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.

I find myself in a sort of house arrest due to all the protests demanding for the ILP, a never ending tirade of drama and suspense. My heart is torn between feeling sympathy for the protestors who perceive ILP as the one solution of all our problems, and disgust at how blind these people can get. Peaceful protests are alright and necessary if one believes in the cause. But to bash up the mayangs, snatch their money and tear down their shops etc is just not tolerable. We must not forget ourselves and lock up our humane side while being swayed by this seemingly great cause. I feel such a great deal of sadness in how narrow sighted we have become. Something has caused us to become so violent, so angry at everything; those who don the khaki from amongst us have also not hesitated to show their animalistic side. This ILP will drive the mayangs away and bring us all the prosperity in the world. We will be the 'victors', forcing the State to succumb to our demands. Or we will not...

There is great jubilation on Independence day, amplified by the advent of social media, especially Facebook which now even lets you update the world on how you are celebrating Independence day. Being an Indian brings with it its own roller coaster of ups and downs. I feel pride in the laurels of my country and in the great personalities it has managed to produce from the most unexpected of settings. Singing the national anthem and listening to patriotic songs gives me goosebumps and a sense of great patriotism. But then I am more often than not shaken out of this patriotic stupor by the ground reality of it all. Being from a state like Manipur has meant that my sense of belonging to India is rather offset by a flicker of alienation. No matter how many years I spend on the 'mainland', somehow I feel like I am seen as an outsider. No matter how many years I spend wandering the streets of Delhi, the vendors and autorickshaw drivers and the hostel wardens will still hike up the...

This world tires me, with all its bullshit about optimism and passion, and the need for chasing one's dreams. The world's manuals rant about how the universe conspires to give us what we want and how we are all special and we are here for a reason and blah blah blah. And yet, there are many like me, filled to the brim with doubts. No answers, only questions. Many, seduced by the colourful hues of hope and the invincibility of dreams, often forget how harsh this rainbow-shitting world can be. How it is only one in every hundred dreams that is fulfilled. The remaining ninety nine turn to dust, floating around, wishing to be heard; brushed off from trophies and laurels that grace the abodes of the victors. The truth of the matter is- no one gives a crap about the zillion tea sellers in India, and when a man comes to power claiming to be an ex-tea seller, the world's never diminishing ego swells- they scream themselves hoarse- "Look here, see what we did- we made a tea...