Days on Fast forward

Before you knew it, months flew off from 2016, and here we are, in August, already.

A lot of new things happened, some for the best, some heartbreaking. College ended, faculty retired, there was a lot of nostalgia. In the meanwhile, almost as if a parallel story was running, I got selected into one of the premier institutes in the country, met a whole bunch of people from completely different backgrounds and upbringing than mine. I wish I could write about each person here at the Tata Institute of Social Sciences; each one is a reservoir of stories, told and untold.

What is happening is essentially a rediscovering of self, or as they like to call it here, unlearning and re-learning. I’ve been placed in a disability setting for fieldwork with a great partner, hence learning here happens on multiple levels. People constantly surprise you, you get bombarded with assignments, and then there are a dozen other activities happening, you wait eagerly for a respite…but before you know it, it’s fieldwork day again! In between, birthdays, celebrations, outings, outbursts, sickness all happen, but they are never the defining parts of the bigger picture. Before you know, it’s ‘tomorrow’ already. The fast forward here will wind up, in 2 years. In the meanwhile, the winds here will blow upon us, shaping, changing, informing, forging new bonds.

So far, so good.


Love’s In The Air

In a flurry of movement she raised the baby from her arms into the air with a whoosh. Above her head. Brought it down, a tiny body pressing against hers. Face to face. A kiss. Love flowed from her features. Her lips celebrated life. Love in all its glory. The tiny being with the tiny face felt good. But love, the heart was too young to understand. It looked about, eyes scanning the melee. There were so many people!. But the tiny being with the tiny face did not understand their complex actions. Walking, laughing, talking, flaying their arms about….it would learn of this later. For now, all it knew was its mother. The person who clasped him, mouth against breast, and cradled him to sleep afterward.

A day by the sea


The beach. The rocks. The fine sand and gravel beneath the feet. The feel of sand slipping away from under the soles, that of sand getting washed away with water. The sound of the waves. The gurgling of the sea…the sun beating down on the bodies, mellow, sometimes a bit harsh.

The ‘feel’ of listening to the nature, the wind and the water playing a merry game between themselves, unbeknownst to the people splashing about at the water’s edge, unbeknownst to the kids flying colourful kites, swaying their little, lithe bodies as the kite dances to the winds’ music…unbeknownst, to us who break into a smile watching the waves’ display, watching the kids’ play, sifting through our fingers, fine grains of sand, smooth, yet coarse, simple, but holding the secrets of time… I wonder what the rocks by the sea shore would say, if they are gifted the power of expression, the kind which is understood by humans. They lie, silent witness to the happenings of the world around them. They know the birds that circle them, they know the scents that the winds bring to them. They know the stories of the oceans as they all meet, they hear, quietly, the secrets of the people adoring the sea face, their desires, ambitions, shortcomings, failures, and perhaps smile to themselves, as they know that the people, as their worries, will be lost in eternity, and one day, cease to be.

The damp but firm rocks, barriers against the unforgiving sea, collude the ocean itself. Beckoning, yet mysterious, protective yet capable of unleashing terror, holding in its belly the years long gone by; hundreds of years that have been, and the hundreds that will be.

Looking at the vast expanse of water, and the sky above, the clouds, moving towards the meeting point, the horizon, thoughts cease, and the mind falls into a pattern of enjoying what was before nothing existed. Perhaps the horizon isn’t a limitation, perhaps it is only what we can see, versus what actually is. The sea, the sky, the fine grains of sand – inspirations, always.

Welcome 2014!

With 2013 deciding to come to an abrupt end, there’s little left to do except wait in anticipation and hope for what the new year might bring. It is that time of the year again when graces are said, the Almighty lord is thanked for all things good, when every passenger on this mystery trip takes all things good and bad in his stride, and marches on.

It is that time of the year again wishes of peace and prosperity are sought; and the promise of a rich and colourful morrow fills up the gladdened heart.

There are going to be people for whom the year might have passed far too quickly – people like me – who’d look longingly at the year that has slipped by. And there are going to be those for whom 2013 lived upto its promises; those having lived in all moments of ’13, await expectantly the winds and the tides that this year, fresh and crisp, would bring.

All said, there’s no denying that 2013 was a special year; a year of redemption, of hope, of despair, of longing, of joy, of gut-wrenching emotions, and above all foraging new relations. Whether 2014 is to be a year of broken resolutions or new inspirations (not to forget yummy, melt-in-the-mouth cookies!), only time will tell, but while into it, make sure you enjoy the ride!

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Of Likes and Follows

I love it when the block on the top right corner of the page lights up in a not-so-pleasant orange, revealing a dim star. Of course, this happens when someone likes a post that you’ve made.

(I think we should have a system on WordPress wherein one can make the orange block stay highlighted for how much ever time one wants, if only to drown the sorrow of not being up to actually posting, and then viewing the star in delight. This move go one step ahead in making a blogger feel good about himself, and would reinforce his trust in Humanity. What say?)

Of course, I also love it when someone follows the blog. I’m unsure of what that implies though, but I see it as somebody other than me acknowledging a post, if nothing more. Period.

That’s all I can inflict upon you at a time. 

I want you to keep coming back, you see.

Blogging and more…

It had always been a dream to be blogging. “To have my own blog”. I looked upto the few ‘geniuses’ who I knew blogged. I’ve always been in awe of bloggers. How exactly is it that they produce so many wonderful pieces? How is it that they never run out of ideas?

Columnists. Another breed of wonderfully delightful people! These were Demi-gods to the once very-naive-and-innocent young me. Naive and innocent, I still am (Or so I like to think). But as the early childhood years gave way to teenage, I bloomed into a mature young girl. Courtesy interactions with so many fantabulous people. Ordinary people with a sparkle of brilliance. You.

And I came to realise that we are, essentially, the same. Each of us has our own moments of embarrassment, joy, pride, triumph, hurt, anger, jealousy, sadness, love. To quote Brida from Paulo Coelho’s 2008 bestseller of the same name, ‘….the doubts I have are the same doubts that the Saints had, and my frailties are the same frailties. Help me to be humble enough enough to accept that I am no different from other people’

So the next time you think that you just don’t have it in you, just look around. You’ll find people going about their life, doing seemingly great things, with everything under their control, but equally confused and clueless. Just like you. And me.