Nescience

It is only when I open Google Photos & it reminds of what I was doing this time last year, I realise how much time has passed. The summer has come & gone and the rain is back, and with it the promise of more.  Looking at Google photos of what happened before is a mixed bag - it is what I imagine a bag of Bertie Bott's every flavoured beans would taste like. Some pictures bring back memories - clambering on the rocks near the sea, so close you can taste the salt on your tongue; clammy air and the faint sound of drunk second years in the background as you look up at the stars in the amphi; the cold air and the turbulence as the Himalayas shine below; the smell of chakli and chiwada in the air and glow of earthen lamps.  Some pictures tease you about how much has changed since. It is all about missed opportunities and roads you took. I like seeing those too - they are the ones that remind me that the reality of today is better than the dream of yesterday. I think of all t...

I launched off my reading list for this year with What young India wants by Chetan Bhagat . I led me to the conclusion that India, and Chetan Bhagat both have no idea of what they want. Oh no, I am not criticising the book. It was lucid, had easy language but had none of the perspicuity of thought or the depth that other tomes, like The Argumentative Indian (Amartya Sen)  or We, the People ( Nani Palkhivala ) possess. I do not dislike Chetan Bhagat. Indeed I do not. His books have compelling stories that seem to resonate with the youth. Last year, I was enrolled in an introductory program to the UPSC in one of the coaching institutes in Pune. We were asked to discuss our favourite works of literature and to my horror, half the people had a Chetan Bhagat book as their favourite novel. Makes me wonder if the novel, as a genre has become so stilted, stagnant that the young people read only the literature that has the emotional depth of a rainwater puddle. These books are window...

There is something about this man that I absolutely LOVE! He has been on an indefinite fast in Delhi from 23rd of this month. I trawl through the news clips and the photos to look at this man, this veritable giant of a man for whom, nothing is insurmountable. I know. Perhaps I exaggerate. Hyperbole has been a particular weakness of mine. But I do admire this man. He is the face of the new India, whose leaders know what they are talking about. Who make more than ritualistic, customary visits to regions of conflict, poverty laden households and areas hit by calamities. He is a man who knows . P.S. - My mother is terribly worried about him because he has severe diabetes. So take care, Mr. Kejriwal!

COEP's boating extravaganza, 'Regatta' is known to every self-respecting collegian. The fest is extraordinary due to its unique nature. No other college in Pune, as far as I know, can boast of a boat club that competes at national level. Or a boat club at all. So last Sunday, (10 March), we reached COEP just fifteen minutes before the events were to start. The stone bleachers were full and people were even crouched on the rocky river bank. We managed to find places to stand as the first events began. The sun was low in the sky and in the evening light, sleek sculls and kayaks and other boats (that I can't remember the names of, but were nevertheless, quite beautiful) streaked on the sedate, sparkling river. I was very much impressed by the synchronisation of guys in the two person kayak. The movement of their arms was pure poetry as they raced. Their movements were the epitome of grace. The theme of the evening was 'Women empowerment'. A noble and a pertine...

The first rain of the year. It's not quite surprising for the rain to drop in unexpectedly before the summer. As I write, the drops are pattering away steadily, the smell of the soil permeates the air and I long for things I know not.  I lean out of the window and the drops fall on me, rolling down my cheeks in a cool embrace of reassurance in the face of the oppressive heat of the day.  The wind is more playful and he lifts the white and red curtains of my window, and with him, he brings the dreams of the earth. The smell...I could keep inhaling the smell of the arid, parched soil cooled by the rain. There cannot be a more potent harbinger of optimism... The scent clings to my body and my hair and will come to me in my dreams and tell me, that after a long, hot day, the rain will come.

Sankranti is not supposed to be a 'good ' festival. Babies and newly married couples do not celebrate it as their first 'festival'. Instead, they wait for gudi padwa, the festival marking the beginning the new year of the hindu calendar. But for the rest, it is one of the most auspicious event of the year. It marks the transition of the sun into the northen hemisphere and is celebrated across India. The names differ, however. In the north, it is called Lohri, in Assam as Bihu, in Gujrat as Uttarayan, Himachal as Maagh Saaja etc. It is a festival of harvest and prayers. In some parts of Maharashtra, kites are flown. But the cinema has popularised it and now, kites are flown across the country. Black is worn and we exchange halwa (sesame seed coated with crystallised sugar), til wadis (cakes of jaggery and sesame seeds) and gul polis (jaggery-stuffed bread). I personally love gul-poli as no other. It is flat and slightly hard because of the jaggery inside. I slathe...

Being a woman is hard. Being an Indian woman is harder still. I am not a hardcore feminist who demands that 'history' is 'her story' too (which is etymologically incorrect) I am, however a person raised in a household that has a strong matriarchal sensitivity. I have been raised to give my opinion in matters that I find pertinent to me or close to my heart. Never have my parents shown preference for my brother over me or treated me with a callousness that stems out of indifference and ignorance. There have been times in my life when I have discovered that equality to be specious. As I grow up, I am supposed to take my place in the kitchen with my other cousins on family functions while my male relatives discuss cricket and politics while lounging on the sofa. My female relatives are highly qualified professionals, but still they have to cook, wash and clean after the others. This is tradition, they say. I refuse to accept this. We tilt the balance in favour of mal...