Chief ki dawat by bhisham sahni biography
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भीष्म साहनी की कहानी - चीफ़ की दावत ledare ki Daawat by Bhisham Sahani
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Deblina Dey
Social Change Journal [SAGE Publications, India],
In a way, this is like the Holocaust discourse of Europe, with one klar distinction , while that narrative fryst vatten informed primarily with the idea of moving away from the possibility of repeating the Germany of the s and all it represented, the hyper-nationalist spectacles with which we view our past of the same time, seems to be pushing us headlong into the construction of a fascist, dictatorial, milita-ristic, breast-beating nationalistic discourse, which makes a facade of inclusion while it is inherently exclusivist. Looking Back touches upon a range of issues, beginning with a reconsideration of the Cabinet Mission; the perception of the 'other'—no different from 'us' and yet the enemy that defines 'us
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Realism was Bhisham Sahni's credo: Nephew
On his earliest memories of his uncle:
I was only six months old when my father (actor Balraj Sahni) left for London with my mother to work for the War II was on. My grandparents and Bhishamji advised them not to take me there. So ever since I became conscious of my surroundings, it was Bhishamji and my grandparents all the way. When they came back I was six years old. I didn't even know they were my parents. I always felt I had two dads: my father and Bhishamji. I never called him chacha. He was a friend to everybody.
When he was getting married and sat on a horse, I started crying. I thought, he is going to his wife's house and wo
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Remembering a humanist
Suresh Kohli
IN the death of Bhisham Sahni we have lost the one writer who had been, almost effortlessly, carrying forward the Premchand legacy. One last met him about little over a month ago by design shortly after return from a shooting spell in Kashmir. He had looked and sounded visibly healthy. He had appeared his compassionate self on the phone. Death is, in any case, a silent stalker. He listened attentively, head bent but a little raised, to one's account of shooting in the Valley, and briefly recounted cherished moments of his own visits to Kashmir decades ago, bemoaning the fact that violence had torn into shreds happiness of a heavenly piece of land. He recollected, painfully though, the long forgotten tragedy of Comrade Maqbool Sherwani, a progressive who had been mercilessly gunned down by the Pathan invaders in A sensitive poet he had risen above socio-political, religious considerations, and fought to protect his land from the inva