Donald Trump, politics, Uncategorized, united states

Trump’s Travel Ban in Deep Waters, Again.

In what will turn out to be a great setback for the Trumpian government, a federal appeals court upheld the ruling against the government’s ban on travellers from six Muslim-majority nations into United States. In a stunning 10-3 ruling, judges seemed to side with the lower court’s initial decision to stop certain parts of Donald Trump’s executive order, promulgated in March, which barred people from 6 countries, namely Libya, Iran, Somalia, Sudan, Yemen and Syria from entering the United States for 90 days. The order also sought to to suspend the refugee program for 120 days.

People decried the revised executive order for being discriminatory in nature against a religious community. Although the revised order was milder in tone and extent of applicability, it still did not go down well with human rights activists. Trump tried to argue that since only a few countries were in its ambit, the order could not be considered a blanket ban on Muslims. However, that’s a laughable prospect. The second ban only eliminated Iraq from the initial 7-country list; US has for long worked on the front with Iraq in battling the ISIS and other counter-terrorism activities.

Still the ban profiles the individuals of a community as threats under the guise of national security. People were however vary of the fact that it might be hard to challenge the ban in court. Those in opposition of the ban would’ve had to prove that the ban would have done ‘real harm’ if not nullified which would’ve been harder to prove since the ban was not permanent in nature but only dealt in temporary denial of visas. Also, foreigners do not generally have a claim to sue. Selection of the countries, which is a political decision considering Trump’s earlier rhetoric on Muslim, is clearly discriminatory. Trumpian government is planning to continue to fight the decision in court, with Attorney General Jeff Sessions promising to take the matter to the Supreme Court. The court read between the lines and found deep connection between the campaign statements made by the President and his subsequent action of promulgating the travel ban. His extremist ideology and firm stance on the issue is what bought him a surge of supporters and the travel ban seems to pander to the whims of a scared bigoted public. ACLU, which fought the ban in court, terms this as a big win and it sure is. All hopes are now pinned on the Supreme Court which should ideally uphold 4th Circuit’s decision and overturn this prejudiced travel ban.

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Uncategorized

NEW MEDIA ASSIGNMENTS

  1. ONODO

http://onodo.org/visualizations/11245/embed/

Screenshot (3)

2. INFOGRAM

3. PIKTOCHART

new-piktochart_908_a0692c099beeee92960d09662563b391404a019c (1)

4. TIMELINE

https://cdn.knightlab.com/libs/timeline3/latest/embed/index.html?source=1swHCZ14gqEwPwSkMj3CPc2stHzaZ07hctqDqOrt-ndk&font=Default&lang=en&initial_zoom=2&height=650

5. WORDPRESS ARTICLE

https://bhagatmallika.wordpress.com/2016/11/02/to-the-roots-of-immortality/comment-page-1/#comment-34

article, dharamsala, friends, india tourism, life, LOVE, memories, road trip, traveling, Uncategorized

The Road Trip

We pulled into Dharamsala around as the sun was first rising, with two fingers of light on the horizon. We crossed the breezy but narrow roads into the city limits, making our way to a bus depot.  Rubbing my sleep-filled eyes, I tried to peer through the hazy glass, at the snow-covered mountains on my right, the sky turning the color of light orange with wispy blue clouds at the edges, like froth at the top of a drink. Most of my classmates were asleep, the target of my envy —for the rumbling-swaying bus devoid me of the much-needed rest—considering we had a long day ahead of us.  I had stayed up, flitting in and out of sleep, leaning in, my weight on the shoulders of a friend, who had blissfully slept, much to my chagrin. We walked up to our hotel, with the taste of our exhaustion livid in our mouths, slept on the bed in the same outfit, only to wake up an hour later, drink a cup of coffee in the beautiful terrace area and later, drive to our first destination.

We had the trip of our lives, with the fear of imminent placements put mutually on the backburner. I have no adjectives to describe my classmates— they are the most eclectic bunch of people I have met! Our class would throw their hands up in the air and relax, with music in the background and a cigarette in their hand, than battle out political differences. This educational trip, or so it was meant to be, was a proof of our symbiotic association. We travelled all day, amidst the cliffs which were marked by tall trees along the roadsides, their arms up like they were being frisked. We ambled along a clammy-smelling, muddy trail to the Tibetan parliament in exile, and trudged lazily from a library to a human rights discussion. We braved the sleety rain ricocheting off the rocks. We were bemused by the plight of the young children at a Tibetan Children’s school and amused by the extremely cheap desserts at the Tibetan café.

We would come back to our hotel, exhausted from the day but pumped up for the night. Groups were fluid as people drifted in and out of different rooms with ease, some fumbling around for shampoo, and some for a matchbox. Amidst all the clamor of our incessant bickering and bluff sessions, we all felt united by one purpose—that we did not let our fears prevent us from missing out on this trip. We shared childhood (read embarrassing) anecdotes and danced to old Bollywood jingles into the night (well some did, I slept. Huge regrets.) I trekked — or something close enough to a trek —with my friends, without a care in the world, without any fear of being embarrassed of my child-like naivety. I’d like to think the time spent on a stony wall, within the reclaimed cathedral just off the road, brought us closer to each other. I’d like to hope that somehow, this short tour gave us all memories to store within each fleeting moment. Before we start feeling limited by our lives and jobs, penned in by money or family, we stretched out in our bit of the leg-room and somehow, just somehow, made this tour into the road trip we all dream about.

art, india tourism, madhya pradesh, mandu, mptourism, prose, traveling, Uncategorized

With Love, from the Ruins of Mandu

“Shout out as loud as you can,” said our guide Tukaram, as we stood perched at one end of a broken wall that barely reached my waist. My sister and I were a bit unnerved with his enthusiasm, so our guide, visibly frustrated at our shyness but still undeterred, took the task upon himself.

“Will Mallika pass or fail?”

The echoes amazed me and filled the area around us, to my dismay, with the resonance of the latter. We laughed at the juvenile trickery and continued our journey around the city.

Mandu, erstwhile Mandava or Mandogarh, is a tottering city in the southwestern state of Madhya Pradesh, 60km from the city of Indore. Nothing could mark a greater difference than the towering buildings of Indore and this city of Mandu, which is closer to oblivion each passing day. Situated atop a plateau, lying close to the lazy course of the Narmada, the city was once fortified with walls stretching upto 50kms. The intricately carved walls, domes, pillars and entrances have endured centuries of dynastic wars and the harsh hands of Time.

Having been situated on the top of a plateau, mainly for strategic advancement, the city has been designed around water harvesting and conservation mechanisms, with innumerable wells, tanks and channels which direct water to the depositories, undergoing traditional means of purification through pebbles, sand and charcoal. Everywhere you look there is a beautifully carved structure that stands encased in history.

No less enchanting is the structure of Jahaz Mahal, the story of which is etched in my memory. The ‘floating palace’ as it was called when it was built, stood in the centre of man-made lakes, giving it the celestial vision of being afloat. Sultan Ghiyas-ud-din Khilji built it for his queens, concubines and the attending staff going upto thousands in number. It is one of the most elaborate extant structures of the ruined city. The royal palace complex at Mandu also includes the Hindola Mahal, or the Swinging Palace, a T-shaped structure which is a perfect specimen of the Malwa architecture.

As we negotiate the area, peppered with carved buildings encircled by broken battlement walls, Tukaram breaks into a song which is reverberated by the walls around us. A soft breeze saves us from the sultry sun that threatens to char my skin. Tukaram goes on the explain how the walls and columns were hollow structures with deep interconnected water ducts that ensured the service of water even in the most obscure corner of the palace and kept the palace cool in summers. He moves on to guide us to another area in the city and metaphorically into the past of Rani Roopmati.

We saunter into the area adjacent to the Rewa Kund, which makes up Baz Bahadur’s palace and Rani Roopmati’s pavilion. Baz Bahadur, the last independent King of Mandu fell in love with a beautiful shepherdess, Roopmati, who was also a marvelous singer. He convinced her to accompany him to the palace, agreeing to her condition that her palace must face the venerated river Narmada, which is how the foundation of the Rewa Kund was laid. The broad steps leading to the main gate of the palace are flanked on the sides by high arches, which probably served as aqueducts built into thick walls that supplied water to the palace. The love story was doomed for a premature end when Akbar invaded Mandu. The king fell in the battle and Rani Roopmati consumed poison                to avoid capture at the hands of Adham Khan.

Tukaram, consumed in his tale of love and beauty, comically fell into a small hole in the ground, amidst peals of laughter from the children nearby. He got up, dusted himself and continued stoically like nothing had transpired. He reminded me of how the present, ignorant of the majestic past, gleams at the tottering palaces and empty tanks, shrugs and looks in the other direction while those that remain entrenched in the past, only hope for reparations, for regained glory. As our trip ended, we eschewed the mundane cobbled roads and climb to the terrace of the palace to see the sky change hues. The city which once was one of the richest and also one of the biggest in India during the reign of both the Ghuri and Khilji dynasties, now sits, a lonely guardian on the walls. Men, many old timers like our Tukaram, believe that on a clear starry night, Roopmati’s voice can be felt glimmering through the air, and rippling across the surface of Narmada nearby.

In the meanwhile, hues of orange burst upon the horizon and we look till the sun is gobbled up by the distant curve.

 

 

 

 

featured image:india.com

art, article, Donald Trump, HATRED, Journalism, social media, Uncategorized

Creative Resistance- How Art is fighting back Donald Trump

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Illma Gore knows that these words hold water. Having suffered backlash for her nude portrait with a micro-penis of the now incumbent President of the United States, Donald Trump, she began work on a piece of art, painted with human blood– 20 pints donated by those who share her cause- in association with activist collective INDECLINE as a protest against the election. Hers is not the sole crusade against the anti-feminist, anti-inclusion tainted president who now reigns as the leader of the free world. Another prominent artist, Shepard Fairey, released three politically charged posters, featuring an African-American, a Muslim and Latino women, titled “We the People”. All the three religious/ethnic groups had previously come under ire from the erstwhile presidential candidate, and Fairey felt the need to visually depict the same, in order to highlight their imminent vulnerability under his administration.

Another piece of art came under the political spotlight and it belonged to Richard Prince, an artist whose Instagram picture featuring Ivanka Trump, had earned him a $36000 bounty. In an act of protest, he denounced the work and returned the payment. His argument stated that as a means of an honest protest, he had to exercise his discretion regarding the Trumps, and that they ’are not art.’ Mr. Trump himself is apparently not an art person at all, his government planning on drastic cuts in the spending,including a probable elimination of National Endowment for the Arts and National Endowment for the Humanities, The Hill reported. The massive outburst against the palpable concerns of a population that considers the election as a national catastrophe is majorly pivoted around the same issue, if not having stemmed from it.

What prompts these protests? Such a collective response to an election, on a scale that has never been witnessed before, prompts an intense soul-searching, although it doesn’t take long for the water to boil. The populace that voted against Trump and his policies are now trying to galvanize fear and angst against his election and stand in opposition to his decrees. Many artists supported a strike on January 20th, which called for an “act of non-compliance” and urged museums, galleries, theatres and galleries to remain closed for the day. The J20 Art Strike witnessed response from places around the country albeit in different ways. While mass outspoken dissent has taken over the stage prior and following the election result, those whose voices have no public platform for outcry have taken to social media and visual medium to cut across barriers. Dozens of banners with messages of inclusivity and anti-racism adorned the buildings across Philadelphia and Atlanta on the Inauguration day.

All the dissenters speak one tongue, inspite of different mediums which emphasizes non-acceptance of divisive attitude, corrosive of the ideas of equality enshrined in a democracy. The paradigm shift in the concept of identity and the argument of white supremacy that underlines Trump’s narrative is the fodder that fuels the artistic cannons, whose call for arms is loud, distinct and unavoidable.

cover picture: fusion.net

article, fake news, jaipur, jaipur literature fest, jlf, Journalism, life, politics, Post-Truth, social media, Uncategorized

What is the brouhaha around POST-TRUTH?

The culminating session at the famed Jaipur Literature fest was dedicated to this deceptive word which made its appearance in the Oxford dictionary as the word of the year and has since been doing the rounds. What is Post-Truth to be precise? And why does it bug the eminent so much that we had to sit through an hour of grueling high-spirited cacophony that was the ‘debate’?

Apologies for the monotony but Post-Truth refers to ‘Relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief.” Makes sense. But its sudden encroachment of the entire spotlight in the modern political debate is rather baffling. While in India, political debate has always been framed around appeals to emotions, the original area of Post-Truth cultural debate was discussed around Capitalism. But now, since the latest events have turned all the predictions of political pundits upside down, the word has made a come-back in the dominant narrative, fueled primarily by the anti-establishment wave that brought Brexit supporters and Trump to power.

The eminent panelists at the JLF debate titled ‘We are living in a post-truth world’, included names of Barkha Dutt, Shashi Tharoor, Suhel Seth, Anne Waldman, Prasoon Joshi, Swapan Das Gupta, Luke Harding, Ashutosh Varshney and David McWilliam.

With the onslaught of fake news on Social Media, and a platform to voice their opinions, people have turned opinion-makers in the online culture, with little discretion between right and wrong, fact and fiction. This was the peg of the debate which took different roads with no conclusive decision. All the panelists, saving Luke Harding, talked about the multiplicity of truth, it being a subjective unquantifiable idea, and differed on the exactness of the phenomenon. While Barkha Dutt set the tone of the debate by arguing in the favour of the motion, she was countered by Prasoon Joshi. Joshi talked about how all the concepts have emanated from an emotional anchor. However it is the situation of lies being paraded as facts that was a bothering notion to him, instead of the glamorous idea of Post-truth. Anne Waldman, who reiterated that we have always lived in a post-truth world, went a notch higher, criticizing the word to be patriarchal.

Suhel Seth was at his witty best; while blaming Barkha Dutt of audience-manipulation, he claimed the idea of Post-Truth to be a media cook-up. Public discourse is manipulated around the world to suit individual agendas. Seth spoke on how, ‘we know how to distinguish facts from lies, even if lies get perpetuated. Thus we do not live in a post-truth world, ‘he declared, adding ‘the idea that we only live in a world of truisms and not lies, or only lies and not truisms in itself is facetious.’

Luke Harding made a very accurate point of the world witnessing a ‘new breed of authoritarian leaders’ like Putin and Trump who have monopolized knowledge of certain events and hence are in the position to disseminate ideas, strutted as Truth through media. Ashutosh Varshney was sombre compared to the animated debaters Swapan Das Gupta and Suhel Seth. Quoting Nietzsche, Gramsci and Foucault, he argued how this concept is not a sudden idea, and has been talked about by scholars in the past. The ruling elite in any economy will always have the power to mould social consciousness.

Tharoor on the other hand, started with an anecdote and concluded with the supremacy of Truth and also the truth of one’s entitlement to an opinion but not the facts. It is not a Post Truth world; only a world where it is easier to spread lies, and counter them.

The malleability of facts, which has eroded the credibility of journalism, is worth contemplating. Relativism has crept its way to Post-truth, with multiple narratives giving way to factual inaccuracy. India has almost always lived in a Post-Truth world, with a diabolical existence that speaks volumes about the contradictions of the country. One of the key debate discussions included that of the Demonetisation drive, which was promulgated with the intention of helping the poor but has in fact aggravated their dire condition.

While Barkha Dutt, who claimed that ‘Lies and propaganda have always been the bedrock of politics’, tried to reign in the diametrically divided opinions of the vociferous speakers, the debate concluded just like it had started- loud and ambiguous.

featured image source:hindustantimes.com

allegory, feelings, Poem, rhyme, Uncategorized

Doubt’s Dreadful Deed

via Daily Prompt: Devastation

She shifts through the cracks
and makes home in the shacks
of feelings in those tendrils weak,
in sinew holding to the strength it seeks

Doubt makes her way up to the heart
playing on its mysterious part,
as shouts and screams reach cacaphonous highs
She pats her back,and grins more wide

Hatred seeks to place himself where once
feelings dwelled, bowing to none.
they have long deserted the splendid ways
of lovely walks and silly word plays.

Love is shunned out of his seat,
Jealousy moves in, swiftly meets
the despicable residents of the forlorn town
Called heart,which now breathes no sound.

Doubt’s done her deed, celebrations begin,
the shunned inmates cry out in vain
for some respite, to the one they belong,
unaware of the Love gone wrong.