quirkyblue

The afternoon sun shone into the dense expanse of lantana bushes. Two young girls nimbly stepped over the spiky twigs, doubling down where the undergrowth turned into a canopy with an opening, just big enough for a small goat to go through. They had been going on like this for a while. Their legs were scratched, seeds of wild grass clinging on to their dresses, palms itching from having touched undomesticated shrubs. The elder one, a 12-year-old, led the way. Her hair was tied in a long ponytail, beads of sweat accumulated over clearly drawn brows, thin lips slightly parted. The one behind her was younger by around 3 years, with shoulder length hair clipped up to keep it from coming on to her face. She kept looking ahead and back in measured glances, taking in the terrain, the signs and everything else in between, her eyes shining with the excitement of discovering a new trail. Once in a while her sister would make a remark – about the peculiar shape of a bush, or something – a bott...

Alright. So it is time to write. It had always been But the words were a tad shy. In the chaotic green room A noun would nod her head A jumpy little preposition Would whisper, “You go ahead!” The adjectives would line up Enthusiastically The editor would tut-tut And drive them willy-nilly An edgy pronoun, ‘I’ to be specific Would peer around the curtain, heave a sigh Look down, ponder, and wonder ‘why?’ Why does it have to be so tough To just talk To just express To just be oneself and not obsess With accuracy, with detail With what words really entail Is it not possible to just let them flow Let them decide where they want to go? Back in the greenroom Getting crowded, it was “Let us out, let us out Too many stories trapped here about!” Finally ‘Me’ sauntered in and looked around An objective avatar of ‘I’ She was abstract, not proud. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled the curtain apart.  She winked at the words, wh...

When Yami Gautam looks back at her career graph, she’ll definitely regret her decision to endorse Fair & Lovely. What her conscience couldn’t, perhaps the recent torrent of Twitter jokes will hopefully achieve. In case you missed the fun, here are some samples! I was heartened to see people ripping apart the concept of conceived fairness! After all, it is a promising beginning for a nation that associates fairness with beauty, success and esteem. I just wish that the sarcasm wasn’t just directed towards the brand ambassador, but towards our own inherent bias towards fairness. While this bias affects all women, the ones from the lower economic strata have the most to lose. Mostly illiterate, enmeshed in a patriarchal society, struggling to make ends meet, these women are easy prey to corporate mind-games. To think that they unnecessarily spend a portion of their earnings every month on buying fairness creams that hardly make any difference to their complexion, but make the...

Did you know that you cannot clap with one hand? Or that a rape is akin to a clap? Don’t ask me. Ask Asaram Bapu who has said that the Delhi gang rape victim is as much to blame as the rapists for the rape. To be honest, it is beyond my capacity to apply the dynamics of a clap to a rape. But His Holiness might know more!   If nothing else, the infamous Delhi gang rape is exposing the reality of our leaders – political, social or spiritual. For you and me, it is incredulous that someone can harbour such absurd notions about rape. You and I need not be told that a rape is not a clap. It is a punch. It is a deathly punch that kills the spirit, not just the victim. That it is a tool for an ego trip, an instrument for subjugation, a weapon of war. And yet, day after day, we hear statements such as, “She should have surrendered,” “Women’s outfits are to blame,” and of course, “ Taali ek haath se nahi bajati! ”  India is an old country. The term ‘ancient’ can ...

Often, I attract flak for trampling over the 'Traditional' in my quest for the 'Wise'. Let me explain.  Tradition, Knowledge, Wisdom. Unfortunately, these three are often used interchangeably by well-meaning people. If I were to draw a Venn diagram, there would definitely be common areas amongst their three corresponding circles. How large or small these areas of intersection would be, depend upon the knowledge of the person we are deliberating. However, what we can definitely be sure of is that there would be three circles, not one. What is Tradition? The dictionary definition reads as follows: the handing down of statements, beliefs, legends, customs, information, etc., from generation to generation, especially by word of mouth or by practice. So, even if a practice emerged from observing facts and rational action, there is ample scope for deviation or corruption of the practice while it was being passed "from generation to gener...

My new workplace is quite far away by Bangalore standards, which is a combination of distance and traffic. With Vijay's office also not being close to where we live presently, it made sense to move to some place closer. Therefore for a series of weekends we went around the city, scouting for a more suitable accommodation. Alas! It wasn't as simple as I thought it would turn out to be! Aside from the rates, which, by the way shot up in areas that we preferred, something or the other was never right. Either the ventilation wasn't good or the parking wasn't spacious enough. If both these factors were taken care of, the locality was not to our liking. But the one factor that eventually changed my mind and made me stay put in our current apartment is the greenery - and the friendly, furry neighbours that reside in it. You see, I live at the top floor of a stand-alone apartment block. It is open from two sides ensuring free flowing breeze and ample sunlight. Since the Ma...

It is difficult to let go of something, of which one is perversely proud. I have often come across people who, when asked where do they belong to, gently, but proudly slip their caste into the answer.  "No, I don't belong to Bangalore. I am a Kumauni Brahmin", or, "Oh! We have to be very particular about the match. We are Saryupani Brahmins you see..." and so on so forth. Yes, I admit, only Brahmins, and occasionally Rajputs, proclaim their caste with such impunity, at a day and age when casteism is looked down upon, at least by the educated and the 'informed'. Honestly, I find this attitude thoughtless and embarrassing. What do you expect your audience, who perhaps is not a Brahmin or a Kshatriya (the so-called higher castes) to say? Something like, "Oh I understand. Fortunately I am a Shudra so I can marry whichever kind gentleman comes my way."? I can understand that people take pride in their roots. But is it really necessary to an...