।

सुधा की मौत अचानक नहीं होती। यह एक प्रक्रिया है एक ऐसी प्रक्रिया जिसमें हर दिन उसकी आत्मा मारी जाती है, उसकी इच्छाओं को दबाया जाता है, उसके प्रेम को नकारा जाता है। चंदर तो जीता है प्रोफेसर बनता है, और शायद किताब के अंत में आत्मग्लानि से भर भी जाता है लेकिन सुधा? उसे तो जीने तक का अधिकार नहीं मिलता।

वह गर्भवती होकर मरती है  लेकिन मरती सिर्फ शरीर से नहीं, अपनी उम्मीदों और प्रेम की मौत बहुत पहले हो चुकी थी।

लेखक ने चंदर की आत्मग्लानि को ऐसा चित्रित किया है जैसे यह उसके ‘महानता’ की निशानी हो  लेकिन सुधा की मौत को बस ‘नियति’ कहकर टाल दिया गया। नहीं, यह नियति नहीं थी। यह उस व्यवस्था का परिणाम था जो स्त्री के प्रेम को अपराध समझती है, उसकी इच्छा को बगावत मानती है, और पुरुष को हर अपराध से माफ कर देती है क्योंकि वह ‘पढ़ा-लिखा’, ‘आदर्शवादी’, ‘प्रोफेसर’ है।

मैं जब आख़िरी पन्ना पढ़ चुकी थी, मेरे भीतर सिर्फ दुःख नहीं, गुस्सा था। यह प्रेम कहानी नहीं है, यह एक चेतावनी है  कि पढ़ा-लिखा पुरुष भी स्त्री का भावनात्मक शोषण कर सकता है। यह दिखाती है कि एक प्रोफेसर, एक पीएचडी स्कॉलर भी सुधा की तरह एक स्त्री को अपने अहंकार, अपने दर्शन और समाज के ढांचे में कुचल सकता है  और फिर भी समाज उसे माफ कर देता है।

आज जब सोशल मीडिया पर इस उपन्यास की भावुक पंक्तियाँ घूमती हैं  “सुधा, मैं तुम्हें भूल नहीं पाया” तब मैं यह पूछना चाहती हूँ,
“क्या सुधा को भूलना चंदर का अधिकार था?”
“क्या सुधा को प्रेम करने, अपनी शर्तों पर जीने का कोई हक़ नहीं था?”

गुनाहों का देवता, मेरे लिए प्रेम नहीं, पितृसत्ता की किताब थी एक ऐसा पाठ जो हमें यह सिखाता है कि प्रेम में भी सत्ता होती है, और स्त्रियों को अपने प्रेम के लिए लड़ना भी पड़ता है।

धन्यवाद इस समीक्षा को पढ़ने के लिए ।

Here is the audio book of Gunaho ka Devta.

I would like to acknowledge ChatGPT for assiting me in writing this review in Hindi.

Movie Review: Disgrace

Disgrace – A Story That Leaves You Unsettled, Yet Thoughtful

Warm greetings!

I recently watched the film Disgrace, directed by Steve Jacobs and based on the novel by J.M. Coetzee. It’s one of those films that’s not easy to watch but it makes you think deeply. It leaves a weight in your chest, and somehow, you carry it with you for days.

Set in post-apartheid South Africa, Disgrace follows David Lurie, a university professor in Cape Town, played by John Malkovich. At first, he seems proud, even arrogant. He believes in beauty, poetry, and his own pleasures. But when he crosses the line with one of his students, his world starts to fall apart. He loses his job, his reputation, and his place in the world he once controlled.

I didn’t like David at the beginning. He seemed selfish, cold, and too proud to admit he was wrong. But the film does something interesting it doesn’t try to make us forgive him, but it lets us see him slowly change. After his disgrace, he moves to the countryside to stay with his daughter Lucy. Life there is very different quiet, rural, and tense with unspoken violence and history.

And then something terrible happens.

One day, David and Lucy are attacked. What follows is not just about trauma, but about how people deal with pain, guilt, and power in very different ways. Lucy chooses silence and survival. David wants justice and understanding. But the world they live in has changed. Power, in every form racial, gendered, intellectual is shifting. And neither David nor the viewer is fully ready for it.

I was shaken by how quiet the movie is. It doesn’t use dramatic music or big speeches. Instead, it gives us long silences, hard stares, and slow conversations. I found myself holding my breath during many scenes. Not because I expected something to explode but because the silence itself was full of tension.

What stood out most to me was how Disgrace shows the struggle between the personal and the political. It’s not just about one man’s downfall, but about a whole country’s painful, changing identity. David wants to believe in old values art, reason, dignity. But the world around him demands something else humility, listening, and the ability to live with discomfort.

Lucy’s character moved me the most. She doesn’t say much, but her strength is quiet and deep. She refuses to leave, to run, or to explain herself. At first, I couldn’t understand her choices. But slowly, I began to respect them. Her life is no longer about ideals it’s about survival, land, and roots.

I won’t lie this film isn’t comforting. It’s hard. It’s filled with moments that made me feel angry, helpless, or confused. But that’s exactly why I think it’s worth watching. It doesn't offer easy answers. It just shows life as complicated, unfair, and deeply human.

By the end, I saw David not as a hero or villain, but as a man learning to live without control. And maybe that’s what Disgrace is really about. Learning to live with pain, with change, and with the knowledge that we are not always in charge.

If you’re looking for a film that challenges you, that asks you to sit with discomfort and think about the world differently, then I highly recommend Disgrace. Just go in with an open heart and an honest mind.

Thank you for reading.

Never Let Me Go Movie

 Never Let Me Go – A Film That Softly Breaks Your Heart

Hey there !

Have you ever watched a film that didn’t make you think loudly, but left you feeling quietly broken inside?

That’s exactly how I felt after watching Never Let Me Go, the 2010 film adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro’s novel. I knew it was going to be emotional and thoughprovoking I mean, anything with Carey Mulligan, Andrew Garfield, and Keira Knightley already promises serious acting but I didn’t expect it to move me in such a soft, haunting way.

Let me take you into my experience.

The movie is set in a calm, almost dream-like England. Think misty fields, boarding school uniforms, and grey skies. But beneath all that stillness is something heartbreaking: the children at Hailsham School are not like us. They’ve been created for a purpose to donate their organs and die young. It sounds like science fiction, but the film never feels futuristic. That’s what makes it even scarier it could be now, or any time.

What struck me most wasn’t the tragedy of their lives it was how gently they accepted it. Kathy, Tommy, and Ruth grow up with this fate. And instead of running or screaming, they live. They hold hands, argue, fall in love, dream small dreams. Isn’t that what we all do in our own way?

I found myself relating deeply to Kathy. She’s quiet, observant, and holds her emotions in. She cares for others more than she speaks about herself. I think many of us do that we stay silent, we watch people leave, and we carry memories in our hearts without ever saying much. Watching her narrate the story felt like listening to a version of myself, looking back with both tenderness and sorrow.

There’s a scene maybe the one that broke me most when Kathy and Tommy ask for more time. They’ve heard a rumour that if two donors are truly in love, they can get a “deferral.” They go to someone they trust, hoping, believing in that sliver of hope. And then they hear the truth: there is no deferral. There never was. It was just a story to keep them going.

That hit me hard. Because don’t we all do that? Don’t we all hold on to little stories we tell ourselves, just to make life feel bearable? By the end of the film,  I just sat there. Still. Thinking. And that, I believe, is the power of Never Let Me Go. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t even ask you to feel. It simply shows you life quiet, limited, but deeply human.

So, if you’re in the mood for something reflective, something that gently peels back the layers of memory and meaning watch this film. But don’t rush. Sit with it. Let the silence speak. Have you seen Never Let Me Go? Or read the book? I’d love to know if it stayed with you the way it stayed with me.

Until next time,

Thank You.

Movie Review: 12 Angry Men

12 Angry Men – A Lesson in Reasonable Doubt

Hello from here, 

Today, I want to share my thoughts on a film that truly left a mark on me 12 Angry Men. It’s a black-and-white courtroom drama made in 1957, directed by Sidney Lumet. The movie is based on a teleplay written by Reginald Rose, who also wrote the screenplay. The film runs for about 96 minutes, and despite being set almost entirely in one room, it kept me fully engaged from start to finish.

The story is simple but powerful. It’s about twelve jurors who are locked in a jury room on a hot summer day in New York City. They have just one job: to decide whether a 16-year-old boy is guilty of murdering his father. If they find him guilty, he will be sentenced to death. At first, almost everyone in the room thinks the boy is guilty. It seems like an open-and-shut case. But then one man Juror #8, played by Henry Fonda says something that changes everything: “I’m not sure he’s guilty.”

That one sentence made me pause. Juror #8 was not saying the boy was innocent. He just wanted to talk more. He believed in giving the boy a fair chance. That’s when I started to think about the meaning of reasonable doubt. In court, a person is considered innocent until proven guilty. And if there’s any reasonable doubt, we cannot convict them. This idea becomes the heart of the movie.

                          

As the jurors argue and discuss, we learn more about each one of them. Some are angry, some are tired, and some are just eager to leave. But slowly, Juror #8 makes them think. He questions the evidence. He talks about the eyewitnesses and shows that their stories might not be reliable. He brings up the noise of a passing train, the woman’s eyesight, the uniqueness of the knife and each time, he makes a strong point.

                                       

I was surprised how such a quiet and simple film could make such a big impact. There’s no music, no action, no flashbacks just people talking. But that’s what makes it powerful. We watch how personal bias, past experiences, and anger can cloud judgment. One juror hates people from slums. Another is dealing with his own pain as a father. These feelings affect how they see the case. But Juror #8 stays calm. He listens. He questions. He stays fair.

One of the most emotional moments is near the end, when the last juror still refuses to change his vote. But he isn’t thinking clearly he’s full of hate. When the others turn away from him, he breaks down and finally says, “Not guilty.” That scene really touched me. It showed how sometimes, we are ruled by emotions, not facts.

This film taught me that doubt is not a weakness. It’s a way to protect the truth. 12 Angry Men reminded me that we must never rush to judgment. We must always think, listen, and be open to changing our minds. Just like Juror #8, one voice of reason can lead to justice.

In the end, I believe this movie is not just about a trial. It’s about how we treat people, how we make decisions, and how important it is to be fair. Give it a watch.

Thank you for being till the end.