TISS Guwahati- Centre for Sociology and Social Anthropology is delighted to present Eroteme Volume 3. Happy Reading!
More in this magazine
- SEPTEMBER 5, 2026 (LATE EDITION)V O L U M E 3
- EROTEME2 Message From The Centre Chair
- EROTEME3 CENTRE REPORT2025-2026
- EROTEMEFaculty Highlights 4
- EROTEME5 From First Steps to Farewells: The SSA Family
- EROTEMEStudent Spotlight Academic Achievements:
- EROTEMECentre Initiatives/Activities FRIDAY DISCUSSIONS
- EROTEME8 Field Visits and Reports
- EROTEMEField Visits and Reports FIELD VISIT TO KALAKSHETRA
- EROTEME10 ‘On Sociology, Teaching, and a Changing World’
- EROTEME11 In Conversation with Prof. Sanjay Barbora (contd.)
- EROTEME12 In Conversation with Prof. Sanjay Barbora (contd.)
- EROTEME13 In Conversation with Prof. Sanjay Barbora (contd.)
- EROTEME14 In Conversation with Prof. Sanjay Barbora (contd.)
- EROTEMESTUDENT CORNER 15
- EROTEMEWritten By: Antarlina Bhattacharjee Poetry Collection
- EROTEMEMargins (continued)
- EROTEME18 Photo by Ana Jovanovski on Unsplash
- EROTEME19 ck by the flowers, but weirdly critical of the rest of the wild foliage in their conservative views of a garden. Nevertheless, it was thriving amongst the rows of concrete. Lying on the moist soil with my hands under my head, I was almost content with my garden, almost because I was only wishing, stubbornly like a child my age would, for that one corner to be housed with the summer dream of a mango tree; after all, I shared history with such a tree.
- EROTEME20 devtas and asuras where there were only…things, or no-things. Though there was some sense in locating impurities caused by a bathroom near our kitchen or mandir But my parents acknowledged him immediately by estimating the cost of redoing much of our home. It would resolve our circumstances. And as long as I got to hear prospects of a room to myself, I was happy.
- EROTEME21 The Story of Migration in ‘Dinwa Ginat Mori’
- EROTEME22 Illusion
- EROTEME23 Ra ta ta ta ta ta ta
- MEET THE TEAMEROTEME VOLUME 3 Editorial Team
Text of this page
EROTEME
Photo by Ana Jovanovski on Unsplash
Written by: Vedansh Pareek
The Mango at the Corner
There was not much to do in those summers. Its intense heat would distort distant views, crack lips to pour blood, enfeeble egos by making people faint, all the while creating oases on the grey tar of roads. The days were lived, then, in my garden. They were rather simple: I would use my thumb to nozzle out water from the hose in weird ways, create rainbows, and breathe in smells of the soil. I would mould the mud into structures held together by bamboo twigs and label them houses for insects and reptiles. And in these scenes, a constant whirr of the motor was ever-present as it would pump water from the infinite underground tank — an enigma whose interior I would always wonder about.
Due to my inexhaustible bouts of binge-planting (much in the face of opposition from my irritable summer family) in our very much exhausted rectangle of a garden, roots infiltrated the tank. I discovered this when I traced one running eerily on the surface and into the tank; squatting, laboriously removing the rusty lid, I experienced a rapture: there was tranquillity upon seeing the surface alive, beautiful, hair-like flowing white roots, whose flesh so contrasted with the absolute dark abyss, making them glow as they reflected daylight. They were drinking as they were persevering through the waves of Rajasthan heat. Mesmerised, I’d refocus my eyes, and the abyss would reflect my silhouette in its art.
Life was good with these dillydally occupations; only that I was still a child, having to listen to my parents. They had their tensions and apprehensions, which I’d try to ease by making them tour the garden wilderness, no matter their sombre reactions. I had faith in these natural charms. Even the trees that Daata (my father) and I had so lovingly planted on the pavement right outside our home a few years ago were flourishing. Emblazoned golden showers of the Amaltaas, soft purples of Kachnaar, and the grouplets of tiny leaves on the Amla. The whole neighbourhood was awestrucontinued on next page)