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The Pursuit Of Laziness

“... Living only for the moment, turning our full attention to the pleasures of the moon, the snow, the cherry blossoms and the maple leaves; singing songs, drinking wine, diverting ourselves in just floating, floating; ... refusing to be disheartened, like a gourd floating along with the river current: this is what we call the floating world...”

- Ukiyo Monogatari (Tales of the Floating World) by Asai Ryoui

The grasshopper was lazy. He just sang and danced, played with the wind, and did nothing else. The ant, on the other hand, worked hard and searched for food. So when winter came, the ant was cozy inside his home eating from his supply while the grasshopper was left out in the cold to freeze and starve to death. The end.


Work, work, work - is that all people can think of these days? Have they all gone mad? Have they forgotten the taste of laziness? Have they forgotten the taste of the pleasures derived from doing absolutely nothing? From dawn to dusk, all we do is work - we wake up, we go to work, we sleep, we wake up, we go to work, we sleep… and the vicious cycle continues day after day. This, my friends, is downright insanity. Ignore Aesop's fables, laziness is bliss!

There was a time when people used to be lazy; they used to gaze at stars, marvel at nature's beauty, sleep for hours and thank God for blessing them with good dreams. They were the ever-content observers and thinkers, the so-called 'vagabond's, the people who apparently never had anything better to do in life - and what do you know, they ended up making great inroads in stuff like philosophy, literature and art (hey, even cave-art is considered art!).


Working is solely an aspect of this worldly life. Now don't frown at this innocent line; what is it that you work for? Money. What are you studying so hard to get a job for? Money. Why on earth are you so focused on getting yourself socially established? Because you need money! Money makes the world go around on a spin and with it all you workaholic people, going round and round, spinning out of control… Somehow, that's just depressing.

Who told you laziness was bad? Waking up late isn't a crime. The late hours of the morning, unique in its sunny allure and the signature sound-polluting Dhakaiya-cacophony, has a different sort of appeal to it and we, the 'lazy late-risers' happen to know that well. Nobody appreciates the rhythm of the slow rotating fan-blades, the softness of the pillow, the many different shades of reflecting colour in the apparently black feathers of the common 'kaua' or the slight tangy staleness of last night's pizza better than us. We are nature's true children: we eat, we drink, we sleep and we appreciate. You, on the other hand, work your butts off and develop hypertension, insomnia and what not. Doesn't sound very appealing now, does it?

Therefore, we don't care what you think about us lazy people. We don't care if the grasshopper died in the end; he was still way prettier and cooler than the ant. And he knew how to party. Laziness is happiness and so, even if being lazy means we are going to end up with shiny little 'bhuri's in the end, we don't mind; because we know they'll be happy content little 'bhuri's.

By Kokoro-lazy-chan

Book Review

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

Author: James Joyce
Searching for inspiration is not an easy task. And when we hear of artists and see their works, we wonder how they do it. For anyone searching for inspiration or any would be artist, 'A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man' is a must read. Classics are often considered boring books - but very few books that I've read has taken me through with the same level of intensity and anticipation as 'A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.'

One of Joyce's most famous novels, 'A portrait of the Artist as a Young Man' tells the story of a young Stephen Dedalus - a boy growing up in Ireland during the nineteenth century. The story follows Dedalus through a Boarding school which he ultimately has to leave for a day school due to financial problems. The book is written from Stephens' point of view, so the first few chapters are a bit confusing - Joyce writes from the view of the child.

In Belvedere - the day school he attends - Stephen starts writing and acting. Growing up with a heavy influence of the Catholic teachings and the Irish nationalism, we see Stephen struggling to reconcile these two. As Stephen goes into a spree of debauchery, he yearns for the salvation, and the zeal with which he takes up religion after that is passionate to say the least. The descriptions of the fiery torments that Stephen imagines and his guilt are extremely vivid.

The book follows a stream of consciousness technique of writing - so as the book progresses, we can actually see the change in Stephen's thinking. Torn between his social and cultural obligation, he longs for the pure beauty of things. Each chapter ends with an epiphany, which is usually written extremely well, and which gives Stephen as well as the reader a moment of brilliant insight.

In university, we see Stephen talking about his theories about art to friends and his determination to become an artist not bound by family or society. He realises his destiny. Dedalus, in the Greek myth was an artificer who built wings to fly away with his son. Stephen realises he too must weave his own wings to his way to becoming an artist.

The characters are the main driving force in this book. Stephen is a character very easy to identify oneself with and the descriptions of events and emotions by Joyce are extraordinary. The only downside to this book is that Joyce's prose is sometimes difficult to understand, especially in the first chapters when the world is seen through a child eyes and the emotions and events are all jumbled and confusing.

The best thing about the book is that it is full of inspirations, as Stephen goes through life trying to find his way to becoming an artist. So even if the prose is a little dense and there are a lot of literary allusions, for a good read, one can almost surely find a copy of this lying around in Nilkhet.

By Moyukh

Bangs - Don't Do It Yourself

DDIY: Cut Your Own Bangs.

It's very easy to come across DIY tutorials these days teaching you all kinds of things from “How to Make Paper Boxes” to “Simple Steps to Your Own Detonator”. Of course, not everything is meant for everyone, and what people need now are 'Don't Do It Yourself' or 'DDIY's which outline the dangers of taking into your own hands things you should leave to professionals.

True, there are many who are sufficiently skilled to cut their own hair and style it to perfection. Then there are amateurs (*coughmecough*) who can't cut paper in a straight line, let alone hair. So, it isn't hard to guess in how many ways that can go wrong. Bangs are the trickiest of all haircuts, a slight of hand can leave you in tears.

The worst part is that there is no undo button. If you don't get it right, you'll just have to befriend your berets and say hello to your hats. No matter how much you tug, pull, clip, tease, spray or blow dry there will always be that one strand of stubborn hair that will plummet your self-confidence to the deepest abyss until that glorious day that your bangs grow out and you are finally content.

For a lucky few, that glorious day is not too far away and then there are those poor souls (again, *coughmecough*) who have to wait months. Whatever the duration of your wait, I can assure you, to you it will feel like eternity. Your social life will suffer because you will be unwilling to leave the sanctuary of your room. Your friends will try to be sympathetic for a while, but eventually the hair will get to them. They'll try to fix it, but things will just become worse. You mood will be perpetually infuriated, you'll snap at anyone you come across. Then you'll feel terrible and contemplate shaving your head off. Finally, you'll pull it up in a ponytail and just give up. That will feel wonderful, but only for so long. The cycle begins again the next day for all the days you have to withstand the plague of 'bad bangs'.

Then one day, when you look in the mirror, you won't feel like fussing anymore. You will just walk out of your room. Your family will gasp; you came out on your own. Then you'll remember the torture you endured. You'll run to the mirror, and yes! The curse will be lifted, and you'll be yourself again. Cue happy song and roll end titles.

So, spare yourself the dramatics. Go visit your hairdresser.

By Selima Sara Kabir



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