In dodo's head

*White Noise* *Documentary a la Discovery Channel style begins* Though the species have evolved over decades, and have to an extent learned to create a killer concoction of odours which include some perpetually-on-sale-deodorants, they have still not learned to use the necessities provided by well wishing brands to the best of the other kind's advantage. And so, both kinds live on, very much aware of the other's existence (unfortunately), separated by the black and white line of good odour and bad odour. Most of the smelly kind look on, longingly to the Fragrant for they can never understand how the latter could have mastered the use of Water and soap to remain bearable to those who co-exist in their habitat. Some of the Smellies, however, ignorant beings that they are, remain unaware of the living hazards their existence poses on their neighbours and unfortunate near-and-dears. *Shot cuts to the other side of the concrete jungle- where people bathe under water falls ...

And you make my battles yours, For that there's gratitude. But when you make it all you, you, you, And leave me no control, When you hog over the remote control of my life, And dictate the terms and conditions, There's a rebellion in my very soul's existence. Stifled, A feeling of Claustrophobia taking over, Breathing space, there's none. There's a fear within, The world will swoop past, While I am still bound by the chains of my sustenance.

From the moment my father handed me that first book which I hungrily demolished in a matter of days, it has been a dream, to study amidst its dreamy spires and brush shoulders with its legendary figures. Visiting King's Cross and the highlands of Scotland only served to cement my decision further. No prizes for guessing the Institute of Interest then. Attending a mundane university with the rest of the muggles holds no promise or excitement for someone like me, who is convinced that it is in the magical school of Hogwarts where I belong. Over the years, with each book of the series devoured, I have admired afar the interesting curriculum offered at Hogwarts. The sheer variety of interesting subjects offered is reason enough for me to pack my bags and zip my way through to Platform 9 3/4 and board the next Hogwarts Express to Hogwarts. Astronomy, Dark Arts, Flying, Potions, Transfiguration and Charms are so much more indispensable to human existence than the ubiquitous Biolo...

Being an active element in the social media world of tweets and facebook and all that has meant constantly bumping into constant debates about right, wrong, acceptable and not acceptable. The recent one being the 'Oh lord, Hollywood celebs are wearing the bindis. Tsk tsk how dare they.. so offensive' debacle.  Maybe it's because of the assimilated background that I grew up in, the exposure I got from coming in contact with diverse people, but I fail to understand what the big debate is about.. The bindi, in its traditional form, as far as I know, is limited to the red dot kind, signifying marriage and thus being strictly a Hindu custom. But when the decorative forms have been used by people of all walks of life, all religions even in India,  what is the big deal in people of other countries doing so? Isnt it a form of appreciation towards our rich culture and heritage? Cultural appropriation they say? This particular paragraph in a blog post on the issue got me sayin...

A dream so vivid, Waking up with tear stained eyes. My grandfather, or Kachou as I called him, Looking on from the front seat of a Gypsy. Having been paralysed for a long time, His last years on earth had been spent on the front verandah, Looking on like the stoic leader that he was, over the affairs of the house. There was something surreal in seeing his familiar face, So close by that I could almost reach out and touch. Filling me with regret of the lost opportunities, Oh how I wish I had spent more time, Learning about the grandfather I loved so much. For now, all that are left are a handful of old photographs, Strewn in photo albums around the house. No longer can I can be in the company of, The old man who loved avocados and watching BBC. Like any other person on earth, as a father and husband, He had several shortcomings. But flawless he was, as my grandfather. He was, one of the few, if ever there was, Who loved me unconditionally. Having so little, a...

For love is a wave, sweeping past defences, Breaking down all barriers. For love is a drive down a favourite highway, Exhilarating and leaving souls breathless. For love is a cuddle with tea and a memorable book, Familiar tinged with a bit of unfamiliar. Love, courted by poets forever. Heard of by all who breathed in this world, Malady for the control-freaks, Cure for the troubled. This post is a part of  Write Over the Weekend , an initiative for  Indian Bloggers  by BlogAdda.