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Happy Dussera!

The last time I enjoyed dussera was more than 16 yrs back. We lived in Delhi back then. The days spanning the navratri to dussera till diwali spelled festivities, kanjak, colorful attire, sweets, firecrackers (and of course pollution). Diwalis especially used to be a nightmare for those allergic to smog (smoke+fog). This used to be the Ramayana review time. Every kindergartner knew that the good prevailed over evil! That Ravana had 10 heads, he had a  giant brother who was lucky enough to sleep as he liked and eat as he liked and who did both generously, were favourite part of the tales. (It took adulthood to realise that such tastes could be maintained only in mythologies) There used to be huge open grounds or parks (if they were properly maintained) which were the sites for ravana-dehen. People in hundreds and thousands would turn up by evening to see tall effigies of Raavan (and Kumbhkarana and Vibhishan) being burned. Dressed in mythological combat or sometimes, regal style  the
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Love At First Sight!

I never believed in love at first sight.  But knew would meet him some day. So when the age,  the stars and the need was all there I thought I will be prepared for the formalities. But when my mom, suddenly having realised that an emergency action needed to be taken as time was slipping away, actually said,  "It's time!", I could feel my heart throbbing. LOUDLY. How would he be.  Will he like me. How exactly will the first meeting be. My head was teeming with anticipation. It was with butterflies in my stomach that I was ushered in to the meeting place. His side was very particular about him and hence ensured that I was qualified and well groomed enough to be ready for him. After the initial formal info exchange and ensuring that I was 'clean' enough, I was led to the room where we were supposed to meet. He was already there. In pristine whites and a blue blazer. A sister introduced us. He had small but gorgeous black eyes and a serene face. Too fair. Scanty ha
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Being 'Sense'ible

There was a time when I would 'write' letters, 'create' cards, 'find and remember a place' based on the instructions I got from the locals and so on. It has been more than a decade since I actually 'wrote' a letter. And I can't remember the last time I dialed my friends' number to say a 'hi' (Should calling your best friend on their birthday count?) Well, when the apps are here why do we need to! "Absolutely!" - I'll say. There are umpteen things for which I, for one, have stopped using my hands or legs and senses and started depending more on the apps and the net. I just can't seem to ignore Google, for instance. They seem to have a billion apps for a million things. Ok... so that's exaggeration. But you get the point right. You don't talk/write/share/chat/travel/create/play/listen/blog/WHAT...EVER - You just  Google . I have actually seen sermon advertisements that read - "There are somethings that ev
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The Beginning

I love to write. Whether people understand it or not is a different matter. I got it clear long back. Like most kids in primary classes, I had an open mind. And a bizarre imagination. I would pour out all of this in the form of poems, complete with their rhymes and phrases. I would read and re-read my creativity back to myself and feel as an Oxford graduate everytime I completed a poem. I used to show my poetry to my family. Now you just don't deject a child, do you?! So there I was, all swelled up in pride whenever my folks would talk about my 'writing skills'. I was the next Shakespeare in the making. Or so I thought. And then there was the school magazine. I would feverishly write out my 'feelings' and submit to the editorial board. You can well imagine my disappointment, when each year, the book came albeit without my write-up. Now seriously!! How could they ignore such brilliance!! It was not until high school that my English teacher (carefully and) lovi
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