Alma Mater Loreto House

17/05/2026

Video of Loreto College in Kolkata.

MUSIC CREDITS:*The FatRat, Xenogenesis* : https://youtu.be/3_-a9nVZYjk?si=ue7jRVMsL1_MYkrt.(This music is used for educational purposes only. There is no int...

17/05/2026

Sad to inform you that we lost a famous alumna, Jennifer Paes.

28/04/2026

We lost Gool Madan Ardeshir today.
We are shocked and deeply saddened by her early demise.
Rest in eternal peace, dear Gool.
ICSE Batch of 1977

24/11/2025

23/11/2025

Celebration of the merging of the Congregation of Jesus (CJ) and Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary (IBVM) at Loreto Entally, Kolkata.

The merged Congregatio Jesu, approximately 1,800 sisters worldwide, will continue to honour the legacy of its foundress, Venerable Mary Ward.

The merger decree was publicly proclaimed at a special Mass in Loyola, Spain earlier this month.

“We are very happy that we can finally fulfill Mary Ward’s dream of a united congregation of religious women with the same constitutions as those of the Society of Jesus”, states Sr Veronica Fuhrmann CJ, General Superior of Congregatio Jesu. “Throughout history, but especially during the last years, we have journeyed in close connection. We share the same charism, the same values and the same understanding of mission."

“We rejoice to announce that Mary Ward’s Institute - the Sisters of the IBVM and the Sisters of the Congregation of Jesus - now stand united as one, in fulfilment of our foundress Mary Ward’s long-cherished desire.*

Pictures of the event at Loreto Entally, Kolkata shared by Julie Mehta.

20/11/2025

The merging of Congregation of Jesus and the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary, CJ and IBVM

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20/11/2025

Thanksgiving celebrations live from Loreto Entally, Kolkata from 10.30 am onwards

15/11/2025

She was a prodigy — reading Greek at eight, writing epic verse by twelve, but before she could bloom, illness bound her to her bed. A spinal injury. Failing lungs. The cruel mercy of o***m to numb the pain.

Her world shrank to one room. Yet her words reached far beyond its walls.

By her thirties, her poetry thundered across England. Critics compared her to Shakespeare himself. And then, one winter morning in 1845, a letter arrived that changed everything.

“I love your verses with all my heart, dear Miss Barrett…” — Robert Browning.

He was six years younger, full of fire and admiration. They began writing. Dozens of letters, then hundreds. Two minds, two souls, colliding on paper long before they met in person. When they finally did, love was instant — unstoppable.
But love had an enemy: her father.
Edward Barrett forbade all twelve of his children to marry. He ruled with control so absolute that even happiness required permission.

Elizabeth was 40. Sick. Dependent. Trapped.

Until one September morning in 1846, she did the unthinkable.
She rose from her sickbed, walked out of her father’s house, and never returned. That same day, she married Robert Browning in secret — and fled to Italy.

It was the beginning of her real life.
Under the golden skies of Florence, her health bloomed again. Against all odds, she gave birth to a son at 43. Her words poured like sunlight after years of night. Her collection, “Sonnets from the Portuguese,” captured the soul of love itself.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..." — a line that still melts hearts two centuries later.

Elizabeth wasn’t just a poet of love.
She became a voice for justice — for the enslaved, the poor, the silenced.
She wrote “The Cry of the Children” and forced Britain to confront child labour. She wrote “The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim’s Point” and dared to speak against slavery when few women dared speak at all.

She was no longer the woman who watched the world from behind curtains. She was changing it.
When she died in 1861, in her husband’s arms, her final word was “Beautiful.” It was. Her life, her courage and her defiance.

She chose love over obedience.
Freedom over comfort.
A full life over a safe one.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning showed every one who’s ever been caged by fear, pain, or control, that freedom is a decision, not a privilege.

Source: English Literature - A Community

11/11/2025

In the summer of 1816, the sky turned strange. A volcanic eruption halfway around the world had darkened the European sun, turning day to dusk and giving birth to storms that rolled endlessly across Lake Geneva. Inside a villa by the water, a small group of writers gathered — among them, an 18-year-old woman named Mary Shelley.

They challenged each other to write a ghost story. It was meant to be a game. But for Mary, it became something else — a confrontation with her own grief, her losses, and her awe at the power of life and death. That night, she dreamed of a man kneeling beside a lifeless body, “showing signs of life through the working of some powerful engine.” When she awoke, she began to write the story that would haunt humanity for centuries: Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus.

But Frankenstein wasn’t just a tale about a monster — it was Mary’s quiet rebellion. At a time when women were rarely taken seriously as thinkers, she built a narrative that questioned creation itself. What does it mean to play God? To reject what you’ve made? To fear the very thing you’ve brought to life? Her creature’s tragedy mirrored the loneliness she felt in a world that did not yet know how to understand her.

From a flicker of imagination in a storm-soaked villa, she gave us one of literature’s most enduring questions: what responsibility comes with creation? Every scientist, artist, and dreamer still wrestles with that same shadow.

Mary Shelley taught us that horror is not always in the monster — it’s in the mirror.

Source: English Literature, A Community.