The Rebelle blog

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...

1998- what an amazing year! That was the year we moved to Mumbai. Everything was new for me. I remember my very first visit to Dr. Bhau Daji Lad Museum and meeting a painter there. She signed a photo of one of her paintings displayed in the gallery there. I was a wide-eyed 10- year old girl in awe of all the new sights in front of me. We also visited the Nehru Planetarium and Chowpatty on my first Mumbai visit. But, most of all, what I remember from that year is the introduction to some amazing kid movies I had the opportunity to see on TV. Earlier, before moving to Mumbai, I wasn't much interested in movies or TV and also, there was a limited access to DD programs.  Star Movies, I believe, broadcasted kid movies on Sundays. I watched The Parent Trap, Father of the Bride, Honey I shrunk the kids, Richie Rich on a Sunday movie marathon that spanned weeks. I vividly remember being glued to the TV set and still recall visuals of the light and colors from these movies. The s...

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...

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...

Everything that announces the onset of summer is here. There are watermelon mounds arranged everywhere in the market, the Gulmohar has started blooming its red blossoms prominently, the plants on my mother's garden sill have started flowering with a rage of colours and birds are making their nests on our Air conditioning unit. The hot, sticky summer nights are here and I have been gorging on ice creams almost daily. My mother has stacked our refrigerator with different flavours of home-made cold syrups. Hot nights are making people go for long walks post dinner in my town which is nice since this way everyone gets to meet each other. The mornings are still a bit cooler than the daytime but the poor ducklings in the lake prefer to stay in water and have stopped moving around the jogging track around the lake. I miss their familiar greetings on my morning jogs by the lakeside. Summer brings nostalgia too, esp, visiting my grandparents home during school holidays. Now that I hav...

(Artwork by Jonathan Kwegyir Aggrey) रविवारी वर्तमानपत्रात 'इस्तंबुलचा सुगंध' म्हणून एक लेख वाचला. त्यातली छायाचित्रं पाहून मला ओरहान पामुक यांच्या 'इस्तंबूल' या पुस्तकाची प्रकर्षाने आठवण झाली. आणि वाचता वाचता माझा कुठल्यातरी गोष्टीवरून बहिणीशी खटका उडाला, हे लिहिताना माझा हात किती कापरा झालाय. सर्वांची दृष्टी निराळी हे मान्य पण एखाद्या गोष्टीवर एवढी टोकाची भूमिका का असावी? आपल्याला न पटणाऱ्या गोष्टी ऐकून घेण्यात काय वाईट आहे? किंबहुना हा समजूतदारपणा दाखविण्याचा थोडा प्रयत्न तरी आपण करू नये का? बघता बघता नवीन वर्षाचा पहिला महिना संपला सुद्धा. वाचायला तर खूप काही घेतलय, लिहायला देखील, ते कागदावर मांडायला हवं तेवढं वेळेवर. बऱ्याचदा गोष्टी मनातच राहून जातात, त्या सांगितल्या जात नाहीत, मग त्यांची घुसमट होते, त्या तिथेच दबल्या जातात. एखाद्या नॉस्टाल्जिक संध्याकाळी मग त्या आपल्याला आठवतात. त्यावर आपण मनातल्या मनात तेव्हाही उहापोह करतो पण त्या व्यक्त होतच नाही. ही आठवण मग कितीतरी वर्ष आपल्याला सतवत राहते. आणि कधीतरी मग अशी कागदावर उतरते. सांगायचच झालं तर पामु...

I missed a dear friend's Bridal Shower. Something that me and a few other friends were planning since a month. Uncertainty is such a game twister. When we are so excited about something, and looking forward to it, and this disappointment creeps in. It has happened with me quite a many times. When it happened in childhood, I would sulk and forget about it. Now when it happens, I go back in time, think about the preparations, excitement, my happy state of mind and the sulk returns and never goes for a long time. Usually it reflects on the family. I blame them if they are responsible or I do torture my own self constantly thinking about what an ungrateful friend I am. I must say, it spirals me into a near depression state and its the worst feeling ever to let down people you love. This time, a lot of things happened in succession. First, my phone gave up, then I had some health (ENT + Dental) issues, which surprised and terrified me. And, it just makes me feel so guilty evermore ...

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...