The Winner Stands Alone – Seventh Chapter By Paulo Coelho
He takes a few steps and his head begins to ache terribly. This is perfectly normal: the blood is flooding the brain, an understandable reaction in someone who has just been under extreme tension.
Despite the headache, he feels happy. Yes, he has done what he set out to do.
He can do it. And he’s happier still because he has freed the soul from that fragile body, freed a spirit incapable of defending herself against a bullying coward. If her relationship with her boyfriend had continued, the girl would have ended up depressed and anxious and devoid of all self-respect, and would have been even more under her boyfriend’s thumb.
This had never been the case with Ewa. She had always been capable of making her own decisions. He had given her both moral and financial support when she decided to open her haute-couture boutique; and she had been free to travel as much as she wanted. He had been an exemplary man and husband. And yet, she had made a mistake: she had been unable to understand his love or his forgiveness. He hoped, however, that she would receive these messages; after all, he had told her on the day she left that he would destroy whole worlds to get her back.
He picks up the throwaway mobile phone he has just bought and on which he has entered the smallest possible amount of credit. He sends a text message.
11.00 a.m.
It all began, they say, with an unknown 19-year-old posing in a bikini for photographers who had nothing better to do during the 1953 Cannes Festival. She immediately shot to stardom, and her name became legendary: Brigitte Bardot. And now everyone thinks they can do the same. No one understands the importance of being an actress; beauty is the only thing that counts.
That’s why women with long legs and dyed hair, the bottle blondes of this world, travel hundreds or even thousands of miles to be in Cannes, even if only to spend the whole day on the beach, hoping to be seen, photographed, discovered. They want to escape from the trap that awaits all women: becoming a housewife, who makes supper for her husband every evening, takes the children to school every day, and tries to dig up some dirt on her neighbours’ monotonous lives so as to have something to gossip about with her friends. What these women want is fame, glory and glamour, to be the envy of the other people who live in their town and of the boys and girls who always thought of them as ugly ducklings, unaware that they would one day grow up to be a swan or blossom into a flower coveted by everyone. They want a career in the world of dreams even if they have to borrow money to get silicone breast implants or to buy some newer, sexier outfits. Drama school? Forget it, good looks and the right contacts are all you need. The cinema can work miracles, always assuming, of course, you can ever break into that world. Anything to escape from the prison of the provincial city and the long, dreary, repetitive days. There are millions of people who don’t mind that kind of life, and they should be left to live their lives as they see fit. However, if you come to the Festival you must leave fear at home and be prepared for anything: making spur-of-the-moment decisions, telling lies if necessary, pretending to be younger than you are, smiling at people you loathe, feigning an interest in people who bore you, saying ‘I love you’ without a thought for the consequences, or stabbing in the back the friend who once helped you out, but who has now become an undesirable rival. Don’t let feelings of remorse or shame get in your way. The reward is worth any amount of sacrifice.
Fame. Glory. Glamour.
Gabriela finds these thoughts irritating. It’s definitely not the best way to start a new day. Worse, she has a hangover.
At least there’s one consolation. She hasn’t woken up in a five-star hotel next to a man telling her to put her clothes on and leave because he has important business to deal with, like buying or selling films.
She gets up and looks around to see if any of her friends are still in the apartment. Needless to say they’re not. They’ve long since left for the Boulevard de la Croisette, for the swimming pools, hotel bars, yachts, possible lunch dates and chance meetings on the beach. There are five fold-out mattresses on the floor of the small shared apartment, hired for the duration at an exorbitant rent. The mattresses are surrounded by a tangle of clothes, discarded shoes, and hangers that no one has taken the trouble to put back in the wardrobe.
‘The clothes take up more room here than the people,’ she thinks.
Not that any of them could even dream of wearing clothes designed by Elie Saab, Karl Lagerfeld, Versace or Galliano, but what they have nevertheless takes up most of apartment: bikins, miniskirts, T-shirts, platform shoes, and a vast amount of make-up.
‘One day I’ll wear what I like, but right now, I just need to be given a chance,’ she thinks.
And why does she want that chance?
Quite simple. Because she knows she’s the best, despite her experience at school – when she so disappointed her parents – and despite the challenges she’s faced since in order to prove to herself that she can overcome difficulties, frustrations and defeats. She was born to win and to shine, of that she has no doubt.
‘And when I get what I always wanted, I know I’ll have to ask myself: Do they love and admire me because I’m me or because I’m famous.’
She knows people who have achieved stardom on the stage and, contrary to her expectations, they’re not at peace with themselves; they’re insecure, full of doubts, unhappy as soon as they come off stage. They want to be actors so as not to have to be themselves, and they live in fear of making the one false step that could end their career.
‘I’m different, though. I’ve always been me.’
Is that true? Or does everyone in her position think the same?
She gets up and makes herself some coffee. The kitchen is a mess, and none of her friends has bothered to wash the dishes. She doesn’t know why she’s woken up in such a bad mood and with so many doubts. She knows her job, she’s devoted herself to it heart and soul, and yet it’s as if people refuse to recognise her talent. She knows what human beings are like too, especially men – future allies in a battle she needs to win soon, because she’s 25 already and nearly too old for the dream factory. She knows three things:
(a) that men are less treacherous than women;
(b) that they never notice what a woman is wearing because they’re always mentally undressing her;
(c) that as long as you’ve got breasts, thighs, buttocks and belly in good trim, you can conquer the world.
Because of those three things, and because she knows that all the other women she’s competing with try to emphasise their attributes, she pays attention only to item (c) on her list. She exercises and tries to keep fit, avoids diets and, illogical though it may seem, dresses very discreetly. This has worked well so far, and she can usually pass for younger than her age. She’s hoping that it’ll do the trick in Cannes too.
Breasts, buttocks, thighs. They can focus on those things now if they want to, but the day will come when they’ll see what she can really do.
The 8th Chapter will be posted on Friday 20th of February
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A Vaginal Picture Of Rajshahi University In Bangladesh
[All rights reserved]
Vaginal=sexual.
Many teachers of Rajshahi University are immerged in many illegal vaginal (sexual) conducts by denoting a social bad-conduct as a hadith (A part of Islamic ideology). And that vital social bad-conduct is being spread out in the students, and then in the whole country, as infectious a disease. Those teachers suck the breasts of the women; especially virgins are very much covetable beings to them. They fulfill that desire from their daughters, sisters and even the out-comer female students. For this reason those girls become habited to violet the limit of the religion even before their marriage. Their physical, mental and sexual relation initiated with such persons other than their probable husbands. The effect of such mischief is very long lasted; even it extends to their conjugal life. Those ladies consider those mimic superiors as their husbands or more closer than these. As a result s continuous distance prevails with their husbands.
The second bad habit of those teachers is that they do not usually propose the female students as importuners; but when a student choice a female student then the sights of those teachers confine on her. Their interest and curiosity is very much about the lady liked by other. Then they try to separate her without any let. They offer aljurement of better jobs and bride-grooms. Later on when that female student goes away, the male partner’s sorrows know no bound. According to the authentic hadith (A part of Islamic ideology) it is prohibited to offer proposal of marriage when she has already been offered by some one and their discussion has not ended. Those teachers do not obey this strict hadith (rule). If that lady pupil (student) cann’t response positively to their proposal, they attempt to ruined her pushing chloroform on her. Moreover, they always hinder the male partner of that female to build his career. Not to say that they do not forget to affect the result sheet of that pair.
They are skillful to separate a couple if any political or other contrast, or even a discord arises with them. For that purpose they lie incessantly and betray with talks as well as misinterpret the hadith. Then they do not hesitate to route their lives (of the couple). And later on they try their all effort to capture the divorcé/separated lady. In Rajshahi University some teachers arranged to manage ‘jin’ (n usually unseen and invisible creature, rarely come near the human being). With the help of them (the Jins) they kidnap women and make them as their couch-mates and again return them.
There are examples of providing job as a teacher in lue of extra marital sexual facilities. Again there are many examples of omitting suspension of jobs by means of making affairs, and even by providing own wife as a couch mate of others. If a daughter or sister of a teacher chose a student, then he finds no escape. Even if he is married, all efforts are made to separate him from his spouse and try to marry that girl to that bride-groom. In case that student does not choose that bride all the teachers intent on suppressing and insulting him to boycott him from the society. It should be mentioned that, at the first stage they do not forget to try to capture that student (bridegroom) by offering different aljurements (for example, better job scope, scholarship, promotion, cash money etc.). According to the university ordinance, the promotion of the teachers depends on their qualification and academic career. But in many departments of Rajshahi University the promotion is held in lue of the effort to marry a daughter of a senior teacher to a bride-groom. Even the job as a teacher is very commonly obtained by marrying a daughter, sister, or sister-in-law of a teacher.
Intention to interchange marriage is not a rare scene, which is strictly forbidden in Islamic Sariah (Rules). Besides, the teachers of Rajshahi University worth enough the ‘hillah marriage’; but is hated and abused in both the society and the religion. Hillah marriage is a system of resuming a bride again as a wife after divorcing her when she has been remarried and divorced by her second husband spontaneously. This marriage seems to them as if own house is occupied after renting it to others for a certain period. Besides they misinterpret another hadith (a part of Islamic rule) and approve paramours (or different persons) to go to their wives, sisters and daughters by feeding them the breasts of those ladies. Such work is clearly forbidden and offensive. It is hated in Islamic sight. This habit is called ‘diusy’; and a ‘dius’ person will be kept 500 years distant from the heaven, and never allowed to enter the heaven (Al-hadith).
It should be mentioned that when that breast feeder females or students are placed in the market of marriage, then the trace or expression of their mischief are kept contact to the eyes of the bride- groom party. As a result, the marriage of those brides are delayed or cancelled. But the humane (?) teachers keep the effect of that delay upon the quiet/harmless male students. If a male student does not response the hint or sign of proposal of a sister or supervised female student of a teacher then he will find no escape. Its impact on his result is a must. Withheld or degradation of their result is a very common phenomenon. Moreover that teacher along with his colleagues and devoted work together to destruct the future life of that student by hindering his career; at least as long as he remains young to get a government job. Such plans and conversation occupy a large portion of the whisperings and gossiping carried out in that university.
Very hidden and reliable information has been revealed that the Rajshahi University was founded to marry the daughters in ‘Raj-Shahi’ to the bridegrooms. In order to confine or detain the meritorious students (of different other districts) in the mud of Rajshahi University beautiful out comer female students are enlisted in the admission list like the employment of receptionists in a company. Then the well bride-grooms are presented there to the dark- or brown-colored ‘royal-brides’ (!) as the prey from a forest presented to the hungry wild beasts. Sometimes that situation seems as like as a slave is brought to the queen for her worship. At least one teacher is appointed in every department to marry the used or partially used brides to the bride-grooms. Parents of beautiful female applicants are invited during the admission session; target is that those ladies will increase the beauties of the classrooms.
The main gates of the ladies halls are not close until even 7-30 pm in the evening of the winter (here evening begins 5-00 pm in the winter) by relaxing the “evening rule’ (a rule compelling the female students to come back to their own halls before evening so that vaginal abuse cannot be flourished). But it is not a rare scene that a male covered with a ‘borka’ comes out from a ladies’ hall in the morning of a summer. The ‘borka’ is a dress which covers the whole body of a Muslim woman except her face. Some times female students are rescued from different hotels of Rajshahi town.
Temporary bridal-beds are set at the Shahid Minar Chattar (martyr memorial complex), Iblish Chattar (evil field), Tut Bagan (mulberry garden), and near the different places of the ladies halls at the Paschim Para (Western Portion) of the campus. Sometimes punishment like ‘slight pulling by the ear’ are done by the proctor or some other assistant proctor of the university to retain the pride of the teachers or to publish their own names in the newspapers for fame. But during the remaining time such acting is going on as ‘I don’t see that’. Thus the pollution of the future maternal society is going on under the shadow of the large trees.
Categories: Cannes Gossip Tags: Bangladesh, Picture, Rajshahi, University, Vaginal
Fanatical for Finger Food
Finger food is the latest lifestyle thing. Anything goes, but in dainty-sized portions; food is sophisticated but nibbled strictly without cutlery. This sums up the success of a phenomenon that is winning over gourmets and great chefs, editors and designers, TV and Hollywood stars and A-listers.
Mini materpieces for the palate are served up to a growing public which moves nonchalantly from quiches and pasta to vegetables and sweets, then back again to tartlets. Hors d’oeuvres, first courses, second courses, side dishes and desserts no longer exist in the tastebud-tantalizing world of appetizers. Every food is perfect for creating exquisite titbits to be served in unrestrained freedom. Nibbles have become an art form, an indulgence which it seems no-one is able to do without.
Is this the dawn of a new gastronomic culture based on petite portions and picture-perfect presentation? Perhaps. There are certainly plenty of courses for learning how to prepare the perfect aperitif. Many people resort to recipe books, especially those released by top international chefs, like Heinz Beck who, with his culinary creations, amazes both his restaurant guests and his avid readers. From the printed page to the kitchen: Padua recently hosted the first edition of the Italian finger food championships. Italy’s top chefs flocked to the city in the northern region of Veneto, and worked nimble-fingered to present their own original ideas for tasty, balanced snacks.
Designers too have been won over by the finger food fashio, making it even more cool with brand new drinks served in custom-designed cocktail glasses. Designer Karim Rashid presented his Kartini Sapphire at the D&G Gold Bar during the Salone del Mobile fair. Keeping Rashid and his designer aperitif company, were other creatives like Konstantin Grcic, Tom Dixon and Marcel Wanders. Another celebrity on the list was the regular gossip-column subject and ex-wife of Marilyn Manson, Dita von Teese. The burlesque dance queen actually invented a drink of her own made with violet, her favourite flower, and served it at the Cannes Film Festival.
Major companies are also much taken by the happy hour craze, launching products and accessories for unforgettable parties: there are cups, plates, shakers, “pocket” cutlery and much more besides. For autumn 2008 Bormioli Rocco (http://www.bormioliroccoprofessional.com) launched Amuse Bouche, a collection of glassware and stemware in different shapes and sizes designed to enhance the latest trend in eating and conviviality. What’s more, every pack contains a collection of recipes with ideas and tips from top chefs on how to prepare mouthwatering nibbles.
Yes, that’s right, everyone just loves the finger food fashion.
Categories: Cannes Gossip Tags: Fanatical, Finger, Food
The case of the flea
London has acquired the dubious reputation as the libel capital of the world. The Guide is relatively safe from its sharp claws because we select only good hotels leaving the dross to anonymous travellers’ tales. The law of libel, however, is so weighted in favour of claimants, that even we have to be careful.
Hotels can and do sue. Shortly after a Conservative Party Conference in Blackpool many years ago, Sir Edward du Cann, then a key figure in the party, told me that he had been bitten 34 times on his right buttock while peacefully asleep in his bed at the most expensive and celebrated hotel in the city. Denis Thatcher, also, so he claimed, had been attacked by the same beast. As I was then the political editor of The Observer, this was too good a piece of gossip to waste. Regretting only that that the Iron Lady herself appeared to have escaped unscathed, I fed the news of the flea that had ravaged the Tory conference to the Observer’s Pendennis column.
A week later a missive arrived from the Imperial Hotel in Blackpool saying that the whole establishment had had to be fumigated, and demanding an abject apology and substantial damages. The writ threw the Observer’s management into a state of gloom. They made clear that, as the guilty party, I was responsible for getting them out of this hole. And very expensive it was, not helped by the fact that Denis Thatcher on mature reflection decided he had been bitten, not by a flea but by a sea midge, The moral of this story is that if you want to go to the Jewel of the North be very careful where you park your right buttock. We have four selected hotels in the city, all of which can be guaranteed to give you a peaceful night. For those who have an appetite for more and better particulars of this grisly story, you can read it in my book Grotesque Libels, published by Corgi. It was published originally by W.H. Allen under the tile: ‘My Learned Friends.’
Categories: Cannes Gossip Tags: case, flea