The Rebelle blog

BEATLES and MURAKAMI! How do I thank thee for making this evening so pleasurable?! It's one of those evenings where the calm washes over me even as I sit silently listening to the muffled sounds of the drizzling rain outside my living room window. I am thinking of Kafka and stumble upon Murakami's Norwegian Wood playlist on Spotify. You know the serenity in our minds when familiar music makes us feel the quiet pace of a long day and week. My cousin, a musician himself shares amazing music and I believe my musical affinities have since grown from interactions with him. All the troubles seem far away like the Beatles croon on this soft slow evening hour.  These moments of happiness where the flowers bloom in my head and light up memories like diamonds as I take the beauty in the mundane! The magic of the golden hour is back and I want to see how far I can make it to the finish line (if there is one!) and be always home as I explore the blue sea. 

रिमझिम गिरती बूंदो को खिड़की से देखते हुए आज सुबह की चाय का मजा  दुगुना  हो गया। Spotify पर भी गानों  की महफ़िल जमी थी और मैं ना जाने कितने बीते हुए मौसम याद कर चुकी उनको सुनते हुए। क्या रिश्ता है बारिश का हम सभी से जो हम उसे इतना रूमानी कर देते हैं, हमारी बातों में, गानों में और यादों में भी? जैसे मुझे लगता है चाय के साथ भी हम बहुत ज्यादा गुफ्तगू कर लेते है। हर मौसम चाय का स्वाद अच्छा ही लगता हैं। चाहे गर्मियों की शामें हो, या जाड़ों की सुबहें या हो किसी गरजते हुए बारिश की दोपहर। हर शहर की बारिश का नजारा और मंज़र अलग, उनसे जुडी अनगिनत यादें और उन यादों में बसते हुए लोग। राह चलते मिले हुए चेहरों की भीड़ भी बारिशों में याद रह जाती। मुंबई की धुआंदार बारिश में कई बार बंद पड़ी ट्रेन में बैठे हुए जो निराशा होती थी वह शायद ही रास्ते पर चलते हुए ना महसूस हुयी हो। मरीन ड्राइव पर समंदर की ऊँची लहरें को देख ठण्ड से कापते हुए K Rustoms के आइसक्रीम सैंडविच का मजा ही कुछ और था। बैंगलोर की बारिश भी मुझे रूहानी लगती थी बस की खिड़की से देखते हुए। वहां पर सड़क के किनारे रूककर गाड़ियों के शोर ...

2022 is here and I am still writing, although not as regularly as I used to unlike a few years ago. I do not know whether I should attribute my lack of writing to work, other mediums of expression like Instagram or indifference to documenting my thoughts. I still maintain a diary and write in it but how the notes in it have changed over the past few years. As I succumbed to the age old system of being comfortable in my job, I have since given up on a lot of things that were a strong and inherent part of my life.  I am ageing now, being a tad too old to ponder over every single emotion and yet I find myself morose and cheerless having abandoned my ambitious plans. I suppose it's going to be easy, blaming failures and unfulfilled obligations and goals on this self imposed restriction over the past two years. I feel like time is indeed running through my hands before I can even comprehend about the things I wish to do and people I want with me. What a strange longing!  Today also...

Last night, I walked while listening to Frank Sinatra's voice melting in my ears crooning to strangers in the night, while it was raining outside. It certainly added to the effect of feeling one with his voice and the wistful longing that rainy nights bring with them.  I was in a taxi (über) in Berlin on my way to Neukölln from a restaurant near Charlottenburger straße after a farewell dinner when I found myself recognising the voice from the radio. As I let the music wash over my senses, I quipped to the driver asking if it was Frank Sinatra singing. He said he didn't know but checked in a minute and beamed happily that it was Sinatra. The joy that arose in my heart at the recognition comforted me. I happily spent my time in the cab listening to the music as we passed the dark streets that night. Something about Sinatra singing in his low notes tugs at the deepest core in our hearts. He brings to senses long lost memories, a nostalgia that is deeply rooted in time and comes fl...

I miss handwritten letters: writing, reading and caressing them. For a while in the last decade I did replace letter writing with emails but that too died soon since there was no reciprocation from people to whom I sent my long email letters. Tonight I read an essay titled "I hope I haven't bored you" by Christopher Spaide on Poetry Foundation discussing James Merrill's letters to his friend. The article also mentions excerpts from a new book on Merrill titled:  A Whole World: Letters from James Merrill (Knopf, 2021), coedited by Merrill’s biographer, Langdon Hammer, and his literary executor, the poet-critic Stephen Yenser.  Something kept running through my mind as I read about Merrill writing letters as a six year old and through his adulthood. I thought, what are my memories from childhood? Apart from the now fading kodak photographs and memories, is there any other physical vestige that I could carry into my old age? Surprisingly, I couldn't think of any. I ...

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...

Once more, I look at the light and cherish the cool wintry and frosty dreamlike feelings that engulf me. Such a boon to be able to feel and withdraw into this imaginary abyss of warmth with the longing one always lives with. Tonight is no different. I am surrounded with art, books, a state of mind that hovers and lingers leaving a warm effusion of belonging. The cold has a quality that bites into mushier memories leaving a song, some lyrics, music, a tear long dried, smiles and warm tones, poetry that drives me back to a time and era I hadn't been into. Just because I sense and remain in the moment to experience this December chill. And, Norah Jones croons for December, once again! Won't you come back with snow, and pine cones, sun and shades of white for me to paint? I am of course, romanticizing the idea of December, hoping to go beyond this year and begin afresh with new dreams, feeling bright, feeling kind the way a new start makes me do! Being here, warm with skies the sha...

Today was an exceptionally dull Saturday. It was super hot and my spirits were longing for some greens and refreshments. After doing everything possible to entertain my dull mind, right from listening to peppy music and writing to friends, I gave up and slept for two hours instead. And, how good do I feel now! A nap was all it took to put back some vigor into a drab day like this.  Ah! These summer days.  I am now poised to get back to work. A writing assignment that seems to loom overhead as I keep postponing it. A casual stroll through Facebook brought me to a friend's witty shenanigans there and I was transported back to a time of visiting him last summer. How happy do I feel to remember those moments, reliving them again and again as if on a loop. Everything stands still except me and the memories. Thankfully, I am able to reconstruct most memories the way they are in my head. I also wrote to a faraway friend over email and the simple gesture of exchanging pleasa...

Until you mentioned it, I hadn't bothered about the date and the day. A lot of laughter as usual but I can't seem to remember most part of our conversation. Perhaps, because you seemed to hypnotize the surroundings around you. For once, you were talking and I wasn't. It was a surreal moment to see you there after this long. Is this the defining year in our lives when things shall change? When we realise that people will not always share the same vibes as us and that not many shall complement our ways and thoughts. Or, perhaps we know this truth already. I ask a hundred questions in my head and get answers to them through your silence. The hustle bustle of coffee bars and bakeries, the sweet aromas that linger with each visit to a city we love so much binds us together. I look at the crowds and disperse with them as you stay back in my mind.  The magic in my life seems to traverse with your response and kindness. Have I always felt such dependence on you for my emoti...

आज अप्पांचा वाढदिवस! ब्यांशी वर्षांचे झाले असते अप्पा, आज ह्यात असते तर.  तीन- चार दिवसांपासून मी अप्पांचा विचार करतेय. या वर्षी, २०२० मध्ये अप्पांना जाऊन १५ वर्षं होतील! सरलीत वर्ष... हळूहळू, कधी फार भरभर. इतके मोठे आम्ही कधी झालो गेल्या दशकात हे उमगलंच नाही. माणसं स्मृतीच्या कुपीत बंद होऊन जातात. कधी आपल्या समोर असतात तरीही विस्मृतीत दाखल होतात. हा स्मृतीचा खेळ फार जीवघेणा आहे. आपल्या नकळत लोकं आपल्या स्मृती पटलावर येऊन ठिय्या मांडतात आणि काही कधीच धूसर होत नाही. जे आता आपल्या सोबत नाहीत, मनाला त्यांची आठवण किती व्याकुळ आणि बेचैन करते. सतत वाटत राहतं- आज अप्पा असते तर गोष्टी किती वेगळया घडल्या असत्या. शेवटी, मन ते! असंख्य गुंतण्याची सवय त्याला. येनकेन प्रकारे स्वतःला रमवण्यात धन्यता मानतं. कुणी असो-नसो, मनाला साथ मिळते ती फक्त आठवणींची.   काही वर्षांनी, कदाचित या आठवणींची धार पुसट होईल. तेव्हा देखील मी अशीच भावनावश होऊन लहानपण आणि त्यातलं रम्यपण कुरवाळीन. अप्पांची प्रेमळ हाक, आम्हाला बघताच पेपर दूर सारून गेट जवळ येऊन आम्हाला घट्ट कवेत घेणं; संध्याबाई, अलकाताई अश...

Aging. Being in pain. Finishing. Rotting.              —Emmanuel Fournier Came across this on Poets-a-day on poets.org. I hadn't been on to this website for months until suddenly I started receiving the poems on my email. And, then I read another literary magazine in the morning, which celebrated the works of Vishnu Khare who recently passed away. I lamented abandoning my leisure days when I took refuge in poetry, esp, Hindi. It was about four years ago that on a December night I picked up some hindi literary magazines and was hooked on to their content from then on. I also wrote my first hindi poetry after a month of devouring poems by Chandrakant Devtale, Dhumil, Viren Dangwal, Anamika, Agyeya, Nida Nawaz and others. I distinctly remember being overwhelmed with the written word. I fervently copied their poetry in my little diary of quotations and from then on, I kept an art journal for all poems and literary verses that I read a...

SO TODAY has been a very mixed productive work day. I believe I have absolutely tired my eyes out staring at the computer screen so much in 9 hours. More than that actually. Do we ever stop working by the clock? I envisaged two lines of a story throughout the day just to keep up with my energies for some creative output for the day.  I was very happy in the morning after my dance class and decided to paint something today. The morning breeze and slight drizzle on the way back home put me in high spirits. I felt charged and every atom within me bounced with endless energy. Something about witnessing the bright day and chaos on the streets had me unexpectantly cheery for my usual self. There is a madness in routine and habits. Anthony Trollope is said to have written meticulously every day. He wrote every day for three hours, 250 words in 15 minutes and 66 pages per week was his decided course for a book draft. This kind of routine is sure to produce good writing habits. I have...

A flute chimes an endless melody in the house as I open the door and step in, crossing the reflecting floor tiles with drapes around the window fluttering in a constant breeze on this summer day... And then I hear Doris Day's voice singing Que Sera Sera. Is this a wistful dream from stormy nights or my many thoughts that wrap themselves in music and summer light? The very first thoughts when I enter my house are of the light that streams through those windows next to our library. The books bathe in a shiny gleam of yellow and sombre tones warming my heart every moment I see them. There's a different emotion while penning thoughts about a heart song that lingers for a while, extending its stay for a long time far in the future. For a long time since acquiring a new phone, I did not have music in it. I would hum in my head while travelling with my head buried in books. And then one day, I heard a group of women sing some classics from my childhood in the train. It evoked nostal...

मला उगाचच पटकन मनाला लावून घ्यायची सवय झालीय. फार लवकर वाईट वाटून घेते मी. यात तोटा माझाच होतो शेवटी. प्रचंड मानसिक तणाव राहतो मनावर बरेच दिवस, कधी कधी आठवडे देखील. मागच्या वर्षी तर खूप महिने प्रचंड दडपण आलं होतं मला. अभ्यासात देखील मग मन रमत नव्हतं. त्यामुळे एक फायदा असा झाला कि इथे मी ब्लॉग मात्र नियमितपणे करायला शिकले तेवढ्या अवधीत. आज घरातला पुस्तकांचा आणि वर्तमानपत्रांचा पसारा आवरताना मला बरीचशी जुनी कात्रणं सापडली. मी पार हरखून गेले सगळंच अधाशीपणे वाचण्याच्या नादात. लोकसत्ताच्या लोकरंग तसेच चतुरंग पुरवण्यांमधले अगणित लेख, टिपणं, आणि संग्रही केलेले भरमसाठ विशेष पुरवण्यांचे गठ्ठे! माझी आई नेहमीप्रमाणे मला ओरडली कि सगळं टाकून दे, गरजेपुरतच आता संग्रह आवरता घे. तेवढ्यात माझे डॅडी घरी आले आणि मी काढलेल्या मासिकांच्या गट्ठ्यांना ढूंढाळू लागले. मग काय आम्ही दोघं त्यात गर्क झालो तासभर. शेवटी हो नाही म्हणता म्हणता परत मोठा ढीग झालाच परत. मग जेवणानंतर मी मला वाचावेसे वाटणारे कात्रणं नि पुरवण्या हाताशी धरल्या आणि गुंगून गेले सगळ्यात. खरंच! आपण आयुष्यात किती गोष्टींचा संग्रह करतो. कधी आनंद...

My Dad misplaced some medical records in our house and we spent pretty much the entire day looking for them. Almost searched every nook and crany of our newly renovated house. It has been a taxing day more so for me because I had been travelling for two days straight in one of my  most uncomfortable & harrowing train travels ever prior to landing up in this search mission. Now, I've caught an allergic cold from all the dust and still no success in locating the records. So, it has been a very unexpected gift only because I was proudly boasting last week about my immune system and how healthy I am while my family fell ill with allergic cold and from the heat. Life has a way of getting back at us. Is it Karma? Who knows? I certainly don't believe in it. May be, a tiny part of my brain dwells on it but never with full faith. Another unexpected gift has been the surprising retrieval of two design manuals I'd misplaced and thought lost. One of them is an Accessibility Desig...

While studying for my exams, Geography of India specifically, I started recollecting information I had learned in school that I still remember. The Mariana Trench for example is the deepest part in Pacific Ocean. The moment I read it, I assigned it to my memory. Few other things learnt in school that I can still recollect include Historical dates and events with information about the Ottoman Empire although I think my later reading bears a more strong hold in learning more about dynasties and empires.  Why I feel strongly about things learnt in childhood is the simple reason now being I have to make a choice about choosing a subject in my academics for extensive learning. I have been pondering increasingly about deciding between Public Administration and Geography. I haven't exclusively studied Geography and only wonder if it will sustain my interest unlike other subjects like Sociology. So I have taken to dedicating all my attention to Geography and I daresay I enjoy readin...

One of my quieter friends, while on a trip to a beach standing on the ferry showed me some seagulls flying above the muddy waters. He said, look above you and stretch your vision as far as you may so that you remember this moment and me. I was so overwhelmed with the surroundings and his words, considering I was very young then, that I kept my eyes focused on the flying seagulls for a long time until our other friends dragged us out of the ferry. Such a sweet, passing moment but one that still finds me in the grip of memories till date whenever I think of that trip. My friend reiterated how he found melancholy in the flight of the seagulls and because I was a tad too softhearted back then I saw myself searching for the sorrow and misery of their flight. It didn't help that we both spoke about the passage of time and our tirade through the bouncing college life that we were supposed to leave in another year or two for our graduation. I kept the conversation in my head for a long t...

On my way back home tonight, a little too early than my usual time I came across beautiful bright lights put up in small alleys to celebrate the festive spirit that dominates this season. Looking up from my reverie, I saw a soft glow of red and yellow twinkle lights overhead. It was so magical. That moment transported me in some dreamland of happiness as I walked with a big happy smile plastered on my face. I met an acquaintance on the road and couldn't shut up admiring the brightly lit skies. Can you believe, it just took some lights to spread cheer within me! I also felt a little foolish after a while as I kept my thoughts engaged in this material happiness, but I couldn't care less about it. That moment mattered a lot. It felt like my childhood came alive. But in my childhood I never remember seeing such an extravagant display of lights and flashy street decorations. Things were a lot simpler then.  I think as times have changed, things have left their indelible expres...

आपण किती भूमिकांमधून वावरतो. आपल्या स्वतःच्या दृष्टिकोनांमधून कितीतरी वेगळ्या जाणिवा देखील आपण अनुभवतो. मग गरज पडल्यावर सगळ्यांनाच एका चपखल नजरेतून का बघतो? फार पूर्वी घडलेल्या एखाद्या घटनेची चाचपणी वर्तमानकाळात करताना किती संदर्भ बदलेले असतात. आणि आपण त्यात पुरते गोंधळून जातो. उगाच किती तडजोड करावी एखाद्याने? मन हे दरवेळी झालेल्या घटनांचं स्पष्टीकरण देण्यात किती मग्न होऊन जातं. नवीन लोक, त्यांचे नवीन विचार, त्यांच्याशी जुळवून घेण्यात एखाद्याला येणाऱ्या अडचणी- अगणित गोष्टी. प्रत्येकाची सुरुवात एका बिंदूपासून. शून्यातून. क्वचित आपण अशा निरनिराळ्या स्वभाववैशिष्ठांच्या प्रेमातही पडतो. असूया निर्माण होते. सतत आभासी संवाद कानात पिंगा घालायला लागतात. मध्य असा आनंद मग आपल्याला निर्माण करावा लागतो, सगळ्यांच्या सुखासाठी. खरंच सुख म्हणजे नक्की काय असतं? दडपशाहीच्या वातावरणात जगताना सुद्धा लोक आनंद साजरा करतात, दुःखात आसवं गाळतात. मग आपण असा समज का निर्माण करून घ्यावा कि भौतिक सुखाची व्याख्या हि सगळ्यांसाठी सारखीच आहे? गतवैभवाच्या अनंत स्मृतींमध्ये आपण अडकून पडलेलो आहोत आणि विशेष म्हणजे येण...

All writers are a sum of their experiences. Heard this in an independent movie I saw on a dreary rainy morning. It might be a little delusional to write about seeing the starry night before it started raining so hard that it was impossible not to curse the fat raindrops for blocking my glasses. I ate a giant scoop of cold ice-cream that cut harshly through my teeth and sent shivering down my entire body. I walked in the rain, aware of the water gushing through the streets and through my summer sandals. I don't know why I wear them usually in the rains. Something about splashing water around the ankles makes disliking the rains a little bit more acceptable. Last night, I had strange dreams about my friends who are readers. I met them in my dream while they were tying their shoelaces, ready to spring through glass doors with yellow walls. Amusing how I can recollect these little details but not the actual conversation from the dream. One of them was crying over something and I h...