Rappers and poets

There is a man sitting on the desk with pen and paper to write. There is the ever-inspiring portrait of Tagore on his right, while the stereo jammed Eminem on his left. Which path ought he to take?

Creation - it is a common task among all sorts of people. Starting from our favourite idols (whether that is Fred Durst or Britney Spears) to the people we meet everyday (the domestic workers, shopkeepers, etc.) - they all create something or the other. That day, I met this young guy who was playing a guitar and singing while his audience clapped from the roof of a house nearby. Honestly speaking, he was also creating something (whether or not for the sake of creation). All these things - music, art, dance, drama, writing - all are branches of creation, each of which has its own atmosphere, influences, and also time. For example, poetry has been a path of creation from ancient times. Rap was born in recent decades, and is a kind of diffusion of poetry and music.

A number of brows may be raised, if we say rap is related to poetry, but it is true. Basically, rap lyrics are all poems but signifying different climates and having completely different pattern of words. Emotion is a very important factor in both poems and raps. Whether Macbeth is all emotional and ready to throw life away when he says "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow...." or when Fred Durst is screaming in similar emotional conditions in Boiler - "Maybe life is up and down ... my life's been wet till now..."

Rap and poetry are two different branches of creation nevertheless. As mentioned above, rap and poetry were born at different times, but due to the enormous flexibility they give to the creators, none of them are likely to die. Poems are usually of slower pace than rap songs. Rap lyrics also vary hugely from poems in terms of the pattern of words. Sometimes, profanities are added to rap songs for the sake of extra emotion. Poems however do not usually contain taboos. However, one thing shows the relation between rappers and poets. Recently, many people, including a Nobel Prize winner in literature have hailed Eminem (Marshall Mathers) as one of the most talented new generation poets.

In our country, rap and poetry - both gets mixed receptions.
Nevertheless, when I try and visualise myself as a poet, I can see a hard but possible life in this country. When I try and visualize myself as a rapper, though, I can see a hard and possible kick landing on my bottom. In the west however, rappers are a lot more popular (can you see John Cena?). Basically, we should not forget the purpose of these fields - it's all about creation.

We don't usually get to see a spiky-haired poet, or a rapper with long white beard and hair. But it won't really hurt if we do. The whole idea of speaking your mind is important - it doesn't matter whether you do it through art, music, dance, or anything else. So whether "Thee pick thy pen up and write what thine heart sayest thou", or you "Grab the mic and strike the way you like" - the fact that it is all about creation, should not be forgotten.

By Azhar Chowdhury

Tête-à-tête

Hey People!

Another week, more strikes and more schedule upsets. Speaking of upsets, have you seen what's going on in Gulshan? Ever since they tore down those roundabouts, the traffic in those two (ex)-circles has been a mess! What do you suppose the deal is? I don't know about you guys, but I sure miss the trees. Those of you who live in Gulshan, or at least have frequently commuted past the Gulshan 2 Circle, I wonder if you ever noticed that cute, and extremely efficient lawn-mowing system it used to have. Every once in a while, when the grass grew too long, whoever was in charge of maintaining the circle would let a couple of goats loose in it. The greedy little critters would not only shave the grass to a decent length, they'd even polish off some of the rubbish that was littered there. You know how goats are, they'll eat anything. Now that the Circle is gone, I can't help but miss the simple pleasures of seeing a patch of green in the congested area. Isn't it sad?

I've been having a minor e-mail debate with my new friend Nayeem, regarding the merits of studying here in the Desh, as opposed to flying the nest and going to the West…it's a debatable issue, because both options have their pros and cons. What's your take?

Write in and let me know! Till our next tête-à-tête, take care!
Send your polls, opinions, and queries to thegirlnextdoor1@hotmail.com

By The Girl Next Door

I tremble with fear even before looking at my face in the mirror. From my childhood, imaginary characters with scary faces were a source of great horror for me, but when did I know that these faces would once become my own reflection and keep on taunting me forever. I cannot think of the past, of those good ol' days when I enjoyed my life with all my humble expectations but all of a sudden, a storm came and shattered all my minor dreams and my face remained as a mass of meat. My present brings tears into my eyes, when I see my family struggling to gather money and finding that there is hardly anyone to lend a helping hand. Thinking of the future gives me goosebumps, and leaves only one single road open in front of me, a road that leads to suicide.

Many years have gone by and each time I hear the slogans of all the politicians, a hope starts to grow in one corner of my mind but after realising that these people are nothing other than bloody liars, I lose all my hope. Life seems to be a game of snakes and ladders, in which once you reach a ladder, you hope to win, but as soon as you come across a mouth of a snake you have to go way back. I have developed a strong disgust for the word VICTIM. Are we only pathetic creatures called victims? Is it the only term used to console us?

Every year 8th March, Women's Day comes and goes away without changing hardly anything for helpless and hopeless women like us. Now the news of our distress has become so normal, that it does not even reach the newspapers anymore.

What was my fault? Is it that I was a woman and ferocious creatures called men can take us for granted? Why do we always have to suffer why not those men? No other country, rich or poor has people doing such shameful acts. The list of the people responsible for making my life a nightmare are endless starting from the guy next door to big big politicians.

On this Women?s day, a hope has again started to grow in me and hopefully this time at least, a baby step for us will be taken.

By Samiha Tahseen Chowdhury

Garden of My Heart
The garden of my heart
Had filled with fragrance
A milestone for them being chosen
The flowers had bloomed
Now the bossom itself had frozen.
Roses were the very best
Among all the rest
Counting the days
Since the seeds were planted
Finally the roses had shown their colour.
They are ofcourse not to last
For a lifetime of joys
The few days were the ones
Bliss would be cast
For once they have to fade
Losing the glory with which they were made.
The dying petals spread a scent
Showing how short they were meant
To be dancing in the breeze,
Were far from believing
With the sense of leaving
A scar in the heart
That lasted from the very start.

By Bitterheart

Howzzat

Our driver got into an accident recently. He was riding in a taxicab and when they encountered a lane, which was closed for construction, a speeding truck hit the taxicab head-on, sending my driver flying from the passenger seat and hitting a meter. He was carried, by the locals to nearby hospital, as he had acquired a deep gash on his forehead. It was so bad, that his skin was practically dropping over his eyes.

We got a call, at home, a few minutes later, by a nurse in the hospital. She asked whether or not they should start stitching the wound. My mother frantically replied, asking them to do it and saying that she'll send someone to the hospital as fast as she could (it was almost around mid night). She informed my father soon after, who reached the hospital, after forty-five minutes (thanks to the traffic). On arriving, he found out that no one was working on our poor driver, who was lying miserably in the emergency from with a mere bandage wrapped around his wound. He was losing a lot of blood.

My father was extremely outraged and couldn't understand why the doctor hadn't started stitching the wound when he had already received permission (although there should be no need to seek any permission since it was an emergency) to do it. When asked, he said, 'We are not suppose to treat accident cases. They should be treated at the Dhaka Medical College Hospital, but if you permit it, then we may work on him'. Our driver needed 35 stitches and the entire process was carried on in the 'so called' emergency room in presence of my father. The condition of the facility was worse them anything you could imagine. But the young doctors there did a fantastic job on our driver, for which we will be forever grateful.

It's been a couple of days since the accident and I still can't believe the systems through which we work in this country, an emergency is an emergency and should be dealt with top priority. This city is big enough and it is high time that we should have regional facilities to deal with emergencies, irrespective of being public or private.

By Slayer

The dog was very angry to see that and he chased the cats back to their own garbage. The cats were finally at home.
"We were being silly," said Pan to his brothers. Then Can said "I think we were."
After that Dan said their names should be three silly cats. Pan and Can agreed with the name too and after that that is how they were known as.

By Mashuq Ambia

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