Jungle Book of Nostalgia

Trip to nostalgia

“The reason the beasts give among themselves is that Man is the weakest and most defenseless of all living things, and it is unsportsmanlike to touch him.”- Rudyard Kipling, The Jungle Book

It’s Sunday. All windows are open to welcome the sun in the house. I can smell French toast in the air. My mom is talking to the help in the kitchen. Four eyes glued on the TV. Dad and I, not ready to move an inch from our drawing room. On screen, Shere Khan is threatening Mowgli. There is an argument going on in the wolf family about the acceptance of a human being. I’m thinking of moving to some jungle. At least it won’t be this sunny.  I’m allowed to have half a cup of tea with sub-merged biscuit today. My tea is already cold. But I don’t mind. I look at my dad and whisper, “Now what?”

Continue reading “Jungle Book of Nostalgia”

Fictions and Feelings

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Writing fiction is the act of weaving a series of lies to arrive at a greater truth. ― Khaled Hosseini

It was one lazy Sunday afternoon. My husband decided to do cooking and laundry to give me a break from those mundane weekend activities. Alone in a corner, I was reading the first story from Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Unaccustomed Earth” and I was sobbing.
There was a part about mother-daughter relationship that made me speculate about a time in future when my mother won’t be around. Continue reading “Fictions and Feelings”

Thanking the wiser self

Thanksgiving fall

I have a wiser self.

The one that acts as the soothing inner voice when I miss an exit on the longest highway. The one that asks me to check my heart on the mirror once in a while and fix the flaws, not hide them.

The one that tells me to live silently, work on things that matter in the mundane world. The one that suggests me to be a true friend to friends and  to be present in each others’ lives, for years, not for a month or a year, not only on Facebook. Continue reading “Thanking the wiser self”

Six Lessons from My Dad

Duck Dyansty

These days I remember what Umberto Eco said in “Foucault’s Pendulum“. I remember it too many times.

I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren’t trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom.”

Today, I am guest posting at Eli’s popular place Coachdaddyblog, and talking about my father and the lessons I learned from him. So please stop by, show your support, and help me cheering for all good fathers of this world. This is the link to click. Continue reading “Six Lessons from My Dad”

Still lifes

Still lifes photography

At the age of nine, I was taken to a popular local painter and asked to learn painting. My mother who loved art in every form, requested the painter to teach me twice a week, “She has the gift. So start with still lifes.” The painter taught me how to draw deep layers of rose petals, a lonely lime blossom under a rainy sky, and a lifeless hibiscus trying to find light through the open window. “But I want to paint human life. And a landscape of his week and month and year and I want to color them natural,” I pleaded once. “But they won’t look good forever. Flowers are fine,” the painter yelled. Continue reading “Still lifes”