When Silence Speaks...

Guilt is a hunter. Fear is a hunter. Shame is a hunter. Fate is a hunter. This novel reaffirmed my faith in good writers. The last few WWII novels that I read left me disappointed, there was always something lacking. I was told by a friend that maybe it's because I am reading too many similar genre books that they don't excite me anymore. But if we have good artist, even the billionth book or painting or movie on the same subject can still make it's audience catch their breath. " The poet Emerson said that when we have worn out our shoes, the strength of the journey has passed into our body" -The Shoe Poet. I liked Ruta's style. How she is making us constantly read every character's thoughts on a given situation. And, yet the story is not stuck in that moment, it keeps moving. To keep switching sides and analyzing conflicting views at the same time, it's a different reading experience.  I loved all the characters, they grow on you. The way she chose to...

I am not a relationship guru. Never was.  And have never understood what it really means either. I believe, no one is an expert when it comes to emotions. Having said that, I also believe in a simple logic, something that applies to all aspects of life, especially relationships -  Communication . It's strange. All the tools and techniques that are forced upon us as kids, is to enable us to communicate. Alphabets, words, languages, speaking, writing, reading, listening, analyzing  - all the skills that we spend a good part of our initial 20 years, focus on our communicative abilities.  And what do we do with it?  For the rest of our lives, we shy away from using those skills in the situations when it's most needed. What's also strange, is compared to olden days, today we have more platforms that enable different mode of communication. You don't want to meet in person, you have FaceTime or video calls. You don't want to see or listen, you can leave voicemails. Or ...

I remember the first time you laid hands on my shoulder, and we both knew instantly that we were made for each other. Well, the first few days was special for both of us. We both, trying to take care of each other and giving special attention to one another.  I remember the glow in your eyes when you had named me - Bagheera. You had a way to make it sound cute. I enjoyed the races with your college friends, your favorite hangout places, those stunts you would pull off. I loved the romantic double rides with your girlfriend, although at times you would have very cheesy conversations, but I loved listening to both of you. I have silently watched you sit alone at the bank of the river, when you would be lost in some distant thoughts. We would sing together when you were happy, ringing my bell and humming weird songs. We both loved the wind against our face on the downhill rides. I could always feel your grip loosen on me, like you were ready to fly.  I had felt a stab of betrayal...

  जो मुहोब्बत का इज़हार किया  तो इलज़ाम लगा नुमाइशगी का | जो टूटे दिल का दर्द छिपाया  तो इलज़ाम लगा  बुज़दिली का | जो हर हाल में इलज़ाम लगना ही है  तो फ़रियाद कैसी और किस से | और जो इलज़ाम ले ही लिया है  तो क्यों ना आशिकी में ही बदनाम हो लें | 

There it was.  I was cleaning my bathroom cabinets and it was hiding in the bottom shelf.   A small plastic pink soap box. I held it and was instantly taken back to year 1999. When I had been in a hostel for the first time in my life. For the first time I was staying away from home, away from my family, all by myself in some unknown place with strangers. Not until 7 years later that I finally moved out of home and started living independently, did I experience that same nauseated feeling again.  But that day, that moment, it was going to be the first time in my life, staying away from my family, and first’s are always special. It’s funny, how this pink soap box takes me on a time travel right back to that moment. The school was just about 15 minutes walk from our home. But that year they had some summer camp, that required kids to stay for 15 days in school’s hostel. I remember my uncle and mom dropping me off near the hostel gate.  It’s...

Just like any other bridge, this one plays a role of connecting you and me. Some are brand new, very inviting, clean and pure, presenting to be strong, yet to get exposed to the harsh reality of life. Some have weathered in many seasons, with few bars of railings missing, few broken planks, yet they stand strong, like huge metal bridges.  Some are reinforced with fresh materials every few years, so we stay connected strong and safe for entire lifetime.  Some are beyond repair, standing there rusty and broken. Not because it's impossible to fix the gap, but just waiting for equal support from the other side to mend it. Some were meant to serve one another just once. The need to cross that bridge never arose again, doesn't mean we don't remember how important that bridge was in our journey. To new and old, deep and shallow, strong and weak, connected and broken friendships, I am grateful to have known you one way or another.  Happy Friendships Day! 🍻

"Hmm. Papa, I think the sun doesn't know swimming." she said crossing her arms leaning on the wall. "Oh really. Why do you think that?" He asked amusingly. "Look over there. It always ends up drowning in the ocean. Look there." She said glowing in her pink dress and pink helmet, her pink bike leaning against her. "Alright. But it shows up every morning right?" He asked. "Yeeeaaahhhh. Oh oh, I know, maybe it actually goes to bed in the ocean. So, sun knows swimming." She said excitedly. "Hmm. Close enough. It says goodbye to us, so we can go to bed, and then goes to other side of the earth to wake others like us up." "So, sun never sleeps?" She asked inquisitively. "Nope. And neither does it swim or drown in the ocean. You will learn more when we start reading the solar system story books." "Hmmm. Papa, can we touch the sun?" "No we cannot. It's very hot and very far...

Can you ever KNOW the people you really love? And how much of what you already know about them is true? “In the dark they are careful of each other, as if they know they are fragile, as if they know they can break.”  This book has compressed a lot of strong topics and deep emotions into just twelve chapters, but the 2 key things that I connected to was Ng's style of portraying society's constant persuasion to blend in and the bitter-sweet sibling bond.  “ What made something precious? Losing it and finding it. ”  Of course it revolves around racial biases, which you can relate to the most if you are an immigrant or as they call an alien in America. But I looked at it a bit differently. To me it felt like the constant urge to fit in when you really didn't want to,  it was unrelated to mixed race or immigrants.  It was just how Ng described the way of the world, the silent agreement that no one felt the need to spell out. Just wear this or do this or say ...

How does it feel, To not know what you are waking up to? To be unsure of the promises you make? To be a mere audience of your own life? To finally notice all the things you took for granted? To just stand as a watchful spectator to the events around you? To have been forced into a new way of life? To stand at the edge of the cliff untethered? To feel the wind against your face not knowing if there's a storm coming? To be just a speckle of hope in this grand scheme of things? To be forced to show humility? To have finally been shown your place in this cosmos? Well, call me crazy, but for me I can say, it feels good. Infact, it's quite liberating!

He sat there silently feeling the breeze. He wasn't chatty anymore like before. "I definitely am getting old" he thought. Life had stripped him bit by bit, but he never budged. He always found reasons to wake up to another day and continue. It felt like just yesterday, when he was this delicate little thing, protected under the shadows of his elders. He has seen so many seasons now that he had stopped keeping count of them long ago. The rings in his trunk no longer accounted for his true age. He still remembers the first thunderstorm he was in, how he had tried to hold on to his precious 6 leaves. And how he was devastated to see 2 of his leaves left battered at the end of it. He was overcome with so much grief that he had spent the whole day with slouching shoulders, his back bent till his head touched the earth. But then, with the ray of next sunlight, he had slowly revived. Now he thinks of that day and smiles at his ignorance and innocence. That was the w...

"Everyone has a thousand wishes before a tragedy, but just one afterward." Of all the atrocities of mankind, I find rape and molestation the worst. I can read or watch crimes related to murders; even the psychotic nasty serial killing kinds without pondering over them much after the fact. But physical abuse is something that continues to linger in my head for a while. Maybe because it truly is worst than murder as it doesn't end with the act. It continues to live and breathe till the victim is alive. 10 days, 20 months, 40 years or even 6 decades later, it doesn't fade. And to describe that act, is a delicate matter in itself. Backman does an amazing job at this. The way he brings future reflection of past into the present, delicately brushing on the  minutest detail yet resonating that horror, I was moved. He did not have to describe the gory details of the act, but just enough for us to feel the victim's pulse, I think that is the piece that touched me th...

"So, where next?" he asked looking at her attentively. "hmm..Don't know" she said looking out of the window  seemingly distracted . He sipped his coffee and continued "You must have thought something. You need to have some plan. You can't carry on like this forever. You know that right?" She was lost in thoughts, drumming her fingers on the handle of her coffee mug - "hmm" she hummed. The cafe was playing some acoustic version of "When we were young". In an irritated tone he called out "Chloe? Chloe, are you listening to me?" She shook her head and said "Yeah, yeah, am here." looking back at him. "What are you running from? Why are you doing this?" he said in a concerned tone. "Oh come on! Stop being so dramatic. I don't need another "mother" right now. " she said air quoting. "Alright. Alright" he said throwing his hands in the air "But just help m...