Literary

WHOEVER said that people nowadays do not read should have checked out the Manila International Books Fair (MIBF).

Primetrade Asia, Inc president Irene Lloren said the increasing number of people that come to MIBF every year proves how successful MIBF has been in promoting reading and increasing literacy.

“[The number of people coming to the fair] shows that many still thirst for books amid [advances in] technology,” Lloren said in her welcome speech during the opening ceremonies of the book fair last September 16. Primetrade is the organizer of MIBF.

Present during the opening was Sen. Francis Pangilinan, who agreed with Lloren.
“This shows how the Filipino values the need for furthering his knowledge, his education,” Pangilinan told the Varsitarian.

During the fair, Eros Atalia, a professor from the Faculty of Arts and Letters, launched his third book, “Ligo na u, Lapit na me.”

WIND-SWEPT leaves crunched with Martin’s every step as he approached the old mango tree standing high on top of a hill overlooking the city. The tree cracks of this tree were exhausts of aged breath as it struggled to stand against the strong winds that dared to blow it away. The branches swayed effortlessly, enticing strangers to take refuge under it.

Martin stared at the old tree, remembering how young and strong it appeared when he was an adolescent. He used to climb the tree to pick its mangoes when they were ripe, savoring them in his mouth. Everyday, he would swing from branch to branch, helping him develop muscles that he would soon sell for fair price as desired flesh.

Her acid lips preach futile words,
Flaccidly hovering over the pair,
Words flanked by incoherence,
And by inebriated minds.
The mist of deceit enshrouding,
As the rivulets of lies,
Drop to mocking curtsies.
She cowers before his frosted stance.
Facing the silence of blank walls,
Outside, the sun clashes with the moon.
Mika Rafaela A. Barrios

ANG AGHAM at kababalaghan ay kadalasang hindi maipagsama. Ngunit sa panitikan, maaari itong mangyari. Kailangan lang sagutin ng mga manunulat at mambabasa ang isang tanong: “Paano kung?” Sa pagsagot sa tanong na ito nabubuo ang isang uri ng katha na tawag ay speculative fiction.

Ayon kay Victor Emmanuel Carmelo Nadera, direktor ng Institute for Creative Writing sa University of the Philippines, ang speculative fiction ay naiiba sa karaniwang anyo ng katha tulad ng science, fantasy, at horror fiction.

“Winawasak nito ang mga harang na nagbubukod sa iba’t-ibang uri ng katha,” ani Nadera. “Sa prosesong ito nabubuo ang speculative fiction.”

Ayon naman kay Ralph Semino Galan, propesor ng panitikan sa Faculty of Arts and Letters, walang pinagkaiba ang proseso ng paggawa ng isang speculative fiction sa ibang uri ng katha.

“Sana maging time machine ang library natin, para mabigyan tayo ng pagkakataong maranasan ang mga bagay at pangyayaring itinuturo sa atin sa classroom. Puwede rin nating balikan yung mga mahahalagang kaganapan sa kasaysayan gaya ng Martial Law at 1986 Edsa Revolution.”
- Lian Nami Buan, journalism senior

“May lagusan na nagdurugtong sa nakaraan, kasalukuyan, at hinaharap. Para na rin madala sa maling panahon ang mga propesor.
- Nerie Rose Santos, food technology senior

“Siguro maganda kung magiging paaralan para sa mga superheroes na nakatadhanang baguhin ang mundo.”
- Rachelle Anne Salonga, food technology senior 

MAAARING wala ng iba pang nilalang ang makakalampas sa saklaw ng panahon, kultura at paniniwala maliban sa dragon. Isa ito sa mga pinakamisteryosong produkto ng imahinasyon ng tao.

Kinalaunan, nagkaroon ang dragon ng iba’t ibang anyo–ang iba’y nakatira sa tubig, naglalabas ng yelo kaysa apoy, kumakaibigan sa mga tao at minsa’y pinaniniwalaang kumakain ng buwan tuwing nangyayari ang eklips.

Hangad ng patnugot ng A Time for Dragons: An Anthology of Philippine Draconic Fiction na si Vincent Michael Simbulan na maibalik ang nabawas na interes sa mga dragon dala ng labis-labis at clichéd na paggamit nito sa panitikan.

Si Simbulan ay nagtawag sa mga manunulat na handang sumabak sa proyekto at ipalabas ang dragon sa panibago at kakaibang persepyo na makakaayon sa panlasa ng mga Pilipinong mambabasa.

Dahil dito kaya ang A Time for Dragons ay binubuo ng mga kuwento at sanaysay na tungkol sa pag-ibig at trahedya.

Parang pamatong ng papel sa tanggapan
nang utusan ng kataas-taasan
“Pumunta ka dito at kapanayamin ‘yan”
Papel at lapis ang tanging puhunan.
Tinahak ang malayo at mainit na daan
Daig pa ang sundalong, babad na sa Basilan.
At nang nakasalubong ang mga kaibigan
masakit na tinanggihan
ang alok na inuman.

Kinausap ang kalihim
kung nasaan ang amo
kinapanayam ang hambog na pulitiko
gamit ang bitbit na kuwaderno.
Lubog na ang araw
nang maimprenta ang kuwento
pipikit na sana nang mapukaw
sa ingay ng telepono.

THE GRAY skies are darkening as the mother shifts her gaze from the wall clock to the window and back. Her son is already three hours late and he is not answering his cell phone. It is raining outside and he has forgotten his umbrella. Lines grow visible on the mother’s forehead as she sighs, her hand smoothing out page 29 of her son’s thick black notebook, which she found beside the umbrella.

Where could that journal be? the son asks himself as he passes another block. He is running as fast as he can so he can be home in time for dinner. He ignores the steady downpour engulfing everything in sight. There’s nothing he can do, really—his socks are soggy inside his worn-out rubber shoes, his polo clinging on to his skin, his long hair dripping in a messy ponytail, the hem of his jeans dirty because of the mud lifted by his shoes from the wet asphalt. He hears a mocking laugh and looks over his shoulder. There’s nobody out on the street but him.

FIERY eyes glare deeply into the soul,

chasing it towards an endless void.

Struggling to grasp reality, hope dwindles

into a narrow corridor of pure darkness

Floating into nothingness, to feel the ground

Is but a futile cry for aid

as the body panics.

Flaming horses and grotesque demons

brand searing, white-hot suffering into the empty shell

as it freezes, forced to watch the gore,

the deep pool of blood oozing

from the mouths of a thousand spirits,

eyes drowning with despair and skin

blistered with unbearable pain, screaming

for death in this God-forsaken dimension.

TIME was neither here nor there. It did not even matter.

She was standing there, her back to me, still in her hospital clothes - a figure of such ethereal presence that I wouldn’t dare come near her. The wind was blowing softly, steadily, ruffling the hem of her skirt. I couldn’t tell what she was doing in her peaceful stance. Awkwardly, she spread her arms, ready to fall into abyss. By that time, my curiosity overrode my fear and I made my way toward her.

The fact that I was just there, stealthily watching her from afar made me sick to my stomach. I watched in horror as she stepped up on the building’s narrowest fringe, looking back at me and even mangaing a smile, but nothing was ever more sinister.