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I'm angry!

Yet again!  The news reports of the rape and death of Priyanka Reddy in Hyderabad has sent shock waves – once again. It brings back thoughts of Nirbhaya… What has changed since then? Yes, the law did change and yes, it did become more stringent. But did that stop this crime from happening? Why not? It did not stop it from happening because the system of “justice” in our country is an illusion. It does NOT exist. If it existed, would we be debating about who gets life imprisonment and who gets death and how “inhuman” death sentence is…. The system does not exist because the first people one goes to in such a scenario is the police and there is ZERO training and ZERO sensitivity there to deal with such issues. Is it too much to ask for that an FIR be taken? Is it too much to hope for immediate help when delays can and have caused death? What is this innate sense of voyeurism in our country? Why this shunning of responsibilities? And then come the courts and the dates and the witnesses
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A shade paler

I think i have become a shade paler. All that made me, me,  seems to have lost a tinge. Dropped a note. Lost a symbol. Lost. My strengths there were aplenty. I felt I could touch the sky. I pushed my people to believe and fly. And then - my flight was stopped... All I did made no difference. I wasn't like the others they said. I didn't want to be like the others! I was me, why should I be the other? I wasn't like the others they said ... I lost my color, my drive. I stopped pushing my people to excel. I didn't want to be a role model who got it all wrong. They are looking for clones. But me - I'm looking for me... My colors have faded. My mind is uneasy. Was all this a lie? Will the truth not emerge? Will I find me and what my destiny is?
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Confession

History buzzing past, making sounds like it never will in the future. Blue versus red; red all over. Red to black...only time will tell. Hours and months of hard work. Anxious wait. Silence. A pat on the back? Discreet cough. Walk the talk - day in, day out. In a language that is not mine. New tongue. New eyes. Same heart. Old values. But do values age too? New ideals. Just words. How do I find the bird that sings all through? Conviction. Concession. Confession No more belonging. Just a longing. To find the start of the path. To a new world. Confession.
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To be or not to be is not the only question

To be or not to be Are these the only possible states? In the va et vient, Isn't there a state which is in-between? Then, why will I not be that...why can I not be? Why do I always have to be at one end or the other? The journey is made of the walking, the stopping, the pausing, and the u-turns Then, why does just the start and end qualify? The breaths in between, the sweat, the tears, the smiles, the falls, the fear, the anxiety... All of it is the state of being.
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26/11 - Never the same...

Mumbai, a city, which I've visited but once or twice. Mumbai is not a city which tugs at my heart. There is something about the place, which makes me want to look for an escape. It is too crowded, too many people all the time and that does mean - all the time. I recall my shock when I saw the local train teeming with people at 1:00 am in the night!!! Instead of feeling liberated, I had felt disoriented. Mumbai - never called out to me until 26/11 connected us. 26/11 was never going to be the same ever again in my life. Each year as I wake up to family and friends wishing me a happy birthday, I am reminded of what transpired in Mumbai that day. The horror of it always come back. For me, a spectator who is affected because of the date, the horror is just a damp feeling. I think of all those people who were there and then weren't there again. And today, the same gnawing feeling is back because of Paris. Paris - another city, different feelings. Paris of the lovely bridges, th
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Discovering Delhi - Baolis and Bawra Man

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Literal translation: Discovering the baolis of Delhi with a crazy heart Saturday had been a crazy working day with unusual timing of ending at 9 pm. I wasn’t sure if I would have the energy to make it to the walk by Delhi by Foot. The walk was to start at 8 am on a Sunday. Who wakes up so early on a Sun?! Well, apparently loads of people do. I confirmed with V and we decided to wake each other up. So, Sun dawned bright and fresh and off I started towards the Metro. Met V enroute and we reached Barakhamba all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Ramit Mitra, the host and master of ceremonies for all things Delhi by Foot was right there. We waited for the other fellow walkers to join in and the Sun morning calmness of Barakhamba hit us. We saw some bikers standing just across and thought how cool that was! Little did we know that they would be our friends on this walk. The next surprise for me was to see a familiar face…Monsieur Madavane. And all of my JNU years came back to me. I never
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16 Dec 2014

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Where did so much hate come from? How did people become this? Who sowed these seeds of violence? What kind of religion is this? Will there ever be innocence – unharmed, untinged with darkness and blood? They killed innocent lives, young children…and for what? To take revenge? To extinguish their very breath because they were living a normal life? Studying to become something? In a school to learn, play, grow, love… HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? HOW?
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