Cyclonic Storms

Winds are raging
Cyclonic winds
I hear glass panes shatter
All kinds of sounds
Brought in by the winds

A cyclonic storm
Gathered over days
Inched closer and closer
Then came the landfall, high tide
And the high speed winds

Aftermath is still unknown
We can only hear the sounds
Morning light will reveal
The destruction over the night
When the cyclone struck

It’s a tale of two cursed lands
Year after year
We pray to be spared
Without realising if not us,
It’s gonna be them

27th May 2024

Time Stood Still


Time stood still
We giggled and giggled
Like a pair of good old kids
But in their fifties

Time Stood still
As we stared at those benches
In the front of the canteen
Where we often sat and sang

Time has stood still
In that college campus
When pleaded the guard
To let us in

We went back in Time
Through those gates
Perhaps to seek our younger
Gullible, ugly and clueless selves

We patted on their backs
For making it through 
For finding each other
To make up lost time

But who knew
All sand was about to slip
In that damn hourglass
For one of us

What a chance it was
That we took
Instead of standing each other up
We finally showed up

And we made the Time
Re-wind and replay it all
We relived our nostalgia
And made fresh memories

Re-unions are the sweetest
They take us back in Time
To meet ourselves and find love
Even if it is for one last time!

Pick Yourself Up

Life teaches

How to pick

Yourself up

Along with all

The broken pieces

Of your heart

And your being

One just needs

To be patient

Those life lessons

Are like strewn clues

Hidden in a flower

Or a bleak star

In the night sky perhaps

Or on the dark side

Of the moon

When pushed

To a corner

Or into an abyss

Don’t quit

But rebel

Your life puzzle

Maybe undone

With pieces missing

But new pieces

Are strewn around you

Pick those up

Try to find

A grander puzzle

Or a greater purpose

Or just be

An unseen gardener

Toiling away

For the new seeds

To germinate

Pick yourself up

Don’t give up

Yet.

20/1/2025

The ‘Cancel’ Culture

It has been an interesting week. It began with my tryst with ‘cancel culture’ during Gandhi Jayanti. I guess across all sections there is a growing trend of cancelling Gandhi and of course Nehru. We all know how and when it started. But given the traction it has received we must introspect.

I don’t think it began in recent years, resentment towards these two leaders was always there among a certain cross section but now it has got amplified thanks to modern narratives and propaganda being spread through Whatsapp university and social media. Their own personal lives and lifestyle choices are casting a very dark shadow on their roles as powerful leaders who shaped India’s non-violent freedom movement and nurtured India’s new born democracy in its infancy.

It is ironic that as we gloat and compete for IITs, build new IITs, the leaders who steered India towards higher education and scholarship are being vilified and defamed casually. With their names too being removed from public spaces, I really don’t know whether their legacy and commitment towards non-violence, equality and high quality education for all will be remembered at all. Perhaps they will be known only for their personal life scandals just like film stars, writers, artists, or celebrities lives are often reduced to. I really don’t know where this ‘cancel’ culture will lead us unless there is another counter culture to balance it. I guess we are headed towards collective amnesia that Marquez and Galeano often talked about. We will not remember the past or how it shaped us because we are too busy cancelling it.

News from France has been interesting too. Bedbugs have entered our daily conversations too. Almost everyday I get to hear about bedbug related scares, jokes and their repercussions. Campus talks apparently are questioning kinds – why should French bedbugs be in the news at all when almost all big cities and countries have it? There are conspiracy theories afloat. France of course is not in denial and they are doing their best. My son’s room and entire residency underwent sanitization. It is evident from the recent focus of media stories on ‘islamophobia’ in France or this bed bugs saga that there is cancel culture propaganda and messaging. Like us, the French are apparently blaming their neighbours (who have fallen out over Brexit) for their woes and negative publicity.

Students of course have been kept busy with coursework and high level courses. After classes they huddle in discussion spaces available around the campus. Apparently, these spaces have reference books, tiny cafes and cluster desks for students to sit and discuss. Since classes are of 3 – 4 hours duration, they are allowed to walk out in between to get their cuppas. Teachers are highly impressive and they hold the attention of the class for 3 -4 hours at a stretch. From what I understand European universities have very rigorous undergraduate courses so students from elsewhere, even those who are doing double masters, are struggling a bit. They all are taking courses as a challenge so I guess they are happily engaged between classes and looking for groceries they need.

Finally my son went to a tiny Indian neighborhood thanks to his Ecuadorian classmate who wants to try cooking Indian cuisine while my son is getting introduced to Latin American sauces and recipes.He finally found – green chillies too – he was missing their taste and flavour the most. They are having nice little cultural exchanges and celebrating diversity. He gave a hearty laugh saying there you are trying to plan a festival to celebrate diversity but here we are celebrating it every day – bonhomie is amazing and no one mocks others.

He tells me, most students are very critical about their own nations and their politics so they don’t insult or mock others. I guess most nations are failing their youths in some way or the other. From what I hear, it gives me hope.

I am worried about how ‘cancel’ culture will play out in our nation’s future. Good journalism almost got literally cancelled by those who are in power last week.

France has kept its education and universities standards very high which is very heartening and it was evident when Nobel prize for Physics was announced. French Nobel laureate took the call during the break and went back to her class to complete the lesson. It says volumes about their commitment to teaching and nurturing younger generations.

Incidentally, when ‘Attosecond’ Nobel was announced, my son was doing his first lab class which he said was a great fun and nothing like the set practicals students do here. Yesterday he also said, “wish there was a way to enrol in undergraduate mathematics course here all over again and then do masters”. I had tried to steer him towards mathematics but now in French University corridors he is developing a deeper liking for mathematics. Engaging deeper is hardly visible these days in our education sphere when the focus is just to pass the exams with top grades and get qualifying degree for good jobs or positions which are so few.

My ironing lady was earlier looking for teaching jobs for her daughter who has done B.Ed from Bihar and now she is seeking any household help job for her. On the contrary, I met a brilliant MTech qualified student who is pursuing B.Ed. So we are in absurd times – qualified teachers don’t have jobs but engineers are seeking teaching qualifications as they are out of jobs too.

As a nation and as people we will keep going in circles I guess while making radius smaller and cancelling everything beyond that radius. Good luck to us!

Storm

There bellows a strong wind
A storm arrives from strange lands
Just to irrevocably change
Everything that is and will be

Overnight it sweeps away
The cobwebs of Time
Changes the entire
Landscape of survival

There is no way to stop
The raging winds, tides
Lightning or the rains
No way to lock it all away

Change becomes eternal
Certainties uncertain
Life transforms
For better or worse

What remains same
Are dawns and the dusks
Motion of the planet
And yearnings of a heart

There is no going back
To recreate what it was
One that did not withstand
The winds and the storm

Yet condemned to hope
And dream
We sail our ships
Trusting oceans of Time

At the Edge of Life

She stood at the edge, constantly turning back. They should be here anytime soon, if they loved her. After all they had promised, they will look out for her and have her back at all times.

The train was late. She thought of walking a little ahead to get on the tracks in darkness to ensure the train didn’t miss her and nobody tried to save her. She kept glancing at the phone, hoping someone had deciphered her cryptic posts and reached out. Even one ‘like’ would be the last bit of straw that could save her.

Then she wondered what was the probability that anybody’s life would be affected if she stuck to her plan. She could imagine the indifference, smirk, shock, grief, regret and blame shifting that would follow. She could imagine a little conference, post her funeral, where everyone would say nice things about her, maybe words of regret too but they will absolve themselves for making her feel what she felt – a useless, harmful, attention seeking, selfish soul – which definitely she wasn’t. Or was she as they perceived her to be?

Just then a small toddler reached for her and grabbed her collar. She was wearing a red dress, it probably attracted the kid. She turned around and saw two curious eyes staring at her. She had always attracted young toddlers attention for some strange reason. The mother who was carrying the child was fatigued and bored. Obviously, since she didn’t pay attention when the child must have reached out to her. The toddler kept babbling as she stared at it with a blank expression.

Was this the sign or proverbial straw she was looking for? The mother looked at her and bluntly asked, “why are you staring? Can you hold her please till the train comes? I am dead tired, hungry and fed up. Why is she always hungry for food and attention? “

For a moment she wanted to refuse and walk away but the child by then was clinging to her. It was like life itself had embraced her and held her back.

She realised how flawed her logic was, that her toddler back home would eventually forget her. Probably there would be a nicer step-mother in his life. But what if that person thought motherhood and babbling of toddlers boring?

She looked at this young mother who was glancing at her phone least bothered that the child was clinging to a stranger. She looked up and said, “please help me. Hold her a bit, my arms are aching.” She had no choice but to hold the child. The young mother kept looking at the phone. The train was announced. She was in a new dilemma. But the child kept playing with her face and her hair. Instinctively, she too engaged playfully. They both giggled. The train was almost entering the station. She swiftly turned around and told the mother that she was not getting on to the train and handed the child back. The young lady stared back, “why are you even waiting on a crowded platform then? Are you here to receive someone?”

She didn’t know what to say. She just blurted that she didn’t have money for the train ticket and walked away – walked away from her suicidal thoughts. She was sweating, shaking with tears welled up in her eyes.

She walked back to her home. It was a long walk. Long enough to get control back on her emotions and her life. Long enough to realise that if a stranger could trust her, if she could show kindness to a stranger even at the breaking point then there is evidence that she wasn’t what everyone thought she was.

She also realised how flawed she was in thinking that anyone could replace her to be a mother to her kid back home. She needed to be strong to be someone’s support now. Back home, everything was as she had left including the smirk on her husband’s face, ” so you are back. I knew you lacked courage.” She went to her kid who was sleeping and touched it, only to realise the child had a high fever. She walked back and asked her husband why he hadn’t checked on the kid in the last couple of hours.

He again smirked and said something on the lines that he didn’t realise, couldn’t imagine, child didn’t cry, was doing very important work etc etc and since she had opted to be a housewife so it was primarily her job to check on him and not to wander off to kill herself.

She stared back in disbelief. She knew exactly whom to save her son from – pathological intellectuals and skeptics, insensitive folks so full of themselves – who will endlessly analyse, blame, shame and do everything except take responsibility and show love.

PS: A piece of fiction inspired by a spooky nightmare that woke me up.

Random Musings

Yet another new year
Is back with the old baggage
Of fears and cautions
Prejudices and bigotry
Lurking shadows of
Diseases and death

They tell us
To hang on
To seek hope in
Science and prayers
Look for silver linings
And healings
Lost love
And musings

While prejudice kills peace,
And pride our compassion
While hate spreads
Like wildfire
Our comforts get
Traded and sold

While we lose our voice
And rights
Like Jesus
Or phoenix
Maybe they will rise
Just like balloons
Filled with their breath

Those little street urchins
They bear testimony of
Our collective failures,
Our naked emperors
Maybe their balloons display
Everyone’s lost smiles!!

#2022

Time Portal

Time portal

On some days I wish
Time portal did exist
Just a familiar knock
Would lead me to its door
To another time, another space

More than the Time,
I miss the familiar spaces
With loving faces and embraces
That are forever lost

I wish to go back to a time
To enjoy long walks with my father
Have ice creams with my mother
Or to get into arguments
With my grandmother
about ungodly behaviour of gods
(While savouring her ladoos)

I wish I could go back
To just be a naughty giggling
back-bencher in school
Or climb those Sahyadri hills yet again
To reach dilapidated fort premises
Just to lie on my back
Under open night dark sky
Beholding the starry night

Or maybe go back to a time
to be held
In a long tight embrace
by my very special little nephew
His eyes conveying fears
And a promise that
he would always
Be there to hold me tight
Wish he could return
Through that portal door
To me yet again

Sometimes dreams
become that portal
They take me back to time
That’s when I wish
I don’t wake up
To this hideous reality
Of an unsafe world
That teaches us
Only to doubt, fear and judge

I wish there existed a Time portal
And a familiar knock would lead me
To another world
Another time and space
Where I could be me
Throwing all cautions to the wind
Embracing or being embraced
By those I have forever lost