tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225584112024-03-19T08:41:19.213+05:30thoughts incorporatedoverturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.comBlogger108125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-16812663258160966052012-11-10T14:20:00.001+05:302012-11-10T14:20:46.552+05:30Small Joys<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The manic pace of a usual work day<br />
Paused<br />
By a sun lit window, coffee,eggs and mindless banter.<br />
Extended<br />
By sparkling wine and music<br />
<br />
My head, laced with a bit of liquid courage<br />
<br />
And suddenly<br />
The world seems a brighter place.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-45383401712692794412012-05-18T17:26:00.005+05:302012-05-18T17:26:57.179+05:30Chores<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There's a clock that has stopped telling me the correct time.<br />
There's a leaking faucet. <br />
Morning cup of tea, unwashed, unfinished.<br />
The laptops and wires are sprawled over the sofa. The electricity bill from day before, entangled in the mess.<br />
The bin liners are over.<br />
Stale news. The old newspapers are just piling up. <br />
<br />
Domesticated?<br />
Maybe.<br />
But,<br />
Today<br />
I won't play the part.<br />
<br />
That's why I won't move a finger.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-49714295062373148252012-03-27T23:02:00.000+05:302012-03-27T23:02:11.917+05:30My Summer Dirge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The Cannonball Tree outside my window is in full bloom. Its white and pink and yellow refuse to merge with and dissipate against the dreary darkness of the cityscape. They obstinately crowd my window and hide the black, tarred roads from my vision.<br />
<br />
It reminds me of similar windows from other times. A white window and yellow flowers with a black tarred road for the backdrop.<br />
<br />
There's something about black tarred roads that make me love and despise them at the same time. I don't think I would see the beauty of the pinks and yellows if it weren't for the black. But then again, I don't know.<br />
<br />
What I do know is that my city is summer struck again. It makes me feel and want to do all sorts of things. Every year.<br />
<br />
It makes me want to hop onto a train for a hot, breezy train ride to South Mumbai - to soak in the art deco buildings, to tread cobbled stone roads, to linger in the arches, to finger through moth eaten second hand books, to walk around aimlessly.<br />
<br />
It makes me feel cranky and whiny and impatient.<br />
<br />
It makes me want to quit my job.<br />
<br />
It makes me want to guzzle ice cold beer with a bunch of boisterous friends every other evening, to wash away that everlasting, lingering sense of ennui that overpowers me ever so often. Especially during summers.<br />
<br />
It makes me want to sit by the sea and cast away that part of me which is pessimistic, resentful and confused.<br />
<br />
It makes me feel impulsive and whimsical.<br />
<br />
It makes me find solace in pinks and whites and yellows, in black, sun dappled alleys tucked away in my city, in ancient banyan and jamun trees.... in open windows.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-34711215778935947092011-12-27T23:57:00.000+05:302011-12-27T23:57:32.805+05:30Fingers Crossed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Dakota Skye made me wonder about making choices again.<br />
Was I letting things happen to me? Or was I making things happen?<br />
Same thing whatever. <br />
<br />
Sometimes, it looks like a weed caught mid stream in a gush of strong currents.<br />
It sounds like wind howling through a scrawny forest<br />
It feels unnervingly, impatiently exciting, ridiculous, scary and right. All at once.<br />
It's possible.<br />
<br />
I might have found Happiness. Involuntarily blessed with something people spend their entire lives searching for.<br />
Lucky me.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-21812699438485166582011-12-20T00:26:00.000+05:302011-12-20T00:26:37.995+05:30Assurance - Reading between lines<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSBjPxRpc81rIYHA1oJaFpMcFOew1uL1oViMphTdyybXo7IcdJdljjVqlibv3fNpXDPy6WstWBDQy2fQsDprPvK0CoJmZ6SqEtTByd2lEFEHeNClUn-VmUzcBqhNBqtEUdmWOIQ/s1600/19122011629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSBjPxRpc81rIYHA1oJaFpMcFOew1uL1oViMphTdyybXo7IcdJdljjVqlibv3fNpXDPy6WstWBDQy2fQsDprPvK0CoJmZ6SqEtTByd2lEFEHeNClUn-VmUzcBqhNBqtEUdmWOIQ/s320/19122011629.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It's funny how I try to figure you by reading things you underline. </div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-68824372243063334082011-12-08T23:34:00.000+05:302011-12-08T23:34:50.927+05:30Check List<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">PS: What we forgot.<br />
<br />
Go to the dry cleaner's.<br />
Hunt for a home.<br />
Pick the right shade of red.<br />
Call the packers and movers.<br />
Sign an agreement.<br />
Rent a house.<br />
Lease a life.<br />
Call the packers and movers.<br />
Go to the printer's<br />
The dry cleaner's, the tailor's<br />
Figure routes.<br />
Book tickets.<br />
......................<br />
<br />
Fall in love?<br />
I'd like to.<br />
<i>Et tu?</i><br />
<br />
</div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-38326986488408298172011-12-06T20:19:00.000+05:302011-12-06T20:19:35.375+05:30There is beauty in the World, Ka-ching!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL3_FStU1ebbeMTjKZ2SXJcUx1XCvWKhfZNel9rAMjYUWX-eCRJ1GJ7jWwx4-sIu1KsfKaIopP-XIe2RQZ2ffeMg3E1c7NnE3vwnzULmrMI9bqMhyOFYJ8eXGhyphenhyphentrAZlfqqQzUTw/s1600/DSC02501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL3_FStU1ebbeMTjKZ2SXJcUx1XCvWKhfZNel9rAMjYUWX-eCRJ1GJ7jWwx4-sIu1KsfKaIopP-XIe2RQZ2ffeMg3E1c7NnE3vwnzULmrMI9bqMhyOFYJ8eXGhyphenhyphentrAZlfqqQzUTw/s320/DSC02501.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsxkfRKl2MtS2YNtFDVqtvfg5F6sj4MYITHB5rAdIER_iPB1bFJZrbv2VH0cW9Z_gKgCXpeSbOg0Y9tFy_VMjMLhJvP2RwJmRQYtjIyxXnrREwzbsohKWE0S646ynx8kldmOIYQ/s1600/DSC02669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsxkfRKl2MtS2YNtFDVqtvfg5F6sj4MYITHB5rAdIER_iPB1bFJZrbv2VH0cW9Z_gKgCXpeSbOg0Y9tFy_VMjMLhJvP2RwJmRQYtjIyxXnrREwzbsohKWE0S646ynx8kldmOIYQ/s320/DSC02669.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXApZ_2TehIu3Yu7_Mn8WcI61fzjW4MUSNOcGSn0T395jYHqHkGqFMqU8PY2o0lBlIYLOOwF6GbEAkLUUlOGtuOmZTPl3J7Wi9cBsvAhJrDgH8WQFOPDcwB26l8TDkV7UBYWLh1Q/s1600/DSC02495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXApZ_2TehIu3Yu7_Mn8WcI61fzjW4MUSNOcGSn0T395jYHqHkGqFMqU8PY2o0lBlIYLOOwF6GbEAkLUUlOGtuOmZTPl3J7Wi9cBsvAhJrDgH8WQFOPDcwB26l8TDkV7UBYWLh1Q/s320/DSC02495.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDB7oI9AwXUXXVW44vBbCp69O0GczDbGjVq4Ex_wImsG8PAuRMXqP8l-x6260wkmi0uv6wUZwoRe1LRhdt3D-As-E2Ab1qyhwp5QCwmSQbeaUfD3i60Abrp9eLnWIJ3kryXrzcw/s1600/DSC02503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDB7oI9AwXUXXVW44vBbCp69O0GczDbGjVq4Ex_wImsG8PAuRMXqP8l-x6260wkmi0uv6wUZwoRe1LRhdt3D-As-E2Ab1qyhwp5QCwmSQbeaUfD3i60Abrp9eLnWIJ3kryXrzcw/s320/DSC02503.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSMXm3_G8zBq7OOzjxbsMNUXk-hL6s0AghG78uFwNzm1q2O68_1VsGXxVYZywWttAFBJFLFNtuAfJUAiGVStPkQwlhP8u2rLGunRYvKkw8fkPcYXP9iBoEcNtGfuTkIipdXi9XQ/s1600/DSC02544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSMXm3_G8zBq7OOzjxbsMNUXk-hL6s0AghG78uFwNzm1q2O68_1VsGXxVYZywWttAFBJFLFNtuAfJUAiGVStPkQwlhP8u2rLGunRYvKkw8fkPcYXP9iBoEcNtGfuTkIipdXi9XQ/s320/DSC02544.JPG" width="180" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwl6csLTnDidT4ZI5p3fGu63Q8CzKl499brVyD38pUnkA0LPXn6wru4zUl9EbOYYeDewYIRYg0iEwZdh8jSQE_eFjuxWqfQEIHPnJS0tPjrLhQfaCD8s66g18DUzMu8A_d2NFHng/s1600/DSC02555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwl6csLTnDidT4ZI5p3fGu63Q8CzKl499brVyD38pUnkA0LPXn6wru4zUl9EbOYYeDewYIRYg0iEwZdh8jSQE_eFjuxWqfQEIHPnJS0tPjrLhQfaCD8s66g18DUzMu8A_d2NFHng/s400/DSC02555.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Rural Maharashtra.<br />
October 2011</div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-44366789160705994942011-11-24T00:41:00.001+05:302011-11-24T00:42:42.682+05:30The Exchange<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Minutes slip. They slide into moments. Moments collide. Seconds spill over. Time reels out of hand.<br />
I gasp for breath.<br />
<br />
I don't know why I'm breathing any longer. A part of my soul I have already traded.<br />
<br />
Some for your sake, some for yours<br />
Some for his<br />
Some for its<br />
And some for ours.<br />
<br />
Was it a good deal?<br />
<br />
Don't tell me,<br />
It was rhetorical.<br />
<br />
For excuse me!<br />
I'm the one<br />
With no<br />
rhetorical sense.<br />
<br />
</div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-32816637817247133452011-09-26T19:59:00.000+05:302011-09-26T19:59:40.358+05:30Wisdom for the Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Smile on a Monday morning, because who knows, by the end of the evening you'll be frowning again.<br />
<br />
Do not call a spade, a spade.<br />
<br />
Mundane conversations with strangers are better than arguments with your mother.<br />
<br />
No matter how much you decide you won't let something bother you, it will bother you.<br />
<br />
Ignorance is bliss, only for a while.<br />
<br />
It all adds up...and the answer is never 42.<br />
<br />
It takes more than a happy-songs playlist to put the spring back in your step.<br />
<br />
Hopeless as we are, we always peg our hope on Hope.<br />
<br />
Give me Hope, Joanna!<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-70920852923786938772011-09-25T23:07:00.001+05:302011-09-25T23:07:23.996+05:30I miss<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Driving down roads - crowded or otherwise</li>
<li>Watching countless episodes of a sitcom - back to back</li>
<li>Polishing my silver earrings and bangles</li>
<li>Painting my toe nails</li>
<li>Laughing with my folks</li>
<li>Scanning the piles of books in the pavement shops till the book beckons and finds me</li>
<li>Pink colored bubble gum that came in a pink and blue wrapper. Before Boomer. </li>
<li>Shopping for saris for mom</li>
<li>Drama - in all forms and sizes </li>
<li>Listening to my grandmom's stories</li>
<li>Attending random film fests in the city</li>
<li>The insanity of my hostel days</li>
<li>Not having friends around me all the time</li>
<li>The magic of comforting conversations </li>
<li>Writing, simply.( I seem to resort to boring lists very often these days) </li>
<li>Having time to think, make up, wonder</li>
<li>Talking to you, you, you and you!</li>
<li>The woods</li>
<li>Hmm...appreciation.</li>
<li>Playing hot hands</li>
<li>Reading poetry</li>
<li>Eating out, travelling, eating out, travelling. </li>
<li>Looking at the moon.</li>
</ul>
<div>
Gosh. It's plain and clear, a six day work week is injurious to health. </div>
</div>
</div>
overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-12159839771751099662011-09-25T16:09:00.000+05:302011-09-25T16:09:17.223+05:30All in a day's work<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>7.30 a.m. Text Received.</b><br />
"Anther dull, grey, smog filled morning. How far?"<br />
" 10 mins away, but half hour of traffic piled up in front of me. How 'bout a sunny side up with some hash browns?"<br />
" Wt! Why remind me of hash browns n coffee n town when you and I are caught in traffic snarls en route to work?"<br />
" Letssss go!"<br />
"Pch. Duty calls. Let's bunk a working day next week for a scrumptious morning meal."<br />
" Deal. I can't bunk Mon, Wed, Fri absolutely. You?"<br />
"Not Tues, Thurs, Fri.Absolutely NOT"<br />
"Wt the ...!"<br />
"See you in ten. Not the hash browns for another week."<br />
<br />
********************************************************<br />
<b>5.20 p.m. Tired, fed up, craving coffee and hash browns.</b><br />
<br />
Day 3. Consecutive Meeting no. 3. At the same spot.<br />
(I Flash a smile 'coz I'm a nice person and oh-so-bored)<br />
<br />
(Familiarity could breed friends.And of course it does.)<br />
" Hi!"<br />
"Hey!"<br />
"Late today?"<br />
"Yeah a bit."<br />
"No bus?"<br />
" Not in the last ten minutes."<br />
"Oh!"<br />
(hesitant silence)<br />
"What's your name by the way?"<br />
"Jennifer. And you?"<br />
(incoherent mumble)<br />
"Sorry?"<br />
(a phonic jumble)<br />
(Very apologetically)"How do you spell it?"<br />
"S-h-r-u-g-a-l"<br />
"Ah! Very unusual. What does it mean?"<br />
"It's MY god's name. "<br />
"Oh. Nice."<br />
And the bus arrives. S-h-r-u-g-a-l offers me a seat but no more talk.<br />
Probably 'coz I didn't have a god for my namesake.<br />
But I thank him and his namesake for the seat :-)<br />
<br />
****************************************************************<br />
<b>8.00 p.m. En route to the local grocer. Pavement.</b><br />
<br />
Day 2 after a random, brief walk under the umbrella over 2 months ago.<br />
<br />
(Again, I smile 'coz I'm a nice person and I'd forgotten familiarity breeds friends.)<br />
<br />
"Hiiiiii!"<br />
"Hey."<br />
"Should I call you didi or aunty?"<br />
" Neither, Jennifer. Did you reach school in time for your basket ball practice?"<br />
"Not Basket ball. TT!! Thanks for letting me walk with you that day.<br />
"No problem! Which grade are you in by the way?"<br />
"9th. Don't you stay in Silver Arch?"<br />
"No I don't."<br />
"Can I have your number? I promise I won't give it to anyone.<br />
(puzzled) "Hahaha...but why do you want my number?"<br />
"Arre give na. Ok, you don't want to give? Ok you store mine. Here.And my name is Nikita."<br />
(I feel bad) "Do one thing, I'll give you mine. And you give me a missed call, I'll save it."<br />
"Ok!! Great! I'll add you on FB ha."<br />
<br />
Reason no 36286352 why i like my city - It's as easy to pick up and drop a conversation with strangers as with friends.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-91283517839601975202011-08-28T22:41:00.000+05:302011-08-28T22:41:43.164+05:30For no apparent reason<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I have no idea how this is going to write itself out. I don't have the volition to control it. I feel loop-y, i.e. like I'm in a loop. No, it's not a real word. But then, neither is zoot.<br />
<br />
Random. Now that is a real word.<br />
<br />
<b>Random.</b> [<b>ran</b>-duh'm]<br />
a<i>djective. </i><br />
proceeding, made or occurring without aim, reason or pattern: This is a random post.<br />
<br />
of or characterizing a process of selection in which each item of a set has an equal probability of being chosen: I follow random selection to pick a channel to watch the rubbish on TV.<br />
<br />
unknown, unidentified or out of place: I'd like to be the random person who smiles at you in a crowd.<br />
<br />
odd and unpredictable in an amusing way: My mean cat is usually out to scratch or bite me, but today, as I type this out, he snuggles into my lap. My cat is so random.<br />
<br />
The randomness of being.<br />
<br />
I plonk him on the couch.<br />
<br />
I'd like to be utterly, absolutely, randomly random.<br />
Some say I am.<br />
<br />
It makes life more bearable.<br />
For you and for me.<br />
<br />
And my mean cat is back on my lap. May be, for him, the couch is unbearable. It smells of its previous occupant. A very smelly dog, who is now on the mean cat's rug.<br />
<br />
Life is very random.<br />
Check.<br />
<br />
:)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-68657379468864965382011-07-31T15:43:00.000+05:302011-07-31T15:43:13.105+05:30Note to Self.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Happiness.<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Watching rain drops slide down the huge bus windows forming a transparent veil. They veil me from the traffic clogged roads and make me smile despite everything</li>
<li>The phone buzzing, unexpectedly, the night I can't fall asleep</li>
<li>The smell of sugary, hot <i>adraki chai </i>coming to a boil as I await my ride back home. The chai cascading from one tumbler into another, the chaiwala never missing a beat</li>
<li>An old movie ticket</li>
<li>My cute,fat sausage roll of a dog greeting me good morning with a effusive wag as I roll out of bed</li>
<li>Beatles early in the morning!</li>
<li>Zipping down NH4, wind in hair, song on lips</li>
<li>My book shelf!</li>
<li>The oh-so-lovely aroma of strong filter coffee as my bus swerves past Madras Cafe at King's Circle</li>
<li>The unpredictability of songs on radio, AIR!</li>
<li>Match boxes</li>
<li>Red on my toes</li>
<li>A scrumptious meal with my family</li>
<li> Paycheck!</li>
<li>A smile from a stranger</li>
<li>Having a conversation about nothing as I watch the rain soak the city from my favorite table at Cafe Mondegar. And of course the Juke churns a retro every other minute.Bliss.</li>
<li>Silver.Shoes.Earrings.Bangles.Rings.</li>
<li>Doggy-poggy. Pudding and Pie.</li>
</ul><div>Happiness. It's many things. </div></div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-53423475873065509772011-04-28T21:06:00.000+05:302011-04-28T21:06:28.805+05:30What we could do too<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><u><b><i>Forgetting Something </i></b></u><br />
Try this—close / your eyes. No, wait, when—if—we see each other / again the first thing we should do is close our eyes—no, / first we should tie our hands to something / solid—bedpost, doorknob—otherwise they (wild birds) / might startle us / awake. Are we forgetting something? What about that / warehouse, the one beside the airport, that room / of black boxes, a man in each box? I hear / if you bring this one into the light he will not stop / crying, if you show this one a photo of his son / his eyes go dead. Turn up / the heat, turn up the song. First thing we should do / if we see each other again is to make / a cage of our bodies—inside we can place / whatever still shines.<br />
<b> - Nick Flynn</b><br />
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</div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-84604833146423009222011-04-24T13:45:00.000+05:302011-04-24T13:45:37.883+05:30A Mood Swing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
You'd blame it on the weather.<br />
The dust, the heat, the noise, the brown.<br />
<br />
I'd blame it on you.<br />
<br />
A sense of doom.<br />
Nervous anxiety?<br />
Lethargy?<br />
<br />
I want a book.<br />
A good book may wash it all away.<br />
The grime, the boredom, the inanity of a day. <br />
<br />
Something that makes me forget.<br />
<br />
I want a book which would remind me of yellow summers, not brown ones.<br />
Of black roads smeared with tiny, pretty, yellow flowers.<br />
Of huge trees dressed up in fiery, orange Flames of the forest.<br />
Of the sweet smell of mangoes mixed with a tinge of orange. <br />
A dash of cologne and a whiff of nicotine.<br />
Idle banter and insolent laughter.<br />
Match boxes and photographs.<br />
Bus stops and ferry rides.<br />
Cheer. <br />
<br />
What's it going to be then, eh?<br />
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</div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-67677750855763473502011-04-22T22:26:00.001+05:302011-04-26T22:59:55.993+05:30Food-iee<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK41sLzc3r4j2kItkhF5s_3o5HUlUGrTMuMm-EStOfUauHWMuzs4HoG3_1IK3xi94AGP-ClXI6HfV1TgsvHsdMasthtq9a5-DAdgU-B3iEkd55eZCNu1ckHydDptEpZgrQc71QSg/s1600/DSC01949.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK41sLzc3r4j2kItkhF5s_3o5HUlUGrTMuMm-EStOfUauHWMuzs4HoG3_1IK3xi94AGP-ClXI6HfV1TgsvHsdMasthtq9a5-DAdgU-B3iEkd55eZCNu1ckHydDptEpZgrQc71QSg/s320/DSC01949.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnd3pmUE2PBsdA-BQ7t6rndVVLTzU3QiiN3WvqLTU3HAcR479w_xW-732JXifclNya_n2c0kL02GRts4g-o2nndPD9sDFymHc_t9n2hMRwBb_4Ia_8XBmPINxe2L1K-ADbGRC1kw/s1600/DSC01975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnd3pmUE2PBsdA-BQ7t6rndVVLTzU3QiiN3WvqLTU3HAcR479w_xW-732JXifclNya_n2c0kL02GRts4g-o2nndPD9sDFymHc_t9n2hMRwBb_4Ia_8XBmPINxe2L1K-ADbGRC1kw/s320/DSC01975.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFCnVhB7o6dIBwbiCD3fKrbKECrJahrrXcmmw1S-SNzJ2Zgd5POTWQXeI8vNSDI-oWO_vaSKvPJHjHqNmBXtWIupbdEJt7CnupcKm_MGIv7y3Y5WlwZAWxlcHWLMPCbUNmIuV0sA/s1600/DSC01958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFCnVhB7o6dIBwbiCD3fKrbKECrJahrrXcmmw1S-SNzJ2Zgd5POTWQXeI8vNSDI-oWO_vaSKvPJHjHqNmBXtWIupbdEJt7CnupcKm_MGIv7y3Y5WlwZAWxlcHWLMPCbUNmIuV0sA/s320/DSC01958.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I warned you about my sweet tooth!</div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-29704599335960391552011-04-10T00:06:00.000+05:302011-04-10T00:06:28.025+05:30What songs do.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">You had this on shuffle!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmaWtHiK2bgygnz-Oxox2UsfH36oyit4DpAM1NHyubh8vvE56KhiHorP0dEU54kdrZi5QOmxYxeCAy1UOHN0w92mUrqQt0QmslJzGi4gt8dSYNEUiI1IzVgnR-T3Enr-m8M9s3UA/s1600/sub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmaWtHiK2bgygnz-Oxox2UsfH36oyit4DpAM1NHyubh8vvE56KhiHorP0dEU54kdrZi5QOmxYxeCAy1UOHN0w92mUrqQt0QmslJzGi4gt8dSYNEUiI1IzVgnR-T3Enr-m8M9s3UA/s320/sub.jpg" width="315" /></a></div>As we live our life of ease<br />
Everyone of us has all we need.<br />
<br />
If I could play you a song, it would be by -<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO-GBDQlY6PbTuvw1Ov10nIAxAgcVGnIKvEJ4yQn5mG5PQjtyd8u5Wa7kyi5QGlhX_TIPTE4AzEMVGOCb_ZJaXLZ1C9Gg-scG3lHJHj4QKKxVX2ZJGsRZ6HMJwBCPWUztOvHvRkw/s1600/The+Mamas+%2526+The+Papas+-+California+Dreamin%2527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO-GBDQlY6PbTuvw1Ov10nIAxAgcVGnIKvEJ4yQn5mG5PQjtyd8u5Wa7kyi5QGlhX_TIPTE4AzEMVGOCb_ZJaXLZ1C9Gg-scG3lHJHj4QKKxVX2ZJGsRZ6HMJwBCPWUztOvHvRkw/s1600/The+Mamas+%2526+The+Papas+-+California+Dreamin%2527.jpg" /></a></div><i> So Happy Together </i><br />
<br />
In our yellow submarine.<br />
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Sky of blue and sea of green.<br />
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:-)<br />
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</div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-51147868322698544372011-03-08T23:12:00.000+05:302011-03-08T23:12:06.486+05:30Of this and that<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhNi7b7hn0dIwodKram8g8hyphenhyphenNCrn03rdSYctbglkVmusG_9Zt5gBjnK0QtwFFvFCLF5rDwZKiLAVsZgSCAkCyi96y9otlh2aKG5QC1oVongyXcHwMS5H7VIDWwaUmWEHGPgQUR5w/s1600/bright.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhNi7b7hn0dIwodKram8g8hyphenhyphenNCrn03rdSYctbglkVmusG_9Zt5gBjnK0QtwFFvFCLF5rDwZKiLAVsZgSCAkCyi96y9otlh2aKG5QC1oVongyXcHwMS5H7VIDWwaUmWEHGPgQUR5w/s320/bright.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> There are some things I think I will never be able to let go of. One of them is the memory of this shade of sun kissed green.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqozN1Totpcobqb315wnGFIwhvgJXqpohA95iI_tnBR20n0PfHl-DFkH_h8mN_tqLUFb9GaHnqQ4FqcG_iWFnFi7jEPz2MP1VfoPchqathorLyNJyq-xEyq7okE24KtHtgWAXm4A/s1600/DSC02125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqozN1Totpcobqb315wnGFIwhvgJXqpohA95iI_tnBR20n0PfHl-DFkH_h8mN_tqLUFb9GaHnqQ4FqcG_iWFnFi7jEPz2MP1VfoPchqathorLyNJyq-xEyq7okE24KtHtgWAXm4A/s320/DSC02125.JPG" width="180" /></a></div><br />
It stood by the road silently, watching the world go by. Its only friends, the corrugated tin walls and the parched earth. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZRmOiXbFlZU6DZWPXl3SpQ9n9a_-tnHaxOz5Q7JlQ4jf9w7loMtS4OOwy-9uM51JcvLpHHTnLWkglxjKsHFCdgneeuNW4qi6_a0mW0LJMnXXEj_5dYFlRvDPh9LyjWuOcQUEsg/s1600/bright2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZRmOiXbFlZU6DZWPXl3SpQ9n9a_-tnHaxOz5Q7JlQ4jf9w7loMtS4OOwy-9uM51JcvLpHHTnLWkglxjKsHFCdgneeuNW4qi6_a0mW0LJMnXXEj_5dYFlRvDPh9LyjWuOcQUEsg/s320/bright2.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br />
And my fascination with trees continues. This one - "Droop dead gorgeous"<br />
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:-)<br />
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</div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-90651718757268954612011-01-15T23:42:00.000+05:302011-01-15T23:42:57.400+05:30Changing the Situation, againDee tells me the rain is my muse. She must be right. I have barely written since the last errant cloud floated out of city limits. They've left the skies a deep shade of blue. It's the shade of blue which reminds me of cold mornings a few years ago, when I'd roll out of bed and walk into a class on Modernist poetry. It remained the same shade of blue when we broke for coffee an hour and a half later. It turned a tone darker when the class finally wrapped up after musing on the "throwness" of our existence. Later we mostly ambled back to our rooms to catch up on lost sleep. Other times we tried to smoke away the throwness of our lives, ashing it in a cheap plastic container. Non-recyclable.<br />
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It's strange that the blue should bring back these memories now. Or is it the unfamiliar nip in the city air, which lately greets me with a known familiarity? I don't know. Funny that I thought I'd stubbed it all out.<br />
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<br />
Anyway, I've realized, jumping up n down doesn't shake the earth off its axis nor does it help change the situation. What changes is the city temperature and the hue of the sky and with it, my situation.Sometimes, plain dreaming helps change the situation.<br />
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Try it!overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-86105724868698221402010-11-05T13:31:00.001+05:302010-11-05T13:36:42.241+05:30KelvaAs much as I hate to love the madness and drudgery of Mumbai, I love to speed out of city limits and peer at it from far away. I like seeing the blue of the sky, uninterrupted by upward scrambling skyscrapers. I like watching cattle amble through fields and people bustle through the weekly market. I like seeing the car lap up black, tarry kilometers as I try to pocket and preserve the green, the blue and the brown.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUThcBCfy9S2kXGM3frE-kkYqhxJ9xyBw5HxCzAlh9HS6GG-oMtD7H37qJkvn_2Ybc1PFz-lDxpoN4LZYCfZjN1SP9EW2zIGZVNEn4aDPvcq1CjhBLrhEIwxcy2FPJvIzzGWSZHg/s1600/DSC01428.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUThcBCfy9S2kXGM3frE-kkYqhxJ9xyBw5HxCzAlh9HS6GG-oMtD7H37qJkvn_2Ybc1PFz-lDxpoN4LZYCfZjN1SP9EW2zIGZVNEn4aDPvcq1CjhBLrhEIwxcy2FPJvIzzGWSZHg/s320/DSC01428.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The drive from Mumbai to Kelva Beach is rather long (120kms), but pleasant. Getting onto NH 8 from Thane is quick and smooth in the early morning. The roads are good, but trucks and lorries of all shapes and sizes lord the roads even at this hour. Hues of gray, brown and blue dominate a major leg of the journey. There is little buzz on either side of the Highway. The concrete stares back at you squarely until you turn right at Manor Naka.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHmB5DpwPzK-gcXzTIGkUzJenvBmj8cg1lxR-HyeBPwTDg3gUK35GG2L-NoDOB1p7DI4T2Vp_PK9u9IumAbrrnzef0isf6aSCOKMTU6h4RYuMlFrzjd0R2QVgBB-fMhVRqSTZdcA/s1600/DSC01525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHmB5DpwPzK-gcXzTIGkUzJenvBmj8cg1lxR-HyeBPwTDg3gUK35GG2L-NoDOB1p7DI4T2Vp_PK9u9IumAbrrnzef0isf6aSCOKMTU6h4RYuMlFrzjd0R2QVgBB-fMhVRqSTZdcA/s320/DSC01525.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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The landscape magically changes. Concrete gives way to an expanse of fields and greenery and a faint smell of the sea.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuT1o71koUBKPFLXPnzm9QI_nTdegT0M93fgNoBF_u_HvYfTTF85zLnUgy4XBUUSqs_NTE8KXxw2cDbH3rjtETS_eW3puNaWCswz8oqohO93Q42VY4mSm2u3naDUL2kIR1FRDWVw/s1600/DSC01529.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuT1o71koUBKPFLXPnzm9QI_nTdegT0M93fgNoBF_u_HvYfTTF85zLnUgy4XBUUSqs_NTE8KXxw2cDbH3rjtETS_eW3puNaWCswz8oqohO93Q42VY4mSm2u3naDUL2kIR1FRDWVw/s320/DSC01529.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The four lane highway and the rumbling traffic is left behind. A lazier and prettier stretch, lined with trees yawned ahead, in front of us.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtoYJuNwRmyuLLW2IjymQGcnuYZ6mzgcp_nH4E8d_kK18uUcvR91qcXqJtSEflcZN_EsbKYPHAQJ3c9ZyADUBYxUmdEUIInX22E5VHv0OFcm4AB1P_XOVRi2f6h7-cD8sTtoXBJA/s1600/DSC01528.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtoYJuNwRmyuLLW2IjymQGcnuYZ6mzgcp_nH4E8d_kK18uUcvR91qcXqJtSEflcZN_EsbKYPHAQJ3c9ZyADUBYxUmdEUIInX22E5VHv0OFcm4AB1P_XOVRi2f6h7-cD8sTtoXBJA/s320/DSC01528.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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We finally reach a sleepy village which is Kelwe (in Marathi). The locals seem to be used to see cars revving down their narrow roads. <i>Vada pav</i> and <i>Chai</i> shops dot the roads at corners. Some new ones seemed to have sprouted recently to sell the Diwali goodies. We see colorful roadside carts selling <i>diyas, rangoli</i>, lanterns and crackers. The village houses carry no garish traces of glitter and other luminous monstrosities as their urban counterparts.<br />
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Our car trundles down a very narrow, rough patch and we enter what is called 'Kelva Beach Resort.'<br />
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There is nothing good about this resort. Except may be a little bit of aesthetic sense here and there.<br />
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The final destination, the beach, sadly too is a let down. There is something distant and unfriendly about the sea here....and the sand doesn't sparkle.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqJtjVWEW0y3BobVhlQxf4YgZkRmJA8DEIU0GuGl1_1ZHXkMR_j0iY2cX1u8bjZsdzZuE2RJvuJW5JWY5rUBwaj9Q7uQg33rJMNVkpZ_dzmOi5zlLfAucT5X8FDA1I6To3z9Y5xQ/s1600/DSC01457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqJtjVWEW0y3BobVhlQxf4YgZkRmJA8DEIU0GuGl1_1ZHXkMR_j0iY2cX1u8bjZsdzZuE2RJvuJW5JWY5rUBwaj9Q7uQg33rJMNVkpZ_dzmOi5zlLfAucT5X8FDA1I6To3z9Y5xQ/s320/DSC01457.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZKZ0e_Jx4dMHjrBsw_aamtUcY7bawfZ-z4pdwOOZOlNmh1IACckGtusPZke-AvwEL5H9sjDu_ByrZsZV13EozzW0nEEZzR5vsmM4dARkBoEFGbbxZ9rjQbZxzl0RVTx2n0WF-g/s1600/DSC01453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZKZ0e_Jx4dMHjrBsw_aamtUcY7bawfZ-z4pdwOOZOlNmh1IACckGtusPZke-AvwEL5H9sjDu_ByrZsZV13EozzW0nEEZzR5vsmM4dARkBoEFGbbxZ9rjQbZxzl0RVTx2n0WF-g/s320/DSC01453.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>For what it's worth, it was worth all the while. The best thing about the Kelva is definitely the drive and the sights en-route.overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-69137246243128482662010-11-02T23:05:00.001+05:302010-11-05T10:11:09.138+05:30Published!I believe I'm modest. Quite so.<br />
<br />
But I'm taking this <i>one</i> opportunity to be a little immodest.<br />
For shameless self publicity. <br />
<br />
(Yes, I can already see some of you out there gawk at my first statement! Hold your tongue!!)<br />
<br />
Sharing a link to an article that I wrote, which got published as a cover story in an Indian magazine on School education in India.<br />
http://www.teacherplus.org/cover-story/thinking-about-teach-for-india<br />
<br />
Happiness mingled with a small sense of achievement.<br />
Bliss.overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-23925365567986467082010-09-15T22:34:00.002+05:302010-09-15T22:37:56.423+05:30Writer's block<div style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;">"...The school is in a village called Bigha in Burdwan, standing amidst rice fields. It used to be in mud huts earlier. Since after every monsoon half the school would melt away, it has now been built with only bricks, painted red with lush green rice fields all around the school. It is so green even inside the school. When I was walking around the premise, I saw each tree had one name hanging from its branches (there are over a hundred trees within the premise). I asked some children... they said, the names are of children who are in charge of that tree... every child looks after one tree respectively. How wonderful no? </div><div style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;">The classes r hexagonal in shape, no furniture, only wooden planks on 5 sides, elevated by two bricks, where children keep their books and TLMs. I attended one class, where EVS, English and Bangla were taught together. I was so fascinated! </div><div style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;">And the funnest thing was... an old old van pulled by a motorbike has been converted into a library, literally! Is it any wonder why most children there are so fond of the library n reading?! You may be thinking there is a lot of money involved in all this. I was so surprised to hear and then when I saw I understood... there's minimal expenditure to run the school. I've been wanting to go and stay there for some time... may be sometime next month.[...]"</div><div style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;"><i>This, from my reluctant friend who claims she cannot "write". Sorry I took the liberty to put it up here, I had a point to make.</i></div><div style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;"><i>Yes, you can!!</i></div><div style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;"><i> :P</i></div>overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-71955568256881928312010-09-13T22:09:00.000+05:302010-09-13T22:09:42.615+05:30Changing the SituationWould incessant jumping help shake the earth off its axis?<br />
Would it? <br />
I wish it would...!!overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-14398692051048992312010-08-31T23:42:00.002+05:302010-08-31T23:45:06.289+05:30No SunlightI wake up at 6 a.m.to yet another gray morning.<br />
An hour later I hobble towards the rickshaw stand.<br />
Below the overcast sky, everything wears a brooding look.<br />
Or is it menacing? <br />
... <br />
<br />
There is not a rickshaw in sight.<br />
... <br />
May be, it was menacing.<br />
... <br />
Half an hour later, I am seven minutes late for my usual 7:48 CST local.<br />
The bloody F-O-B is throbbing with bodies.<br />
Bodies, bags,umbrellas,fish,vegetable, beggars,peddlers,TCs.<br />
...<br />
It could have been menacing.<br />
... <br />
I'm still on the bloody F-O-B as the 7:54 CST local pulls into the station.<br />
The sea of bodies suddenly gathers more momentum.<br />
Bags jostle against backs, baskets drip over heads, peddlers elbow beggars.<br />
Someone trips over my long, black umbrella.<br />
<i>Aye Maddamm! Dikhta nahi hai kya?</i><br />
<i>...</i><br />
<i> </i>It was definitely menacing!<br />
... <br />
Push,pull,nudge,jump.<br />
Miraculously I'm on board the very crowded 7:54 just as it begins to pull out of the station.<br />
...<br />
We hang on to the edge of the bars, like leaves on a bough. <br />
As rain and wind lash us, soaking every possible thing exposed to it, <br />
Co-foot board traveller1, "<i>Umbrella hatao</i>, my raincoat is getting wet."<br />
Co-foot board traveller 2, standing beside traveller 1,<br />
"Pressure <i>mat dalo</i>, you want to push me out of the train <i>kya</i>?<br />
...<br />
Forty five minutes later, I've survived another breezy foot board journey.<br />
I waddle through mucky water strewn with rotting leaves and paper and plastic<br />
The 8:35a.m. bus no.167 is just limping out of the depot.<br />
Gone.<br />
The black clouds have burst open once more, with more vengeance. <br />
...<br />
God! It's so menacing!!<br />
...<br />
Seven hours later, again on the foot board,<br />
Soggy and damp, disheveled and worn out,<br />
I muse about crossing over, switching sides, changing jobs,<br />
About chauffeur driven cars, high heels, expensive cotton,<br />
And the sun.<br />
When will it be out again?overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22558411.post-60843788542485105652010-08-01T20:02:00.000+05:302010-08-01T20:02:22.091+05:30At the Bus stopHer face crumpled into a grimace as she skirted the last of the mucky puddles and reached the bus stand.Despite her best efforts, she noticed, her foot was studded with fine brown dots of muck.A fine wind had been blowing since the morning and it had played truant with her hair. Holding on to her umbrella and her printed cotton <i>duppatta,</i> she stood in queue, waiting for the bus.Idly, she went over her day so far.She had skipped breakfast, missed her usual train and was late yet again for work. But seeing the people and places around, always comforted her. She amused herself with inconsequential details. <br />
<br />
Her walk from the railway station to the bus stand was delightfully amusing.It was lined with distinct sights and smells. The earthy smell of wet mud fused into the smell of the fat man's Navy Cut smoke, which mingled with the aroma of steamy, crisp <i>vada pav</i>, which finally merged into the fumes of the taxis in the taxi stand. Then there was the bovine cow, just at the steps of the foot over bridge. It was always there, ruminating on cud while commuters hustled past it, making a pit stop only to touch it for a moment and seek its blessings before the lugubrious work day started. <br />
<br />
There were many more. But today something else amused her.She quizzically looked around as she heard a Bollywood song playing somewhere in the background. She thought she saw a pair of roving eyes staring at her, from behind a tattered curtain. She had often noticed this shop, but had never cared to look inside. The curtain always religiously veiled the doorway and she had never stood long enough at the bus stand to watch anyone emerge out of the shadows of the room. She tried to catch a glimpse of the interiors, as the curtain slowly moved in the breeze.<br />
<br />
Intrigued, she looked skyward. The name board, was a modest work of art. A huge red rose stood between two words, also splashed in red, against a dull white backdrop - "Red Rose." Scrawled in the subscript was "<i>Deshi Daaru</i> Bar." Suddenly a man darted out from the shadows. He was beaming at her, as he walked past the queue at the bus stand and disappeared into the mass of moving bodies on the road. <br />
<br />
She smiled to herself as she got on to the 8:20am bus. There was always a new reason to smile in the city.overturned blue shoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969127567334031971noreply@blogger.com4