The Rebelle blog

आपण आपला आनंद दुसऱ्यांमध्ये का म्हणून आणि किती दिवस शोधत राहायचा? सगळं माहिती असतं डोक्याला, मनाला, बुद्धीला तरी सुद्धा आपण उगाच भावनांच्या खेळात अडकतो. मी इतके दिवस तुझ्याशी नीट वागले, तुझं सगळं म्हणणं ऐकून घेतलं म्हणून तू सुद्धा माझ्यासोबत नीट वागलास. आता तुझ्या मनाप्रमाणे हव्या तशा गोष्टी घडत नाही म्हणून तू रुसवे- फुगवे करायला लागला आहेस! तिच्याशी मी तुझ्यासाठी बोलत नाही हा तुझा आरोप. इतक्या नानाविध पद्धतीने तुला समजावण्याचा प्रयत्न केला मी गेली दोन-अडीच वर्षे, पण सर्व उथळ पाण्यात वाहून गेलं. आता तिच्याशी मी बोलायला तयार नाही आणि ती तुझ्याशी, तर तू माझ्यासोबत बोलणं टाकलंस. ठीक आहे. तुझ्या येण्याआधी सुद्धा मी जगत होते आणि खूप चांगल्या पद्धतीने, उत्तम आरोग्यात होते. तुझ्या नसण्याने माझ्या आयुष्यात थोडे दिवस एखादी पोकळी निर्माण होईल पण ती भरून देखील जाईल. मी उगाच तुझ्या जाण्याने कोलमडून जाईन असं तुला वाटत असेल तर अजिबात नाही. एवढा अधिकार नाही दिला मी तुला माझ्या आयुष्यात, किंबहुना तो कुणालाच नाही आणि कधी देणार सुद्धा नाही. खूप रडले मी तुझ्यासोबत असताना आणि आता तर मला फक्त त्या...

"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...

It's a blur since a few days, once again. I am home!  There have been good things and bad, and events that surprised me out of nowhere. I hadn't anticipated knowing and learning so much in the past few days of being back here. Mostly, the realization of being so conversant with my thoughts again has changed how I feel here. All it takes is a slow Sunday to reflect upon everything that's happening.  More than a week ago, time seemed to loom ahead in an expansive quantity. Now that I am writing here, I realise how much of it I have squandered. We always ponder and regret but never enjoy when we are present in the moment. Old habits die hard. As Simone De Beauvoir once wrote:  I'm not tragic these days, I don't weep, but I feel alone, bewildered, far from you, far from everything — nothing has any meaning. I feel this departure from my old self. I am self-reminiscing the old times and me in it but would not like to continue doing so. Yet, I think about it constantly si...

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...

I have made a new friend and we have been talking a lot lately on varied topics. Today we succumbed to nostalgia and went into the most animated conversation I have had in recent times. This thought touched my mind about how I fall easily into a candid confession with people I trust. Whether I do it because I have this propensity to disclose everything that's on my mind or whether I do it because I distrust my mind, is something I am not going to ponder too much upon! Not without first writing about it. It's very strange but not really difficult to think about how I have been penning down thoughts here to a blind world, people that I can't see and of course, who don't know me in person. At least, the ones who do also know that I could write here and then also still be afflicted with my emotions. What makes us write to a faceless crowd on the internet? Is it the freeing of fear where we simply exist and not feel ashamed to bare it all? I clearly remember how I began writ...

आज रविवार. सकाळी गच्चीवर फिरताना सभोवताली नजर फिरवली आणि गेल्या कित्येक वर्षात ह्या परिसरात रहात असताना झालेल्या बदलांचा मी मागोवा घेतला. पूर्वी सगळीकडे इथे घनदाट झाडांच्या रांगा होत्या, रस्त्याच्या दुतर्फा आणि पार डोंगरापर्यंत. मग हळूहळू मानवी वस्ती वाढायला सुरुवात झाली. आधी छोटी तुरळक घरं दिसायला लागलीत मग तीन मजली इमारती आणि आता तर टोलेजंग दहा ते पंधरा मजली गगनचुंबी इमारती. जणू आकाशाला गवसणी घालण्याकरिता त्यांच्या सगळ्यांमध्ये चढाओढ निर्माण झाली. मला आता दिसताय त्या दूर क्षितिजावर धुरकट पण तरी डौलदार अशा डोंगर रांगा. लांबून त्यांच्या स्थिर दिसणाऱ्या रेघा पाहिल्यावर एखाद्या कुंचल्याने आकाशाच्या पटलावर किती अलगद सहज रंग उमटले असा भास माझ्या मनाला स्पर्शून गेला.   वारा देखील मनातल्या आठवणींना पिंगा घालत होता. मला आठवला पावसाळ्यातला तो दिवस जेव्हा आम्ही पहिल्यांदा या नवीन घरी पाऊल टाकलं होतं. नुकत्याच सरी येऊन गेल्या होत्या आणि सगळा आसमंत मातीच्या घमघमाटात प्रसन्न भरला होता. झाडांवर पावसाचा शिडकावा इतका आल्हाददायी भासला होता. पूर्वी कधीच इतकं जवळून निसर्गाशी एकरूप होण्याची संधी...

I paid a visit to my old home. It was such a surreal feeling to step into the dust, the honeyed light filtering through the window panes, inhaling the slightly musty smell made me feel extremely nostalgic. This is probably the longest that I have stayed away from this home.  Can we ever give names to the homes we dwell in over the years? I always harbored this dream of naming the homes I would live in the future. They first began with Gulmohar as my love for the tree exceeds my natural admiration for it, then came Russian names I had read in Tolstoy books, years later I became more fascinated with regional trees. Every song I heard crooning ballads about a longing for home would make me want to feel the same. When I went on trips for more than a week, I would miss this home. Every house, street, public spaces would remind me of my hometown. Yet I haven't truly ventured out for long.  Yesterday, it felt just different to be back. The bookshelves, the overflowing consoles with b...

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...

As the day dawns nearer, I have some butterflies in my stomach and I feel like a nervous wreck. I spent three consecutive days doing absolutely nothing. My body and mind welcomed this break of nothingness. At times, I exhaust myself too much beyond repair or rest. This weekend was to reclaim some peace and health, also being back here! I have been reading consistently thanks to a books app, Anybooks. It's easier when the phone is always within my reach. There are always a lot of books that go half-read and abandoned midway because I get distracted by new ones. However, this phase is one I don't mind going through. It's always great to have too many books to read. And, because we are serious readers we get inundated with lots of reading for work or academia apart from the pleasure-seeking reads. I, for one, have been ignoring my serious reads for a while. Before I leave, I hope I shall finish these book drafts, abstracts, and tonnes of research papers that my thesis stude...

So much to write! After a very very long hiatus, I am writing here with an enthusiasm that I have forever felt for writing blogs. It's been over a week that I am unwell, down with cold and a bad coughing fit that seems to swell itself in my heart and then just drown me into an endless pool of misery. Even made me thought how I have aged in a week since being unwell. The reason why I took to writing today is quite simply this- the way we slog ourselves to death on the pretext of working, earning a living, precariously swivelling on a pendulum that compromises our health so that we earn monies, our bank accounts remain fat when we lose our health, mind and deteriorate mental peace. I, also, unfortunately fell prey to this vicious cycle and ended up losing control over my health, both mind and body.  Today, as I write this, while in my workplace where I am surrounded by colleagues who are laughing loudly, discussing a myriad affairs, I feel strangely comfortable in all of this. ...

हळूहळू मनावरचा ताण सैल झाला. उन्हात बसले, हसले, काही जुन्या गोष्टी आठवल्या. क्षणात सकाळपासून दाटून आलेलं मळभ दूर झालं. आधी छातीत धडधडलं, हात थरथरले, मग काहीतरी माझ्या आत निवळलं. आपल्या मनाला सतत एखाद्या टॉनिकची गरज असते. ते टॉनिक मी बऱ्याच दिवसांत प्यायले नव्हते म्हणून हा सगळा उहापोह. शब्दांमध्ये काय विलक्षण सामर्थ्य असतं! माझ्या मनाला उभारी देणारे, त्याला मोकळं करणाऱ्या मैत्रिणी भेटल्या. क्षणात किती बदल झाले. माझ्या खांद्यांवर एक अनामिक ओझं मी वाहत होते, ते हलकं होत गेलं. आपला आनंद, मनःशांती आपण स्वतः शोधावी लागते. विनाकारण विचारांचं ओझं आपण घेऊन फिरत राहतो.  ऊन जसजसं वाढत गेलं, तसे मनातले दुःख वितळत गेले. आपल्या अवतीभवती किती सुंदर जग आहे. आपण सगळं विसरून केवळ स्वतः मध्ये रममाण होत जातो आणि मग त्या सातत्याचा देखील कंटाळा येत राहतो. नवीन काहीतरी करण्याची उर्मी विरून जाते. जसा आनंद शोधता यायला हवा, तशीच स्वयं- प्रेरणा देखील आपण जागृत करायला हवी. फार गुरफुटून गेलोय आपण एकाच ध्यासाच्या मागे. सगळे करतात, पूर्ण जग तसंच चाललंय म्हणून त्यांच्यासारखे होण्याचा आणि करण्याचा अट्टहास आत...

There's a LIVE timebomb ticking within all of us. Isn't it slightly infuriating to be at the helm of such anxiety and nervousness? A number of things that could make us miserable, change our cheery demeanour to a sullen state of chaos, unable to comprehend the workings of this complicated system. We are all beings in a fixed mechanism of state and individual power. We are controlled by forces we live with daily. They include our people from our families, workspace, acquainting life sphere. The set of rules bogs me down each time I look at a detached view of this being. Since I am alive in this great era of science, modernity and opportunities, why does it still seem inadequate? Like every other parent-children disagreements, I am seething with one too over the most mundane and silliest of topics. Such is life. I think it was Anais Nin who wrote that "I am a series of moods and sensations. I play a thousand roles...My real self is unknown." How I so appropriately...

I have never till date felt so defenceless over a headache! In fact, I have never given power to my body to enslave me with sickness. I have always been healthy for years. My last bout of sickness was in 2005 when I was bedridden for a week apparently from the exhaustion of travelling to and fro from college. Architecture as academics was exhausting. Instead of expanding my health issues any further here, I would like to write about my recent disinterest in blogging.  On one hand, I have been reading excessively like a mad(wo)man, devouring a couple of hundred pages every day or so, and yet I find myself bereft of words to write here. I have also met some new people, readers who have turned their passion into a business, which is too cool, I think! The more I look at people who have developed this transgression from reading and owning books and then, selling them, the more subconscious I have become about my books at home. My Dad and I share a common giant wall bookshelf with...

There is this thing about reading that is unique and personal to each. It awakens feelings and thoughts that one could not have conjured while sitting idly. Although that is too much of an overstatement to be true. But whenever I share my reads on a public platform like Goodreads or Instagram where book stories are put under the hashtag of bookstagram , I feel the result is pretty much the same as sharing them with someone in person. There are so many amazing people who are bold, uninhibited and clear while speaking their mind, especially on the internet. Some of them have become such good friends of mine even though we haven't met or have no possibility of meeting in the near future. I am sounding more like the pessimist but it is true, sadly.  One can't live on books and thus is effectively proved in a book I read two days ago. It's called, The House of Paper written by Carlos Dominguez . It came as a very timely shocker and a reminder to me since I was drifting in...

Best to meet in poems: cool speckled shells in which one hears a sad but distant sea.   When writers go to some dark spaces and then pull out of them to unravel the brightness specking the surroundings, that's when we enter this happy sojourn into their world. How many times have we heard about everything that has a reason, a time, a place? Somedays my nights are spent excessively dwelling upon this reasoning of time. How do we really get into and out of this catacomb of emotions so frequently and so easily? I just finished reading two works of fiction, both intense emotional dramas and my heart couldn't stop from beating hard for the people in them. I shipped them when they fell down and struggled to move on in their fictional lives. No comparing our complex lives on hand, but isn't fiction the escape from reality?  The more I think about necessities and lost opportunities, the more I revel in the knowledge of self-evaluation. Anyway, this is the l...

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...

Should we be apologetic for what we read? Could it be embarrassing to admit that some of us do read YA fiction because some of it offers great advice on life! It was with such thoughts when I read this article  on why reading fiction has become more important than ever. On Kindle, I have had access to some great fiction books that I would have otherwise not read as paperbacks. One among them is Love in the Present Tense by Catherine Ryan Hyde whose another book, Pay it Forward was made into a movie. The reasons for explaining our literature choices are more important these days is because all of us get labelled and categorized by our literary tastes in a book club. On Goodreads, when I see a healthy mix of fiction, non-fiction, history and sociology books it makes me realise this variation in our reading is essential for our thinking caps to grow and expand so as to behave sensibly in public. The moral code for behaviour is set pretty hard for people who read a multitude of su...

Some days the only text messages I receive on my phone are from the Zumba group I happily and dare say, religiously dance with five days a week. They are not even directed towards me, only some regular forwards, jokes, some promotional jewellery and meditation cum well-being workshop events. At times, I really detach myself from everything that goes around. DO we ever realise the information overload we are sending back into the universe every single minute, all of us 7 billion people? I may have expressed this thought here before and I am doing it yet again. A very random stranger who has become a familiar acquaintance on Instagram texted me the other day urging me to write a bestseller and that I am a genius. These words coming from someone who only knows me from some regular interaction virtually over books, photographs and rants, separated by a physical distance of thousands of miles and oceans between us, humbled me. Happiness comes unexpectedly. Her words made me happy, gave ...

It's close to midnight, raining, the tenants living upstairs are creating some ruckus and here I am, pondering over my disastrous cupcake kitchen adventure from the evening. My head hurts badly with a splitting pain throughout my temples and perhaps, I need to pay a visit to my ENT doctor tomorrow. Each year, at least once I suffer from these splitting headaches which are usually only warning me about my ear infections. I am a very healthy person. I seldom miss appointments or work assignments or social commitments due to sickness. But that's because I am really scared of illness and the pain that follows it. As a kid, most of my doctor visits were due to ear infections only. For the past couple of years, I have been relatively healthy and fit with no major or minor sicknesses ever, not even cold or fever that warranted a visit from me to the doctor.  Last Sunday, I was travelling through a mountain pass in my car and happened to witness a magical moonlit night that seem...

I was going through an emotional turmoil last night and used this blog to vent out my grief. Sometimes, well, only a few times, I wonder if my understanding of grief, misery and sorrow is the same that everyone goes through or I am severly meddling these confused emotions I can't seem to word out. Whichever way it is, I felt incredibly better after writing everything here, and I am trying to assert my mind into believing that THAT which hasn't happened yet and perhaps won't take place shan't worry me and cause me distress or unncesarry panic. I suppose I already should be alert at the use of such negative energy bubbles into my conversation here. I am throwing caution to the wind and deciding not to think about anything at all. My heart goes into a ballistic mode once I conjure too many multiple scenarios in my brain and then as if ticking on a machine, it starts weaving these elaborate sequences I deem fit only for fictional accounts. Hemingway wrote A Moveable Feast...