Wednesday, August 15, 2012

The True Spirit of Independence

I do not write posts on every other festival we celebrate in the country. I sometimes think I should though, since there are so many that my blog would complete 50 posts each year only with such posts. I wasn't planning on writing today, but something compelled, rather inspired me to.

We Indians love to criticize our country. I can vouch for the fact that it is our common favorite pastime. Whenever two or more Indians get together in any damn situation - traveling in a bus, sipping tea at the roadside chai-wallah or watching an exciting Cricket match onscreen - the discussion eventually veers towards how big a failure our Indian system is.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

The Magic Called Monsoon

It is common knowledge that monsoon is the season for lovers and artists. Well, I fit into both profiles - I am a romantic at heart and art flows in my veins. Okay, enough of lies and self-flattery. Simply put, I LOVE THE RAINS.

There is something truly magical and refreshing about the rain that energizes me, uplifts my mood even if for only as long as the raindrops and their after effects last, but it does. Now that I am recovering slowly (Oh! Thanks for asking, yeah my ankle is seeing gradual improvement), as soon as I hear the pitter patter of raindrops on my window AC (a slight deviation from the quintessential 'raindrops on my window sill', thanks to modernization), I run (or limp) along to the garden first and then to the front door to capture the amazing feel and look of the baarish. It invariably feels heavenly and refreshing. Easily defines divinity for me. No wonder that I vehemently advocate the rains' widespread use as instant mood-lifter and an all-natural aphrodisiac. God, what is it with the rain-haters, are they daft?!

Monday, August 6, 2012

Coping with Pain

I remember this time long long ago, when I was probably 8 or 10 (random guess, I don't really know). It was a Sunday and mom was harnessing all the manpower she could lay her hands upon (read: me, sister and dad) into cleaning up the house, every nook and cranny. I'm talking about the days when we didn't have a housekeeper/maid and had no need for one either. Now I have never been a hard-worker or a cleanliness-freak, and I would do anything to not have to encounter dust as it gives me a highly irritating allergy. So I was kind of slacking in my job of dusting dad's medicine rack. Did I also ever mention how I have always been afraid of scoldings and anyone yelling at me? It frightens me to the extent that I start keeping a distance from the person who yells at me or fights with me.