The Rebelle blog

 ...Country roads,  take me home  To the place I belong! I am crooning to Olivia Newton- John singing this lovely, understated melody from the Studio Ghibli movie 'Whisper of the Heart.' I watched it one slow summer night as I was lying low with self-doubt and an extreme dip into my self-esteem. What a saver it turned out to be! I resonated with Shizuku, her love for reading and writing and struggling to fit in the ideas of how everyone wanted her to be. How strange that age is truly just a number, and anybody can feel vulnerable yet derive strength from such visually striking stories. Coming of age is just a phenomenon and we can do so at any point in our lives.  So enthralled was I with the viewing that I rewatched it a couple of days later with another young friend. The feeling remained the same, filled with awe and a resonance with her discoveries. I became a little girl once again and relished the things that made me, ME. Sometimes it takes not people but a work of art in

CHENNAI   20 th  August 2023, Saturday As I get off my cab into a long-winded quaint pathway in an upscale neighborhood that leads to a cafe which is like all others in the city; dimly lit exterior turning bright as one opens their blue topaz colored door. I am greeted by the sight of a group of people sitting by a large center table filled with cups of coffee and hot chocolate and piles of books. They are unmistakably the book club that I have come to meet even before my Chennai friend spots me and gets up to greet me.   I immediately like this group of spirited young people talking animatedly on Young Adult and fictional narratives. I delve in and tell them about my current read- in fact, my fresh read. I had picked it up at Higginbothams titled 'Tamarind City' by Bishwanath Ghosh, an anthology of musings on the city. Surprised with the knowledge that the city also has Tamarind trees in addition with the Drumsticks that find their way into the Tamilian sambar, the writer bega

"कह रहा है शोर-ए-दरिया से समुंदर का सुकूत  जिस का जितना ज़र्फ़ है उतना ही वो ख़ामोश है ।" पिछले कुछ दिनों से मैंने खुद के बारे में यह जाना के कितनी आसानी से मैं लोगोंको माफ़ कर देती हूँ।  और, कितनी आसानी से वह वापिस मेरे जिंदगी में शामिल भी हो जाते हैं।  पर, फिर वह पहले जैसी बात नहीं रहती। अब हम बातें तो कर लेते हैं, पर उनमें वह विश्वास नहीं रहा जो पहले था। ऐसा क्यों होता है, हम इंसानो के साथ? इतना भरोसा, इतनी इज्जत जिन्हे हम देते हैं वह किसी बात पर हमसे इतनी बेरुख़ी से पेश क्यूँ आते हैं? ख़ैर, मैंने काफी सोच लिया इस बात पर अब।  बस मसला हमारी जिंदगी में यह हैं की हम बहुत ज्यादा छूट दे देते हैं लोगों को हमें चोट पहुंचाने की। हम उन्हें इतना हक़ दे देते हैं की वह हमें बाद में कुचल दे अपने शब्दों से, अपने बर्ताव से, अपने रूखेपन से।  मुझे वासिम बरेलवी साहब का एक शेर इस वक़्त के लिए काफी मुनासिब लगता हैं--  'तुम गिराने में लगे थे, तुमने सोचा ही नहीं, मैं गिरा तो मसला बनकर खड़ा हो जाऊंगा।' हम तो सभी को अपना लेते हैं जो भी हमारी राहों में जुड़ते जाते हैं। साथ मिलकर, बैठकर, बातों से

आज मी मोकळा श्वास घेतला. इतके दिवस जे दडपण होतं, ते निवळलं. मनात दुःखाची एक रुंद दरी निर्माण झाली होती ती आज बुजली. किती किती त्रास करून घेतला मी स्वतःला, उगाच मनाला निरर्थक क्लेश दिला. बोलणं महत्वाचं, कुठल्याही आणि सगळ्या परिस्थितीत.  आपल्या अवतीभवती इतकी माणसं सतत रुंजी घालत असतात, त्यांचे विचार, त्यांचं वागणं आपण स्वतःवर घेतो. त्यानुसार आपण आपल्या भावनांना मोकळीक देतो आणि क्वचित अवचित घोळत बसतो आतल्या आत. आज, खऱ्या अर्थाने माझं मन शांत आहे. फक्त हळुवार फुंकर हवी होती मायेची, जी मी स्वतःला देत नव्हते. इतकं इतरांना देण्यामागे आपण लागतो कि, स्वतःला स्वतःकडून खूप काही हवं असतं हेच विसरतो! पण हा सगळा विचारांचा गुंता आज मी सोडवला आहे.    आणि, याला आता परत थारा नाही.  किती सुंदर दिवस आहेत, फुलण्याचे! उगाच कोमेजून कळीतच अस्तित्व मिटवत होते. बहर असून सुद्धा ढगांना बघून विजेला घाबरत होते. हसण्याचे इतके क्षण आहेत, आणि मी दुःखाला कुरवाळत बसले. आता मोकळा श्वास आणि स्वतःच्या पंखाना थोडं अजून बळ देण्याकरिता घेतलेली ही उंच भरारी!

....find balance and keep the circle flowing!  I woke up today to find myself entirely unable to cope up with the change in weather after having spent the last few days transitioning between different places. That feeling of being lost, and not able to pin a certain emotion as to how I really felt pushed me into a deeper abyss of chaos. My mind was reeling with a thousand clumsy thoughts of not belonging to anywhere whereas I wanted to, so badly.  Come evening, and I unleashed my chaos on to a paper with a yellow paint. Strangely it felt so calm and familiar as I kept going around in circles with the paint brush. The swirls kept moving around in all directions even as my mind kept wandering between people and their stories and my own unfinished conversations with them. I took to writing in my diary everything that happened over the past few days and yet as I went through some pages, I felt like an outsider getting to know little details from a stranger's life. I have had this feeli