The Rebelle blog

गेल्या आठवड्यापासून पाऊस सगळीकडे चांगलाच पडतोय आणि हळूहळू पावसावरचे लेख देखील वाचण्यात येऊ लागलेत. मला फार पूर्वीपासूनच पावसात भिजणं आवडत नाही. कॉलेजच्या दिवसांत देखील ट्रेनने प्रवास करताना अनेकवेळा चिंब भिजून त्या गर्दीत चढताना जीव नकोसा व्हायचा. मला सर्दी लवकर होते म्हणून देखील मी पावसात भिजणं कटाक्षाने टाळते. तर आज हा इथे लिहिण्याचा उहापोह यासाठी की एका मैत्रिणीने तिच्या पावसाळी दिवसांच्या भुट्टा खाणाऱ्या आठवणी लिहिल्यात आणि त्या वाचून मी देखील काही क्षण त्या सुंदर गतकाळात स्थिरावले.  एके दिवशी पावसात चिंब भिजून कॉलेजला पोहोचले तर तिथे आमचा स्टुडिओच गळत होता. सगळीकडे फरशीवर पाणी आणि त्या अंधारलेल्या जागेत आम्ही मिळेल त्या कोरड्या जागेत बसलेलो मला आजही लक्ख आठवतंय.  नंतरच्या आठवणी ह्या जेजेतल्या हिरव्या पटांगणावर पडणाऱ्या पाऊसधारा बघण्याच्या आणि नाचत उड्या मारत पावसाला चकवत स्टुडिओ ते कॅन्टीनला पळण्याच्या ह्या होत्या.  इंटर्नशिपच्या काळात व्हीटी ते कुलाबा बहुतांशी मी पायीच प्रवास करायचे. तेव्हा छत्री सांभाळत, हातातलं पुस्तक भिजू न देता, इतर लोकांना चुकवत तो रस...

It's Christmas and I spent a lovely afternoon watching Piku. Long ago, my aunt watched this movie in a theatre with her son and daughter-in-law, and then telephoned me and said that Piku reminded her of me. This was around 2014, I think. I was so amused that I don't remember asking her what specifically made her say that from seeing the movie. Strangely, I never got around to watch Piku back then. Today was one of those holidays when a movie seemed to be a cosy choice for a lovely December afternoon. Calcutta exudes such a raw charm in the movie. I am just back from the city too. It was cold and wintry and raining for all the four days I was there. We took a short road trip through the city and onto the suburbs, 65 km from Howrah. It was 4:30pm and the skies were losing their light while the air began to get chilly. I feel like I hovered over myself now that I remember the visuals from the journey. Even today, when I close my eyes, all I see are the yellow cabs, red...

THE trees along this city street Save for the traffic and the trains, Would make a sound as thin and sweet As trees in country lanes. And people standing in their shade Out of a shower, undoubtedly Would hear such music as is made Upon a country tree. Oh, little leaves that are so dumb Against the shrieking city air, I watch you when the wind has come,-- I know what sound is there. - Edna St. Vincent Millay Some of my most favourite illustrations that accompany certain poems happen to feature trees in them. Cassia Fistula also known as Amaltaas in India, Copper Pod, Laburnum with its golden shower is also described in a lot of novels written by C.S.Lewis, Oscar Wilde, even J.R.R.Tolkien. In urban spaces, increasingly as there is a shortage of space for housing, on-site trees are often cut by builders and property developers to build a concrete community. We don't even feel the lack ...

Oh, how happy I am! It's always a joy to know new things. I attended a public lecture last night on Ancient Board Games in India and World. It was a fascinating insight into something that originated centuries ago and then spread and grew all over the world. I am not into games. I never was. However, I attended the lecture because it was conducted by Dr. Irving Finkel who is also a curator of the cuneiform tablets from Mesopotamia, at the British Museum. I have a rather high regard and respect for museums, ever since I was a kid. My Dad being the reason. I remember our city trips in summer would be to the museums. Mumbai has two: The Prince of Wales now known as Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Museum; and Dr. Bhau Daji Lad museum. We always attended the exhibitions and spent hours on end, watching transfixed the sculptures, paintings and exhibits. It was all I could ever want from my father- Time and wisdom! Museums are an education in themselves. My first impression of Dr. Bhau ...

Sometimes, my dreams are so incoherent.. not that I would like them to be rational always, but when they make sense, it feels great! Last night, I had a long conversation with one of my best friends, and such good talk always leaves me in a very happy spirit. Because I was happy when I went to sleep, I had a really happy yet weird dream today morning. It has been raining continuously throughout the night and the sound of rain partially awoke me, so that I was still half- asleep yet could sense the movements and chaos in the house. Here's what I dreamt of! I am walking on the road with my younger sister, and we stop by a stationery shop when I see some Inland letters and Envelopes on display. I ask the shopkeeper for them, and he promptly hands them over to me, when to my surprise I see my name on the envelop. Its addressed to me, complete with my name and an affixed stamp. I read it and its from one of my lost mails. (Since a few months now, my mail is not reaching my address- ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KbhG64nLaM Particularly during a rainy day, will I find myself mellowing and these words start playing in my mind. Why do only 'certain' words/lyrics/tunes bring us melancholy and nostalgia? A few years ago, when I travelled by the early morning train I would close my eyes while seated next to the window, and always see some hazy images in front of my closed eyelids. And, not knowing what it was or what they were saying to me, it would always lead me to a sublime and sombre mood. Now, a rainy day does this! Its dark and hollow outside, and I am rummaging through my memories- half baked thoughts- some diluted, and others diminishing. I can see images flashing through a quick slideshow, and my heart all heavy with this melancholy. It grips me no matter wherever I am. On my trip to Agra last year, stopping by at the Mehtab Gardens in the evening, and looking at the Taj Mahal across the yamuna left me saddened. The sunset with its warm yello...