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| Changing identities |
| Uttar Pradesh past and present |
| In his charming memoir, Lucknow Boy, Vinod Mehta writes of the leisurely pace of life in his home town. Like most students of his class and generation, he paid little attention to books and exams, spending his time rather in the streets and ca... |
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| Right step |
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Sir — It is heartening to note that the chief minister of Bihar, Nitish Kumar, has taken the initia ... |
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| Fight hard |
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Sir — I was shocked to hear about Yuvraj Singh’s illness (“Yuvi’s cancer put at grade I”, Feb 6) .W ... |
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| Poor shape |
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Sir —The railway station in Kharagpur is one of the biggest railway junctions in India. Its platfor ... |
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| Parting shot |
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Sir — Recently I had to face an incident which was embarrassing as well as inexplicable. My aged si ... |
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| HIT AT THE HEADQUARTERS |
| The world of politics is “an unweeded garden, /That grows to seed”. Hamlet would have found much in the Indian political scen...|
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| Packed like sardines |
| There can be no doubt about the pre-eminent position that the Birla Academy of Art & Culture occupies in the city’s cultural world, its flaws notwithstanding. It needs no ... |
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| Unexpected scenes |
| Some pleasantly unexpected things have happened in youth theatre. Theatrecian staged a rare programme of what amounted to 13 revue sketches, under the title, The Comedy Kit... |
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| Celebrating with rhythm and grace |
| To celebrate Swami Vivekananda’s 150th birth anniversary, Darpani presented Vivek-Gatha — a dance presentation — at Rabindra Sadan on January 12. Directed by Arnab Band... |
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In daylight, I turned on the lights,/ in darkness, I pulled closed the curtains./ And the god of More,/ whom nothing surprises, softly agreed —/ each day, year after year,/ the dead were dead one day more completely./ In the places where morels were found,/ I looked for morels./ In the house where love was found,/ I looked for love./ If she vanished, what then was different?/ If he is alive, what now is changed?/ The pot offers the metal closest to fire for burning./ The water leaves. — JANE HIRSHFIELD
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