tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326799127420681862024-03-06T10:52:11.476+05:30Randomnessrandom ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.comBlogger277125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-18596551071915291042020-04-22T12:38:00.000+05:302020-04-22T14:05:20.383+05:30if -- memories from the time of B&W TVs rekindled by an instagram chat, and penned down thanks to a writing prompt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The word 'if' always reminds me of Rudyard Kipling's poem by the same name. My favourite lines are these: 'If you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two impostors just the same'. I don't recall when I read the poem fully for the first time, but I vividly remember when I heard these lines.<br />
<br />
I was 8-years old and watching the Wimbledon Tennis Championships men's final with my dad. A young blond kid whose eyebrows were barely visible walked out onto Centre Court along with a visibly older player -- Boris Becker and Kevin Curran. As they stepped out, the commentator read out these same lines which are inscribed at the locker room exit onto Centre Court, quite sure that the younger of the two would learn a lot that day. The rest, as they say, is history. Becker was the youngest champion and the first German to win the title. He was also super cute, and I became a fan.<br />
<br />
Cut to the present.<br />
<br />
I've been a Federer fan since I watched him play a few feet away from me, long before he became famous. I've laughed, marvelled, had my jaws drop, jumped up and down, held my heads in my hand, chewed up my nails, cried my heart out and screamed myself hoarse. Poetry. <a href="https://www.sportskeeda.com/tennis/poetry-in-motion-or-grunt-and-hustle-what-is-the-future" target="_blank">Poetry in motion</a>, every single time.<br />
<br />
Yesterday morning, I woke up to an Instagram chat between Nadal and Federer -- eight minutes long, filled with affection, admiration and deep respect for one another. For those of you who may not follow tennis, it's rare to find someone who is a fan of both players. It's almost impossible. Many reasons contribute to this including their styles of play, personalities, dressing sense, etc. but the most important reason is that each has handed the other some of their most heartbreaking losses. The line between triumph and disaster has indeed been very thin.<br />
<br />
But if Roger and Rafa can treat those two impostors just the same, what will it take for us, their fans? </div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-3334351946545875482020-04-08T14:13:00.004+05:302020-10-11T06:49:32.519+05:30When this is over, I’m ... (lockdown verse)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When this is over, I’m going to write a poem<br />
One that captures the rhythm and rhyme<br />
Of these three weeks I was locked up at home<br />
Absolutely losing all sense of time.<br />
<br />
Day 0 was when the announcement was made<br />
And we were given four hours<br />
To ‘prep’ to be indoors for 21 days<br />
The command given by the man in power.<br />
<br />
Day 1 was surreal, not much else to say<br />
It felt like a good break maybe in some way.<br />
Day 2 we took stock of grains, pulses and snacks<br />
Biscuits and Maggi added to the list, many a pack.<br />
<br />
Day 3 is when the seriousness hit<br />
The consequences, we started to realise, bit by bit.<br />
Day 4 was special, cos veggies I scored<br />
Tomatoes, beans, bottle and even bitter gourd.<br />
<br />
Day 5 was friends, family and Zoom<br />
It was nice to see everyone from the comfort of my room.<br />
Day 6, a Corona bingo I made<br />
Before the commonalities I was seeing began to fade.<br />
<br />
Day 7 I felt the start of some routine<br />
Home stuff and work from home were more familiar scenes.<br />
Day 8 I wrote a poem about that<br />
In case I needed a reminder about how to keep things on track.<br />
<br />
Day 9 I made the first of many lists<br />
Of things learned, not missed, and missed.<br />
Day 10 began with WhatsApp fights<br />
Over the announcement about Sunday’s lights.<br />
<br />
Day 11 I listed the things I hadn’t used<br />
To see shoes and shades there left me amused.<br />
Day 12 turned out to be a Sunday<br />
Funday, it wasn’t, just more mundane.<br />
<br />
Days 13 and 14 were crazy at work<br />
See how that’s the first time I mentioned work. ‘Smirk’.<br />
Today is Day 15 and I may read this out in class<br />
If at all I’m graded, I hope I’ll at least pass.<br />
<br />
I hope to continue this for the remaining time<br />
If more than 21 days, it may be harder to rhyme.<br />
Even though it’s nothing particularly deep<br />
This experience, I want to keep.<br />
<br />
21 days will never sound the same again<br />
Let's hope it's 21, and the lockdown will end.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-50537737703528807322020-03-27T08:00:00.003+05:302020-03-27T08:01:39.710+05:30A fake post to break my blog's pause<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This <a href="https://artofquotation.wordpress.com/2020/03/23/bill-gates-the-corona-covid-19-virus-is-sent-to-remind-us-of-the-important-lessons-that-we-seem-to-have-forgotten-and-it-is-up-to-us-if-we-will-learn-them-or-not/?fbclid=IwAR1EfrKhOmZzQZ7cl-waoxAxoVJOEwfZacDcL7mWMRGEPNwyU7Ch5aw-iiE" target="_blank">post</a> really irritated me last night, so I started to write something about it. This morning, I saw that it's no longer available at the link I've shared because it was <a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/coronavirus-bill-gates-fake-news-the-sun-letter-naomi-campbell-instagram-a9421251.html" target="_blank">fake</a>. It had Bill Gates spewing gyaan, his thoughts during the time of Corona.<br />
<br />
<b>Fair warning, this is a response to a fake post. But my post is all real :-)</b><br />
<br />
<i>It is reminding us that the power of freewill is in our hands. We can choose to cooperate and help each other, to share, to give, to help and to support each other or we can choose to be selfish, to hoard, to look after only our self. </i><br />
<br />
For Bill Gates to say this, after having created the Microsoft platform which is as uncooperative as systems go, and which has hoarded in its lifetime by obstructing others, is ludicrous. It shows a lack of questioning of his own actions, and how they may have contributed to the world turning out this way. He may donate tonnes now, but charity doesn't absolve. It only mitigates and placates the self.<br />
<br />
But is it better late than never? No, better late than never has brought us to today. Look at Bezos and Amazon. What a joke. The company doesn't pay taxes, it's giving employees <b>unpaid</b> time off during this crisis. We have to curtail our greed, at least now.<br />
<br />
What about family, commitments and responsibilities -- and work, making your company great, making your life greater? How do you choose? Is it even possible to be in a somewhat equal life relationship that isn't dominated by questions of money, and who's bringing in what to the table? For that, we need to think differently. However, to be able to do that, we need to be raised to think differently. How many of us will question the biggies like Gates, Bezos, Ambanis, etc. who have contributed greatly to making our current world? We may all have our parts to play, but as far as this is concerned, you and I barely even feature.<br />
<br />
We need to be able to think differently about invention, society and money. Copyright and closed source codes have brought this upon us. And it's further fuelled by greed for power and money -- in that order. The world sees Gates as a benefactor, which he may be for the amount he has donated, and the causes to which he's donated. But we also need to see people like him as the ones who have contributed heavily into creating this disproportionate world.<br />
<br />
Existing inequalities and inequities must be questioned at times like this. Sadly, the middle class and lower middle class are aspirational in nature, and this is what makes that questioning difficult. We are not conditioned to question as that has meant punishment of some kind -- hauled up at school, not promoted at work, being labeled something or the other by your family and friends, etc. So you play to the system and you're rewarded, even if it's scraps. That's all of us, middle and upper middle class who control a minute portion of the wealth. The upper and elite classes have no reason to question because life works for them. Status quo absolutely works for them.<br />
<br />
While this is a moment to pause, I don't think we will. Because the feds will bail out businesses and banks. But not the poor. That's always been the case, and it continues to this day -- in the US and India, look at the financial relief packages being thrown at those who already have SO much, while those who are in need get a pittance. Those deeply impacted make poor wages, have no security nets, and we are unwilling -- as a society -- to address this or even see it.<br />
<br />
Losing jobs is a problem, for sure. But our worry is our possible inability at making our EMIs for the 3 different houses we own, the 2 cars, a piece of land somewhere. It is not for our day to day survival needs, which is the case for the majority who are in real trouble at this point without jobs, wages, food. But we're apathetic because someone will do something. We just have to transfer money into bank accounts, to donate to organisations we think will do the job, or worse, to the PM's relief fund -- because we think charity is the answer. And it's in those time that the spotlight shines brightly on people like Bill Gates and others.<br />
<br />
Charity helps, sure, but charity works on the premise that we can give once we have enough. Being unquestioning of that 'enough' is why we are where we are today. That vicious cycle has to break, but for that, it has to be questioned.<br />
<br />
With this forced pause upon us, will we do it at least now? </div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-17646145684393976722019-12-08T21:59:00.002+05:302019-12-08T21:59:50.719+05:30Ode to Oscy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been a week since Oscy passed on<br />
And not a day has gone by<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIghAVAq-P6A1aernD1E-N95XHjn65Q9SrZPSL_uqPPpNC-IGMrAiMmKIsHDoMw4voEZgwV_gxMe8QiyDtLdaKehWnn9JJn1Icsz4n8CteJWqlzkW__NaGp85SANH7KMzC5CwH4xhhyphenhyphen6I/s1600/IMG-20191201-WA0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1088" data-original-width="816" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIghAVAq-P6A1aernD1E-N95XHjn65Q9SrZPSL_uqPPpNC-IGMrAiMmKIsHDoMw4voEZgwV_gxMe8QiyDtLdaKehWnn9JJn1Icsz4n8CteJWqlzkW__NaGp85SANH7KMzC5CwH4xhhyphenhyphen6I/s400/IMG-20191201-WA0001.jpg" width="300" /></a>Without me thinking about something he'd done<br />
Many a time, on the sly<br />
<br />
Paper, plastic, rubber bands<br />
Anything was he game for<br />
Slinking away, silently chewing<br />
Even a dirty diaper<br />
He must've loved the letter C<br />
For his favourites began with it<br />
Cucumber, coconut, chapati and cheese<br />
He gobbled up every bit<br />
<br />
Whenever I went into the kitchen<br />
Or opened the fridge door<br />
He would instantly be there looking up at me<br />
Or sniffing at the floor<br />
Just in case I'd dropped something<br />
He wasn't always particular<br />
But if it were Parle G<br />
He thought it was spectacular<br />
<br />
I make it sound like he only ate<br />
And didn't do much else<br />
But no, he was a most active chap<br />
Evinced by his tiny bell<br />
Which rang every time he walked<br />
Or sprinted around the house<br />
True that he hadn't been wearing it for some time<br />
But sneaked about like a mouse<br />
<br />
Every morning when I came down<br />
He'd be waiting there for me<br />
To nip my ankles, ask for a treat<br />
And stare expectantly<br />
But what I loved even more<br />
Was how he played when I tried to leash him up<br />
<div>
Before I took him out for a walk</div>
<div>
Ah, he ran around like a little pup</div>
<br />
He wasn't wise or grumpy<br />
But simply goofy and so sweet<br />
He was little, yet large<br />
With a presence that's hard to beat<br />
Many parts of the house<br />
Remind me of him<br />
Especially his kitchen corner<br />
With the light above so dim<br />
<br />
I miss seeing him curled up<br />
In the laundry pile<br />
Or in his bed under the stairs<br />
As if he'd walked a mile<br />
From his little bowl<br />
He drank so much water<br />
And if that wasn't enough for him<br />
He'd drink from a brass planter<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div>
From under the glass dining table</div>
</div>
<div>
He always stared up</div>
<div>
His melty eyes ensured</div>
<div>
That our dues were paid up</div>
<div>
With everyone at home</div>
<div>
<div>
He had a special bond</div>
</div>
<div>
We all miss him in our own ways</div>
<div>
Many memories we'll hold, forever fond</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's Oscy's birthday today</div>
<div>
A teenager he would've become</div>
<div>
I'm sure he's celebrating somewhere</div>
<div>
Our little rascal, and then some</div>
</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-45585833726964978702019-01-27T14:43:00.002+05:302019-01-27T14:43:46.085+05:30The dilemma of an ageing fan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
If Rafa wins today, he will inch to within 2 titles of Roger's record. Actually, make that one. (He may as well pick up the Musketeer's Cup right away).<br />
<br />
If Djoker wins today, he will beat my idol Sampras' record. He will also gain more confidence and likely power through this year with at least one more Slam. And he has a few good years left on the circuit, so the chances of him beating Roger's record are quite high.<br />
<br />
I like Rafa more than Djoker, but i don't particularly like either. But all said, I'd much rather Rafa beat Roger's record first than Djoker.<br />
<br />
As an aside, can you go back to Nike, Roger? </div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-84439560752920632022018-10-24T09:45:00.000+05:302018-10-24T09:45:01.255+05:30The Kids Are All Right: An Intergenerational Tale of Living and Loving YA Fiction<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>Published October 22, 2018 in <a href="http://journal.bookwormgoa.in/the-kids-are-all-right-an-intergenerational-tale-of-living-and-loving-ya-fiction/" target="_blank">Torchlight Magazine</a></b><br />
<br />
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Two libraries were a big part of my tween years. The first was tidy, organised, and strictly monitored. It was roomy and bright with short wooden bookshelves, many of which were kept locked due to the apparent inappropriateness of the books they held. I visited it once a week during Library period, and more often than not, got into trouble with the librarian at my convent school in Chennai for talking too loudly and having a good time. The second — Senthil Lending Library near my parent’s home — was quite different. A narrow dark room, it had tall open steel bookshelves flanked by many a swirling dust ball. The stacking of the books was chaotic at best, but the librarian knew his way around. He was a nice sort, never bothered by noise as long as the books were returned on or before the due date.</div>
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Despite the many spatial differences, the two libraries had one thing in common — the books in the young adults section.</div>
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Classics such as <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">A Tale of Two Cities</em>, <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">The Count of Monte Cristo</em>, <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Rebecca</em>, <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Little Women</em>; detective stories of Sherlock Holmes, Miss Marple and Poirot; mostly abridged but some original Shakespeare; Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys including the somewhat grown-up Case Files versions; and a host of Enid Blyton including <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Famous Fives</em> and the various school series; Indian and imported comics such as <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Tintin</em>, <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Asterix</em>, <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Phantom</em>, <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Chandamama</em>, <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Tinkle</em>, <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Amar Chitra</em> <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Katha</em>, and my favourite at the time — <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Archie</em> comics; and some Indian authors like Ruskin Bond and Rudyard Kipling, filled their open and closed shelves. These books were considered mainstream, and my friends and I had access to them all. We read the Classics in the order that our school curriculum demanded, Shakespeare unhappily, the Case Files often, Enid Blyton sparingly, and a Ruskin Bond or a Kipling story whenever we had access to them. The comics, predictably, were the most read as was evinced by their tattered condition.</div>
<h6 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; clear: both; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Libre Franklin", sans-serif; font-size: 0.875rem; letter-spacing: 0.1em; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px 0px 0.75rem; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;">
<img alt="" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-16353" data-attachment-id="16353" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-description="" data-image-meta="{"aperture":"0","credit":"","camera":"","caption":"","created_timestamp":"0","copyright":"","focal_length":"0","iso":"0","shutter_speed":"0","title":"","orientation":"1"}" data-image-title="BeFunky-collage" data-large-file="https://i1.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/BeFunky-collage.jpg?fit=900%2C718" data-medium-file="https://i1.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/BeFunky-collage.jpg?fit=300%2C239" data-orig-file="https://i1.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/BeFunky-collage.jpg?fit=2048%2C1633" data-orig-size="2048,1633" data-permalink="http://journal.bookwormgoa.in/the-kids-are-all-right-an-intergenerational-tale-of-living-and-loving-ya-fiction/befunky-collage/" height="590" sizes="(max-width: 900px) 100vw, 900px" src="https://i1.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/BeFunky-collage.jpg?resize=900%2C718" srcset="https://i1.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/BeFunky-collage.jpg?w=2048 2048w, https://i1.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/BeFunky-collage.jpg?resize=300%2C239 300w, https://i1.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/BeFunky-collage.jpg?resize=768%2C612 768w, https://i1.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/BeFunky-collage.jpg?resize=1024%2C817 1024w, https://i1.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/BeFunky-collage.jpg?resize=370%2C295 370w, https://i1.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/BeFunky-collage.jpg?resize=1250%2C997 1250w, https://i1.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/BeFunky-collage.jpg?resize=400%2C319 400w, https://i1.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/BeFunky-collage.jpg?w=1800 1800w" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 5px; vertical-align: middle;" width="740" />SOME OF THE BOOKS I READ GROWING UP.</h6>
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While we tried to superimpose our own lives on to the larger themes in these books, it wasn’t easy. There was nothing day-to-day about them that would even serve as a conversation starter at home. ‘Can you pack me some tongue for my next picnic,’ I tried saying realising even then how silly it sounded. I didn’t even know what that was! And we always packed <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">puliyogare</em> and lime rice for family picnics, anyway. And the names—Julian, Frederick, Reginald, Georgina, Darrell, Big Moose (what’s a moose!)—felt as far away as the places they were located in. Chores and pocket money, hanging out at mom n’ pop shops drinking soda, going on dates, getting detention, having lockers—none of these themes were relatable, but I loved to read, and I read all that I found. Many of those books still have a place in my parent’s home. They haven’t been given away in case my almost teen daughter, Aditi, is interested in them.</div>
<h6 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; clear: both; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "Libre Franklin", sans-serif; font-size: 0.875rem; letter-spacing: 0.1em; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px 0px 0.75rem; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;">
<img alt="" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-16354" data-attachment-id="16354" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-description="" data-image-meta="{"aperture":"1.7","credit":"","camera":"ONEPLUS A6000","caption":"","created_timestamp":"1538598630","copyright":"","focal_length":"4.25","iso":"2500","shutter_speed":"0.0588235294118","title":"","orientation":"1"}" data-image-title="IMG_20181003_203029" data-large-file="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?fit=900%2C675" data-medium-file="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?fit=300%2C225" data-orig-file="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?fit=4608%2C3456" data-orig-size="4608,3456" data-permalink="http://journal.bookwormgoa.in/the-kids-are-all-right-an-intergenerational-tale-of-living-and-loving-ya-fiction/img_20181003_203029/" height="555" sizes="(max-width: 900px) 100vw, 900px" src="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?resize=900%2C675" srcset="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?w=4608 4608w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?resize=300%2C225 300w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?resize=768%2C576 768w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?resize=1024%2C768 1024w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?resize=370%2C278 370w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?resize=1250%2C938 1250w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?resize=400%2C300 400w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?w=1800 1800w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_20181003_203029.jpg?w=2700 2700w" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 5px; vertical-align: middle;" width="740" /> OUR BOOKSHELF. (PHOTO: REKHA RAGHUNATHAN)</h6>
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Ha!</div>
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Our bookshelves couldn’t be more different — visually and otherwise. While I type this, I’m telling myself, ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover,’ and yet, it’s an important element of the book selection process. All the colours in the rainbow and everything in between adorn her shelf —and those are just the spines! Add to that snappy titles, attractive fonts and beautifully designed covers — these factors have played huge parts in drawing out today’s young reader. But, let’s go back to the adage for a bit in the context of the ‘Young Adult’ genre, specifically, and how I began to re-engage with it.</div>
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<img alt="" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-16398" data-attachment-id="16398" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-description="" data-image-meta="{"aperture":"0","credit":"","camera":"","caption":"","created_timestamp":"0","copyright":"","focal_length":"0","iso":"0","shutter_speed":"0","title":"","orientation":"0"}" data-image-title="Rekha-Collage" data-large-file="https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Rekha-Collage-1.jpg?fit=900%2C600" data-medium-file="https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Rekha-Collage-1.jpg?fit=300%2C200" data-orig-file="https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Rekha-Collage-1.jpg?fit=1600%2C1067" data-orig-size="1600,1067" data-permalink="http://journal.bookwormgoa.in/the-kids-are-all-right-an-intergenerational-tale-of-living-and-loving-ya-fiction/rekha-collage-2/" height="494" sizes="(max-width: 900px) 100vw, 900px" src="https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Rekha-Collage-1.jpg?resize=900%2C600" srcset="https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Rekha-Collage-1.jpg?w=1600 1600w, https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Rekha-Collage-1.jpg?resize=300%2C200 300w, https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Rekha-Collage-1.jpg?resize=768%2C512 768w, https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Rekha-Collage-1.jpg?resize=1024%2C683 1024w, https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Rekha-Collage-1.jpg?resize=370%2C247 370w, https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Rekha-Collage-1.jpg?resize=1250%2C834 1250w, https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Rekha-Collage-1.jpg?resize=400%2C267 400w" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 5px; vertical-align: middle;" width="740" /> ADITI’S STOCK OF ATTRACTIVELY DESIGNED BOOKS(PHOTO: REKHA RAGHUNATHAN)</h6>
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Aditi, who’s loved books ever since she could hold onto one, stumbled into this genre at the age of 10. She breezed through the Harry Potter series and continued to read a smattering of authors, but appeared disengaged. I often found her re-reading a few books that had caught her interest, but more often than not, she seemed to be searching for something new and interesting and not finding them. The JustBooks library nearby us seemed to me a more modern version of my old Senthil Lending Library. Sure, it was easier to search for titles, but there weren’t too many new publishers and authors they stocked in this category. I found Aditi gravitating towards comics out of sheer boredom. Not having been in touch with this genre for a long time, I thought it best to ask for help to get us through her reader’s block.</div>
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A colleague at work who had worked in publishing introduced me to Duckbill. She specifically mentioned the title <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Talking of Muskaan</em> and went on to tell me what it was about. I was hooked, but decided to read it first because of the themes it addressed—bullying, peer pressure, homosexuality and suicide. While parenting wisdom told me that she may be a bit young for it, my instinct told me otherwise. As usual, it was right.</div>
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<img alt="" class="size-full wp-image-16358 aligncenter" data-attachment-id="16358" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-description="" data-image-meta="{"aperture":"0","credit":"","camera":"","caption":"","created_timestamp":"0","copyright":"","focal_length":"0","iso":"0","shutter_speed":"0","title":"","orientation":"1"}" data-image-title="" data-large-file="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/23547020.jpg?fit=309%2C475" data-medium-file="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/23547020.jpg?fit=195%2C300" data-orig-file="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/23547020.jpg?fit=309%2C475" data-orig-size="309,475" data-permalink="http://journal.bookwormgoa.in/the-kids-are-all-right-an-intergenerational-tale-of-living-and-loving-ya-fiction/attachment/23547020/" height="475" sizes="(max-width: 309px) 100vw, 309px" src="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/23547020.jpg?resize=309%2C475" srcset="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/23547020.jpg?w=309 309w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/23547020.jpg?resize=195%2C300 195w" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; clear: both; display: block; height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 5px; vertical-align: middle;" width="309" />TALKING OF MUSKAAN BY HIMANJALI SANKAR. (PHOTO: GOODREADS)</h6>
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<em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Muskaan</em> gently eased our family into becoming properly young adult in our day-to-day conversations. Not that much was off the table until then, but now, everything was kosher because such important themes had been articulated into a book written for her age group. My younger son, Yuv, who seemed to have some knowledge (hearsay, obviously) on some of these topics was part of these chats too, and I believe this has impacted my children’s book choices. The genres on their bookshelves (wooden and on the cloud) can be broadly classified into queer lit, detective stories, graphic non-fiction, science and music-related, history, biographies and comics. Harry Potter is a perpetual go-to, and never loses its place by their bedside.</div>
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We’ve read many other Young Adult fiction and non-fiction titles including <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Dear Mrs. Naidu</em>by Young Zubaan, <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Invisible People</em> by Duckbill, <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Mostly Madly Mayil</em> by Tulika, and <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Turning the Pot, Tilling the Land </em>by Navayana. These books cut across themes including sexual harassment, privilege, caste distinction, and legal issues and rights, and frame discussions for teens in a non-didactic manner. I often wish that I had had access to such titles growing up. I would’ve loved to read books that spoke to the confusion in my mind from the half-baked conversations I had as a teen rather than moving straight up into the Pandora’s box that was adult fiction, or to the then mostly incomprehensible world of adult non-fiction. The young adult genre gently bridges the leap from children’s to adult’s books by introducing themes that might have been found under non-fiction earlier, but in a sensitive and accessible manner. In addition to making for good reading and more informed teens, I believe that they can influence important future decisions related to education and possibly work choices too.</div>
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Aditi is now compiling a young reader’s list for the public reference library at my workplace, the Indian Institute for Human Settlements (IIHS) in Bengaluru. First on the list were a host of Duckbill titles, but many of the suggestions she has continued to make are based on her own interests which keep varying based on reading circle discussions with friends, internet wisdom, and book reviews she’s recently read. The internet has been a game changer in how we find new authors and publishers, especially international ones such as Haymarket Books and Verso Books. The randomness of retweeting ensures that tweets reach a larger circle of non-followers too. So not only do we find out about new books, but they also come with recommendations of a friend’s friend’s cousin’s relative (who may be a publisher, reviewer or anything else book-related). And of course, the best part about e-books is that there is no import duty and shipping cost, and they go on sale for a dollar at least once a year! So our kindle collection has continued to grow, although we still prefer holding a ‘real’ book for the most part.</div>
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<img alt="" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-16363 aligncenter" data-attachment-id="16363" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-description="" data-image-meta="{"aperture":"0","credit":"","camera":"","caption":"","created_timestamp":"0","copyright":"","focal_length":"0","iso":"0","shutter_speed":"0","title":"","orientation":"0"}" data-image-title="852930829_201981" data-large-file="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/852930829_201981.jpg?fit=900%2C499" data-medium-file="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/852930829_201981.jpg?fit=300%2C166" data-orig-file="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/852930829_201981.jpg?fit=1280%2C710" data-orig-size="1280,710" data-permalink="http://journal.bookwormgoa.in/the-kids-are-all-right-an-intergenerational-tale-of-living-and-loving-ya-fiction/852930829_201981/" height="410" sizes="(max-width: 900px) 100vw, 900px" src="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/852930829_201981.jpg?resize=900%2C499" srcset="https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/852930829_201981.jpg?w=1280 1280w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/852930829_201981.jpg?resize=300%2C166 300w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/852930829_201981.jpg?resize=768%2C426 768w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/852930829_201981.jpg?resize=1024%2C568 1024w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/852930829_201981.jpg?resize=370%2C205 370w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/852930829_201981.jpg?resize=1250%2C693 1250w, https://i2.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/852930829_201981.jpg?resize=400%2C222 400w" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; clear: both; display: block; height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 5px; vertical-align: middle;" width="740" />ILLUSTRATION BY ALIA SINHA</h6>
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On a recent holiday to the US, which included visits to many tourist traps, I was anxious about the possible damage to my wallet at Universal Studios. The 12 dollars spent on Hogwarts’s lapel pins wasn’t a patch on what we collectively spent at bookstores buying graphic non-fiction, Japanese manga, feminist literature for young adults, and biographies of certain musicians. We went to bookstores and discount book shops in every city that we visited, and the public libraries too. The children were wowed by the collections that were housed and the friendly and accessible manner of the librarians and staff. What amazed them the most, however, was that the libraries were spaces of public engagement, where the ‘quiet reading section’ was the only quiet part in the entire large space. There were ongoing exhibitions, planned activities, and throngs of people—many tourists, such as ourselves — who were just walking around, browsing freely and chatting animatedly.</div>
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As thrilled as I was with their reactions, I was equally troubled by something. They had never visited any public libraries in India. Although Bengaluru has a few, we had never been inside any other than the library at my workplace. We do go to children’s specific bookstores such as Lightroom for the occasional activity, and a host of others bookstores in Bengaluru such as Blossom Book House, Bookworm, Select Bookstore and Goobe Book Republic which serve as browsing spaces, libraries and more. I suppose having access to a variety of books across genres one floor above where I sit reduces my need to engage with a public library. And for those who don’t have access to a library at their workplace or near their homes, buying books is easier than ever these days, and not that expensive either.</div>
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<img alt="" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-16360 aligncenter" data-attachment-id="16360" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-description="" data-image-meta="{"aperture":"0","credit":"","camera":"","caption":"","created_timestamp":"0","copyright":"","focal_length":"0","iso":"0","shutter_speed":"0","title":"","orientation":"0"}" data-image-title="blossoms-bangalore" data-large-file="https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/blossoms-bangalore.jpg?fit=750%2C400" data-medium-file="https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/blossoms-bangalore.jpg?fit=300%2C160" data-orig-file="https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/blossoms-bangalore.jpg?fit=750%2C400" data-orig-size="750,400" data-permalink="http://journal.bookwormgoa.in/the-kids-are-all-right-an-intergenerational-tale-of-living-and-loving-ya-fiction/blossoms-bangalore/" height="395" sizes="(max-width: 750px) 100vw, 750px" src="https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/blossoms-bangalore.jpg?resize=750%2C400" srcset="https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/blossoms-bangalore.jpg?w=750 750w, https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/blossoms-bangalore.jpg?resize=300%2C160 300w, https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/blossoms-bangalore.jpg?resize=370%2C197 370w, https://i0.wp.com/journal.bookwormgoa.in/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/blossoms-bangalore.jpg?resize=400%2C213 400w" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; clear: both; display: block; height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 5px; vertical-align: middle;" width="740" />(PHOTO: LBB.IN)</h6>
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If there is to be a cultural shift in how public libraries are viewed, it requires a shift in mindsets. They need to be seen as important spaces for dialogue and discussion, and equally for activities and classes—for everyone. In order for them to thrive, more people, and a diverse group of people need to use them. Since the access of children and teens is determined by adults, schools could come together to facilitate interactions at public libraries. Rather than ad hoc projects that are part of all curriculums, maybe we should think of unleashing our teens on these spaces so they can think up and design new ways of using them.</div>
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I haven’t visited my school library or Senthil Lending Library in nearly 25 years, but writing this piece has left me feeling curious about their current states. Maybe they haven’t changed much at all. Or maybe, just maybe, they have become vibrant spaces with teens hanging around, a wide variety of books, activities and classes, and engaged librarians. As Ron wisely said to Harry about Hermione in <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets</em>, ‘When in doubt, go to the library.’</div>
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It’s my turn to go now.</div>
</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-12110578866361056242018-09-09T22:00:00.000+05:302018-09-09T22:00:15.620+05:30serena, you're not the only mom in the world who's had to get back to work after time off!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
didn't watch serena's match last night, but have read various perspectives and watched replays. my instinct is that she behaved poorly, as she's done in the past while not playing her best. it irks me that she brought up the fact that she's a mom into the conversation with the umpire. she's not the only mom to go back to work after time off--everyone else too has to fight to get back to where they were.<br />
<br />
it's unfortunate that all incidents in the past (including the recent french open outfit issue) are being pulled into this thread of the world against serena. the defence should stick to the facts of this match.<br />
<br />
and enough already about mc enroe. he was an asshole. women's standards DON'T have to be that. if she's fighting for women as she says she is, then don't fight like a man. we'll all be the better for it.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-50377165079228794022018-09-06T15:42:00.000+05:302018-09-06T15:42:17.710+05:30rainbows<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
rainbows in the sky<br />
so many after so long<br />
bright. bold. beautiful.<br />
<br /></div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-84856732784855385292017-11-08T19:34:00.000+05:302017-11-08T19:34:19.319+05:30circular logic<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
don't stop growing up<br />
because it means that you are<br />
somewhere, still a child<br />
<br /></div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-74201005141674091742017-10-24T12:09:00.001+05:302017-10-26T10:49:42.134+05:30democracy in india (in cinema theatres)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
no need to stand up<br />
enjoy your pop corn and watch<br />
swacch bharath promos</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-9256022966892152882017-10-23T19:05:00.001+05:302017-10-23T19:18:47.935+05:30hanging together<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
pastel shades, and nude and neon<br />
tiger stripes and polka dots<br />
pitch black, pure white<br />
logos, letters, hearts<br />
ankle length, knee length and somewhere in between<br />
padded and not, maybe an underwire<br />
bikini, boy shorts, boxers,<br />
all fluttering about gently in the breeze<br />
content in their little spaces<br />
but often nudging one another<br />
swaying to the sound of the birds<br />
intertwining briefly<br />
as if playing Chinese Whispers<br />
giggling at the gaffes, teasing, mocking<br />
smelling more like rain as they dry out<br />
<div>
hanging together</div>
<div>
<div>
unhurried</div>
</div>
<div>
enjoying their time out in the sun</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
such a pretty sight<br />
the clothes line</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-44053798652327777302017-10-04T11:44:00.003+05:302017-10-10T18:37:57.946+05:30that right shade of grey<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
i wish i could draw<br />
and colour and paint<br />
the pictures i see so clearly in my head<br />
because sometimes, words fail me<br />
<br />
pictures of you, me, them, and others<br />
<br />
in different postures of agony and upset<br />
and happiness, too, at times<br />
<br />
set in different shades of blue from aquamarine to navy<br />
and yellows from lemon to ochre<br />
<br />
climbing tall, rocky mountains<br />
and relaxing in calm, serene valleys<br />
<br />
listening to mozart, at times<br />
and then to linkin park<br />
<br />
i see the faces, the expressions, the body language<br />
but i can't write them down so well<br />
because my words appear to show two ends of the spectrum<br />
creating a dichotomy, splitting inherent connects<br />
and only showing black and white<br />
<br />
yes, i wish i could draw<br />
and colour and paint<br />
because black and white blend so well<br />
on a palette, but not on paper<br />
<br />
and that right shade of grey is all i need sometimes<br />
to make sense of my life<br />
<br /></div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-17948896522201719482017-09-17T21:07:00.002+05:302017-09-18T07:45:35.338+05:30a fine balance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
what happens<br />
when two rocks that have borne each other's weight<br />
by gently adjusting positions<br />
through rain, waves and storms<br />
are battered and about to give way?<br />
<br />
will they<br />
equally split the pressure<br />
so that both are only weathered<br />
or will one take the entire load<br />
and end up being completely beaten?<br />
<br />
which is<br />
the better option?<br />
the immediate or the imminent?<br />
the sudden or the gradual?<br />
<br />
will there<br />
be another rock<br />
that will some day squeeze into that space<br />
and balance things once again?<br />
<br />
would it<br />
know where to sit<br />
and when to move?<br />
or would it just pretend?<br />
<br />
but, did that even matter?<br />
<br /></div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-59882163493975541202017-09-13T15:43:00.000+05:302017-09-13T15:43:37.368+05:30the circus<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
ah, the circus<br />
with the funny clowns,<br />
and the flexi acrobats,<br />
the crazy trapeze artists<br />
and the whip-snapping ringmaster<br />
<br />
so much noise<br />
so much drama<br />
so much excitement<br />
in the ring and outside<br />
what a fun, action-packed place the circus seems<br />
<br />
except when it's your life<br />
and you're stuck<br />
juggling all of it and more<br />
day in and out<br />
oh what a bloody bore!</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-64834711815259486192017-09-06T11:13:00.002+05:302017-09-06T11:16:31.562+05:30what's the point<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
i sometimes wonder<br />
what's the point<br />
of doing anything<br />
<br />
of protesting<br />
silent or not<br />
of marching<br />
peaceful or not<br />
of holding slogans<br />
scripted or not<br />
<br />
what's the point<br />
<br />
it's always the same people<br />
the same faces<br />
the same sorrow<br />
the same determination<br />
the same everything<br />
<br />
what do the others see?<br />
<br />
a gathering at town hall<br />
or at freedom park<br />
or at the press club<br />
people standing until they are asked to leave<br />
because it's time for the next event<br />
<br />
yes, it feels pointless<br />
<br />
but then i see my kids<br />
standing in the midst of it all<br />
excited about a slogan someone handed them<br />
understanding some things<br />
and curious about the rest<br />
<br />
and i remind myself<br />
that <i>that</i> is the point<br />
and that i must never stop doing something<br />
anything</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-26507788510221320262017-08-20T21:42:00.001+05:302017-08-20T21:43:37.689+05:30The Very Tired Butterfly<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i><span style="color: #134f5c;">Published on <a href="http://madrascourier.com/art-and-poetry/the-very-tired-butterfly/" target="_blank">Madras Courier</a></span></i><br />
<br />
<br />
i saw you lying face up<br />
when i went to the terrace this morning<br />
you were in a corner<br />
with your feet up<br />
in a position of surrender<br />
a position that showed no fear<br />
a position that you, maybe, took when you finally went to rest<br />
<br />
i kneeled down and peered closer<br />
your face looked peaceful<br />
and i could almost see a smile<br />
that's how one looks in death, i suppose<br />
<br />
i turned you over<br />
you were so beautiful<br />
like a tiger<br />
orange, black and a bit of white<br />
<br />
what did you eat for that orange to glow?<br />
clementines aren't so bright.<br />
what made the black look blacker than pitch?<br />
blueberries aren't so dark.<br />
and that pure white, where did it come from?<br />
did you eat fresh snowflakes when you last played?<br />
<br />
what all did it take for you to become a tiger, oh butterfly<br />
and was it too much that you couldn't hold on for just one more day?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-62350774608394995492017-08-17T23:45:00.002+05:302017-08-18T11:58:39.698+05:30reflection<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
one bright sunny morning<br />
a sudden gust of wind<br />
blew hard upon a tree<br />
and forced it to bend down<br />
and look into the lake<br />
<br />
instantly, it sprang back!<br />
<br />
it was horrified by what it saw<br />
its leaves had withered<br />
its branches had dried up<br />
its bark had changed colour<br />
it looked beaten<br />
but why?<br />
<br />
it had basked in the warm, summer sun<br />
but gotten burnt when it had stayed too long<br />
it had shed its layers in the cool autumn wind<br />
but shivered when it had shown too much<br />
it had been coated in winter's pretty snowflakes<br />
but been blanketed during a storm<br />
it had been at spring’s colourful best<br />
but allergies had made it blue<br />
<br />
while it pondered all this<br />
it was struck by another thought<br />
was it beaten, or had it just been weathered?<br />
<br />
wasn't it still standing?<br />
<br />
yes, it had changed<br />
it didn't have a choice<br />
it had been frightened<br />
of what it had become<br />
so it hadn’t looked<br />
until the push from the gust<br />
had forced it to see<br />
<br />
and once it had seen<br />
there was no going back<br />
to another time or an earlier self<br />
<br />
so it embraced the gust<br />
the second time around<br />
and let itself be gently swayed<br />
to look into the lake<br />
<br />
and it held still<br />
and looked long and hard<br />
at its reflection</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-26004828873802879682017-08-14T11:07:00.002+05:302017-11-07T17:44:04.862+05:30entangled<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
the insect managed<br />
to escape the spider's web<br />
could they do the same?</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-89456403754279654942017-08-08T10:50:00.000+05:302017-08-08T10:50:13.815+05:30the rubber band<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
always ready to<br />
stretch and accommodate<br />
until it snaps<br />
<br /></div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-13136110980915352842017-07-31T14:46:00.004+05:302017-07-31T14:49:44.901+05:30what does it take<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
what does it take<br />
for the sun to peek out of a cloud<br />
and show off its reds and oranges<br />
however glaring they might be<br />
even just momentarily?<br />
'you're too bright, you're too hot, you're too sharp<br />
go back and hide behind the cloud'<br />
<br />
what does it take<br />
for a caterpillar to come out of its cocoon<br />
and show off its rainbow colours<br />
and brand new shape<br />
even if only for a few days?<br />
'you're too colourful, you're not pretty, you're so big<br />
don't pretend to be someone else'<br />
<br />
what does it take<br />
for a circus clown<br />
to remove their mask<br />
and show sadness and despair<br />
even if only rarely?<br />
'you're not supposed to be sad, you have to make me laugh<br />
put that mask back on so we don't have to see you'<br />
<br />
what does it take<br />
for us to be<br />
and let others be<br />
every single day?<br />
to show off our colours<br />
in the midst of the colour blind<br />
to take any form or shape<br />
in a sea of moulds<br />
to remove our masks<br />
among those wearing shades<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
what does it take?</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-38633220714494200982017-07-27T12:52:00.004+05:302017-07-27T12:52:55.727+05:30How Roger Federer Made Me a Mature Tennis Fan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Published first on <a href="http://theladiesfinger.com/roger-federer-tennis-fan/" target="_blank">The Ladies Finger</a><br />
<br />
<br />
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<div class="entry-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: "Source Sans Pro", Oswald, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.6 !important; margin: 0px 0px 18px; orphans: 2; padding: 18px 0px 0px; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
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For the first time since 2012, my fingernails were intact post a Roger Federer match. I also didn’t think twice about moving around, changing posture, or getting something to eat in between points. And most importantly, I didn’t gush immediately on Facebook. Instead, I posted a rather dull status update the day after and used a neon blue background to draw attention to it —<span> </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; line-height: inherit;">‘a boring final, an incredible record, and a mature fan. life has changed<span> </span></i><img alt="☺" class="emoji" draggable="false" src="https://s.w.org/images/core/emoji/2.3/svg/263a.svg" style="background: none !important; border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline !important; height: 1em !important; margin: 0px 0.07em !important; max-width: 100%; padding: 0px !important; vertical-align: -0.1em !important; width: 1em !important;" /><i style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; line-height: inherit;">.’</i></div>
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To explain this, I must elaborate a bit on my past as a national tennis player. Most of my contemporaries — girls, especially — played double-handed backhand, which made my single-handed stroke stand out. I also loved to play at the net, something that was again fairly uncommon then. I explained to myself (without any scientific research to back it up) that I could do both of these with ease because I was a ‘tad heavier’ than most others, and hence had stronger wrists. Whatever the reason, I became a fan of anyone who played in a similar manner.</div>
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Remember Pete Sampras? Yes, the same one who looked a little unkempt at times, stuck his tongue out while playing, and wore knee-long ‘shorts’. I loved him! I defended him vehemently when anyone I knew made fun of him, his clothes or his emotional nature, but I wasn’t superstitious when he played. And I don’t recall crying when he lost, which when I think back now might seem weird, but I’ve finally understood why after so many years. The LA Lakers. That NBA team dominated my mind for almost the entire time that I lived in America, and my superstitions and emotions were reserved solely for them. I sat in the same spot, wore the same jersey, cried and gloated alternatively, and trash talked incessantly. I became a different person, one who was maybe not as appealing to her friends who were on the receiving end, but I couldn’t care less. They were my team, and I was their biggest fan.</div>
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But back to Federer, whom this story is on.</div>
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I had watched him at the US Open in 2002, and at the time, Federer’s only claim to fame — other than his beautiful poetic style of play — was his victory over Sampras at Wimbledon the previous year. He eventually won his first title in 2003 and began rewriting history books then on. It was around this time that I moved back to India where the NBA hadn’t made such an impact yet. So out went the Lakers from my head and in came Federer. (It also helped that the Lakers stank for a good five or six years before they went back to winning a title).</div>
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There was no need for any nail biting in the early part of Fed’s career. He blew everyone away, except for Nadal on clay. 2009 was an epic year when he won his only French Open title, which I was sure was only because I wore the same clothes and sat in the same spot suffering with pins and needles and not because Nadal wasn’t on the other side of the net. He also broke Pete Sampras’ record of 14 Grand Slam titles at Wimbledon. I paid no heed to time difference and never missed a match no matter where he played. I blogged about his victories, discussed his genius shot-making with whoever cared to talk to me, and sulked at his defeats, replaying crucial points in my head. ‘What if, why didn’t he, how could he,’ and other thoughts plagued me when he lost even though it wasn’t often. Every time he was to play in a final, I would have sleepless nights. I cried even more than him when he lost the 2009 Australian Open.</div>
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Then came 2013, and with it his Grand Slam drought. So many almost-wins but no Grand Slam titles. Nothing worked — for him or for me. He always looked a step too slow, and it always felt like he had played one shot too many. I always followed the same pre-match and during-match routine, including not jinxing it by talking ahead with anyone, but it felt like I was one routine short. My blogs were melancholic, focusing on a time gone by. My conversations were mournful, but I began to accept that his end was nearing and that I should just stop, for my own sanity.</div>
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So I began to watch his matches with zero expectations, but it wasn’t easy. Every final or semi-final he lost, I would tell myself that it was OK, but I was worried for his Grand Slam title record. Seventeen was good, but with Nadal and Djokovic snapping at his heels, especially with the latter playing more and more machine-like, I was afraid that he would be overtaken. I was afraid that every match lost was a missed opportunity to widen the gap. But all I wanted to see was that brilliance, even if it were only in flashes. And he shone!</div>
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Somehow, I made it through four years and then came the 2017 Australian Open. Before every match, I told myself that he wasn’t going to win and was later pleasantly surprised when he won. When I realised that he was playing Nadal in the final, I wasn’t sure how to react. Was I going to be the nail-biting wreck or the laid-back mature fan who didn’t care about the outcome? Although I didn’t do any of the pre-match superstitious prep, I was a bit nervous. I knew how much it meant to him, and to me, but I decided not to go psycho.</div>
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I sat back and enjoyed the high-level tennis that was being played, and applauded both players equally. I didn’t curse Nadal for taking too much time in between points. And I didn’t yell at Federer for hitting the occasional backhand at the bottom of the net. As the fifth set began, I prepared for a loss. I don’t know if it was my bad vibes, but when Federer went down a break, I was tempted to shut off the TV and walk away. But I didn’t. Instead, I marvelled at the composure Federer displayed, the sensible shot selection, and the determination with which he pounced on open opportunities — something that is rare when playing with Nadal. When Federer broke back to even the score, I knew he was going to win. Something told me that he had broken through that barrier. And so he had.</div>
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I kept my cool through Wimbledon last week and so did he. Using his skill, smarts and sensibilities, he took apart his much younger opponents one by one. I wasn’t jittery even once, not even in the final despite knowing what was at stake in the context of records. I was happy that he won, but gone was the floaty feeling, gone was the gloating, and gone was the Facebook update — for good. Maybe I’ve broken through the barrier as well. I can’t imagine feeling this way about anyone else ever again, but…</div>
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While I watched the Wimbledon final on Sunday, feeling cool as a cucumber, my daughter walked up to the TV and looked at the score. Although Federer was leading, he lost two points back to back just then. She immediately said, “I think I’ll go back to what I was doing, ma. I’m bringing him bad luck.”</div>
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What’s that saying? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree? Or is it the tennis ball doesn’t bounce too far from the player?</div>
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<em style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; line-height: inherit;">Rekha Raghunathan played tennis more than she did anything else in her life until she was 20. She then worked in finance and management, until she rediscovered an interest in writing and editing. Mum, editor, and blogger are her three current life roles.</em></div>
</div>
<br />
<br /></div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-72731948306851569972017-07-19T10:33:00.000+05:302017-07-19T14:47:14.219+05:30reminders<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
everywhere i turn, i am reminded<br />
of times that were great<br />
and even ones that were good<br />
why, i'll even take the ones that were better<br />
than now<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
and it's not just at home</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
but on the streets</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
as i walk past stores</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
and restaurants</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
and tea shops</div>
<br />
sometimes i pause<br />
and think for a bit<br />
i try to relive<br />
i try to recall<br />
memory, and muscle memory<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
those times that we chatted</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
even something irrelevant</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
those times that we hugged</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
and maybe when we kissed</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
or held hands</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i have to be honest</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
that it's a struggle</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
thoughts are so powerful</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
and they sometimes</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
override memory</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
that's the thing</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
memory fades, quite quickly too</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
i haven't forgotten the feeling</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
but i have forgotten the feel</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
yeah, there is a difference</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
what helps then are reminders</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
pictures, as faded as they may be</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and keepsakes, no, not ones bought</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but a tissue that we wrote on</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
or a coaster stained with booze</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a shell that recorded more than the sound of the sea</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a bill from a bus ride</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a goofy smiley scribbled</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a codeword we created</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
anything</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
something</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
to keep going</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
hoping</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
feeling</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
believing</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
living</div>
</div>
</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-40411236365902181092017-07-04T08:21:00.001+05:302017-07-04T08:21:52.250+05:30friendship and chocolate<p dir="ltr">thick hot chocolate<br>
coats and warms my cup and heart<br>
like old childhood <u>friends</u></p>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-12441195926668232812017-06-28T21:38:00.000+05:302017-06-28T21:44:56.074+05:30#notinmyname<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
a silent protest.<br />
their first of many, i hope.<br />
never in their names!</div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332679912742068186.post-90416433716158703332017-06-27T10:36:00.000+05:302017-06-27T22:31:19.577+05:30un-see<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
what happens when you<br />
see your life differently?<br />
how do you un-see?<br />
<br /></div>
random ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16556942584628591178noreply@blogger.com0