Amado V Hernandez Works

Amado V Hernandez Works Amado V. Hernandez lived in a nationalist milieu that witnessed a range of Filipinos that were determined to prove to colonizers that they were capable of governing themselves. Hernandez was born on September 13, 1903, Ka Amado as he is called, together with the nationalist leaders and intellectuals in government, the academe, and among the Filipino masses perceived in the postwar agrarian problems in Central Luzon the powerful roots of social alienation that would lead to discriminating pressures.  [1]  He was married to zarzuela actress and queen of kundiman Honorata Atang dela Rama and began his writing career as a journalist, and later, editor of several pre-World War II Tagalog news papers.  [2]   Moreover, Ka Amado was known for his active participation in the socio-political realm through his literature and his political involvement. During WWII, he served as intelligence officer for the resistance.  [3]  The discussion of his involvement and participation pre, during and post war will be traced through an account of his life and works, his writings, the Congress of Labor Organization, his wife Atang dela Rama, and the essence of Philippine and Hernandezs literature. Life and Works From 1926 to 1932, Amado V. Hernandez wrote Sariling Hardin a column in verse which was a calendar of happenings and observations on human weaknesses and social background. Meanwhile in 1928, he had a running balagtasan in his column Pagkakaisa against Jose Corazon de Jesus, Huseng Batute in Taliba. Ka Amado defended independence movement and Huseng Batute called him the poet of the administration and was included by Julian Cruz Balmaseda among the poets of the heart.  [4]   Instead of serving under the Japanese administration, Hernandez chose to leave for the hills. He was a major when the American forces returned in October 1944. He was appointed by President Osmeà ±a as councilor of the City of Manila and in 1947, he ran for councilor in the first post-war local elections and won in all four districts of the city. At this time, he was popular for being a pre-war poet laureate and journalist as well as an organizer of the Philippine Newspaper Guild of which he became vice-president. He also helped organize and later on became acting national chairman of the progressive Congress of Labor Organizations or CLO which he said the objective was to help the worker achieve economic security and to help in his cultural uplift.  [5]   In 1955, Hernandez wrote prison and detention center poems when he was transferred to Muntinlupa from Camp Murphy while waiting for the final ruling of the Supreme Court in his pursuit of the Lower Court decision of lifetime imprisonment due to rebellion complexed with other crimes. His appeal lasted for thirteen years before he was totally acquitted.  [6]  Even before he was acquitted, Ka Amado was already writing for the vernacular magazines, particularly Liwayway. He wrote Bayang Malaya which is a historical poem that he started and finished inside the little detention room in jail which is commonly called bartolina. It is a historical account of defending the nation and the ordinary citizens against the dominance of the Imperial Japanese Army. When the United States Armed Forces in the Far East (USAFFE) was overpowered in Bataan and Corregidor and were compelled to surrender, guerrillas emerged from the country and continued the strife and defense (Hernandez). USAFFE broke into several minor commands and waged guerrilla war against the invaders.  [7]  The main characters of this poem although not real personas, were symbols of real constructs of the war that created a history in its time.  [8]   Ka Amado was imprisoned for five years and six months in Muntinlupa and five other military camps namely: Camp Murphy, Camp Crame, Fort McKinley, Panopio Compound and another camp which he did not know due to a forcible arrest at midnight while he was blindfolded with shackled hands. He has several reasons as to his in-jail poetry and literature. One, he writes to exclaim the greatness of the Filipino guerrillas which were the glory of World War II (MSB) for he believes that if this splendor would soon be long forgotten by the contemporary heroes, history wont. Another reason that he posited as to why he pursued his literature is that he wanted to prove that the real essence of a poet cannot be incarcerated. Hernandez has a body of literature that stretches nearly three generations of Philippine literature  [9]  . He wrote in the introduction Isang Dipang Langit that he was able to write over 170 poems in different periods and in different situations. Some he wrote before 1930, others during his life as a journalist and some he wrote after the war where he was in the middle of different movements in politics and labor. Writing about Hernandez in 1947, journalist Jose A. Lansang, observed that Hernandez had fine speaking styles in Tagalog which developed during his pre-war poet laureate days which goes over with working class audiences. Lansang notes that Hernandez had aptness in anecdote and fire of delivery which shows Hernandezs being well-read in the English language especially in progressive literature and had developed knowledge of the labor mobilizations in various nations through intensive reading. The novel Mga Ibong Mandaragit which was first written by Hernandez while in prison is the first socio-political novel that, like Jose Rizals Noli Me Tangere, exposes the grave social cancer achieved in society post-war to the early open conflicts in Central Luzon in the 1950s.  [10]   The Congress of Labor Organization Amado V. Hernandez sponsored ordinances aimed at promoting workers rights and freedom. As he immersed himself in the labor movement in the late 1940s and early 1950s, Hernandezs compassion for the working class grew into a strong empathy for their struggle for social justice and liberation. He represented the Newspaper Guild of the Philippines in the countrys largest and most militant labor federation, the Congress of Labor Organizations (CLO) and in 1947, he was elected president of CLO.  [11]   In 1948, Labor Day witnessed one of its largest rallies of workers under CLO, the Peoples United Peasant and Labor Organizations held at Plaza Sta. Cruz. The mobilization was said to have been attended by 15,000 workers. Conversely, a rally that was held on the same day was attended by only 10,000 government workers in Rizal Stadium addressed by President Quirino.  [12]   CLO kept organizing workers in the years that followed and at the same time, opened up health clinics and nurseries in Manila as a social action project. As councilor, Hernandez retained the regard for him by the workers but at the same time, as the acting national chairman of the CLO, he gained the distrust and doubt of the political authorities faced with the problems of insurgency in Central Luzon.  [13]   The CLO headquarters was raided by the military authorities on the 20th of January 1951 and Ka Amado was held incommunicado in Camp Murphy on charges of rebellion complicated by several other charges such as arson, robbery and murder.  [14]   The Literature There have been a good number of discussions about Filipino poetry and literature, it has made for itself a good reputation but have received as well criticisms. Hernandez writes about literature always as a rising up or revolt from a generation put behind except for fanatic conformist.  [15]   Julian Cruz Balmaseda, poet, researcher and editor of the Surian ng Wikang Pambansa who considered Hernandez as among the poets of the heart divided the Tagalog poetry into three: Panahon ng Dalit, Panahon ng mga Pagbabago and Panahon ng Pagpapalaganap. He used not just the ages and personalities of poets in these divisions but as well as the kind, topic and outline of their poems.  [16]   Balmaseda acknowledged that there was a significant development of the Filipino poetry during the third period. This was caused by the manner by which Filipinos were more or less capable of mention and we will not be embarrassed to say that our poems could be at par with other remarkable poems in different languages.  [17]   During the period of conquest (1942-1945) up to this particular moment, poetry has been accessed by the paralysis caused by its weakening. Amado V. Hernandez is questioning why is it that when we now have reached the fulfillment of a lifelong objective which is to have our language, the Filipino poetry started declining?  [18]   One of the major problems that Philippine literature has according to Hernandez (especially poetry) is sentimentalism and he recognizes that not even the famous Balagtas was able to avoid it. He quotes and agrees with a critic who said that [sentimentalism] is the greatest fault of art. The straightforwardness of expressing ones feelings is not just a bygone phenomenon but is also vulgar and rough as it is.  [19]   Meanwhile, the historian Teodoro A. Agoncillo described the prison (where Hernandezs poetry flourished) as crucible of the new Filipino poetry. He was imprisoned for five years and six months and he was able to write 40 poems, one long narrative poem Bayang Malaya and the draft of the novel Mga Ibong Mandaragit within that period.  [20]  All of these have contributed to the social consciousness that Amado V. Hernandez was pushing for through his works as noted by Agoncillo himself: à ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦ngunit gayon may dapat tanggapin na mabibilang sa daliri ng isang kamay ang mga manunulat na may budhing talusaling o nag-aangkin ng tinatawag na social consciousness (we should accept that the number of authors who own what we call social consciousness can only be counted by the fingers of one hand).  [21]   Agoncillo remarks the war that made the world succumb and set long-standing stagnant minds in motion werent even sufficient for our authors to be moved even after the 1941-1945 tragedy. Even after this, they remained complacent and trusting in their own hopeful motherlands. This land for Agoncillo is a sterile land and Hernandezs literature particularly his Bayang Malaya is likened by the former as a surprising growth and emergence of a strong-willed kind of literature with sturdy branches that sprouted out of these barren soils.  [22]   Amado V. Hernandezs literature, whether poem or prose, in a few ways deliberately presents themes that are socio-political in nature or that which are capable of raising social consciousness. Some of the titles of his poems that clearly represents this are as follows: Sariling Hardin (My Own Garden), Isang Dipang Langit (A Stretch of Sky), Panata sa Kalayaan (Oath to Freedom), Bartolina (Solitary Confinement), Ang Dalaw (The Visit), Kung Tuyo Na ang Luha Mo Aking Bayan (When Your Tears Dry Up, My Country). His Short Stories include: Wala ng Lunas (No More Remedy), Kulang sa Dilig (Needs Watering), Langaw sa Isang Basing Gatas (Fly in a Glass of Milk), Dalawang Metro sa Lupang Di-Malipad ng Uwak (Two Meters in Land That Stretches Forever), Ipinanganak ang Isang Kaaway sa Sosyedad (An Enemy of the Society is Born), Isang Ulo ng Litson (Head of a Roast Pig), Kislap ng Utak,Pawis ng Noo (Sparkle of Brain, Sweat on the Forehead).  [23]   His experiences as a guerrilla, labor leader, and a political detainee were shaped into the novels Mga Ibong Mandaraggit (Birds of Prey), 1969, and Luha ng Buwaya (Crocodiles Tears), 1972 Bayang Malaya One of the major works of Amado V. Hernandez was the epic Bayang Malaya and he wrote the said piece while he was behind bars. It is a historical poem which, according to the historian Teodoro A. Agoncillo, is a strong piece of art that sprouted out of the barren soils that is our literature and it opened the blinds that were blocking the beauty of the East. Ka Amado was painting a picture not just of a single town but of the Philippines.  [24]   The main characters of this piece although as mentioned are not real personas, they were symbols of real constructs of the war that created history. Some of the main characters were Tala and Magtanggol among others. It narrated the news about the emerging World War and the Japan-U.S. conflict that was surfacing as well as the start of the war itself when Japanese forces started entering Manila which caused the entire nation to be enveloped in fear. A concept like the Co-Prosperity Sphere was tackled in Bayang Malaya although those engaging were mere fictional characters. The epic also tackled the different oppression mechanisms being employed by the Japanese as well as the punishments that one receives in the event of revolting.  [25]   Issues like the emergence of guerrillas were also described in Bayang Malaya. Attempted rapture of Tala for example led to her taking of the hills and joining of guerrilla groups.  [26]  Amado V. Hernandez was indeed changed by his imprisonment and in Agoncillos words, the poet of hopes in Hernandez died in prison but the same prison gave birth to the critical poet and author who was just and was for workers rights.  [27]   Atang dela Rama The wife of Ka Amado; this queen of Kundiman and zarzuela in the same way as her husband, used her craft in promoting nationalism through the art that was performing. Honorata Atang dela Rama did not perform only for a living or for the good pay she received for her talent. She held a strong belief that the zarzuela and the kundiman expressed the Filipino identity and she did her best to popularize these among her fellow Filipinos.  [28]   She believed that kundiman contained the heart and soul of the Filipino especially if she gets to introduce the art to foreign audiences. Atangs enduring faith in the Filipino heritage and the sariling atin was intensified and deepened when Amado V. Hernandez became part of her life. The columnist and poet who was to become a labor leader in the future, pursued the actress for three years. They were married in 1932 and the actress was integrated into a whole new world with Ka Amado.  [29]   Because of Ka Amados involvement in the guerrilla movement during the Japanese occupation, his generous support of the labor movements in his writings and organizing of activities, and his unjust detention for five years and six months for the alleged rebellion complex, Atang developed a social consciousness that opened her eyes to the reality of the oppression in society.  [30]   Later on in her life, she remained to show that her real purpose is not yet over. She hoped that young artists and intellectuals will wake up and realize the necessity of having a culture that is genuinely Filipino which colonial regimes had made us abandon. Furthermore, she gave lectures to young actors and groups that wish to study the past in order to shape Filipino drama that would mean more in the contemporary period. She has also been invited many times by militant organizations of youth, women, writers and workers to speak and help promote the nationalist cause and strife that not even Ka Amados death in 1970 could put into an end.  [31]   Conclusion Amado V. Hernandez is an important figure in the Philippine literature. He wasnt just simply a writer but also, he was a work leader and a freedom fighter. He used the literary art as a means to fight for social consciousness and liberation. His master pieces are encircled in the different socio-political beliefs which were considered to be due to brought about by his experiences as an intelligence officer during the Japanese regime in the Philippines.  [32]   He was not just a guerrilla who chose to take it to the hills, but he was as well a labor leader who exerted his energies towards the betterment of the Philippine work force after the war. He was a significant icon who fought for freedom and social equality and a poet and a writer who used his craft in increasing awareness and social involvement in the country.  [33]  He wrote based on prison experiences and just like how his wife emulated his principles, in these works, he uncovered what he perceived to be the neocolonial nature of Philippine Society and pushed for nationalist and progressive agenda to end the long history of the workers and peoples oppression.  [34]  He was able to expose the social cancer that was taking over the Philippines during his time and both his and his wifes craft helped transform literature and performing arts respectively. Sources: Abinales, Patricio N. and Donna J. Amoroso. State and Society in the Philippines. Anvil Publishing, 2005. Amado V. Hernandez: A National Artist, http://www.shvoong.com/humanities/1762958-amado-hernandez-national-artist/ (accessed 15 February 2010) Amado V. Hernandez, Bayang Malaya: Tulang Kasaysayan/ Paunang Salita ni Teodoro Agoncillo (Ateneo de Manila University, 1969) Amado V. Hernandez, Isang Dipang Langit (Tamaraw Pub., 1961) Commemorative folio on national artist : Fernando Amorsolo, Francisca Reyes Aquino, Carlos V. Francisco, Amado V. Hernandez, Antonio J. Molina, Juan F. Nakpil, Guillermo E. Tolentino, Jose Garcia Villa and internatioal artist Van Cliburn Cultural Center of the Philippines, Manila, 1974 Nicanor G. Tiongson, Atang dela Rama: Unat Huling Bituin (Cultural Center of the Philippines, 1987) The National Artists for Literature. http://nationalartists.panitikan.com.ph/avhernandez.htm/ (accessed 15 February 2010)

Lord of the flies writing assignment

They were reported issuing a month ago on Tuesday July 21st, after a plane supposedly â€Å"dropped† them off at a Remote Island. No one hasn't really heard of them since, but Police from all over Canada, the United States, Mexico, and the UK has been looking for these boys. Officials say that some sailors have found them on an island, which was smoking. Around 2-3 boys have been reported dead; the names have not been released as yet. â€Å"We found shelter, and got some food† 8 year old Sam, a younger boy rescued from the island. â€Å"Some of the boys were rude to other boys but they solved some of their problems† 8 ear old Eric said.Now the big question is what happened on the island? â€Å"On that island, have been some really traumatizing events. Some have lost their lives on that island, but most survived. There have been some really awful conflicts but thankfully reality saved us. † 12 year old Ralph said. ‘We were civilized at one point in ti me but we got out of hand, but I'm glad that's all over and that we can move on in our lives. † 12 year old Jack told us. All the boys are safe home now and officers are going back to the island to investigate and find the lost boys.

General Vision and Viewpoint Essay - 1668 Words

In the light of the above statement, compare the general vision and viewpoint in at least two texts you have studied in your comparative course. Throughout my study of Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, Sive by John B.Keane and Casablanca directed by Michael Curtiz, there was no doubt that each text presented me with an outlook on life which shaped my general vision and view point to either one of positivity or in many cases, negativity. In all three texts which I have studied, the author’s use of intriguing characters, vital key moments and the all important resolution to the three texts, all contributed to my outlook on life, either bright or dark and as result, shaping my GVV to its appropriate outlook. The author’s creation of†¦show more content†¦In the case of Wuthering Height and Casablanca, the dominancy of a male figure gave me quite a dark outlook on life and led me to form a negative GVV. This differs to my bright outlook on life in Sive as I formed a slightly positive GVV due to the fact that though females were not completely equal, they had the potential to overrule male which led me to have a positive GVV. All three authors; Bronte, Curtiz and Keane, continued to present to me a bright outlook on life as their creation of characters gave me a positive GVV. The unique characters of Victor Laszlo, Edgar Linton and Liam Scuab who were all similarly deeply in love and no doubt are embodiments of Heros, presented to me characters who were noble, trustworthy and humane, no doubt gave me a bright outlook on life and a positive GVV. 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Interview of an Older Man - 1534 Words

Toby As I age, I hope to only be half of the person Toby is. At age seventy six, Toby has lived his life to where he has taught himself not to regret, get angry, or judge any other person. He has seen three different countries, several different states, and hundreds of different people. For a man who has not taken the best care of himself health wise, was drafted into the Vietnam War, and lost his wife, Toby amazes me with how well he still functions in everyday life. According to the textbook in chapter three, older people tend to show signs of decreasing physical attributes, such as skin, hair, weight, and mobility. As I listened to Toby talk, I studied his outward appearance. His skin was flawless; his face was acne free and wrinkle†¦show more content†¦Everyday competence is the potential ability to perform a task, but not actually performing the task (page 156). Now, however, Toby’s everyday competence has severely diminished because of the contracture in his han ds (page 127). 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The Success Of The Coca Cola Company - 1091 Words

The success of the Coca Cola Company has provided over 500 brands over the history of 127 years of being a beverage company. Coca Cola Company is the world’s largest beverage company focusing in five key areas of people, profits, portfolio, partners, and planet. The Coca Cola Company uses a smaller model to understand and control the growth, resources, and capabilities of their organization. Coca Cola vision clearly outlines the aspect of what they need to accomplish in order to sustain, quality growth. The company uses a knowledge strategy, paralleling the political, economic, social, and technological (P.E.S.T.L) analysis and the strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats (SWOT) analysis to align and leverage internal and external knowledge with the resources and capabilities. The P.E.S.T.L analysis has created an organizational need to exploit the knowledge factors to become a creator of internal knowledge. The SWOT analysis links the company to the external kno wledge factors that drive the company’s direction and growth. Together these factors help Coca Cola describe and evaluate the desired knowledge strategy. These factors fill an intrigue role in Coca Cola to drive global beverage leadership, accelerate innovation, and leverage a balanced geographic portfolio. Internal knowledge is identified in many cases as the primary source of information for most company’s but for Coca Cola it been identified that this method is the least developed and couldShow MoreRelatedThe Success Of The Coca Cola Company1106 Words   |  5 Pages Dear Mr Kent, I am writing to you to discuss the success of the Coca-Cola Company thus far and to discuss recommendations in which the company could use. These recommendation will help the company to become more environmentally friendly, more of an ethical company and therefore to create a better image for the company. 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TheRead MoreCoca-Colas Marketing Strategy999 Words   |  4 PagesCoca Cola Marketing Strategy: The Coca Cola Company has continued to be one of the leading firms that provide refreshments to customers through creating value to consumers, making a difference, and inspiring moments of optimism and happiness. The success of the firm is driven by sustainable growth through achievement of short-term goals and ongoing investment to attain its long-term goals. The company has continued to build its fundamental strengths in innovation and marketing and commitment toRead MoreAnalysis Of Global Leadership Practices For Coca Cola1675 Words   |  7 PagesAnalysis of Global Leadership Practices for Coca-Cola Coca-Cola is a brand that can be found everywhere. Coca-Cola has been around since 1892 and is stronger than ever. 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Lamb The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal Chapter 20 Free Essays

Part IV Spirit He who sees in me all things, and all things in me, is never far from me, and I am never far from him. THE BHAGAVAD GITA Chapter 20 The road was just wide enough for the two of us to walk side by side. The grass on either side was as high as an elephant’s eye. We will write a custom essay sample on Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal Chapter 20 or any similar topic only for you Order Now We could see blue sky above us, and exactly as far along the path as the next curve, which could have been any distance away, because there’s no perspective in an unbroken green trench. We’d been traveling on this road most of the day, and passed only one old man and a couple of cows, but now we could hear what sounded like a large party approaching us, not far off, perhaps two hundred yards away. There were men’s voices, a lot of them, footsteps, some dissonant metal drums, and most disturbing, the continuous screams of a woman either in pain, or terrified, or both. â€Å"Young masters!† came a voice from somewhere near us. I jumped in the air and came down in a defensive stance, my black glass knife drawn and ready. Josh looked around for the source of the voice. The screaming was getting closer. There was a rustling in the grass a few feet away from the road, then again the voice, â€Å"Young masters, you must hide.† An impossibly thin male face with eyes that seemed a size and a half too large for his skull popped out of the wall of grass beside us. â€Å"You must come. Kali comes to choose her victims! Come now or die.† The face disappeared, replaced by a craggy brown hand that motioned for us to follow into the grass. The woman’s scream hit crescendo and failed, as if the voice had broken like an overtightened lute string. â€Å"Go,† said Joshua, pushing me into the grass. As soon as I was off of the road someone caught my wrist and started dragging me through the sea of grass. Joshua latched onto the tail of my shirt and allowed himself to be dragged along. As we ran the grass whipped and slashed at us. I could feel blood welling up on my face and arms, even as the brown wraith pulled me deeper into the sea of green. Above the rasping of my breath I heard men shouting from behind us, then a thrashing of the grass being trampled. â€Å"They follow,† said the brown wraith over his shoulder. â€Å"Run unless you want your heads to decorate Kali’s altar. Run.† Over my shoulder to Josh, I said, â€Å"He says run or it will be bad.† Behind Josh, outlined against the sky, I saw long, swordlike spear tips, the sort of thing one might use for beheading someone. â€Å"Okey-dokey,† said Josh. It had taken us over a month to get to India, most of the journey through hundreds of miles of the highest, most rugged country we had ever seen. Amazingly enough, there were villages scattered all through the mountains, and when the villagers saw our orange robes doors were flung wide and larders opened. We were always fed, given a warm place to sleep, and welcomed to stay as long as we wished. We offered obtuse parables and irritating chants in return, as was the tradition. It wasn’t until we came out of the mountains onto a brutally hot and humid grassland that we found our mode of dress was drawing more disdain than welcome. One man, of obvious wealth (he rode a horse and wore silk robes) cursed us as we passed and spit at us. Other people on foot began to take notice of us as well, and we hurried off into some high grass and changed out of our robes. I tucked the glass dagger that Joy had given me into my sash. â€Å"What was he going on about?† I asked Joshua. â€Å"He said something about tellers of false prophecies. Pretenders. Enemies of the Brahman, whatever that is. I’m not sure what else.† â€Å"Well, it looks like we’re more welcome here as Jews than as Buddhists.† â€Å"For now,† said Joshua. â€Å"All the people have those marks on their foreheads like Gaspar had. I think without one of those we’re going to have to be careful.† As we traveled into the lowlands the air felt as thick as warm cream, and we could feel the weight of it in our lungs after so many years in the mountains. We passed into the valley of a wide, muddy river, and the road became choked with people passing in and out of a city of wooden shacks and stone altars. There were humped-back cattle everywhere, even grazing in the gardens, but no one seemed to bear them any mind. â€Å"The last meat I ate was what was left of our camels,† I said. â€Å"Let’s find a booth and buy some beef.† There were merchants along the road selling various wares, clay pots, powders, herbs, spices, copper and bronze blades (iron seemed to be in short supply), and tiny carvings of what seemed to be a thousand different gods, most of them having more limbs than seemed necessary and none of them looking particularly friendly. We found grain, breads, fruits, vegetables, and bean pastes for sale, but nowhere did we see any meat. We settled on some bread and spicy bean paste, paid the woman with Roman copper coin, then found a place under a large banyan tree where we could sit and look at the river while we ate. I’d forgotten the smell of a city, the fetid mlange of people, and waste, and smoke and animals, and I began to long for the clean air of the mountains. â€Å"I don’t want to sleep here, Joshua. Let’s see if we can find a place in the country.† â€Å"We are supposed to follow this river to the sea to reach Tamil. Where the river goes, so go the people.† The river – wider than any in Israel, but shallow, yellow with clay, and still against the heavy air – seemed more like a huge stagnant puddle than a living, moving thing. In this season, anyway. Dotting the surface, a half-dozen skinny, naked men with wild white hair and not three teeth apiece shouted angry poetry at the top of their lungs and tossed water into glittering crests over their heads. â€Å"I wonder how my cousin John is doing,† said Josh. All along the muddy riverbank women washed clothes and babies only steps from where cattle waded and shat, men fished or pushed long shallow boats along with poles, and children swam or played in the mud. Here and there the corpse of a dog bobbed flyblown in the gentle current. â€Å"Maybe there’s a road inland a little, away from the stench.† Joshua nodded and climbed to his feet. â€Å"There,† he said, pointing to a narrow path that began on the opposite bank of the river and disappeared into some tall grass. â€Å"We’ll have to cross,† I said. â€Å"Be nice if we could find a boat to take us,† said Josh. â€Å"You don’t think we should ask where the path leads?† â€Å"No,† said Joshua, looking at a crowd of people who were gathering nearby and staring at us. â€Å"These people all look hostile.† â€Å"What was that you told Gaspar about love was a state you dwell in or something?† â€Å"Yeah, but not with these people. These people are creepy. Let’s go.† The creepy little brown guy who was dragging me through the elephant grass was named Rumi, and much to his credit, amid the chaos and tumble of a headlong dash through a leviathan marshland, pursued by a muderous band of clanging, shouting, spear-waving decapitation enthusiasts, Rumi had managed to find a tiger – no small task when you have a kung fu master and the savior of the world in tow. â€Å"Eek, a tiger,† Rumi said, as we stumbled into a small clearing, a mere depression really, where a cat the size of Jerusalem was gleefully gnawing away on the skull of a deer. Rumi had expressed my sentiments exactly, but I would be damned if I was going to let my last words be â€Å"Eek, a tiger,† so I listened quietly as urine filled my shoes. â€Å"You’d think all the noise would have frightened him,† Josh said, just as the tiger looked up from his deer. I noticed that our pursuers seemed to be closing on us by the second. â€Å"That is the way it is usually done,† said Rumi. â€Å"The noise drives the tiger to the hunter.† â€Å"Maybe he knows that,† I said, â€Å"so he’s not going anywhere. You know, they’re bigger than I imagined. Tigers, I mean.† â€Å"Sit down,† said Joshua. â€Å"Pardon me?† I said. â€Å"Trust me,† Joshua said. â€Å"Remember the cobra when we were kids?† I nodded to Rumi and coaxed him down as the tiger crouched and tensed his hind legs as if preparing to leap, which is exactly what he was doing. As the first of our pursuers broke into the clearing from behind us the tiger leapt, sailing over our heads by half again the height of a man. The tiger landed on the first two men coming out of the grass, crushing them under his enormous forepaws, then raking their backs as he leapt again. After that all I could see was spear points scattering against the sky as the hunters became, well, you know. Men screamed, the woman screamed, the tiger screamed, and the two men who had fallen under the tiger crawled to their feet and limped back toward the road, screaming. Rumi looked from the dead deer, to Joshua, to me, to the dead deer, to Joshua, and his eyes seemed to grow even larger than before. â€Å"I am deeply moved and eternally grateful for your affinity with the tiger, but that is his deer, and it appears that he has not finished with it, perhaps†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Joshua stood up. â€Å"Lead on.† â€Å"I don’t know which way.† â€Å"Not that way,† I said, pointing in the direction of the screaming bad guys. Rumi led us through the grass to another road, which we followed to where he lived. â€Å"It’s a pit,† I said. â€Å"It’s not that bad,† said Joshua, looking around. There were other pits nearby. People were living in them. â€Å"You live in a pit,† I said. â€Å"Hey, ease up,† Joshua said. â€Å"He saved our lives.† â€Å"It is a humble pit, but it is home,† said Rumi. â€Å"Please make yourself comfortable.† I looked around. The pit had been chipped out of sandstone and was about shoulder deep and just wide enough to turn a cow around in, which I would find out was a crucial dimension. The pit was empty except for a single rock about knee high. â€Å"Have a seat. You may have the rock,† said Rumi. Joshua smiled and sat on the rock. Rumi sat on the floor of the pit, which was covered with a thick layer of black slime. â€Å"Please. Sit,† said Rumi, gesturing to the floor beside him. â€Å"I’m sorry, we can only afford one rock.† I didn’t sit. â€Å"Rumi, you live in a pit!† I pointed out. â€Å"Well, yes, that is true. Where do Untouchables live in your land?† â€Å"Untouchable?† â€Å"Yes, the lowest of the low. The scum of the earth. None of the higher caste may acknowledge my existence. I am Untouchable.† â€Å"Well, no wonder, you live in a fucking pit.† â€Å"No,† Joshua said, â€Å"he lives in a pit because he’s Untouchable, he’s not Untouchable because he lives in a pit. He’d be Untouchable if he lived in a palace, isn’t that right, Rumi?† â€Å"Oh, like that’s going to happen,† I said. I’m sorry, the guy lived in a pit. â€Å"There’s more room since my wife and most of my children died,† said Rumi. â€Å"Until this morning it was only Vitra, my youngest daughter and me, but now she is gone too. There is plenty of room for you if you wish to stay.† Joshua put his hand on Rumi’s narrow shoulder and I could see the effect it had, the pain evaporating from the Untouchable’s face like dew under a hot sun. I stood by being wretched. â€Å"What happened to Vitra?† Joshua asked. â€Å"They came and took her, the Brahmans, as a sacrifice on the feast of Kali. I was looking for her when I saw you two. They gather children and men, criminals, Untouchables, and strangers. They would have taken you and day after tomorrow they would have offered your head to Kali.† â€Å"So your daughter is not dead?† I asked. â€Å"They will hold her until midnight on the night of the feast, then slaughter her with the other children on the wooden elephants of Kali.† â€Å"I will go to these Brahmans and ask for your daughter back,† Joshua said. â€Å"They’ll kill you,† Rumi said. â€Å"Vitra is lost, even your tiger cannot save you from Kali’s destruction.† â€Å"Rumi,† I said. â€Å"Look at me, please. Explain, Brahmans, Kali, elephants, everything. Go slow, act as if I know nothing.† â€Å"Like that takes imagination,† Joshua said, clearly violating my implied, if not expressed, copyright on sarcasm. (Yeah, we have Court TV in the hotel room, why?) â€Å"There are four castes,† said Rumi, â€Å"the Brahmans, or priests; Kshatriyas, or warriors; Vaisyas, who are farmers or merchants; and the Sudras, who are laborers. There are many subcastes, but those are the main ones. Each man is born to a caste and he remains in that caste until he dies and is reborn as a higher caste or lower caste, which is determined by his karma, or actions during his last life.† â€Å"We know from karma,† I said. â€Å"We’re Buddhist monks.† â€Å"Heretics!† Rumi hissed. â€Å"Bite me, you bug-eyed scrawny brown guy,† I said. â€Å"You are a scrawny brown guy!† â€Å"No, you’re a scrawny brown guy!† â€Å"No, you are a scrawny brown guy!† â€Å"We are all scrawny brown guys,† Joshua said, making peace. â€Å"Yeah, but he’s bug-eyed.† â€Å"And you are a heretic.† â€Å"You’re a heretic!† â€Å"No, you are a heretic.† â€Å"We’re all scrawny brown heretics,† said Joshua, calming things down again. â€Å"Well, of course I’m scrawny,† I said. â€Å"Six years of cold rice and tea, and not a scrap of beef for sale in the whole country.† â€Å"You would eat beef? You heretic!† shouted Rumi. â€Å"Enough!† shouted Joshua. â€Å"No one may eat a cow. Cows are the reincarnations of souls on their way to the next life.† â€Å"Holy cow,† Josh said. â€Å"That is what I am saying.† Joshua shook his head as if trying to straighten jumbled thoughts. â€Å"You said that there were four castes, but you didn’t mention Untouchables.† â€Å"Harijans, Untouchables, have no caste, we are the lowest of the low. We may have to live many lifetimes before we even ascend to the level of a cow, and then we may become higher caste. Then, if we follow our dharma, our duty, as a higher caste, we may become one with Brahma, the universal spirit of all. I can’t believe you don’t know this, have you been living in a cave?† I was going to point out that Rumi was in no position to criticize where we had been living, but Joshua signaled me to let it go. Instead I said, â€Å"So you are lower on the caste system than a cow?† I asked. â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"So these Brahmans won’t eat a cow, but they will take your daughter and kill her for their goddess?† â€Å"And eat her,† said Rumi, hanging his head. â€Å"At midnight on the night of the feast they will take her and the other children and tie them to the wooden elephants. They will cut off the children’s fingers and give one to the head of each Brahman household. Then they will catch her blood in a cup and everyone in the household will taste it. They may eat the finger or bury it for good luck. After that the children are hacked to death on the wooden elephants.† â€Å"They can’t do that,† Joshua said. â€Å"Oh yes, the cult of Kali may do anything they wish. It is her city, Kalighat.† [â€Å"Calcutta† on the Friendly Flyer map.] â€Å"My little Vitra is lost. We can only pray that she is reincarnated to a higher level.† Joshua patted the Untouchable’s hand. â€Å"Why did you call Biff a heretic when he told you that we were Buddhist monks?† â€Å"That Gautama said that a man may go directly from any level to join Brahma, without fulfilling his dharma, that is heresy.† â€Å"That would be better for you, wouldn’t it? Since you’re on the bottom of the ladder?† â€Å"You cannot believe what you do not believe,† Rumi said. â€Å"I am an Untouchable because my karma dictates it.† â€Å"Oh yeah,† I said. â€Å"No sense sitting under a bodhi tree for a few hours when you can get the same thing through thousands of lifetimes of misery.† â€Å"Of course, that’s ignoring the fact that you’re a gentile and going to suffer eternal damnation either way,† said Josh. â€Å"Yeah, leaving that out altogether.† â€Å"But we’ll get your daughter back,† Joshua said. Joshua wanted to rush into Kalighat and demand the return of Rumi’s daughter and the release of all the other victims in the name of what was good and right. Joshua’s solution to everything was to lead with righteous indignation, and there is a time and a place unto that, but there is also a time for cunning and guile (Ecclesiastes 9 or something). I was able to talk him into an alternate plan by using flawless logic: â€Å"Josh, did the Vegemites smite the Marmites by charging in and demanding justice at the end of a sword? I think not. These Brahmans cut off and eat the fingers of children. I know there’s no finger-cutting commandment, Josh, but still, I’m guessing that these people think differently than we do. They call the Buddha a heretic, and he was one of their princes. How do you think they’ll receive a scrawny brown kid claiming to be the son of a god who doesn’t even live in their area?† â€Å"Good point. But we still have to save the child.† â€Å"Of course.† â€Å"How?† â€Å"Extreme sneakiness.† â€Å"You’ll have to be in charge then.† â€Å"First we need to see this city and this temple where the sacrifices will be held.† Joshua scratched his head. His hair had mostly grown back, but was still short. â€Å"The Vegemites smote the Marmites?† â€Å"Yeah, Excretions three-six.† â€Å"I don’t remember that. I guess I need to brush up on my Torah.† The statue of Kali over her altar was carved from black stone and stood as tall as ten men. She wore a necklace of human skulls around her neck and a girdle made of severed human hands at her hips. Her open maw was lined with a saw blade of teeth over which a stream of fresh blood had been poured. Even her toenails curved into vicious blades which dug into the pile of twisted, graven corpses on which she stood. She had four arms, one holding a cruel, serpentine sword, another a severed head by the hair; the third hand she held crooked, as if beckoning her victims to the place of dark destruction to which all are destined, and the fourth was posed downward, in a manner presenting the goddess’s hand-girded hips, as if asking the eternal question, â€Å"Does this outfit make me look fat?† The raised altar lay in the middle of an open garden that was surrounded by trees. The altar was wide enough that five hundred people could have stood in the shadow of the black goddess. Deep grooves had been cut in the stone to channel the blood of sacrifices into vessels, so it could be poured through the goddess’s jaws. Leading to the altar was a wide stone-paved boulevard, which was lined on either side by great elephants carved from wood and set on turntables so they could be rotated. The trunks and front feet of the elephants were stained rusty brown, and here and there the trunks exhibited deep gouges from blades that had hewn through a child into the mahogany. â€Å"Vitra isn’t being kept here,† Joshua said. We were hiding behind a tree near the temple garden, dressed as natives, fake caste marks and all. Having lost when we drew lots, I was the one dressed as a woman. â€Å"I think this is a bodhi tree,† I said, â€Å"just like Buddha sat under! It’s so exciting. I’m feeling sort of enlightened just standing here. Really, I can feel ripe bodhies squishing between my toes.† Joshua looked at my feet. â€Å"I don’t think those are bodhies. There was a cow here before us.† I lifted my foot out of the mess. â€Å"Cows are overrated in this country. Under the Buddha’s tree too. Is nothing sacred?† â€Å"There’s no temple to this temple,† Joshua said. â€Å"We have to ask Rumi where the sacrifices are kept until the festival.† â€Å"He won’t know. He’s Untouchable. These guys are Brahmans – priests – they wouldn’t tell him anything. That would be like a Sadducee telling a Samaritan what the Holy of Holies looked like.† â€Å"Then we have to find them ourselves,† Joshua said. â€Å"We know where they’re going to be at midnight, we’ll get them then.† â€Å"I say we find these Brahmans and force them to stop the whole festival.† â€Å"We’ll just storm up to their temple and tell them to stop it?† â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"And they will.† â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"That’s cute, Josh. Let’s go find Rumi. I have a plan.† How to cite Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal Chapter 20, Essay examples

gatdream Corruption of the American Dream in F. Sc Essay Example For Students

gatdream Corruption of the American Dream in F. Sc Essay ott Fitzgeralds The Great Gatsby Great Gatsby EssaysCorruption of the American Dream in The Great Gatsby The Great Gatsby by Scott Fitzgerald embodies may themes, however the most salient one relates to the corruption of the American Dream. The American Dream is that each person no matter who he or she is can become successful in life by his or her own hard work. The dream also embodies the idea of a self-sufficient man, an entrepreneur making it successful for himself. The Great Gatsby is about what happened to the American dream in the 1920s, a time period when the dream had been corrupted by the avaricious pursuit of wealth. The American dream is sublime motivation for accomplishing ones goals and producing achievements, however when tainted with wealth the dream becomes devoid and hollow. When the American dream was pure, motivation and ambition were some key aspects of the pure American dream. He stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way. ..and distinguished nothing except a single green light(page.26). It shows how Gatsby was striving for the his goal and trying to accomplish it. When the dream was pure, motivation and self-discipline were present. This quote talks about Gatsbys daily agenda and how in the earlier days he upheld the pure American Dream No wasting time at Shafters, No more smoking or chewing, Read one improving book or magazine per week, Save $3.00 per week, Be better to parents (page 181- 182). Nick says I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors eyes-a fresh green breast of the new world(page 189). This quote shows the pristine goals of where the possibilities were endless and one could accomplish anything through hard work. The American dream became corrupted, its main aims were wealth and power. Gatsby became corrupted because his main goal was to have Daisy. The only reason he want Daisy was that she symbolized wealth and took on the characteristics of money. Her voice is full of money(page127). Gatsby needed to have an enormous mansion so he could feel confident enough to try to win Daisy. That huge place over there? Do you like it? I love it (page95). The tainted dream was so empty that having accouterments of wealth could even incite feelings of love. Hes the man who fixed the World Series back in 1919 ( page 78). The dream became so focused on money that any means of a obtaining it were condoned, even if it were unscrupulous. Result of American dream being corrupted is that the motivation and ambition were gone and the dream is left with the pursuit of an empty goal. This is displayed when Daisy says Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day of the year and miss it. This quote shows the lack of motivation and meaningless to which the empty rich society has turned to. Another result of this corrupted dream is that the dearth of the idea that each person no matter who he or she is can become successful in life by his or her own hard work. This ignorance is shone when Tom says The idea is if we dont look out the white race will be utterly submerged. Its all scientific stuff; its been proved (page 17). Ignorance and the ideal of looking out for oneself is prevalent. Where as in the pure American Dream striving to accomplish ones own personal goal is ones main focus. One should use the American Dream for motivation and hope that one can achieve ones personal goal. .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca , .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca .postImageUrl , .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca , .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca:hover , .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca:visited , .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca:active { border:0!important; } .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca:active , .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .ua29d58f6bc045f2daedb4b12bc34b6ca:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Vocabulary Essay The American Dream should not be centered on money and other materialistic things but on a real goal.