The Rebelle blog

My friend, Deepa teaches at an Architecture College and we always discuss academics and students. Thus, one fine Tuesday March morning, I landed up in her college to be a Guest Lecturer for her third year Humanities class. I had never addressed a class formally before and was quite anxious about the response of the students. Like some calm reverie, I set foot in the class, was introduced and began my talk. It was a wonderful 2 hour session with a 15 minute break. The students were attentive and quite responsive. Once I felt comfortable talking to them, we had a great discussion on cities and city dwellers. While I was lecturing them on Urban Planning and Mumbai Metropolitan Region, they seemed very eager to visit the heritage villages pocketed in Girgaon, Bandra and Mazgaon. Dee took this idea forward and now after a month, we have a group of students from the same class who will attend a heritage walk with Dee and  me. It feels great to have culminated an idea into such an event. W

April's coming to an end. So quick. On my birthday, while waiting for a dear friend's call I thought about life's bittersweet moments. The ones where I dreamt big, where I accomplished some task that my heart had written off as unachievable, when I genuinely felt happy and felt alive. After talking to my friend, I realised how our lives seem sprinkled with oddities and yet we sieve our ways through them?! What is that fuel that rockets our dreams? And, will I ever get to realize my dream? Actually, what is my biggest dream? I haven't thought about it; I only see fragments and bits of light in my mind, fluttering through pages and freshly dried ink. I smell words hanging in the air, and my eyes piece stories and ideas somewhere on an invisible canvas. Is writing deceitful? Do I write the truest things? Do I mean what I always write? Or my ideas find mere allegiance to words and they dissolve in the mind itself? What is it to be in love with life? Why am I asking so ma