Ars longa. vita brevis est

The Alvibest Flier

2007-04-12T11:52:00.000+05:30

Subscribers are welcome to upload this flier on their blog/webpages.

Coming to an inbox near you

2007-03-22T09:32:00.000+05:30

This message was sent out to the subscribers of Alvibest. It so happens that a few of the email-addresses are no longer valid. In case, you happen to read this post and suspect that your email-ID might be one of them (we cannot publish the email-IDs), please subscribe with a permanent address. Thank you.

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Dear Subscriber,

I have a lot to tell you, but let me start with an apology. As you might have guessed from the previous issue that we sent out, the real world had cornered us and had placed us at gunpoint. Juggling the demands of our individual lives and the life we wish to give Alvibest was a learning experience (no, this is no euphemism) and we decided to re-visit what we thought Alvibest represented and got to know a bit more about this magazine and its soul. Hence, we didn't publish anything this year (Aug06-May07). We nearly went into publishing an earlier issue, but we grounded ourselves and decided to streamline our "mainstream" lives before taking on something which required all our attention and passion.

The good news is, we are definitely going to come out in Aug 2007 and thereafter. We are working towards creating enjoyable content and are utilising this time for bringing in some structure. We would follow the usual pattern of eclectic issue(Aug) followed by theme-based issue(Nov), hidden-theme-based issue (Feb) and an issue with a direct relevance to the contemporary world (May). Would you prefer it differently? Let us know.

We are inviting submissions for the various issues (themes will be notified to the interested contributor) and request you to participate in the making of Alvibest. In case you know someone whose work you enjoy, please pass on this mail to her/him. Details of the typical format of each issue will be discussed with contributors. We also look forward to contributions in the form of editorial help, design and layout of the magazine, etc. People who would simply like to play the role of a sounding board (which, occasionally, offers sage advice) are also invited to jump in. :-)

We plan to bring in some different kind of content as well as non-magazine activity. That is all we'll divulge now!! Let's hear what you would like to recommend in these two categories and any other category that you might consider appropriate for Alvibest!

Submissions can be made to submit.alvibest@gmail.com. Feel free to write feedback.alvibest@gmail.com about any queries that you might have. In case your friends wish to subscribe to Alvibest, please ask them to send a blank mail to subscribe.alvibest@gmail.com.

We are genuinely eager to make Alvibest happen (and happen to our complete satisfaction and joy) from August 2007 onwards. It would be a more rewarding experience if you could help us. Looking forward to your response.

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Regards
Editor

Beyond Art...

2006-05-20T08:30:00.000+05:30

The following links are about writers who went beyond the mere purpose of writing and revelling in the arts. This post also serves as the reference section for the article "Writers of the Issue" in the May 2006 issue of Alvibest:

Nadine Gordimer
Biography on the United Nations Development Programme web page
< http://www.undp.org.za/docs/misc/gordimerbio.html >
Nadine Gordimer and the South African Experience by Per Wastberg in the Nobel Prize site
< http://nobelprize.org/literature/articles/wastberg/index.html >
Stephen Clingman's book The Novels of Nadine Gordimer: History from the Inside
<http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0870238027/sr=8-4/qid=1145600166/ref=sr_1_4/104-8913949-8041519?_encoding=UTF8 >
Her Paris Review interview
< http://www.theparisreview.com/viewinterview.php/prmMID/3060 >
full version of the above interview available in the book Women Writers at Work: The Paris Review Interviews (edited by George Plimpton)
<http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0679771298/104-8913949-8041519?v=glance&n=283155 >

Harold Pinter
Harold Pinter's website
< http://www.haroldpinter.org/home/index.shtml >
The sensational Nobel Lecture
< http://nobelprize.org/literature/laureates/2005/pinter-lecture-e.html >
The Paris Review Interview, Fall 1966
< http://www.theparisreview.com/viewinterview.php/prmMID/4351 >

Gao Xingian
Biography on the Nobel Prize website
< http://nobelprize.org/literature/laureates/2000/gao-bio.html >
An article on Gao in the BBC after his Nobel prize win.
< http://www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/arts/highlights/010316_xingian.shtml >
Soul Mountain in the Amazon website
<http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0066210828/nobelprizeintern/104-8913949-8041519 >

Shirin Ebadi
Shirin Ebadi's website (in Persian)
< http://www.shirinebadi.ir/index.htm >
Ebadi's book Iran Awakening: A Memoir of Revolution and Hope releases in the US this May
<http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1400064708/104-8913949-8041519?v=glance&n=283155 >
An excerpt from one of Shirin Ebadi's books on Women's rights
< http://www.badjens.com/ebadi.html >
PeaceWomen interview
< http://www.peacewomen.org/news/Iran/October03/interview.html >

Wikipedia (< http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Main_Page >) has individual pages on all the authors featured

References to other articles and writers mentioned in "Writers of the Issue"
Arundhati Roy's interview to the Deccan Herald <http://www.deccanherald.com/deccanherald/apr42006/update75259200644.asp
John Pilger's article in Mail & Guardian Online <http://www.chico.mweb.co.za/art/2005/2005oct/051021-silence.html>
Website of The Nobel Prize in Literature < http://nobelprize.org/literature/ >

Alvibest May-2006

2006-05-20T08:24:00.000+05:30

Finally, Alvibest's May 2006 issue is out on the stands... err... in your inbox. This was one rollercoaster ride issue and the making of it is a novel in itself. Someday we will share with you what happened while we prepared this issue for you.
We would urge subscribers to provide us with non-work email addresses as this would ensure continuity even when you move to greener pastures! A couple of subscribers' email addresses are no longer valid. Please give us a permanent email address when you subscribe. While we wait for feedback, it comes as an anti-climax when what we receive is a mail from some administrator or postman that a particular address is invalid!! :-o
Below is the cover page design of this issue. Hope you enjoy it!

Let's meet

2006-03-10T16:51:00.000+05:30

Alvibest would like to meet patrons of art and Alvibest (or was that a repetition?). We are planning an informal meeting on the 19th of March (2006) in Chennai (Tamil Nadu, India). Venue and other details will be made available to interested folks when they send us an email to feedback[dot]alvibest[at]gmail[dot]com. Please bring your best spirit (bottled or otherwise! ;-)

And we thought...

2006-02-07T21:27:00.000+05:30

We thought that certain things like numbers, tangible recognition and accolades matter not. We found great peace and happiness in the passion we poured into Alvibest. It is amazing how pouring out can fill one with such joy and bliss.

But then came along a day when we crossed the 10 subscribers mark. Hmmm
Then the 20 subscribers mark...
For strange historic reasons the 25 subscriber mark was more thrilling than the 24, 26, and 29 subscriber marks.
30 and 40 came and went by unnoticed. Well, not entirely...
And then we crossed the 50 subscriber mark last night, and we were happier than seeing the SENSEX soar. Honestly, a 50 has no significance greater than a 49, but we were simply overjoyed and were busy shooting out mails to friends and telling them about this achievement. And I would call it just that. It really is an achievement. Not for the people involved but for Alvibest. Alvibest's subscription base seems to be entirely filled with people who enjoy English literature and this has been achieved without any publicity per se. By sheer word of mouth from one aficionado to another, Alvibest is where it is.
We are still taking our first few steps and this isn't hubris that laces our joy today. We are humbled by the sheer Force that brought Alvibest to 50 subscribers in about half a year and 3 issues. We doubled in 3 months. So many good things happened in the past few months...

But one thing remains. We love what we are building. We love what is getting built. We love the way it is transforming us...

Do stay with us on this journey...

Me

2006-02-04T16:53:00.000+05:30

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How I love your praise
And still yearn for more-
As you smile at me
For wanting to be you.
And my eagerness
To know you from within;
It all began one fine day,
When you lent me your soul-
Just for a day, you said,
You can be me.
As I wore your thoughts
They made a rusty fit;
Your nuances I could feel
And the intricacies of your being.
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Thus I start my day

2006-02-04T16:52:00.000+05:30

The Sea by John Banville

2006-02-04T16:49:00.000+05:30

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The narrative moves back and forth in time, from the near past to the very distant past as Morden picks on selective threads of memory to ruminate at length, drawing astonishing conclusions at times. He realizes that his parents were mere fixtures in the scene of his growth:

Their unhappiness was one of the constants of my earliest years, a high, unceasing buzz just beyond hearing. I did not hate them. I loved them, probably. Only they were in my way, obscuring my view of the future. In time I would be able to see right through them, my transparent parents.

Oh, Ma, how little I understood you, thinking how little you understood.

Morden, though seemingly well on appearance, suffers from intense internal conflict as he tries to understand, perhaps review, life and its meaning for him.

But then, at what moment, of all our moments, is life not utterly, utterly changed, until the final, most momentous change of all?

As a little boy, that eventful summer in Ballyless, Max develops a strong crush for the alluring Mrs.Grace, but discovers a few weeks later that his love has swiftly shifted from mother to daughter:

Love, as we call it, has a fickle tendency to transfer itself, by a heartless, sidewise shift, from one bright object to a brighter, in the most inappropriate of circumstances.

Morden is supposed to be spending his time in Ballyless coping with loss as well as working on a monograph of the painter Pierre Bonnard. On his reflective journey, Morden draws in segments of Bonnard's life and compares it to his last few months with Anna.
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Bridging heaven and earth

2006-02-04T16:47:00.000+05:30

All she had...

2006-02-04T16:46:00.000+05:30

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She used to look stunning at sixteen, the age when she married. A broad forehead that in a man would have been called a receding hairline gave her a regal countenance, one that was designed for nethi chutti[1] and red full-moon pottu[2]. She also had large eyes set wide apart, which in her youth must have been twin black and white expressions of inner poetry. In fact, if it is fact, an artist in her husband's family was charmed enough to paint her portrait soon after her wedding. Funny are the testimonies of fact – so much of it is created by deft flourishes of imagination. The selective colouring of a restored past, the exaggerated assumptions of an evolving present.
I could not gather much about the husband. After all, imagination cannot resurrect angles and curves on a barely visible fragment; for that was what he had faded into. She bore three children in quick succession, each birth lining her face with its intimate details. At twenty, she must have been an experienced mother, adept at handling sleep deprivation and childish tantrums.
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[1] Nethi chutti is an ornament that is worn on the hair parting and decorates the forehead.
[2] Pottu is the Tamil word for the vermilion dot that adorns the forehead of Indian women
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Kaustubha Vaatika

2006-02-04T16:45:00.000+05:30

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Upon a branch two parakeets lustily grabbed the other's beak and brought their breasts together amidst flaps of wings. As I watched, the redness of their beaks deepened, reflecting the passion in their eyes and all I could do was recall the time when Radha and I sat near the Yamuna one warm noon. I had insisted on lying down on her lap and she hadn’t resisted. She never hesitated to give me what I asked of her. How could she be thus? Always giving and never asking me for anything? How could she be the love I am supposed to embody? And while I lay down on her lap soaking in her ever-present love I rolled my head such that my face sank into the upper recesses of her thigh. Then I realized the depth of her offering to me. Instinctively she covered me with her flowing upper garment and bent towards me. As I watched her face glow and blush, I knew love like I had never known it before. Ayana could never make her respond with the tenderness that our love stoked. Ayana could never make her nostrils flare with the passion of absolute love. Ayana could never make her close her eyes and bite her lower lip till it reddened with passion and the blood of all consuming love. Ayana could merely tend the cows and bring home some food like a good husband. Radha consumed me in her love and Ayana in her complete sense of duty. But I am God, and her love for me was inevitable.
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Writer of the issue: Oscar Wilde

2006-02-04T16:44:00.000+05:30

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Wilde maintained that 'to reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim'; yet, traces of his own life and his times always coloured his writing. His words in The Picture of Dorian Gray proved to be very damaging to him as they were used as evidence to incriminate him and sentence him to prison in his later years. His sharpness of wit cleverly concealed his intrusive opinions in his works. Oscar Wilde was not just a writer par excellence, he was also a man who lived life as he chose and paid a hefty price for it.
Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde – the man with three middle names – was born on 16 October 1854 to exceptionally talented and unconventional Anglo-Irish, Protestant parents: Sir William Wilde, renowned ear and eye surgeon, philanthropist, and a gifted writer and Jane Francesca Elgee, linguist, talented writer and Irish Nationalist. Wilde had a comfortable childhood and he went on to study Classics at Trinity College, Oxford where he won the Berkeley Gold Medal, the highest award for Classics for his poem Ravenna. Wilde's fond memories of a sojourn in Ravenna, Italy are captured touchingly in the eponymous long poem.
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Finality

2006-02-04T16:40:00.000+05:30

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Suddenly he got up and rushed to grab a metal pot. “I will get you water from the Sutlej everyday and we can throw it on each other.”
He dropped it with a loud noise and yanked his harmonica from his bag. “I will play all those Rajesh Khanna tunes for you”, and he started blowing into it but his breath caught in his throat.
He rushed out and jumped up and grabbed a few pods of tamarind. He ran in and tripped on the threshold. “These, these tangy stalks I will save for you”, he said as he rubbed his bruised knee. He dropped them and frantically looked around searching for something else to assure her of her safety and comfort, only if she decided to stay longer with him – if she could decide.

Then he jerked his head back and saw something leaning against the door. He kept looking at it for a long time and at length, silently walked towards his sister.

“Don’t worry Shruti, everything will be fine.” He wiped the wet line on her cheek and went out to sit under the shade of the tree.
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Wish I could

2006-02-04T16:39:00.000+05:30

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Wish I could be a feather that lands on your lap when you are reading a book – to be touched by you, before you send me drifting back into a cloudy breezy land of dreams…

Wish I could be a vibrant quivering bubble in your vicinity, bringing back to you colours of a long-forgotten rainbow – before I dissolve into the elements again.

Wish I could be your past, which would make you die with longing for me every new day, when you relive me... while your reality passes by... unnoticed.
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Sundara Kandam

2006-02-04T16:37:00.000+05:30

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Her eyes did not waver for a second from that blade of grass, which whispered words privy to her trembling eyes, which were shut to all these loud sights and bright noises. They held their gaze even as her tears blurred the blade before drying on her burning cheeks. Not once did she raise them to look at the hideous form now threatening her with death. Her fury and disgust lay restrained between her clenched fists. She sat there like the unwavering flame of a lamp. Her eyes blazed, yes, but her mind suffered with the silent pain of the lamp’s wick.
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Another issue is out of the press...

2006-02-04T16:22:00.000+05:30

It is such a dizzy feeling when we watched Alvibest Feb 2006 leave the press. The Editorial Board enjoyed preparing this issue for all the subscribers and more so for their personal sense of satisfaction. It is without exaggerations a note that we were moved to meet the release date that we had scheduled. A lot of effort went into this issue and we hope the subscribers enjoy it. To prospective subscribers: please send a blank mail to subscribe[dot]alvibest[at]gmail[dot]com

We will shortly include snippets from various pieces and invite discussions about the same. Once again, it was a pleasure (which hasn't yet abated) working on this issue.

Subscribers are requested to notify Alvibest about non-receipt of this issue.

Alvibest Feb 2006

2006-01-23T20:16:00.000+05:30

Once again, the Alvibest team has enjoyed the efforts in putting together a magazine to delight her reader's with an experience, which we hope, is like none other. The issue should be out in the 1st week of Feb. (and weeks seem to be of subjective length. Last time we heard, it can stretch as long as 15 days!! ;-)

This issue contains a hidden theme. Contributors are requested to keep the shared information with themselves. Various aspects of the theme have been revealed throughout the issue. This issue also contains some new categories. We hope you enjoy this issue...

Note to subscribers

2005-11-08T21:10:00.000+05:30

Subscribers who do not receive the Nov-2005 issue of Alvibest (before 7th Nov. 2005) are requested to send an email to feedback.alvibest@gmail.com and we shall make the necessary arrangements. Please do provide us with valid email addresses which do not block PDF files attachments.

Celebrating a great event

2005-11-08T11:21:00.000+05:30

I would like to share with all of you that Alvibest has touched the silver mark of 25 official subscribers. It has been a pleasurable journey all this while and it feels good to know that there are readers out there who consider the writing, that Alvibest captures and the spirit that Alvibest lets lose, as worthy of their interest. An uncounted number of readers out there get Alvibest through friends and they write in appreciating the efforts that have gone into each issue, but Alvibest would like to specially thank the official subscribers for patronising Alvibest. We hope to serve you better with the passing day. But for now, let us enjoy what I had stored up for several years in the wait of such an occasion!! Ladies and gentlemen, please help yourself and do not hesitate to rush in for more (carefully, though) ... :-)

Valid Subscription Addresses

2005-11-04T08:38:00.000+05:30

Subscribers have been notified of updates on this blog but some addresses have turned out to be invalid. We would request all those subscribers who haven't received a mail from the Editor to provide a valid email address to subscribe.alvibest@gmail.com

Cover Page

2005-11-03T15:41:00.000+05:30

The cover design was a well conceived idea and was painstakingly put together by two artists. Alvibest takes this opportunity to laud their efforts. We shall discuss the making of the cover design here followed by the idea behind it.
Part 1: An adult hand was placed against a graphite sheet, and white paint was used to brush-paint around it. Hence, the adult hand's outline is not well-formed but is basically white rendered as a powder effect.
Part 2: Children were provided with a lot of colours and were allowed to run amuck on chart paper. They kept stamping their hands in every colour and going pitchaack on the chart paper. Their teacher who is also a brilliant artist (she sketches, paints, etches, is into pottery, poetry and... well, you name it!) collected these and sent them over to the studio.
Part 3: The adult hand and the child hands were digitally superimposed such that a child's hand fits well into the adult hand. Four such pairs were created and the cutest little hand was placed outside all of them in the centre.

Idea behind it: The idea was laid out by the Editor who had already planned on a theme-based issue. This issue is dedicated to children, growth and innocence. What he wanted was basically what the artists have achieved. What he put in words before the image was formed, is as follows:

"What I would like to see is innocence lead by responsible maturity but not containing it or restricting it. An adult should help and guide a child in this world but essentially never bind them down to personal beliefs and philosophies. A child's hand should be in full colour, but the adult hand should be hollow. The outline of the adult shouldn't be solid, thereby allowing the child to grow out of the adult guidance into a wonderful world where responsible adults exist and are ready to help them whenever they need it. The adult hand should be in white which reflects all colours. Hence, a child is allowed to be their personal shade of yellow, red, pink or what you please. The child should be represented in bright colours and the hand should be full. That would represent the potential that each child holds. The wrist of the adult hand should be absent providing an outlet for the child as well as a personal escape for the adult. The image should represent the symbiotic relationship between a child and a mature responsible adult."

The artist felt the need to place one hand outside all adult hands and made the 4 hands direct towards that little palm in order to signify the truth that can only be found in the immense innocence and simplicity that a child represents...

Personal reflections and discussion about this cover page are welcome on this post...

An ephemeral world

2005-10-29T09:44:00.000+05:30

Morning came as moist slaps on his buttocks. He woke with a start and through the threads of early morning slime in his eyes, he checked the sea for signs. He stared at the expanse of undulating gray. Over the past few days he looked at the sea as one does a wife caught red-handed in adultery. He had always turned his gaze on the waves as a farmer might look at his patch of earth; she was his playground, his tilling ground and now she was a graveyard but not as dead as one. Another lusty tongue of brine reached under his towel to lick him. With recently learned panic he moved back using his hands to drag him away from the cool infinity that had devoured most of his village and all of his respect for her; where there is fear, respect is contrived.
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Eliminating Competition in the formative years

2005-10-29T09:37:00.000+05:30

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Revealing the results of exams must be stopped. Exams per se are fine as they help the teachers understand how clear a particular student is about a subject. Exams also help the teacher explain to the student's parents about the progress of their ward as well as the areas where attention is required. Giving the parents a number is pointless. Were a teacher to tell the parents that their ward has scored 86 would elicit (amongst a few other reactions) a "What is the maximum?" and once they are aware of that, they would move to "So, is that good? Where does he stand in the class?" and hardly ever a "Does this mean he has understood the subject well and can apply this at various points later in his life?"
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A Child Asks...

2005-10-29T09:33:00.000+05:30

I think I'll grow
When I get to know
What the answer is
To the questions I ask.

They are but five
Not wise not high
And counting is easy
From thumb to pinky
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When we danced...

2005-10-27T08:12:00.000+05:30

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With all the characters set, and it is a fine feeling of a theatre director that I have now, we shall now study the ritual. I really wouldn’t want to call it that (and I have no clue what my nephew wants to call it) but for the lack of a better word. So ritual it shall be. We designed various rituals and regularly changed their forms to introduce variety for him, but this one was serendipitous.

It all began one deceptively common day with his cries, gurgles, and finally a bear hug which thrilled him more than the noisiest toys in his kitty. My sister dreamily handed him over to me. I took him out asking him about the weather and what he thought about the recent evacuation initiative in the Gaza Strip. He stuck his tongue out for both. We really need news reporters like our man here. I walked him up and down the length of our house discussing a variety of things and pausing to obtain his expert expression on them. Soon he got bored, which I believe has little to with me or my conversations but with his sense of time; matters of the world can occupy only thirty minutes of his morning.
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Who's Love?

2005-10-27T08:07:00.000+05:30

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"Come, come Davies. One couldn't have wronged enough to be greeted thus & still roam freely on the street."
"Your father keeps me far from the streets this man walks on, Master Reggie. He bows lower to your father than to the Mayor himself. Be not deceived by his looks, I know him better than that stool, which seats him for his daily drink. He is a scoundrel of the worst kind, if there ever was one, and a nasty one at that.”
The ale seemed to set his tongue wagging a lot more than it would have back home. I gave a quick look around the place, looking for a face that was looking hard at me. Fortunately there were none.
"Worried, Master Reggie? Me thinks, you are," and before I could protest in defense,
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Ghazal

2005-08-11T06:11:00.000+05:30

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Let us consider a ghazal to facilitate this discussion and what better than a ghazal from the first album I had heard while sitting on my father’s lap and to that memory, I dedicate this article. Thetranslation is not of comparable literary value as the original ghazal, and serves the mere purpose of providing those, who find Urdu an alien tongue, a coarse outline of the poet’s creation.

Yeh dil, yeh pagal dil mera, kyun bujh gayaa, aawaragi
Is dasht me ek shehar tha, wo kya hu-aa, aawaaragi

This heart, this foolish heart of mine; why did it die? Loneliness.
In this wilderness, a beautiful city thrived; what happened to it? Loneliness.

Kal shab mujhe, beshakl ki aawaz ne chaunka diya
Maine kaha "tu kaun hai", usne kahaa "aawaaragi"

Last night, a faceless voice caught me by surprise
I asked, “Who are you?” and it said “Loneliness”

Ye dard ki tanhaaiyaan, ye dasht ka veeraan safar
Hum log to ukhta gaye, apni sunaa aawaargi

(In) this pain of solitude and lonely travel through the desert
We soon got bored, So, tell us more about your(self) “loneliness”

Ek ajanabi jhaunke ne jab, poochha mere gam ka sabab
Sehara ki bhigi ret par, maine likhaa "aawaaragi"

A sudden unknown waft asked me about the cause of my sadness
On the wet sands of the desert, I wrote thus: “Loneliness”

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Art of Writing

2005-08-11T06:08:00.001+05:30

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If we had to use dialogue for the initial
example, it might be as follows:

"You want to say something, Jeff."
"Umm, yeah, actually nothing great. I was
simply wondering..."
"What?"
"No, nothing, not sure, really. You fine?"
"Jeff, I am fine, but I wouldn't say the same
about you."
"No, no. I am fine", he laughed like static while
tuning a radio to a station across the band.

Note that in the first statement, we have not
made it a question. A question would make
the speaker (the lady Jeff is nervous to talk
to) an amiable person. By making it a
statement, it sounds more as if she is
confident and sure of things around her, and
someone who can make another person
nervous. Such little things matter too. A fair
amount of details delivered about the
speakers. The laugh, compared to the static
on a radio, adds to the nervous image of Jeff.
We haven’t stated nervousness anywhere,
directly or indirectly.
It is often mistaken that “showing” entails the
author to write more and make simple things
long winded, albeit wonderfully so. This is
usually a concern when there is a word
restriction placed on the author by some
foreign agent. However, this concern is
misplaced and quite far from the truth.
Consider the following line,

She might have been waiting for her lover.
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On the Road

2005-08-11T06:08:00.000+05:30

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All over the novel, there are non-intrusive
scenes with great jazz players and how they
enjoy their art and how, between their
indulgences in their destined art form, they
live the life of dispassionate human beings.
Dean's absolute awe of them and how he
watches them through their performance like
a man possessed, fills wonderful pages,
giving us a glimpse into the abstruse mind of
Dean Moriarty and what, possibly, holds Sal
to Dean.
“Shearing began to play his chords; they rolled
out of the piano in great rich showers […]Dean
was sweating; the sweat poured down his
collar. “There he is! That’s him! Old God! Old
God Shearing! Yes! Yes! Yes!” And Shearing
was conscious of the madman behind him, he
could hear everyone of Dean’s gasps and
imprecations, he could sense it though he
couldn’t see. […] When he was gone Dean
pointed to the empty piano seat. “God’s empty
chair,” he said. […] God was gone; it was the
silence of his departure.”
And later:
“But the slender leader frowned, “Let’s blow
anyway.” Something would come of it yet.
There’s always more, a little further – it never
ends. They sought to find new phrases after
Shearing’s explorations; they tried hard. They
writhed and twisted and blew. […] They found
it, they lost it, they wrestled for it, they found it
again, they laughed, they moaned – and Dean
sweated at the table and told them to go, go,
go. At nine o’clock in the morning everybody –
musicians, girls in slacks, bartenders, and the
.
.
.

Destiny

2005-08-11T06:06:00.000+05:30

.
.
.

We left the tent in a daze, but I staged an
early recovery.
"These people gossip pretty hard, you know."
"Give it up, Ed. You know that was uncanny.
What bothers me is what did she mean by
become famous?"
"Don't let it bother you. If you will, you will.
And you can be famous and happy unlike
what she...."
"If its destiny's word to be sad, nothing can
go against it."
"Don't be silly. You make your life, bro. Every
step you take is your decision, not destiny's.
Look at Stevie Wonder and that Hawking guy
and ..."
"What makes you think that what happens is
not what destiny wanted to make happen in
the first place?" he asked me with a smile on
his face that shut me up immediately.
Couple of days passed by without a
reference to the incidents in that tent. One
evening, I returned early from work, as news
was that the routes would be barricaded for
the evening. Geoffrey Adams was presenting
his manifesto at Blayt Park. He was running
for mayor and, had there been no police in
this town, he would be running for his life.
.
.
.

Poems...

2005-08-11T06:02:00.000+05:30

The Lure
.
.
.

He turned and walked away.
Tables need cleaning
And his heart needed distance
From the lure of an easy life
Of things handed down and sympathy.
As he scrubbed the tables,
He scrubbed them harder when
Temptation grew,
And with each hard rub
He hoped that it would
Stifle the coolness of that call.
.
.
.

Chandralekha
.
.
.

Oh Chandralekha! Oh fairest one!
Does a lover’s heart need such pain?
For little did it know the vile life,
Of once loved and left in disdain.

The hand which lead a myriad spears
And chariots that shook this very earth
Lies in that bed of thousand nights
Of yours and his and an aching dearth

.
.
.

Morning, Beggar to the Gods

.
.
.

Morning beggar to the Gods,
Hides as beggars do-
Behind the tide of noon's great arms
Who takes his rags and lays
Forever dying Morning's light
Turning warmth to heat and vice
Slow death turn even, to dusk, to night
In seamless mirage ebb-
.
.
.

Long Live Nitpickers

2005-08-03T09:21:00.000+05:30

Those who have read the Aug 2005 issue of Alvibest are invited to run their critic's eye through the journal and find places where errors were overlooked. Errors could be grammatical, syntactical, semantical or formatting.

E.g.
"On page 21 of the August 2005 issue there is an unnecessary carriage return between "better" and "of it" in the last but 3rd paragraph"

All those who capture such errors and send it to feedback.alvibest@gmail.com will find mention in the following issue. Help us improve the magazine!

What do you feel?

2005-08-03T07:57:00.000+05:30

We would like to hear about what title you would give this sketch and why.

Tears of the River

2005-07-18T08:16:00.000+05:30

A tale of a man's love for a river, forgotten and remembered when the river needs him, told in a manner which brings to life all that surrounds him and his love.

.
.
.
I had forgotten her; dear friendship does leave one with the traits of the other. We had not met for a long time. But now as the sun goes down, with deep sighs, on the western sky, I have an urge to meet her, fulfill a tryst that was never made. It is in the dusk that she must be met. She lives only after the sun is annealed beyond the reach of the eye. During the day, she hides behind the colourful shrouds, sequined with catamarans, bathing women, the occasional kingfisher and dancing sunlight. She hides from the prying eyes that try to see through the gaps in her clothing; she is a woman.

But in the night she sits there naked throwing aside even her last garment of shyness. She sits there singing songs in the night, songs that she had learnt in the morning. Songs of allure that tempt and draw troubled minds to her. Yes, my river is alive in the night.
.
.
.
.

Pieta

2005-07-05T19:27:00.000+05:30

An article in the Aug '05 issue presents the author's love for Michelangelo's Pieta (3 sculptures and 1 study), with great emphasis on the Vatican Pieta (shown below). The journey is not an analysis of the art pieces, but a presentation of a personal love affair...

Chandralekha

2005-07-05T19:15:00.000+05:30

This poem featured in the Aug '05 issue of Alvibest recounts a conversation between King Ashoka's courtesan and the subjects of Ashoka. He lies on the brink of death in his palace pining for Chandralekha who has left him and gone. The people beg Chandralekha to return and restore joy to the king's life and to the kingdom itself. Chandralekha has much to say...

Key To Life

2005-07-05T19:03:00.000+05:30

This is a snippet from one of the pieces of fiction in the Aug 05 issue of Alvibest....

.
.
.

He took his hands out and looked at them. He wiped the sweat and felt the calluses rubbing hard against the skin under his eyes. He winced then grew a lop-sided smile and put his hands back into his pockets, slowly. He felt his bare thigh against the wetness of his palms. Some people stopped and spoke cheerfully but before he could open his eyes completely, the boots and slippers moved on. Now he stopped trying to respond. The wind blew the covers off shops and dragged umbrellas with it. His locks were left untouched. He took out his hands once more and looked at them. Relations, church bells, machinery, children, hope, coffins. He curled his fingers, made a fist, tightened it and put it back in his pockets. The sun was directly above him. He looked up and squinted at the sun. A cloud covered the sun long enough. He smiled. Sweat trickled down from his forehead, six and a half feet down without a thread of his clothes stopping it. It finally lodged between his foot and his boots. After hanging on to the edge of his heel, it left his foot and slipped out of the hole in his boot. The evening brought back the crowd. They walked all over him but never too close. The wind had grown stronger.
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.
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Addresses

2005-06-27T10:52:00.000+05:30

A few addresses that readers might want to note:

Editor: editor.alvibest@gmail.com

Submissions: submit.alvibest@gmail.com

Feedback: feedback.alvibest@gmail.com

Subscription: subscribe.alvibest@gmail.com

Please send a blank email while subscribing.
While submitting your works, a text document or a Word document format would be preferable. Submissions should be made only to submit.alvibest@gmail.com.

What do we mean?

2005-06-27T10:30:00.000+05:30

What does Alvibest stand for? Why did we pick that queer name? These are some of the first questions people ask before they discuss other matters pertaining to the literary journal.

Ars Longa. Vita Brevis Est

That was how Alvibest was created. This apothegm is attributed to Hippocrates and means Art is long (multifaceted). (But) Life is brief. We had earlier envisaged a literary journal catering entirely to the coterie of writers who turn to fiction, non-fiction, general articles and poetry. Soon many of us realised that we were interested in capturing as many art forms as possible through the written medium. We were interested in capturing the beauty of music, painting, sculpturing, architecture, dance, etc. in written form, with no intent of replacing their purpose, nor add colour to what they present but recreate a near similar effect through the written images.
This name seemed to suit the new purpose of the journal. Hereafter we shall refer to the journal/magazine as Alvibest.