The Rebelle blog

We stare at the young girl chasing a yellow butterfly On the summer roads that lead from Nothing to Nowhere. And the Grey Man that waits on the road from Nothing to Nowhere Does not care how the breezes and butterflies move their four wings- But the young girl chases the yellow butterfly Happiness.... what is the dust that lies on its wings? Oh, How I love Edith Sitwell. She believed that Poetry is the deification of reality, and one of its purposes is to show that the dimensions of man are, as Sir Arthur Eddington said, 'half way between those of an atom and a star.' Perhaps, all that is happening now has happened in another world ages ago. Bit of a dreamy writing this is but something that we all long for, don't we? I like the very Indian essence that arises with colours and liveliness that springs into action when happiness comes knocking on our doors. It is a dreamy after-thought that 'love being the essence of life' still gets recognition among p...

Life offers a beautiful and sometimes miserable concoction of moments and events that there is a terrible beauty about it. The world has become small and yet so unrecognisable that people are fighting to live just one more day. Those that embrace death do so because their efforts have gone futile in understanding the workings of this universe. No one is able to hear them any more. Do we honour them just one last wee bit and forget the brutalities inflicted upon them or do we emerge stronger and voice our dissent collectively evermore now? Nations are going to war. The blacks and dalits are back to where they began their journey less than 70 years ago under two great visionaries, Martin Luther King, Jr and Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar. The refugee crisis has heightened turmoil among classes. The rich versus poor dichotomy is emboldened like never before. Where do revolutionary ideas stand within this chaos that has infiltrated systems of justice and righteousness? Do we merely expres...

It is completely amusing that I read this following poem in another blogger's Poem-a-day subscribed blog posts. While it does speak of love's longing and yearning, it also essentially sums up that everything we have lost was because its time had come. The purpose in our life was fulfilled and that's why we lost days, love, friendships, dreams, things/people who were closer to us- this is the classic clichéd way of explaining certain events in life. I certainly don't subscribe to them. Yes, we lost things and people. But that's about it. It should not make me cold-hearted to feel that what was gone shall be lost forever. That is why we have memories. This poem however is different. It should be seen as something that laments the going away of events and people, but it also renews hope in a way as you read it. After all, WE live on hope and faith that will surpass all sorrows and pain to lead us towards new beginnings of growth and creation. This is a philosophi...

One thing that will always remain a constant in my life is BOOKS. One of the greatest joys in life is reading. It is singularly the biggest event in my life- the moment I learnt to read my letters and finished my first book. Today I take a vow, at the beginning of the year to donate books and help create libraries for underprivileged children. The thought crossed my mind a few months ago when during a casual outing with friends some street kids after noticing a pile of books in my hand wanted them. This encounter took me by surprise, and I kept thinking about creating a book bank specifically for kids who lack access to reading. Now that I have a substantial collection i.e. children's literature, I am reaching out to book lovers who might want to help with sustaining this idea and making this small effort reach kids who will benefit from this gesture. Write to me on sharayugangurde@gmail,com , if you wish to share ideas and means to distribute books to children. I hope this w...

Here I am, writing the last blog post for 2015. What a wonderful year this has been! It felt like a dream, an adventure and I also had my share of a miserable few hours, but, nothing compares this year to the others. I have felt new, super charged and have had more faith than the last few years put together. 2015 gave me beautiful new people as friends, as family (I became an aunt to a nephew and niece), renewed my interest in a lot of things I had forgotten in the rat race and bought new challenges forward. I eagerly look towards 2016 for new and better opportunities, new experiences and a new me who will be brimming with happiness and enthusiasm and not be afraid of failures. I look forward to new memories and everlasting love for my beloved and good health and kindness among all. Here's to a year of peace for all, happiness, kindness and equal opportunities for the ones who deserve better and a lot more than they had earlier. Hello, 2016!

As I reread excerpts from Rilke's Letters to a young poet while also rummaging through my memory for old images from a time long ago, it amuses me how much life is entwined within poetry and fiction. The late Swedish poet, Tomas Transtromer wrote in The Blue House about the open terrain which was once a garden and now wilderness, the house resembling a child's drawing. I am intrigued by that drawing. I wonder if it will have a small red roofed house with a chimney and flower garden, with blue skies and the sun shining bright over a small pathway lined with shrubs. This is my drawing. It has fascinated me all these years, refusing to fade from my memory. Many other things have been forgotten but this house with its red roof stands fresh and surprisingly in 2D. Transtromer writes about an amateur painting hung over the bed representing a ship with seventeen sails, rough sea and a wind which the gilded frame cannot subdue, The wind blows in my hair and sends a chill down my ...

My first computer was in 1998 and I remember being excited, curious and a bit nervous about handling it. Dad showed me how to switch it on and off and the first application I ever worked on was MS Paint. My first drawing was a house or an attempt of drawing a house, that is. The neighbourhood uncle came and saw me painting on the computer. He stood next to me and was surprised at my Dad letting me use the new machine, his words. It was wonderful. I would come home from school and use the computer, mostly paint. One of the themes that played while the computer started was "Can't fight the moonlight" sung by LeAnn Rimes from the movie, "Coyote Ugly". I was very amused and fascinated by the starting lines of the song. To a child, new things bring lot of joy. My Dad taught me using Word, Power point and it was a great source of entertainment to explore and make new slides in PP. Internet was not yet available back then at my place. But I was too young to use i...