C

C is for ‘Cassius’.

Gaius Cassius Longinus, known as Cassius, was mourned as ‘the last of the Romans’. He was well-made and well-read, intelligent and brave. He was the prime conspirator in the assassination plot of Julius Caesar. Shakespeare turned him into an immortal hero; his speeches strong and impressive, his stance confident. He was a true Roman.

Caesar was brilliant, no doubt. It was no mean feat to have defeated one as great a as Pompey. But Cassius fought for his belief, he truly believed that Caesar was a bully. He was defeated in the end by Caesar’s primary avenger and a man I think better than he – Marcus Antonius. He did not allow himself to be captured, rather asked one of his men to kill him; only because he believed his good friend Brutus dead as well.

Of course, C could be for Cleopatra too, for she was Caesar’s lover and Mark Antony’s seductress. But then, I didn’t play Cleopatra in school, I played Cassius J

B

B is for 'Beth'.
She’s the second youngest of the March sisters in Louisa May Alcott’s ‘Little Women’. I was barely ten when I read this book and I was shocked by Beth’s character. She seemed so good and soft and all things nice. Then she died. It shook my faith in God-fearing and sensitive young girls. Beth, thirteen when the story starts, is described as shy, even-tempered and musical, and very close to her sister, Jo. Time goes by and she wonders what will become of her. When she suffers from scarlet fever, the whole family is scared stiff that she’d die. She lives, though, but is never healthy again.


When the family understands that Beth will not live much longer, they separate a room for her, filled with all the things she loves best: her kittens, piano, father's books, Amy's sketches, and her beloved dolls. Soon, Beth puts down her sewing needle, saying that it grew "so heavy", never to pick it up again.

Good things do not necessarily happen to good people. Life is not fair. And sometimes, it is much easier to let someone go if they are brash, vivacious, and full of spirit, like Jo. But not Beth, she wasn’t supposed to die.

I’ve written about the plot of the book here.

Elizabeth 'Beth' March

PS: I notice a pattern here. I think I’m going to be blogging about characters that pop into my head in April, as far as I can :)



A

A is for 'Atticus'. 
If you've read Harper Lee's 'To Kill A Mockingbird', you'll know for sure who I'm talking about. Atticus is a fictional character, a lawyer in a small town of Alabama. He defends a black man who is accused of raping a white girl. In the process, his kids, Scout and Jem, are subjected to much ridicule and insult by the community, close-knit and rascist. The black is convicted and unpleasant incidents follow. The book is notmeant to be a balm, it is a strong voice of protest against injustice. But, the character of Atticus is strong, upright, 'one-shot', and enigmatic.
The novel won a 'Pulitzer'. Book Magazine's list The 100 Best Characters in Fiction Since 1900 lists Atticus Finch as the 7th best fictional character of the 20th Century and his portayal by Gregory Peck in the movie is supposed to be 'the greatest hero in american film.'
This book is a must read for all sections of society in all lands. It is a modern day tale of the eternal fight of the commoner for justice, and the fight of good against evil. Social workers, lawyers, human rights activists have all drawn immense inspiration from Atticus, and on a personal level, so have I.

From the movie, Atticus with daughter Scout.

PS: This is the first post for the A-to-Z April Challenge, yay! (http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/)

You Sing to Me

Now you know why I talk

Of the sands that washed away

Many castles of many lives

Tender, sometimes fierce

Sometimes, I think,

You too understand

That heaven rolled up, is not heaven

You sing to me like the wind in the pines.

On grey days, as we

Speed past, swaying lilac tassels in the wind

I hold on to every fragment

Every dream of an abandoned space.

When I tire,

I simply go back to those sounds

You sing to me like the wind in the pines.

Wait for me at the solstice bend,

Seasons will shed their wings

And feathers will rain down.

But only if you wait.

Only if I come.

Wait till the equinox and

Sing to me like the wind in the pines.

through charm-bracelet songs,

find the land of the torn,

the beings of darkness,

lost, love-lorn.

find defiance, lost faith,

tear through in mad haste.

love the gypsy-carried child,

and watch starlight go waste…

Perhaps this too, is real.

Maybe it is hard to believe

That these cold, foggy mornings

Of self-doubt and fear,

Really exist.

Maybe it is hard to hold on

To slippery hands

With slippery hands.

Mute voices of silence surround

Your screaming deaf echoes

And your mind whirls.

You cannot escape from

The web of deceit

That left you frozen

And still,

Like dewfall, lost

On a stormy night.

Perhaps, this shall never pass;

Maybe because this too, is real.

Moving

I have gone back to the packing up and moving. It's just as bad, because I didn't really want to move. To make up for it is the fact that the new place seems very nice and the new roommate, very nice too. Let's see how that works out. I'm looking forward to not ever having to live alone again (provided the one I live with is fun). Sigh... my room is a mess, I have wayyyy too much stuff than I should. What to do... such is life.