The Rebelle blog

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 ...

Such a calm, contented day today. Like every year, when this day comes there is an excitement, barrage of good wishes from friends and family and the quiet celebration with my loved ones. Last year was a lockdown birthday and so is this year. I am full of gratitude for good health, and peace of mind. I have had the means to indulge my spirits in Art and Poetry, conversations with some of my constant friends since forever. What more could I ask?  And, yet like every year, I think of my ambitions, my desires and goals and everything that I wish to accomplish with the same fervour. April comes and goes too soon. It marks a time that gives me reason to go ahead, something about the excruciating long lazy hot days puts everything else in perspective. I wouldn't have pegged myself a seasonal person, but I am. My moods aggravate and elevate with the change in seasons. Perhaps I am so since childhood but only understanding being like this in my adulthood. Funny and amusing that as I go bac...

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...

Why do Yesterdays seem better than Todays?  Just when I was pondering over this thought, I came across a British Adventurer, Tom Morgan going on a trip  Around the World flying with helium balloons .  He seemed inspired by the 2009 movie, Up  where a seventy-eight-year-old man goes on an adventure in his flying house carried by balloons. It was such a visually beautiful imagery to see those colourful balloons tied up to the house through its chimney stack lifting the house and then soaring high in the skies.  Photograph: Pixar/Sportsphoto Ltd/Allstar These two images conjured up beautiful emotions within my heart. Human lives are full of adventure and the endless possibilities of finding magic in the most bizarre situations. The various factors that bring in all this happiness and love for new are possible only when people take an initiative on their own. The treasures of this life are left hidden for us to discover and find ourselves in ...

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...

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...

I woke up today morning smelling the sickly sweet fragrance of Champa. Perhaps it was but a dream. I sprang up as quickly as I could and walked through the house to see where the illusionary fragrance of flowers was drawing me. The house was dark and the faint light that crept from the curtained windows made me sit in the dark for nothing. I sat down on the floor in a yogic pose, drew in deep breaths of air and sat still, waiting for some feeling to flood me over. All I felt at that moment was a sombre sigh at the darkness that engulfed me. I drew the curtains and peered out at the morning glow. It left me with an awakened sense of belonging. I thought of the rising sun and my heart was awash with joy for some unknown reason. I slowly opened the windows and the gust of cold wind gave me a rare pleasure. While growing up there had been umpteen times when I stood by these windows and looked outside at the sky and the Jamun tree with its fruits squashed and spread underneath its huge l...

I am happy and I feel guilty about it. There's so much grief and sadness and tragedy taking place around us everyday and that makes me question if my happiness really deserves a mention here. Let me express it here though. I have exams coming up in the next ten days and I've been quite stressed over all the academic work. But I have found a great source to relieve all this stress. It's called Sketchbook Express. It is an Autodesk digital painting software. I have always been wary of using software. I love handmade stuff, designs, cards everything. I just took to using it and created something from my childhood. It's a very special dream sequence.  As a kid, I dreamt of oceans and undersea kingdoms a lot besides dreaming of aeroplanes and skies. So, here I was recreating my childhood fantasy world. I was a huge believer and admirer of Mermaids and Magic. Just the other day my younger sister asked me if I ever felt disappointed by the fact that magic was not real,...

I got acquainted with a young poet blogger recently. She has just appeared for her Class Twelfth board exams. I am so happy to see her innocent and non-judgemental approach to everyday things in life. It feels a very long time to have met a fresh and bright youngster like her who has a way with words. She wrote to me about how she knows her poetry is childish but she is thankful for the encouragement she receives. Made me even more proud of her. It's rare for her age kids to have a sense of self in this increasingly self-obsessed, social media world full of narcissist people. I look back to myself at her age and realise times even then were changing so fast. It's just that we didn't realise they were and we did not get pulled into a bubble as fast as today's children are into a consumerist world. The capital waving, spending teen was yet to be manufactured on a large scale. But I also remember the same uncertainties that teenagers face regarding their careers, edu...

I was rummaging through some old stuff at home after a tedious week of last minute panic attacks and submissions (these two go hand in hand), that I came across an old copy of my Dad's books. As was my Dad's habit in the late 90's, the book was covered with a plain white sheet. I saw the book title written in neat lettering in blue ink and lots of pencil scribble on the cover. As I guessed it to be made by my younger sister who must've been a toddler then, I couldn't help smiling and opening the book to find more scribbling inside in blue ink. She must have got hold of the pen and unleashed her creativity on the inside pages. I wondered if my Dad ever saw this scribbling or not. And I felt extremely happy to have discovered something that belonged to my kid sister from her childhood. As I recall, she learnt everything pretty fast- walking, running, speaking and writing, too. So this scribble felt like a cherished piece of treasure. I remembered the walls of our dr...

I am a crazy reader. Even while typing this sentence all that came to my mind were the book bags, book shelves and stacks perched on the sofa of the living room of my house. I am also a collector of antiquarian books. So I can't resist picking up two copies of the same book if they happen to be rare editions. Ever since I have known Ahalya, the librarian and bookstore owner of Trilogy I have been the happiest soul I was on the planet. This girl is exactly me. I saw myself in her. She is the mirror I must have been looking for. And, its no mean coincidence that our names take their form in an old Indian epic. That's particularly funny, even I think so. These days, Ahalya and me have started communicating through a messenger app and its such a boon. I continuously bombard Ahalya's phone with book cover jpegs and she enthusiastically responds over it. Initially I thought it would be an imposition on her. I lost that dreadful thought soon enough. Its an absolute bless...

Lilting music, violin sounds and a mellow afternoon- my idea of perfect time for a refreshing cup of tea and a good book that's about to end. Having spent three years with such luxury I'm spoilt to the core and often long for these afternoons. I remember my professor's warm conversations during thesis, and lazy walks through Fort. I have spent every waking moment with Orhan Pamuk and his Istanbul. Then there were times spent listening to the great Usha Uthup- she's a delight. Everything is so fresh in my mind, Her feminist decoding of 'Bindiya Chamkegi' is original and important and should be heard by every young impressionable girl. We live in such fractured times. I came across this book of Greek mythology and a dictionary on the same while looking for some other books in my collection. While going through them casually, I came upon markings in my handwriting on comparisons with other book characters and my exasperated comments. I remembered my obsessed tri...

“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.”  ― Anaïs Nin Something odd happens around this time every year. If I am not in good spirits and feeling low, I instantly get rejuvenated and a new energy engulfs me. If I am already doing good, then, I become more focussed in whatever task I am accomplishing at that moment. Somehow, September has always been a month of anxiety. And, that oddball song "Wake me up when September ends" finds more relevance each passing year. My mother has been unwell since a week. This is the first time I've ever seen her so weak and sick. Her two older sisters have also been battling health problems, and I only hope she isn't taking too much str...

by M argaret Widdemer     The Poor Old Soul plods down the street,  Contented, and forgetting  How Youth was wild, and Spring was wild  And how her life is setting;    And you lean out to watch her there,  And pity, nor remember,  That Youth is hard, and Life is hard,  And quiet is December.  About this poem: Margaret Widdemer often wrote in traditional poetic forms, and many of her poems explore the social issues of early twentieth century. She first received widespread attention with the publication of her poem "The Factories," which tackled the subject of child labor. (Source: Academy of American Poets via Poets.org) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- At times, I feel glad to be able to read essential poetry and collect it too. While reading this poem I was reminded of "When you are old" by William Butler Yeats. Is sorrow too private to b...

दो नैना , एक कहानी थोडा सा बादल , थोडा सा पानी और एक कहानी छोटी सी दो झीलों में वो बहती रहती हैं कोई सुने या ना सुने कहती रहती हैं कुछ लिख के और कुछ ज़ुबानी थोड़ी सी हैं जानी हुयी , थोड़ी सी नयी जहा रुके आँसू वही पूरी हो गयी हैं तो नयी फिर भी हैं पुरानी एक ख़त्म हो तो दूसरी रात आ जाती हैं होठों पे फिर भूली हुई बात आ जाती हैं दो नैनों की हैं ये कहानी ... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glWOVwU3uss Words have such power to stir our feelings! And poetry with music always swells up even the most concealed emotions within us! 'Masoom' = innocent!      Every time, I listen to these lyrics I am instantly drawn to memories from my childhood. Although, I wasn't even born when this movie came out, I always felt connected whenever I watched 'Lakdi ki Kathi' on Rangoli every sunday. Years later, when I first heard 'Tujhse Naraaz nahi Zindagi' on the radio at m...