The Telegraph
Saturday , August 4 , 2012
 
IN TODAY'S PAPER
WEEKLY FEATURES
CITIES AND REGIONS
ARCHIVES
Since 1st March, 1999
 
THE TELEGRAPH
 
 
CIMA Gallary

Blurred and bloody

The personable young civil servant in Guwahati spoke English, Bengali, Assamese and Urdu. His father was from Sylhet, his mother local and he had married in Bihar. ...   | Read..
 
Letters to the Editor
The train that will not run again
Sir ó The gauge conversion for the Katwa-Ahmadpur NG section, a 52 kilometre stretch with seven ...  | Read.. 
 
Damage control
Sir ó The chief minister of Gujarat, Narendra Modi, timed his interview with an Urdu newspaper keep ...  | Read.. 
 
Parting shot
Sir ó Citizens have been left disappointed after coming to know of the police refusing to help a wo ...  | Read.. 
 
EDITORIAL

LOSING TO WIN

The gods who oversee the Olympic Games every four years smile only upon the winners. The losers are seldom remembered in spit...   | Read..
 
REVIEW ARTS
The importance of irony
Banter becomes the young. No wonder the younger artists among the 30 or so featured in CIMAís Summer Show 2012 ó on till September 1 ó choose wry smirks or deadpan iron...  | Read.. 
 
Exquisite presentation
To celebrate the 150th birth anniversary of the great poet, playwright and musician, Dwijendralal Roy, Dimension Four organized a programme at ...  | Read.. 
 
That human touch
At a time when not many have cared to remember Sunil Janah or his pioneering work, Boi Chitra must be thanked for organizing an exhibition featuring 16 rare ...  | Read.. 
 
THIS ABOVE ALL
Solitary glory of the rising sun
Literature in every language has verses paying homage to the rising sun. It is probably a way of showing gratitude for being ...  | Read.. 
 
SCRIPSI
Home has been so many roads/ That I walk down in my sleeping/ Here with you Iím home at last/ But itís not home for my keeping/ You wonít miss me when Iím gone/ This isnít my place/ And my loves are few and donít belong/ To any one loverís face./ So donít ask me where Iíll go/ If you do I will lie to you/ But Iíll tell you of the place that is never my home/ Where Iíve lived all my life/ Where I sing/ A wishwandererís song. ó VASHTI BUNYAN