The Rebelle blog

Here I am, writing the last blog post for 2015. What a wonderful year this has been! It felt like a dream, an adventure and I also had my share of a miserable few hours, but, nothing compares this year to the others. I have felt new, super charged and have had more faith than the last few years put together. 2015 gave me beautiful new people as friends, as family (I became an aunt to a nephew and niece), renewed my interest in a lot of things I had forgotten in the rat race and bought new challenges forward. I eagerly look towards 2016 for new and better opportunities, new experiences and a new me who will be brimming with happiness and enthusiasm and not be afraid of failures. I look forward to new memories and everlasting love for my beloved and good health and kindness among all. Here's to a year of peace for all, happiness, kindness and equal opportunities for the ones who deserve better and a lot more than they had earlier. Hello, 2016!

As I reread excerpts from Rilke's Letters to a young poet while also rummaging through my memory for old images from a time long ago, it amuses me how much life is entwined within poetry and fiction. The late Swedish poet, Tomas Transtromer wrote in The Blue House about the open terrain which was once a garden and now wilderness, the house resembling a child's drawing. I am intrigued by that drawing. I wonder if it will have a small red roofed house with a chimney and flower garden, with blue skies and the sun shining bright over a small pathway lined with shrubs. This is my drawing. It has fascinated me all these years, refusing to fade from my memory. Many other things have been forgotten but this house with its red roof stands fresh and surprisingly in 2D. Transtromer writes about an amateur painting hung over the bed representing a ship with seventeen sails, rough sea and a wind which the gilded frame cannot subdue, The wind blows in my hair and sends a chill down my

My first computer was in 1998 and I remember being excited, curious and a bit nervous about handling it. Dad showed me how to switch it on and off and the first application I ever worked on was MS Paint. My first drawing was a house or an attempt of drawing a house, that is. The neighbourhood uncle came and saw me painting on the computer. He stood next to me and was surprised at my Dad letting me use the new machine, his words. It was wonderful. I would come home from school and use the computer, mostly paint. One of the themes that played while the computer started was "Can't fight the moonlight" sung by LeAnn Rimes from the movie, "Coyote Ugly". I was very amused and fascinated by the starting lines of the song. To a child, new things bring lot of joy. My Dad taught me using Word, Power point and it was a great source of entertainment to explore and make new slides in PP. Internet was not yet available back then at my place. But I was too young to use i

Post-exam contemplations throw a lot of weird thoughts in my mind! They make me restless, almost anxious and leave a severe bitter feeling as to the possible career mistakes I've made so far. Yes, it happens. The urban planning and development reading material already made me ponder over the unemployment and youth factors of which, turns out, I am quite an active member. I am a voluntarily unemployed person according to the definitions in the textbooks. But we know better than to believe these definitions, don't we? I saw a particularly funny GIF that showed a young man in beard running recklessly through a dense forest with the caption- young people tired with society are running into wilderness. My first thought was, what are 'we' young people running away from? What does society do to us or we to society that we feel like running away from civilization? I really believe we are rebels without a cause. Most of us, that is. We get bored easily, tired quickly, disi

http://theladiesfinger.com/2015-is-ending-where-are-the-women/ And while we read this article, I am also reading about the murder of Allison Baden-Clay, 43, a Brisbane resident who was killed by her husband in April 2012 and now the court verdict is out wherein he won the appeal against his murder conviction instead being accused of manslaughter. So yes, such judgements get passed not only in India but everywhere in the world. A woman is murdered and all the court does is convicts her husband of manslaughter, not murder. How convenient for the judiciary! The Reeva Steenkamp murder verdict proved how blinded the legal system is! Her cold blooded murderer got away with an 'accidental self-defence' argument. He'll live the rest of his life, alive and doing things while that young woman will lay forgotten. That is what is happening with women! We don't exist- we don't matter, unless we speak up. At least a voice is a reminder to the other gender to look around and s

So this comes from an article I read early in the morning today on Medium. It's written on the likes of Dark complexion and girls like the author who herself has one, embracing the skin and experimenting with bright colours on her body. She writes of some incident where her bright yellow outfit and bobbed hair with bright pink lipstick got censored by some women at a body shop. As I kept reading the article and came to the end where the author posted her pictures in different bright coloured outfits she wore, I thought about the need felt by us women to still justify our choices whether they are regarding make-up or our hairstyle or the most important of them all, clothes. One recent personal experience of mine that I think is quite harmless to write about here is when during a friend's wedding, this common girl friend of ours gave me some jewellery to wear because it went with my outfit, applied a dash of lipstick and blusher on my face while telling me it looks great on

Sometimes I wish I'd documented all my thoughts about dismantling patriarchy in a diary or a journal when I was younger. I wish this now, because I recently read some letters I'd written to a distant friend on role of women in workplaces and this uneven household/work system. And I realised my thoughts on certain books like Wuthering Heights or Virginia Woolf's writings and Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar have undergone a slight change. Maybe I was young, back when I first read these books. I was disappointed by the portrayal of women and it marred my understanding about the quality of life 19th century women lived in. SO, the thoughts on tramping patriarchy also arose from two recent incidents seen in India. One, the Happy to Bleed project which started as a reaction to some Temple Trustee's atrocious remarks against menstruating women in Kerala, by women of all age groups on Twitter and other social media. The other is the story of a woman breaking a 400 year old t