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A mass shooting.

A video of a playful puppy.

Farmer suicide.

Smiling selfies.

Gang rape of a child.

List of beautiful places to visit.

Mob lynching.

40 new likes on your profile pic.

Communal clashes.

The latest meme. 

And in the mix of all this, is my mind, trembling, yelling at me to stop.

The Navigator

It was cold, not such that it had you shivering from head to toe, but enough for the three-year-old girl to be bundled into a knitted, pink sweater. Sonu picked at it uncomfortably, as she gazed out at the big lake around her. Boats dotted her vision, moving slowly across the water as the grown-ups who sat in them huffed as they pedalled.

On her own boat, her parents sat across her, pedalling the boat with an unhurried ease, while her dad kept one hand on the long stick behind. On Sonu’s right, her older brother chatted away excitedly. The four of them were on their way to Mussourie, a few hours away from home, and had stopped for boating on the lake that had become customary to these trips.

As Sonu listened to her brother going on and on about his own skill with pedalling the boat (he had done it for a minute at the most!), she tried unsuccessfully to enjoy the wind and the water. Finally, feeling that enough was enough, Sonu decided that it was time to speak up for herself. Plastering a frown on her puffed-up cheeks, she folded her arms for extra effect, and heaved in annoyance.

“Even I want to pedal,” she said.

Her parents looked at her in surprise. “But you’re too small for this,” said her mother, while her brother sniggered on the side.

“You let bhaiya do it!” she persevered. “Even I want to try.”

“But – “

“Sure,” her father said, cutting off her mother’s objection. Her mother looked surprised, and was about to say something again when her dad gave one of those grown-up looks that she seemed to understand. 

“Really?!” the little girl asked, trying to mask her nervousness in excitement.

“Yes. But you’ll have to switch seats with me,” her father said, and proceeded to show her where to place her footing as the two of them carefully switched seats with each other.

As Sonu plopped down on to the seat of power, she suddenly wasn’t too sure about what to do. Her mother, who was now sitting next to her, spoke up.

“Okay, now put your feet on the pedals. And start moving them forward, like this,” she said, as she continued pedalling calmly.

Following instructions, she put each of her buckled shoes on the pedals, and then pushed.

And pushed some more.

And a little more.

But the pedals wouldn’t move. Not even when she scrunched up her face from the effort, and put out her tongue in the unconscious way she always did when trying to concentrate on something.

The pedals just wouldn’t move.

Trying to ignore her brother’s snigger, Sonu glumly looked up at her dad. Thankfully, he wasn’t laughing. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “It takes a lot of strength. You’ll be able to do it when you’re a little older.”

And with that, he took over the pedals from his own seat, and motioned for her brother to take over from her mother, and the two started pedalling the boat in reverse.

Turning to her side, she pretended to look at the lake as she fought off the urge to cry, as the feeling of uselessness spread all over her, ringing deafeningly in her ears. In fact, it took her a couple of seconds to realize her father was talking to her.

“What?” she asked, turning in front.

“Can you turn us a little to the left?” her father said. “We’re getting a little close to the edge.”

Confused, she asked him how.

“That stick,” he said, motioning to the stick behind her that she had noticed earlier. “It’s for navigation. Turn it towards you.”

Turning sideways, she put her hand on the navigation stick and pulled it towards her, half expecting it to stay where it was. To her surprise, it moved easily, and slowly, the boat also started to turn.

“You mean I can control where we’re going with this?” she asked, as the smile slowly started to find its way back on her face.

Her father nodded, explaining how the direction of the turn would depend on which side they were pedalling from.

The three-year-old nodded as she listened. “So, you mean that if mamma and I were pedalling, I would have to move it in the opposite direction? Hmm…that makes sense.”

Then, as though suddenly remembering her own age, she turned to her mother and asked her if she wanted to navigate. Smiling, her mother shook her head slowly. “Why don’t you be the navigator today?” 

The words seemed to drop a load of responsibility on her, but for once, instead of feeling like shirking away, she sat up straight. Now this, I can do.

With a big smile on her face, she turned to the other three passengers. “Alright, I’m going to get us to there,” she said, pointing to the far end of the lake with one hand, while the other firmly moved the navigation bar in the proper direction.

“And after that, papa you tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there. And bhaiya, you tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there. And mamma you too,” she rambled along.

“I’m the navigator,” she said proudly, oblivious to the tired looks exchanged by the others. This was going to be a long day of pedalling.

The Great War

Link to story with illustrations on Storyweaver

Sonu stared at her plate. There they were. Those round, green, yucky, things. 

Sonu hated them. She had always hated them. They tasted so bad! 

She tried telling papa that, but he would not listen. “They’re good for you,” he would say, and that was that. 

So, every other day, Sonu would find herself staring at the green things - those terrible peas! 

Sometimes, she would put one in her mouth, and chew it from side to side, but would not swallow it. Other times, she would gulp many of them down quickly with water. But most of the times, she would just sit there and move them around on the plate with her finger, hoping they would disappear. She would look at them carefully, squinting her eyes. 

Sometimes, she could imagine little eyes on them, staring back at her. And mouths too, with an evil smile. It was as though they knew how much they bothered her. 

She could almost hear the leader shouting to the rest of the group – “Hold your ground! Do not give in!” And just like that, all of them would stand at attention, their weapons ready. It was a battlefield! All those green, round monsters were on one side, daring her to fight back.

Now, if Sonu had to choose her own army, it would have been potatoes. Big, strong and tasty!

All in different shapes! Some long and thin, good for hitting the peas. Some large and chunky, good for sitting on the enemy and squashing them. And some would be mashed. They would surround the peas, stopping them from escaping. 

A great war would take place! Oh, what a fight! What a courageous fight! Both sides would put up a strong offense. But in the end, only the potatoes would survive! The green monsters, defeated, would disappear forever. Forever and ever. And never show up again! 

And th- Sonu jerked. She blinked. The battlefield was gone. She was back at the table. Her father was staring at her plate in disgust. 

The peas and potatoes were all over, crushed and smashed and mixed and forming a gooey paste. Sonu couldn’t help giggling at the sight. 

But just then, to her horror, her father took out more peas from the large bowl and put them on her plate. His look clearly said, “Eat”. And just like that, Sonu went back to staring at the little, round, green monsters.

The decision - (an analogy for CAA)

You're on a boat in the middle of the ocean. There are people around you in the water, struggling, drowning, looking for safety. Many try to come towards the boat.

What do you do?

Do you let them in?

The humanity in you says yes, save them all. The practicality in you says no, the boat isn't big enough for them all - it will capsize. And the rationality in you admits that you can't save them all, but can still try to save as many as possible.

I get it. It's not an easy decision, especially if the boat has your family members - it's a choice between saving yourself and your family while definitely letting many others drown, or letting them all in and possibly risk everyone drowning.

But I can't fathom how, in the midst of all that, you would let people of a certain religion in and not others. You would sit there on that boat, knowing you have let a whole bunch of people drown, only because they prayed in a way different from yours. Logic might have told you that you can only save a few, but it never said to do it on the basis of religion.

You say there are other boats around, doing the same. So why shouldn't you?

Because, in one of the proudest moments of our history, this country pledged to be better. To treat people equally, regardless of how others do it. To not discriminate on the basis of religion.

Yes, you have a decision to make. Not an easy one. People are drowning. You have a boat. Maybe you can't let everyone in. Maybe you need a way to figure out who gets on, and who doesn't.

But religion, cannot and should not, be the basis of that decision.

Magic is Might: A reading of today's world through the lens of Harry Potter

As I look around me, there’s a feeling churning inside, a feeling hard to describe in a few words. The scene unfolding around me should be one I'm unfamiliar with, because I haven’t really seen it before. But strangely, it feels familiar. Part of that familiarity lies in the pages of history that I read as a child, pages that horrified me and made me question the basis of humanity.

Recently, however, I stumbled across a post that made me realize that another part of the familiarity lies in the pages of a book I grew up with, a book that was my companion for almost a decade, perhaps longer: Harry Potter.

In this post, I’m going share a summary of a particular set of events that unfolded in the books, events that in some ways feel eerily similar to the world I’m part of today.

*****

The book focuses on a group of people who have the power of magic. These witches and wizards live among the non-magic folk, who they refer to as muggles.

The larger wizarding community, for many years, aimed hard to co-exist among the muggles. This meant going out of their way to ensure that muggles didn't find out that there is something called magic. This was done to prevent a possible mayhem from breaking out, and to keep the peace between the two communities.

But there were also many witches and wizards in the magical world who chafed against these restrictions. They hated the limitations of not openly being able to do magic in front of the muggles. They believed, that as wizards, their place was one high above that of muggles. This wasn't a relationship of equality; after all, they knew they were more powerful. Why bother pretending to be equals when in reality they could easily overpower the muggles and finally live the lives they had wanted to? Why appease this group of people, when what they really wanted was to show muggles their true place in the world?

One day, a powerful wizard emerged, who told them what they longed to hear - magical folk deserve a higher place in society compared to these filthy muggles, and that's what they were going to get. No more pretences, no more politeness, no more appeasement. It was time to show the muggles where they belonged. The words struck a chord - he was, after all, speaking to their heart's deepest desires; desires that until this point they had been forced to subdue. This wizard - Voldemort - gained many followers, all ready to shed pretences and show their power in all its force.

And so it began. It started slowly. Whispers, secret meetings, detailed planning. Small disappearings. Inexplicable murders. Voldemort's followers slowly took over top positions of power. People who questioned and spoke up soon found smear campaigns launched against them in newspapers. They were accused of spreading fear in what was otherwise a peaceful time. Their titles were stripped away. They were presented as lunatics, or power hungry morons just looking for attention from the media. And the wizarding community, as often happens with the rest of us, began to see them through this image. Their supporters thinned, while the supporters of Voldemort continued to grow.

And then, one day, Voldemort came out of the shadows. All his pieces were in place. He took over the Ministry of Magic, and finally unleashed his plans.

Muggles were killed, left, right and centre. This time, pretence wasn't needed. Whispers were unnecessary. A new slogan took over: 'Magic is Might'. A statue was installed at the centre of the ministry, depicting wizards sitting on scores of ugly, twisted muggles: finally shown at what ought to have always been their rightful place.

Hogwarts, the school of magic, also changed. The subject 'Muggle Studies', which students used to take to learn more about muggles, now was used to tell students about how muggles were stupid and dirty, and how they had viciously driven wizards into hiding. The subject now also became mandatory.

It wasn't just muggles though.

The wizarding community was made up of different kinds of people. Some people had several generations of magic in their family line. Some, were 'half and half': one parent was a witch or wizard, while another was a muggle. Some, were born to muggle parents, and were often referred to with the slur 'Mudblood', or meaning 'dirty blood'.

Some people - particularly the ones following Voldemort - believed that only the first kind - the pure blood - were true witches and wizards, and only they should be allowed to practice magic. Everyone else, was an 'other'.

Once Voldemort came to power, all the magic folk born to non-magic parents were rounded up. A muggle-born registration commission was set up, and they were made to present themselves in court to prove that they were, in fact, true witches and wizards. Research was presented which said that magic could only be passes on by blood, which meant that any wizards born in non-wizarding households must have taken magic by force. Many were charged with having stolen wands, and the fact that they could use the wand was not considered evidence of them being magic folk. Those that were unable prove their ancestry were sent to prison. Many of them were taken; many others tried to flee. Some succeeded, but most did not. Every week, the list of names of the people who had died kept increasing.

Anyone who tried to fight or resist the new regime was killed. No one really knew who to trust, or who was on which side. A small group emerged, trying to thwart Voldemort at every step. But they were small, compared to the supporters of Voldemort. Their numbers thinned, and resistance began to look futile.

A large chunk of the masses chose not to take sides. Many of them were the ones who initially had denied vehemently that anything was wrong, and had smeared anyone who had tried to say otherwise. They preferred to live in the belief that everything was okay, and all this unnecessary criticism was only spreading distrust and fear. Now, they did what they could to keep their families safe, refusing to take a stand until it was almost too late....

*****

The story above continues, but perhaps that's for another day. Today, it's not about what happened next. Because at the end of the day, Harry Potter was a fictional tale written for children. The ending given in that book doesn't necessarily reflect the ending that our world has seem multiple times over in the history books.

The pages of our future are yet to be filled, and whether they reflect the world of a children’s fantasy novel or the grim history of our world might just depend on us.

***** 

Note 1: The post above was inspired from a similar post I read by someone comparing the world of Harry Potter to today. Don't remember who had shared it, so can't share the link.

Note 2: The description of events above is based on my memory of the books from many years earlier, so might not be 100% accurate in the details.

For Nani

As I sat on the flight to Delhi, all the memories of Nani came flooding in. Sharing some of those memories here.

Rest in peace, Nani.


सुबह सुबह उठके सबको एक ही बात दोहराना
जाओ सब लोग जाके अब जल्दी से नहाना

पंजीरी के लड्डू गोल कैसे बनाते हैं सिखाना
और संडे को फिंगर चिप्स और सूजी का हलवा भी खिलाना

सर पर हाथ फेर के धीरे से सुलाना
पर उससे पहले रोज़ रात कहानियां भी सुनाना

हमारा नाम भूल के हमें रीना, शिखा, ईशु, विंकी, हर नाम से बुलाना
पर अपने पुराने किस्से घंटों बिना कुछ भूले सुनाना

कैरम के स्ट्राइकर से बारीकी से लगाना निशाना
पर बच्चों को खेलते खेलते किसी तरह चुपके से जिताना

कभी लूडो, कभी रम्मी, तोह कभी तीन-दो-पांच साथ खिलाना
और कोट पीस में अपनी टीम को ज़रूर पीसवाना

हमारे साथ ऊटी, कोडाइकनाल, मनाली तक जाना
और रंग बिरंगे फूल देखते ही फोटो भी खिचवाना

वैसे तोह दाल, सब्ज़ी, और लौकी से रोज़ खुश हो जाना
पर बीच बीच में पराठे, पूरी, और नूडल्स भी शौक से खाना

उनसे बात करने के लिए सबका ऊंची आवाज़ में चिल्लाना
पर फिर भी कभी कानो में हियरिंग ऐड नहीं लगाना

सारी ज़िन्दगी धोती पेहेनके अब बोली की काफी आरामदायक है ये पयजामा
पर हम जब भी शॉर्ट्स पहने तोह उन्हें जांघिया ज़रूर बुलाना

कहती की अब हम ९२ के हो गए हैं, ज़्यादा चला नहीं जाता
फिर अगले पल अपनी छड़ी पीछे भूल के आगे कहीं पहुँच जाना

एक ख्वाहिश थी उनकी, जो शायद किस्मत में ना था उनका पाना
की गलती से उन्हें दामाद के हाथों की चाय ना पिलाना

**********

English Transcript

Subah subah uthke sabko ek hi baat dohraana

Jao sab log chal ke ab jaldi se nahaana

Panjeeri ke laddoo kaise gol banaate hain sikhaana

Aur Sunday ko finger chips aur sooji ka halwa bhi khilaana

Sar par haath pher ke dheere se sulaana

Par usse pehle roz raat khaaniyaan bhi sunaana

Humaara naam bhool ke humein Rina Shikha Ishu Winky, har naam se bulaana

Par apne puraane kisse ghanton bina kuch bhoole sunaana

Carrom ke striker se bareeki se lagana nishaana

Par bachhon ko khelte khelte kisi tarah chupke se jitaana

Kabhi ludo, kabhi rummy, toh kabhi 325 saath khilaana

Aur kot pees mein apni team ko zaroor peeswana

Hamaare saath Ooty, Kodaikanal, Manali tak jaana

Aur rang birange phool dekhte hi photo bhi khichwaana

Waise toh daal, sabzi aur lauki se roz khush ho jaana

Par beech beech mein parathe, poori aur noodles bhi shauk se khaana

Unse baat karne ke liye sabka oonchi aawaaz mein chillana

Par phir bhi kabhi kaano mein hearing aid  nahi lagaana

Saari zindagi dhoti pehenke ab bole ki kaafi aaraamdayak hai ye pyjaama

Par hum jab bhi shorts pehne toh unhe jaanghiya zaroor bulaana

Kehti ki ab hum 92 ke ho gaye hain, zyaada chala nahi jaata

Phir agle pal apni chhadi peeche bhool ke aage kahin pahunch jaana

Ek khwahish thi unki jo shaayad kismat mein naa tha unka paana

Ki galti se unhe damaaad ke haath ki chaay na pilaana

Bring in the 30s

In one of my old posts, I had once written that there’s something about sunsets, new years and birthdays that makes one quite reflective.

Well, I guess this is as good a time as any.

30 years. That’s how long it’s been. It feels surreal, just saying that out loud. Just like that, 30 years have gone. Okay, to be fair, it wasn’t ‘just like that’. They took their time, but that’s hardly a thought to complain about.

Looking back at these 30 years, there’s a big mix of emotions. There’s joy, sadness, regrets, satisfaction, and a whole lot else. But if I allow myself one anomaly in my usual range, it’s pride. Pride at the journey, pride at the person I’m becoming, pride at the person I continue to become.

To be honest, when I look back at the kind of person I was as a kid, I don’t feel as much pride. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a bad kid. I was (and still am) a fairly nice person. But I was also a fairly scared kid. Scared to do new things; to voice out my thoughts; to be different; to be myself. And the last 30 years really seem to be about the journey from being that scared kid to becoming a – well, a less scared adult. At least, an adult that’s lit more confident about the person I’ve become.

It almost sounds strange to say that one has to work at becoming themselves. But it really has seemed like it’s been a journey of understanding myself – understanding my likes and dislikes, and then working up the courage to actually put them forward. As a kid, I spent so much time trying to understand some of the rules of this world and society and to try (occasionally) to fit into them, that I didn’t really understand that there was an alternative.

Maybe that’s how it works. You get so busy trying everything, doing everything that everyone around you is doing, trying to be the person that everyone around you seems to be, or expects you to be, that you don’t really get to pause and think about what it is that you want. Maybe that’s a phase everyone has to go through to get through to the other side. Right now, I just feel like I’m looking at it from the other side, and all I can say is that I’m really glad to be on this side. 

Of course, life isn't 'sorted', but it's definitely clearer. I feel like I know myself so much better now than I did a few years ago. I feel so much clearer about the kind of person I am, the things I like, or don’t like, or the kind of person I want to continue to work towards becoming. I know that there are things I care about, like human rights and equality and choices and feminism and education and kindness and genuineness. I also know that there are things I don’t care about, or would like to not care about – like the kinds of clothes I’m expected to wear or how I’m expected to look or sit or walk. I’ve done the party scenes, and over time realized that at the end of the day, home and deep conversations are my comfort spaces (though can still go berserk when the song 'Taare Gin Gin' plays). And more than anything else, I’ve started to enjoy spending time with myself. There was a time when I hated being alone; but now I really look forward to some alone time. In the words of the new generation, I’ve gone from having a case of FoMo (Fear of Missing out) to JoMo (Joy of Missing out).

Someone once told me that after 30 is when life gets really good – you’ve passed the crazy kid phase, the angst teenage phase and the trying to check off big things in your 20s phase (I guess this is the point at which all you 30+ people smirk and say, ‘That’s what you think’). It’s not to say that life’s suddenly going to be smooth sailing, but if I get to look back at this journey several years from now and still feel a sense of pride, then that’s definitely something to look forward to.

So, I know turning 30 is supposed to be this massively scary thing (especially if you haven’t checked off all the so-called boxes of the 20s that serve as constant reminders on your Facebook and family newsfeed), but I’m kind of excited: excited by the idea of hopefully bringing in the big day with a kind of routine day, and ending it in the nearest pub, dressed in my favourite T-shirt and comfiest pyjamas, sitting cross-legged on the chair as I sip my drink with the family, comforted in the knowledge that I’ll be passed out at my regular hour.

Happy 30^th :)

(Posting this a day early because if anyone knows anything at all about me, it's that midnight is not a time I'm awake at!)