My Literary Indulgences...

“I'm not some helpless girl that you need to go out of your way to make my life easier.” “OK. Duly noted.” “Good. Now you're staying up late with me. I've to put in 2k words before morning and I haven't even begun yet.” “But…” “Shut up. Go watch a movie and let me write. I'll call you when I'm done.” Sigh. It’s amusing to be friends with a feminist. Or to be politically correct as my friend would want, it’s amusing to be this feminist’s friend. Because it’s a live one woman show of ebony and ivory. A humorous display of yin and yang. Or simply put, a paradox. And this is about all the reasons why. My camaraderie with her began during an internship. A bunch of young kids, from a college with too many restrictions, we were thrown together into the corporate world and suddenly were being treated like sensible adults! We were housed in the same hotel, with no chaperons. We tasted freedom like we never had before. And in this happy a...

No one ever pegged me for one who'll get sentimental on leaving college after four years. They were right. I had this realization quite early on about myself - places don't matter to me, people do. So I'd not give a second thought to leaving paradise even, metaphorical or real(?), if there's promise of keeping in touch with my loved ones. So why this swan song you ask? Firstly, because it's good practice to take stock of what you've lost and gained. Secondly, because I'm tired of repeating "sage words" time and again to overly enthusiastic, highly inquisitive juniors. This isn't some guide to success (or recipe to failure I hope!). This is simply a tale of VIT's best gift to me - rejections. But not of the romantic kinds! Let's keep that for some other time. When you enter college from school, it's a change no amount of sibling's wisdom, parents' coaching or friends' support can prepare you for. It will overwhelm y...

Before you pick the biggest baddest weapon from you r a rsenal to shoot me with, let me put forth my reasons to ask you that. Firstly, as an exercise in self realization as to the reaction it brings about, and secondly, to grab your attention to what I'm going to say in the next couple of minutes. This post is NOT about - 1. vilifying caste system; note that I wrote caste system, not casteism. (Yes, there's a difference!) 2. victimization of the oppressed; that includes the "lower" castes who've been oppressed for generations and the "upper" castes who feel oppressed by HRD. 3. a take on studies/essays/reports by historians, socio-economists, and other men/women of academia. 4. a bland retelling of statistics, with a hope that somehow the numbers would drive the point home (rookie mistake!). This post IS about - 1. how the educated, cosmopolitan youth reacts to this question. 2. the ignorance of the said group about this social s...

If some entity decides the course of events in our lives, I'm sure it loves irony. For how else can you explain the fact that the day I see The Internet's Own Boy , a splendid documentary o n one of the biggest heroes of freedom of Internet, Aaron Swartz, is the day I find out that our beloved, "अच्छे दिन आ गए (good days are here)" touting, pro-development government orders ISPs to put a blanket ban over 60 websites including vimeo, dailymotion, github, pastebin, sourceforge, etc . In any general scenario I always find ironies amusing, maybe darkly amusing, but worth expending a smile nonetheless. But this time, I'm not amused. Not when they snatch away GitHub from me. India's repute of producing software developers and engineers is world renowned. Long gone are the days when we were portrayed just as a bunch of people with fake accents sitting at call centers taking pesky calls at odd working hours. Though the Indian education system keeps ensuring that a...

'Tis undeniably agreed, logic and reason therein, Mercilessly extinguish, even the hope of paranormal; As a man devout to reason, I cannot help but acquiesce, Reluctantly, yes, and herein is borne the dichotomy within. Agreed many a fools are ignorant, of the harmony, In duality, which science affirms on numerous occasions; But similarities end there, for science heartlessly debunks, Of afterlife, anything beyond death, an essence of eternity. The calculative mind is at peace with this nothingness, Unperturbed at the sight of countless passing into the void; But the heart, ruled by emotions, broken by untimely loss, Clings on to hope, faith, for love, companionship, forgiveness. My heart, no different, broken by loss, racked with guilt, At leaving her side, when she needed it most, thus failing, In saving her from her dismal fate, weeps, woebegone, And clings to hope, against reason having a shield built. This dissonance within is revealed, at times of bliss, Wherein the mind woul...

Their meeting was preordained, inasmuch as that of two future colleagues. But they were complete strangers then, and owing it to those quantum leaps in communication, they thought perhaps a warming up before the much later rendezvous was called for. Dear xxxxxx, Destined to work together as we are, It's our prerogative that we shatter The prover bial ice, and get familiar To each other, even though presently afar. Dear yyyyyy, Succinctly you've worded my sentiments, For I too believe, that in this life, friendship Is something you can never have enough of, And this is a neat solution to that predicament. Thus began their camaraderie, penned down word by word, from the seemingly inconsequential chatter, Dear xxxxxx, Curses be to you, who devours delicacies, While I battle to stomach this unpalatable, Mishmash of vegetables, ill treated at that, For god knows these cretins know no mercies. Dear yyyyyy, Curse your own judgement, dear friend, For it is yo...

My dear dear friend, for once let go The subconscious urge to visualize, For those pesky caricatures may hinder, Sensations far too powerful, I surmise. 'Tis her scent which registers first, Like the aroma which heralds of first rain, Arresting, intoxicating, addictive, euphoric, Cleansing my being of long endured pains. The sound of her laughter, falls to my ears, For eons, they had longed for this music That clear strong voice of angels, slices Through the din, making my heart tick. Her touch, gentle, kind, compassionate, As if god draped her with the finest silk, No, even silk is morbidly cold, where she Is warm, firm, comforting, not deviously slick. But 'tis her mind and soul that I crave, That which makes her truly beautiful, That which makes her understand me, And my imperfections, yet love me plentiful. My dear dear friend, do not ask me how She looks, for I cannot justifiably describe. But I'm certain she surpasses your finest Imagination, sh...