Bliss in the torrential downpour

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Yesterday, as I abruptly woke from the afternoon nap, the outside of my windows were bitter black, I wondered if I’d have overslept. I turned on the light, checked my phone, it was about to turn about five in the evening. That’s a drastic sky color for that point in the time. There were the strong gushes of  winds, the summer storms of Northern India, quite prevalent in this season, followed by a quick and cooling pour of the rains.

As I fiddled out of the bed with naked footsteps, the newly resting dust felt my feet. I sighed and opened the balcony. There was a strong splatter sound as the accelerated water drops hit the warm ground of the balcony. The plants danced around, almost as if enjoying and being replenished at the same time. Celebrating their own #nirvana. After some while, these rains become somewhat quieter, more pleasant and almost peaceful. That is when I cast out a chair and sipped the warm ginger tea, which is a craving need whenever it rains here. As I sipped the hot tea and made myself comfortable on the garden chair, drenched a little bit, so it made the first few minutes rather uncomfortable for me. I eased after some time.

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The rains took me back to my “mind palace”, I bet Sherlock won’t mind me using his intellectual metaphor, for droning into a palace of memories for me. I drifted back to my childhood in Mumbai. Mumbai was the center for the monsoons. It was drenching wet roads and a sea of umbrellas at this point there. These were the rains when we used to rush out of the house and play in the rains. They were delicate and resonating. With paper boats and bicycles and football as a company, we enjoyed the spells as much as possible. The elders protested, concerned we may fall sick, but after some time, they gave in to their own temptations and joined us in these rains. After our entire expedition, we went marching home to be greeted with some pakoras (Indian Fritters) and tea, after a long and warm shower, as we discuss the happenings  of  the day. This was around a decade back. How much have things changed since then.

A free mind, drifting off to all the locations  in the memories. Analyzing and thinking how the past few days have been, how the past few months have gone, the entire  new journey I experienced last year, experiencing new waves of freedom and learning to be  more independent, having a transition from being shy to being outspoken and accepting defeats and failures. I peer my gaze to the new friendships formed, the friendships gone, what went right, what went wrong, the whole point of it all. Leaving the workplace I loved, to finding another one where I can relive and learn new. I learnt my Achilles heel and found the ekphrasis, the strength, I remembered the  texts from the holy scriptures, the grandmother recited and filled with moral goodness. I understood in that very moment how much I missed out on the gratitude in all these months.

As the rains poured, even more, my thoughts poured feeling blessed, I was very happy and very content, more determined and more ignited, ready to do whatever it takes. The cool breezes started flowing and amidst that my open locks started swaying in the air. I guess even they were enjoying the rains like the plants were. The smile grew broad, the tea cup holding lesser and lesser volume of the tea. The saucer coming  into action as I rest the cup on to it, and lean back, close my eyes and enjoy. In my mind, there are no new thoughts, just steady breaths and a small smile.




A pair of innocent eyes

Today, as I was jogging in the morning, in our community park, I heard fragile footsteps neighboring me. I looked down to see a tiny tot running along side me, and should I say speeding up even more than me! She won’t be any more bigger  than three and was fairly dusky in complexion. She looked up to me  and smiled through the exertion.

I smiled back and once I completed my day’s goal, I sat on a bench and saw her running around, in a carefree attitude, engrossed in her own world. Her little creativity pouring out as she tried to find different ways of interesting herself. I walked over to her and in an attempt to sound cheekily childish, I introduced myself, right when she was enacting a tiger and roaring. I spent the next ten minutes trying to engross into her world, talking to her and listening to her childish innocence in every statement. It just made me glee, what a darling she was. It was time for me to head back home as I bid her a good bye. I spent my journey home, thinking and mesmerizing our conversation and drifting to my own childhood.

Childhood and innocence! Ah, don’t they just complement each other  perfectly. It is the age of princesses, pirate ships and the seven dwarfs, completed with the modern twenty-first century addition of superheroes. Whenever I have my little nephews and nieces around, there is always a chirpy twitter and laughs and more giggles and bear hugs. This is the beauty of a child. Everything in their world is simplistic and grand at the same time. They are the ideal people in this planet. Heart filled with goodness and purity and optimism which have no bounds.

“Remaining childish is a tremendous state of innocence.”

-John LyDon

A child is a prism, a world filled with all the goodness. You can spend the entire day without any worry, stress or thought with them. Through the pair of those innocent eyes, I relived my own childhood. The mischief I played, the strange things I believed in, how my elder sister used to deceive me and all the outfits mother dressed me up in.

I will narrate another incident in the midst of this blog. What I feel is, as the gizmos and gadgets start increasing, even a child  who barely can even speak, so young, gets addicted to these gadgets. One of nephew is hardly three yet, but without immersing his self into a game into the i-pad, the day is filled with wailing and moody rants. I feel immensely lucky that our generation and the ones before it, were saved from the apocalyptic times of technology. We were more outdoor kids than the kids today. Frolicking and running wild in the sun, while our mothers called out to us to come home and rest. It was a time filled with so much of activity, zeal, and initiative.

I agree much has changed in these two generations, and it is the new era. So let us see what it has to bring forth to us!


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All I saw through the eyes of Anne Michaels

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This bitter cold and freezing January, on a mission to have a productive day in the midst of the college vacations, I decided to visit a a book fair. Now I am an avid reader when it comes to books, but no so much so of a lover of travelling to get the books. I accept, I am a little sluggish to go book-shopping, but all of it is thanks to the online deliveries and review sessions which make me so.

I got my hands on Anne Michaels – All We Saw. Being a big poetry lover and a poetess myself, additionally, a literature student, I felt it right to resume the let’s make my day productive series and write a quick and short summary of what my journey was reading this.

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Filled with passion, desire an inner fire and the capability of having love, the very first poem sets an ignition tone  to the rest of the course of  the reading. The brine and oil, the writhing bodies, the use of elicit metaphors and scenic description make it titillating within the first few seconds of exhaled reading.

“hurtling through the narrow pass

suspended along the cliff’s edge

a violent lurch, a wrenching

each choice obliterating another”

One of my favorite lines, through the original narrative, focusing on the effect of love, found, gained, conquered and lost. The beauty of poetry, which drew me more towards it is the art of individual interpretation. As each line transgresses, a new form of innovation is seen. Love is  like a cascading waterfall. It appears so utterly beautiful, magnificent, like a heavenly beauty, replenished on the planet, and yet as it makes its progress towards the ground, it gets violent, more speedy and eventually ends up hurting.

The work seems like a meditation, an almost introspection into the individual’s thoughts and actions. Familial love and separation is once again shown with a beautiful narrative in  “Somewhere Night Is Falling”, the somewhere adding a sort of an ‘every-man’ quality to the whole of the poem sequence. A woman, a child, a father,a room, a man, a cave, all of these inanimate as well as animate objects showcase some sort of an almost existential crisis. Falling as the second segment of the entire book, it depicts a crossroad journey and the reader is aware of the upcoming in the next few segments. Love being a shelter, almost an insurance is showcased in almost all of the narrative. Giving a sense of complacency.

All in all, All We Saw  is an amazing piece of work. After reading the more modern free verse poets like Najwa Zebian and Rupi Kaur, this is a more eclectic and more personalized and distinctive identity on its own at the same time.  So I consider it a must read guys.

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Missing the beats

This particular excerpt is following the passion of dance for me. I am a classical Indian dancer, learning it for the past six years. Bharatnatyam, one of the most ancient dance forms of India, dating back to a thousand years.


It was recently when I was looking back to the photos of a recent show that I had performed, and all the memories came down rushing. I have taken a brief break from the dance due to a minor injury, and it makes me want to go all over, and do it again.

The last two months craving for me has been desire to posture up in the  fixed upper torso, legs bent or knees flexed out combined with spectacular footwork, a sophisticated vocabulary of sign language based on gestures of hands, eyes and face muscles. The hustle, bustle of the show time when the glam session is on, to draping yourself in the kanjivaram sarees, clinking of the ‘ghungroos’(anklet jewelry), it is a divine pleasure.

August 2017

It was the day of our most anticipated show, which showcased almost all the performances from all the members of our institute, which also included the tiny tots. It was a day with nerves and jitters but an assured confidence that the things will be alright as we have been practicing it for a long time now. As I sit down for makeup, waiting for the heavy pack of contours and foundation, tainted blush cheeks and an almost Cleopatra like eye-makeup, my face is unrecognizable, similar to almost everyone in the glam-room. As I change into my saree and jewelry and wait till we all set off, I see the little kids whirling around, with their parents frantic and running hitherto trying to grab their kids and rush their accessorizing and makeup. A kid or two wail, as the artist tries to put a little kohl and liner to their innocent eyes.


Finally, after a lot of progress, it is time for us to head to the venue. We all ensure we have our energy drinks and light snacks, after all the body needs to be hydrated for bearing so much of jewelry and makeup before we hit the stage. The nerves build up more. We shake our legs and breathe heavily till we walk on to the stage. I remember the lights being almost too bright for the eyes to adjust to it. There was determination and a psychological coordination between all of us as the rhythm started pouring out, hinting us to start the medley. On the stage, I thanked the blinding light focused on the center stage. It blocked my mind out of all the stress and prevented me from peering into the audience. The medley continued for another fifteen minutes till it was time for the next group to perform. After ensuring we delivered a good performance, It was time for us to relax a bit, until the next performance of ours came. Our teacher (guru) came, smiled and encouraged us for the next bit, reminding us to be aware of the angles, so the camera man takes the perfect shots.


Finally, after two hours of dancing, interval applauding and thank you notes, I headed home. There was a peculiar feeling of pride in what the day had been. The car ride was filled with sweet chatter a and constructive criticism, ranging from the parents as I peered outside, onto the beautiful and vast roads of Central Delhi, before drifting off to sleep. There is something in the air of Delhi (excluding the alarming rate of particulate matter), that just leaves you happy, grateful and energized. I love the aura of this city and as the doors of the home welcome me, i quickly change into the night outfit (took at least an hour), and drifted off to sleep. Feeling proud of accomplishing something today.

As I look forward to the shows in the coming months, I am geared up, exhilarated and motivated. A good vibe surrounds the air.

A fragile mistake

This would rather come out as a rather funny tale, but upon further introspection, I realized the hidden meaning or the reason embedded in the cause.

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I usually wake up around five thirty in the morning and head for my morning workout. I have a simple task assigned to me after that. It is to water the Peepal (Ficus religiosa) tree which my parents had recently planted at a local open space near our house. Being a few months old, it was small, almost invisible. As mentioned above, it was my daily duty to ensure I water the plant diligently.

Since I am not a gardening expert, and additionally, have almost no clue about the different plants, sighting a plant was difficult for me. So my mother laid out instructions on how to locate it and what to do when located, ah you can see the trivial details that need to be surrounded around me when I am given a task.

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The next morning, after my workout, as I was heading towards watering the plant, I got confused a s to which one is a Peepal tree. A sapling at this stage. So I took a guess and watered a thin stemmed sapling, with tiny leaves growing here and there. It was quite tall, and the soil surrounding it looked like it had been dug to plant it recently. Assuring myself that I have completed the task I sprinted towards the home, all happy and singing lovely tunes in my mind.

Upon entering the kitchen, I sighed with relief and mother just enquired about the watering situation. It seems I might have gone wrong even with the clear set instructions and watered the wrong plant, by entering through the wrong gate. It was from the gate at the corner and well, I entered through the gate at the front. Well bonus points for that plant. So with a new set of instruction given to me, the next day I headed to water the plant, through the right gate this time, a new problem imposed me. I did go to the right path, I did spot new saplings, but which one was mine? This followed for the next three days where with great spirits I used to enter the garden, and with a likely guess water plants on a random probability. It was this morning that I realized and found the true peepal sapling, so tiny and finite. I might have done a joyous dance, as it made me this happy.

The sapling was ever so fragile, there were two leaves growing out, so in totality, it was quite frail and short, hiding out amidst so many different saplings, in its own tiny world.

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This incident made me introspect later, as I collected my thoughts and just felt like it signified something. How the sapling stood there, placed in a corner, silent yet glowing. While others gazed their attention over to the taller more confident saplings, the real inner beauty of the sapling fizzling out. It was there, in the shadows while the light shone on so many others.

This was something which was very common for me as well. I was shy growing up, and while that element still lasts in myself, I have gone through immense changes in the past one year, the fiercer, the more fearless and the more daring side of me has started shining. I am not afraid of trying out new things, experiencing leadership and being more pen to everything. I have become way more confident and there is a sense of pride in the way I walk now. I don’t hunch slightly. My insecurities don’t grip me as they held me before. It was just a matchstick effect and then later tuned into a beautiful journey for me. There is still so much to learn and look out on, every day I water this peepal sapling, I should probably devise a name f or it, I’ll be more headstrong and focused towards achieving and dreaming and accelerating.





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Day dreaming or obsessive fantasizing, I understand is something that is not so good for the mind. Yet as a callous day dreamer I spend multiple hours on a couple of days when the work is less, and the day is free, running away into a world filled with a reality as per my wishes and desires. No, it is not a rainbow land with unicorns frolicking side to side. It is a life I aspire to live.

So a couple of days back, when I was thinking about newer concepts for the blog, I decided why not, give it a new twist. I felt that a little writing into fiction rather than abstract, as a lot of work that I type down on my laptop deals with a new urge for writing fiction. Let us see how that journey will be. After all this for me is an experimentation in writing. It started out with poems and verses and soon transpired into writing proses and then creating my own blog to voice out my feelings and opinions.

Living through the tale- how fancy and utterly delightful that sounds. Not even a peek of imperfection seems to last there. It is a world that you drive and ride along in. Maybe it’s a different persona you live there, or another career you see yourself in, day dreaming in itself is so much interesting and I have been researching a bit for my own sake to understand it better.

I feel that this day dreaming habit certainly gets the perks while writing as I am easily able to focus on the details as creative visualization seethes through. A lot of writers, I have read about feel that the characters evolve in this pattern itself. So as the two successive blogs have been quite short and more addressing, I’ll drop a hint that I might be diversifying into fiction and letting my readers also experience- a world through the tale, living every moment of it and embracing every feel good factor in it.



Morning squabbles

This morning a big argument erupted between my mother and me. It wasn’t about keeping my room clean or fitness related conversations, this time it was way more serious. My mother had an argument about career paths with me.

Having been a working woman herself, she was a perfect blend of ambition and care, as she successfully brought up me and my sister. My mother always wanted to become a civil services officer, being in the administrative job. Watching her father being at an admirable government post, she set out with hard work and determination. However, she was wedded off early and then all these remained as fragments of dreams, as the children came up. Now my mother wishes that either of her daughters take up this duty, aka, fulfilling her dream.

As sweet as the gesture is, I feel we are all made for the dreams that we wish to accomplish, not getting wrapped up in the parent’s desires or wishes. It is ultimately us, who will end up leading the unhappy life as what we dream of doing gets bound up and then passed on to the next generation.

Safety net? What is that safety net? The gene of unhappiness like a vicious cycle keeps getting simultaneously revolved into cumulative generations. If this is the twenty-first century and you have a belief that you can achieve something great on your own, it is suffocating to see the parents barricading the ways to go forth in your career.

I cannot say or justify it in the context of the entire world, but India is definitely that one country where parents put great pressure on the kids to follow a certain path and it is now that times are getting slightly better. Things seem so lost and futile but at the end of the day, the ambition is all that matters. The parental support might not always be present but at least when the success comes at your doorstep you realize it was you, and your work all along that matters.

So now I guess, my arguments will not subside with the mother, but at least I know that all I need is to be is more focused on the career and see what it has to offer and what my destiny has in written for me.