In dodo's head

I have always wanted to attend cultural events in Manipur. It saddens me so that I know almost nothing about my home-state and its very rich culture and heritage.  It was therefore no surprise to anyone that I jumped at the opportunity to attend the World Tourism day event at Andro. My mother was rather finicky about sending me to a music festival considering the fondness some Manipuris have for booze, and their inability to act civil after downing gallons of it. But the desperation I displayed paid off its dividend and finally with my father's stamp of approval (with the condition that I am accompanied by a hockey-team sized squad), I found myself sardine tin-packed in our car heading to Andro. Of course, the sheer size of the squad brought with it its own problems. The day was rather filled with a lot of waiting- for food, for people to get ready, for people to come out, etc. But none of it could dampen our spirits. The venue in itself was breathtaking; in the Santhe...

I hate confrontation of any kind. I dread that feeling of anger and resentment towards someone, and the ensuing yell-contests. I hate cold wars, and the awkwardness they bring. If I had my way, everybody would co-exist peacefully and amicably. After decades (two and a half to be precise) of being in the crossfire of wars, and sometimes being a warring party (an oxymoron!), I have come to the realization that the root cause of all these battles is ego. Damn Ego, causes rifts in the deepest of friendships. Ego is that little voice in your head that goes- Don't let her/him get her/his way, Make him/her feel the wrath of your anger, Let her/him realize his/her folly in bringing you down. That's the thing about ego- it convinces you in that moment, that this battle is essential for your whole existence; that you need to win this argument to live a happily ever after sort of a life. What is so hard about apologizing, of calling a truce? Why does Ego have to be such a stiff basta...

My mother is an impatient lady, never idle. Sunrise to sunset (when she is not in office), she keeps herself busy stitching, putting sequins on shawls and what not. And when she isn't drowning out the silence with the noise from her ancient sewing machine, she is found in the garden, tending the plants.

let's hide away, far from the hungry and the dead, who masquerade as innocuous humans, and suck dry the innocents, like you and me. pretension is my peeve, why must they, must they be chameleons, blending so in the background. why not reveal their ugly stripped selves, for the world to shudder and hurl them away, for the godforsaken parasites they are.