Childhood hallucinations are surprisingly common – but why? | Science | The Guardian
English pdf. Publication in periodicals or books, or in digital or electronic forms, otherwise than in summary requires the consent of the Foundation. On all publications in full or in major parts the above underlined copyright notice must be applied. My dear children of the world …. From this podium of peace and humanity, I am deeply honoured to recite a mantra from the ancient texts of wisdom, Vedas. This mantra carries a prayer, an aspiration and a resolve that has the potential to liberate humanity from all man-made crises. In the pursuit of global progress, not a single person should be left out or left behind in any corner of the world, from East to West, from South to North.
Kailash Satyarthi – Nobel Lecture
Learning from the experiences of our ancestors, let us together create knowledge for all that benefits all. I bow to my late parents, to my motherland India, and to the mother earth. With a warm heart I recall how thousands of times, I have been liberated, each time I have freed a child from slavery. In the first smile of freedom on their beautiful faces, I see the Gods smiling.
I humbly accept this award on behalf of all such martyrs, my fellow activists across the world and my countrymen. My journey from the great land of Lord Buddha, Guru Nanak and Mahatma Gandhi; India to Norway is a connect between the two centres of global peace and brotherhood, ancient and modern.
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Because, I am representing here — the sound of silence. The cry of innocence. And, the face of invisibility. I have come here only to share the voices and dreams of our children — because they are all our children — [gesture to everyone in the audience].
I have looked into their frightened and exhausted eyes. I have held their injured bodies and felt their broken spirits.
Holocaust and Human Behavior
Twenty years ago, in the foothills of the Himalayas, I met a small, skinny child labourer. I met with a Sudanese child-soldier he was kidnapped by an extremist militia. As his first training lesson, he was forced to kill his friends and family. Can my child have one?
Friends, all the great religions, teach us to care for our children. I refuse to accept that all the temples and mosques and churches and prayer houses have no place for the dreams of our children.
Dreams (Cranberries song)
I refuse to accept that the world is so poor, when just one week of global military expenditure can bring all the children to classrooms. I refuse to accept that all the laws and constitutions, police and judges are unable to protect our children. I refuse to accept that the shackles of slavery can ever be stronger than the quest for freedom. I have the privilege of working with many courageous people who have the same aim.
We have never given up against any threat or attack and we never will. They aimed to arm movements with critical thought; organizationally, screenings doubled as political events. We thus discovered a new facet of cinema: the participation of people who, until then, were considered spectators. Documentary in India was a colonized, official art, originating in the war propaganda and Griersonian social uplift of the British Empire. With the midnight toll of independence, its bureaucratic management changed uniforms, but its official cast remained. The resultant break comes at the level of organizing and proximity to political movements.
His post-Emergency films fell into two camps: portraits of left social justice movements and chronicles of the rise of Hindutva. The left movements ranged from migrant farm workers in Canada unionizing across race and gender lines to pavement dwellers in Bombay fighting for their right to the city, indigenous groups organizing against a World Bank—funded dam to mill workers in Bombay struggling amid de-industrialization, fishing communities pushing back against industrial pollution to Indian and Pakistani peace activists opposing nuclear proliferation.
His father came from a socialist family active in the independence struggle: one uncle a Gandhian, another a founder of the Socialist Party. But the range of social justice movements in his work owes itself more deeply to history. And yet reduction in scale meant a new sense of intimacy. The films stay with a migrant worker as she cooks roti in the morning, or former mill workers as, after reoccupying the now defunct New Great Eastern Mill, they sweep the cobwebs off their old machines.
They progress in lockstep with the growth of an indigenous movement, walking alongside it village to village, accompanying its interruption of a World Bank delegation at a Mumbai fashion show. They devote almost lavish space to movement songs, dances and performances, the feel of protest marches.
But there are limits to the intimacy. The squatter movement has lost its land, their homes destroyed by state demolition crews; they stand on the sidewalk with their belongings at their feet. But her tenor shifts; the camera cuts to frame her directly, a child in her arms. Last night a child was hit by a scooter. Where can we go? Do you have a solution?
At least give us shelter during the monsoons. What else can you do? The government has discarded us. You and I can do nothing. There is no one to support the poor. The film pauses, cuts to B-roll, breathes.
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But then the film carries on, without the reflex of self-defense or the drama of self-doubt, exuding both a quiet sense of self-criticism and a quiet confidence. Its tone remains intimate, its scope deceptively peripheral—the contradictions of capital revealed by a forgotten community that spends its days building luxury high-rises, its nights without space to sleep.
They soon acquired a vast canvas of their own—unhappily provided not by the left, but Hindutva.
Hindu nationalist reaction has a long history, but its recent ascendance traces back to the demolition of the Babri Mosque in Ayodhya. On May 1, , a luxury ocean liner as richly appointed as an English country house sailed out of New York, bound for Liverpool, carrying a record number of children and infants. The passengers were anxious. Germany had declared the seas around Britain to be a war zone, and for months, its U-boats had brought terror to the North Atlantic. On November 15, , in the small town of Holcomb, Kansas, four members of the Clutter family were savagely murdered by blasts from a shotgun held a few inches from their faces.
There was no apparent motive for the crime, and there were almost no clues. Bonus material!
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Now available for the first time in unabridged audio, the gripping story of this famous and haunting crime is brought to life by acclaimed narrator Scott Brick. Ann Rule was working on the biggest story of her career, tracking the trail of victims left by a brutal serial killer. Little did this future best-selling author know that the savage slayer she was hunting was the young man she counted among her closest friends.
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