The Flight of A Butterfly

You know the recent polls in Delhi which saw the AAP’s rise to power? Well, being a keen observer of politics, I was writing an article about it. During a lecture. (Trust me…it was a biochemistry lecture....oxidation of fatty acids....and I never liked it!!) And I missed my attendance because of it. Shit!!! What was the point of sitting for an hour then! A friend sitting next to me remarked, “tu likhte reh APP ke baare mein…..”  (You keep on writing about APP).  My attendance being missed didn’t hurt me as much as her comment did. Why this indifference towards your own Government? So much so that you don’t even know the party’s name? More importantly, I was reminded of an incident that happened a few years ago. It was when I was in standard 10 and something that I’ll never forget.   Let me first tell you about my class. We were a class of 43 teens (23 girls and 20 boys) with their ever-effective hormones at work. Rebellious, fun-loving and smart. (Personally...

Pretty easy saying huh?? Done deal. Where will you get the sugar from? Or the water? Life just handed you a bunch of sour lemons....nothing else. What is the recipe for the lemonade? You are thinking. Hard. And you are fed up. You are tired of holding on, you are scared. You are scared about what tomorrow will bring. You have hit an all-time low with wounds which require a lifetime to heal. You pray for change. And the change you prayed for makes a turn for the worse. Some people about whom you cared surprise you with their indifference. And You hit hard. You bruise yourself in ways you never thought you would.  And you cry life is unfair. That life has handed you sour lemons.  You get the sugar from life's small joys. Small, insignificant things. Like a Sunday. Like your favorite movie playing on the TV. Like reading excerpts from your favorite book. Like getting bad food instead of getting worse. Like a class being cancelled at the last moment. I guess ...

The last time I wrote, it was about my grandfather and my days with him. My life isn’t extraordinary or something, and it is pretty much what normal teens would experience. You know the usual........grades, friends and family. So just to continue with the ‘anecdotes from my life’ theme, I’ll tell you how I formed the definition of my identity. My parents belong to different cultures. My mom basically belongs to Andhra Pradesh and my dad hails from Odisha. Even though these states are  neighbors , believe me, they are as different as chalk and cheese. And so are my mom and dad. Right from the beginning, ever since I could remember, they respected each other’s differences. They made sure I learn both the languages and know about the cultures. The two of us, my brother and I, were made proficient both ways.                                                ...

I'm back! I admit......this hiatus wasn't proper. And even if I'm not that good a writer, I have started having these total blackouts in front of the keyboard (#writersblock).  But you see, I am going through some tough times myself and to be honest, I am waiting for a few things to clear up. I still have no idea what to write. So I guess I'll be telling you mostly about what this blog is intended to be. In this fast paced 21st century world, we are in a never-ending competition. I'm still figuring what is so precious waiting for us at the finish line. This fight for survival is enough to make us forget our inner voice, our passion and run for something we don't even know about. The regular drill of the day, from the moment you leave your bed to the time you tuck yourself back in, it can really be tiring. Its funny how day by day nothing changes, yet when you look back everything is different. People say you are fortunate to have what you have- there are ...

This is the story of a man and a little girl. A story which is not uncommon yet beautiful.               Let’s get started. This little girl grew up at his place. The ‘home’ was a heaven; tall trees-mango, neem and pomegranate surrounded it. A large courtyard with roses, jasmine, hibiscus and some wild flowers. Inside; bedrooms with beautiful windows.  Every morning sunlight came streaming in, waking everyone up. A big cupboard with books- Dickens, Tolstoy, Twain, The Bronte Sisters and countless other authors. The terrace was always the place for any sleepover.              The school was just a 10 minute walk. After school hours, she would spend the whole day playing with him- he was the student and she was the teacher (with a stick in her hand!!!).  In reality, he taught her. Everything which is immensely useful, practical and enjoyable. He taught her the Indian mythology and how to be polyglot....

So here it is. My first post. And a baby step towards a bigger dream. Let me start by sharing my favorite story. Don't ask me where I read it or heard it; I don't remember. But the message has continued to stay with me.  There was once a Captain in the American Air Force who was quite brave and valiant. He was known for his courage and his ability to take calculated risks. Once, during the Vietnam War he was flying his chopper and took a risk which went horribly wrong. The chopper was shot at and if it was not for his parachute he would never have survived. He was captured by the Vietnamese. Eventually he escaped. He was lauded as a hero on his return and went on to win many medals.  Years later, he had retired from his service as a distinguished officer and was dining at a restaurant when this man, almost his age, walked upto him and said "You are the Vietnam War hero, I know all about you, the crash; you shouldn't have made that turn........" The soldier got...