Cuneatus

How ethically just is it to set a rule on how many children can a physically and mentally sound human being have? How clear is the line of regard for culture when there is an advisory to regulate the reproductive tradition that has been practiced since the birth of a society? If birth-control guidelines were not a violation of the basic human right to freedom of deciding on the number of children they need, then what is it? Governments in the third world countries have established the practice of treating children (rather, products of conception) as a commodity that can be paid to do without. National contraception programs have encroached into the beds of impoverished hamlets and dictate terms on conception. And as if the lethal verdict was not sufficiently delivered through hospitals, armed doctors invade the villages and severe the reproductive tubes of the women who were missed at the hospitals. India's history of contraception starts from mid-twentieth century when people

Malayalam being my mother tongue, my knowledge about the history of performing arts and theatre in Kannada is shallow. I would share here some information about an eminent theatreperson of Karnataka, T. P. Kailasam. I'm thankful to my friend, Dr. Thippeswamy for having introduced me to the theatre songs of Kannada's yesteryears, penned by T. P. Kailasam. I watched a video on YouTube showcasing the best compositions of this illustrious performer. The song Namma Thipparalli Balu Doora has such a happy feeling to listen that after a day of having listened to it, you would continue tapping your feet to its lyric and music. I browsed for more information on this renowned Kannada song and to my astonishment, I found out that the tune of Namma Thipparalli Balu Doora was borrowed from an English song of the times of First World War, "Its A Long Way To Tipperary". This song was regarded as a war song during WW1. The music and spirit of this song inspired T. P. Kailasam dee

The night has fallen. We sleep through it because we believe that there is a dawn waiting at the other end. You can never take anything bigger than nature for granted. Our entire existence is a clockwork on strings of subtle, inconspicuous and unexplored beliefs. In spite of the paradox that our concerns about uncertain tomorrows have largely marred the reality of today, we have made advancements. Now, that's the power of hope; hope that as it has always been, this night, and these hard times will also end, and a new dawn awaits everyone.

He was self-programmed to dispose what he used up, but Some sins are so deep that you can’t hide with your eyes shut. He befriended the dark, trusted its length and silence He left no clues behind, and hoped to wash the stains of violence. It was eleven on the dashboard, the wipers cleared windscreen visibility Not fear frosting on his temples, from femicide out of phrenic fragility. Blood is darker when it clots after it spills somewhere It leaks out of the corpse and rain can’t wash it everywhere For the first time ever, fetish landed him in a gory scene. Stacked into trunk of the old Suzuki, flesh in six bags of polythene. He dropped at her house late in the evening, she never knew him He saw her first at the party sing and set rolling his romantic prelim. He was enchanted, her beauty did, Mystified his senses, animated him Captivated his thoughts, and he couldn’t forbid. That she loved him too was a sinister whim. Oceans in her eyes