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Jab Jidd Pe Aa Gayi Parvati ...

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Over the past 2 decades, among the many Hindu mythological stories, the one I have revisited over and over again is that of Mata Sati. And then Mata Parvati. Although this story is a symbolic description of the journey of the individual consciousness to merge with the Divine, it's wisdom remains inaccessible to most of us if the pangs of our modern love stories do not find atleast some psychological resolution in its carefully crafted nuances. When I was younger, my mind imagined an alternative version with kinder outcomes for beloved Sati in which Mahadev tamed his unkempt hair, took a bath and put on decent clothes instead of his usual tiger/deer skin skirt held up by slithering serpents. In which he presented himself exactly like how Sati's parents had envisaged the husband of their youngest daughter to be. This could have made the proud king Daksha, Sati's father change his opinion about our sky-clad, ash-smeared Bholenath whose residence alternates between the frozen...
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New girl in the city - The 'Sakal hans mein Ram viraaje' version

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I am 40 years old. I am also not new to the city I live in. I have already spent more than a decade in Pune, or Poona as it is now called. Therefore the title can be a bit misleading at first glance. Yes, I still discover parts of this city that I haven't known before but I am hardly new to this city. This city hasn't exactly embraced me like I was its long lost son but it has shared with me its sublime music and appreciation for art - even though its people never fail to remind me that I am not one of their own whenever I try to come close to them. Much akin to how the matriarch treated Mastani in the film even though I am not really imposing myself upon any son of the soil. Yes, I am filmy like that. I am also Indian - I happen to live and work in this city, pay rent, taxes and GST and would except to be treated as an equal citizen in lieu. But I digress, this isn't a rant about the city that I have come to love but which will probably not call me it's own ever. T...
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Dear Zindagi : On Emotional Neglect and Abuse

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Emotional Abuse is real and it's debilitating effects can go unnoticed for several decades. Emotional invalidation and manipulation by parents and primary care-givers are of the worst kind for they are often worded as if they are meant for your benefit and well-being. You'll know one day and this knowing will be painful and require time - you'll know by the kind of partners you attract in romantic contexts, your own poor health choices, the weariness caused by a perpetual rebellion, when you are constantly exhausted by all the mental work you take on behalf of people who should care but don't, when during major events of illness or change you reguarly find yourself managing alone, if you are in a state of discomfort when your parents are around alternating between over-doing and exhaustion, you'll know you haven't been loved the way you should have. Emotional abuse by parents can particularly be very confusing for children because of the inherent nature of th...
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POV : I Love the Rains

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It’s coming, the monsoons. I can sense the anticipation all around. The birds who have survived the harsh summer have already begun to chirp happily. There is this heightened sense of excitement combined with this feeling of immense gratitude. Ofcourse the rivers will be flooded and the there will be puddles and muck everywhere. Drainholes will be opened and the dreaded viral infection would return. After the first couple of weeks, when the clothes won't crisp dry or when there is seepage in the walls, I'll have had enough of the same rains. These rains whom I love so much. I'll brood at the thought of the upcoming winter. I'll even miss the sun. I know all this from 37 trips around it. I know that I can be jubilant or ecstatic on meeting old friends but I am incapable of loving them unconditionally. But this is about that time when the monsoons are just about to arrive. Every year it seems as if someone has listened to our prayers for respite from the torrid he...
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Dear Journal

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You are the manifestation of Awareness in the physical world. Thank you for existing. For being the canvas that holds my hurts, griefs, agonies and humiliations - I went around the world and came back with a pen in my hand for connection with you. I build this bridge word by word between 'us' - Allow me to be without agenda. As the non-judging, all accepting silent witness of grief, hurt and transformation - as the eternal kindness - I declare that this is what I have been seeking in all experiences. In your kind allowance - my voice finds it's most honest expression - that I long to unite with your sombre serenity the pangs of incompleteness that echo in my heart. Everyone had their agendas - I had mine too. I kept the same needs for approval, acceptance, validation in front of my friends, colleagues and audience. I seek and find it here. In the blank pages of this journal my longing and seeking find peace.
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my wish for you (one fine morning...)

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Let what you feel about me be indescribable but let it be deep let what you mean to me remain unheard of forever but let it endure more than grief let how I am related to you be unnamed but let it be stronger than solitude let what we have for each other be kinder than life more beautiful than pain more able than words and a little more hopeful than this wish
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In the Mood for Wong Kar Wai

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Some movies begin to live rent-free inside you, suddenly tugging at your heart strings on a cold November morning with their haunting soundtrack. Maybe this is what ‘rafta rafta wo mere hasti ka saamaan ho gaye’ is all about. Maybe 'In the mood for love' was reverse engineered so that Yumeji’s theme could be incorporated in the way it was throughout the movie. Or so that the temple in Siam Reap or Angkor Wat where our melancholic hero whispers his secret in the end, becomes a sacred shrine for unrequited lovers worldwide. Unfinished love stories like these make this world go round. Love like the Sun’s which defines the Moon, but which the Moon can never return in any form or measure because it is eternally tied to the Earth. It is indeed unrequited love stories like these that powers the Universe.
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