The Rebelle blog

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...

I am writing this in response to a very fetching interview I read in one of my email subscriptions today. Just a few days ago, I was moaning about unread emails and yet in the past few days, I've been reading quite a few articles from a mammoth sea of subscriptions I was sure I wanted to unsubscribe. Sometimes, reading too much makes us lose interest in the actual things we ought to read. Like last week, a new friend asked me if I had read Virginia Woolf and how did I find her writing style. To her, Virginia was morose, depressed, boring and confusing. She said she gave up reading her in college. Now, it's completely subjective but I do firmly believe that our reading evolves over time as we grow, particularly more so in phases that we seem to be struggling with educating ourselves, polishing our understanding of the world and stocking up on our views, basically that we have no clue when we would be spouting. So it happens that in trying to cross check our political views wit...

I sniffed Jasmine fragrance while rummaging through my mother’s beautiful sarees. I took it in and immediately a series of images floated through my mind like those childhood days when we had lots of flowering plants in our house garden. I called a friend to share this memory and she asked me about the things that make me smile. I kept thinking later and here’s a small list of happiness that I will probably read again in the future and see if the reasons that make me smile have remain unchanged. - A random pleasant memory - Remembering my Dad’s jokes - My mom’s childhood memories she sometimes shares with me - Getting hold of a book when I am not looking for it - A phone call from a long lost friend - My handwritten notes from school/college days - Rereading letters from my uncle and grandpa - Looking at kid photographs from my grandpa’s collection - Fragrance of Fresh Flowers while passing through the market - Rereading excerpts from some be...

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...

Ever since I was a child, I heard my Dad constantly speak of moral values to me. And not just speak about them, I've seen these being practised too. Integrity and Character are two important assets that I've learned from my father. He always stressed on importance of character in a person. To him, honesty, morality, integrity, compassion are not merely words or virtues but essential components (yes, I use this word!) for all of us to live with in this world. So today something happened that shattered my belief in honesty of character. I kept thinking about how idiotic people like me exist in this world who still trust people with all their heart. We mustn't, clearly. But then it also made me think about kindness and the loyalty that still exists. So why are there such contrasting feelings being played by people? What joy do certain people get from breaking someone's trust? My anger subsided relatively easily when I realized that we cannot take responsibility for peop...

कभी सोचा ना था के यह मेरे साथ भी होगा।  पर मैं तो अक्सर बहुत कुछ सोचती नहीं और वह होते रहता हैं। जब तक उसका एहसास हो, वह बात और समा गुजर चुके होते है। क्या यह मेरी कमजोरी है या मेरा अँधा विश्वास लोगों पर, चीज़ों पर, वक़्त पर? शायद बहुत ज्यादा मासूमियत से बर्ताव करने की आदत हो चुकी है मुझे, इसलिए ऐसे जब कभी मन को ठेस पहुँचती है तो सहा नहीं जाता।  खैर, अब ये उम्र ही क्या और ये ज़िंदगी ही क्या जिसमे गिले- शिक़वे ना हो? अपने आप में रहने का कोई मकसद नहीं ना ही खुद को जलाकर रौशनी फैलाने की चाह रखने की उम्मीद रखे। दुनिया बड़ी जालिम है जनाब, कही हम यहाँ आकर अपने आप को ही ना मिटा दें। बस इतना याद रखें की ज़िंदगी बहुत छोटी है, जो गुजर गयी वह कल की बात थी। आनेवाले सूरज को अपनाओ, इतने से तो लम्हें हात लगें है हमारे।