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Editorial – Sreetanwi Chakraborty

“Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! Spout, rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters.
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness.
I never gave you kingdom, called you children.
You owe me no subscription. Why then, let fall
Your horrible pleasure.”
King Lear, William Shakespeare
The most appropriate lines perhaps, about the current situation. Location specificity at this point will be a tedious job, as the presaging can be of nothing but a doomsday. Prolonged moments of tumult, boisterous rain waves splashing and slitting across the earthy horizon, cry of pain, stormed identities, existence at stake, ruffled contemporaneous and yet a  terrible Sunday morning when we still hope and foresee prayer, love, life, art and creativity. Do you call this madness? Is this the last remnant of what we remember the Beatles had belted out in ‘Here comes the Sun’, after a frigid passage of long, hibernating, claustrophobic, non-productive winter? This is no time for poetic exaggeration, well understood, but even if we transcend the very veins of poetic eternity, then also we find how the dreadful pangs of time become less solidified under the profuse sublimation of what is called art and creativity. We infuse love, life, song, poems to recharge the anthem of a nation, a nation that does not thrive on the muddling mediocrity of pseudo-patriotism, but goes for an orchestrated unison in tandem with a concept called ‘humanity’.
Detractors, readers and friends, here comes the ‘Sunday Talks’ edition once more, presenting before you a palette of colours in terms of historical reflections, features and poems all woven across various mental landscapes and recesses of life. Read, enjoy, like and share from www.techtouchtalk.in. Happy Sunday! Keep loving literature.
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