Saturday, October 08, 2016
Saturday, October 01, 2016
Thursday, September 29, 2016
Sunday, July 10, 2016
The solitary reaper
I am a solitary reaper, singing in the fields,
I keep pace with the sun from dawn till dusk;
I sing and speak to the hills and the dales,
And I hum all day to the beat of my sickle.
I keep pace with the sun from dawn till dusk;
I sing and speak to the hills and the dales,
And I hum all day to the beat of my sickle.
The valleys echo my solemn voice to me,
I forget the long hours as I keep humming;
My song changes its hue from hour to hour
And I love to sing of loves, lost or gained.
Sometimes, I sing of epic battles of yore
Bending over my sickle in the green fields;
Sometimes, a passing stranger stops to listen,
Lingering over the soft music that he hears.
I see him smiling at my lonely song and me,
As he moves away, I get back to work again.
I forget the long hours as I keep humming;
My song changes its hue from hour to hour
And I love to sing of loves, lost or gained.
Sometimes, I sing of epic battles of yore
Bending over my sickle in the green fields;
Sometimes, a passing stranger stops to listen,
Lingering over the soft music that he hears.
I see him smiling at my lonely song and me,
As he moves away, I get back to work again.
Sunday, July 03, 2016
Spring
Somewhere after the terrible times, after the turmoil is over, there has to be a spring,
When your footsteps will be like before, sprightly and fast not like the drag of feet across these interminable winter,
May be only you will be left behind to tell the tale, how this went from joy to misery in a single day.
Sense of loss
In a throw of a dice,
In a move of hand,
You threw away all
Went into sanctuary.
The songs of loss,
That spoke of you,
The tiny wings left
To learn to fly itself.
The seething pain
The story of losses
Come back again
In its full sense.
You choke your tears
Without a goodbye.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Ma
All I wanted was a pink book full of recipes;
Like the one she wanted to leave behind;
The family kitchen smelling of spices,
Christmas, roast chicken and plum cake.
The shopping spree just before Christmas,
Cake-making at midnight done together,
Your recipes followed to the last line
And the tweaks to the plans that I make.
This book of magic remains incomplete;
The Christmas flavours linger in the air;
Goodwill, happiness and the first time
I had celebrated Christmas with flavours.
The book of recipes, your cooking secrets;
All are lessons that I have learnt from you.
Pic: mariasmenu.com
Remembrance
You and I,
These magical words,
I can never utter,
About another.
These magical words,
I can never utter,
About another.
You and I,
Like day and night,
Never meet but to play
Hide and seek,forever.
Like day and night,
Never meet but to play
Hide and seek,forever.
You and I,
Carry an unspoken love,
Unfulfilled yet deep,
Hidden like a treasure.
Carry an unspoken love,
Unfulfilled yet deep,
Hidden like a treasure.
You and I,
Away but together,
In sleepless nights,
And lonely hours.
Away but together,
In sleepless nights,
And lonely hours.
You and I,
Wordsmiths who love
To coalesce liquid pain,
Into songs of remembrance.
Wordsmiths who love
To coalesce liquid pain,
Into songs of remembrance.
And you and I,
Like parellel lines,
Stretch across miles,
Strange before strange eyes.
Like parellel lines,
Stretch across miles,
Strange before strange eyes.
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Definitions
You were no bride in red;
Only a widow-heart unwed;
Yet with the seasons came
A spot of red in your hands.
I was no prince charming;
Only a lonesome wanderer;
Yet with the seasons came
A boat song on these lips.
We moved along these lines
Along these definitions;
In the end you are a wanderer
And I have turned widow-heart.
Yet these roles reverse and turn
Bring no comfort only despair.
Saturday, June 25, 2016
New Woman
Then it withered, dried and drooped to
the very earth;
Sometimes, like Icarus, it leapt out
of its many mazes,
But burnt out in the heady dash for
total freedom.
Then she brought forth a new-born, a
swaddled baby
She sang her magnificat of newly found
motherhood;
The soul forgot its troubles for a
joyous interval
And learnt how to escape the many
mazes again.
Yet mostly this soul was a
single-celled organism,
Cowardly and crawling in this huge
universe,
Too silent, too shut out and too
withdrawn,
Incapable of learning or making its
way around,
Sometimes, it longs for the crazy days
of yesterday,
When the sun of total freedom had
burnt its wings.
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Wake up with the sun!
More than usual,
There is a need
To do something
Different ,
Out of ordinary
On a morning
Like this.
It's a bleak sky,
Hints of rain
Cloud the sky,
While I decide
To go on a walk
After a long time.
The roads are quiet,
City silent,
Signs of life,
Only a few,
Cycles on the road,
More walkers,
Regulars unlike me,
Who on a special day,
Has decided
To celebrate life,
With a morning walk.
Much is done,
Much accomplished,
On a day like this,
When I woke up early,
With the sun.
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
Pensiamento Fantastico: The Stolen Harvest: The Hijacking of the Global Food Supply
Vandana
Shiva, the world-renowned activist and ecofeminist writer is an award-winning
writer on issues related to women’s rights,. globalisation and the environment.
She has written several books such as Making Peace With The Earth, Biopiracy:
The Plunder Of Nature and Knowledge, Monocultures of the Mind, Staying Alive,
Water Wars, Patents: Myths and Reality and The Stolen Harvest: The
Hijacking of the Global Food Supply.
In
her book, The Stolen Harvest: The Hijacking of the Global Food Supply (2000),
she describes the impact of globalised corporate agriculture on the small scale
industries, farmers and the quality of food that we consume. In her
enlightening book on some of the trends in food supply, she throws light on
many of the problems faced by the common people in India such as stealing of
the food produced in the country.
Some
of the issues discussed in the book are genetically engineered seeds, the
controversy on cattle meat, the unethical ways of shrimp farming and commercial
agriculture. She points out that the widespread conversion of land for food
crops into land for commercial crops has
managed to wreck nature and also people who are dependent on these food crops.
Though there is an increase in revenue, it is counterbalanced by a large-scale
and long term damage to the ecosystems and their capacity to conserve soil and
water. This kind of economic growth deprives forest communities of their
sources of food, fodder, fuel. fibre, medicine and security from floods and
drought.
Vandana
Shiva condemns WTO’s Trade Related Intellectual Property Rights Agreement that
makes indigenous seed-saving and seed-sharing a crime. She founded Navdanya,
an NGO that promotes biological diversity and organic farming after learning
more about the ways in which genetic engineering and patenting was destroying
the local varieties of food. This organisation has thousands of members and several
seedbanks across the country to conserve biodiversity, practise chemical-free
agriculture and to save seeds.
The
most important issue that she deals with in her book is about her struggle to
fight the multinational edible oil companies and their plan to completely replace
the traditional edible oils The Oils produced in the local mills were replaced
by cheap imported oils resulting in the destruction of the livelihoods of the
local people.
Pic: www.navdanya.org
This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on IndiBlogger for the launch of the #Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.
Monday, February 01, 2016
Pensiamento Fantastico: Agatha Christie
"An archaeologist is the best husband
a woman can have. The older she gets the more interested he is in her." This
was uttered by none other than Dame Agatha Christie whose second-husband was
incidentally the world famous archaeologist Sir Max Mallowan.
Reading
detective fiction has been one of my favourite pastimes since childhood. It
started with Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mysteries and has progressed
to Paul Doherty’s historical thrillers. Many a time, I have read the same books
again and again because I have forgotten the story within an year or two. Among
these books Agatha Christie’s works stand first and foremost.
When
I look at the titles, they look familiar and though I may remember some of the
storylines very vaguely, I can re-read most of her books (except a few haunting
ones) just because of the fact that they
are so readable and so forgettable.
Most
of the time what I do is to read the blurb just to see if it rings a bell. If
it does, the book must still be vivid. Otherwise, it usually only three or four
of concentrated reading to finish a novel and the blessing is the kind of
intellectual stimulation at the end of it.
The
feeling can be compared to that of putting together a jigsaw puzzle and watch
it fall together in a kind of “aha” moment. This is not just my opinion, as
only recently I read the historian Romila Thapar’s recommendation to read Agatha
Christie mysteries to enhance gestalt thinking.
A
few of her mysteries are so haunting that I don’t even need to read the blurb
to know the storyline. For instance, I
find it impossible to forget At Bertram’s
Hotel, which is about a nightmarish world where some very innocent people
are framed for crimes they have not committed and the police recognizes a gang
of lookalikes who manage to get away with it. It has Miss Jane Marple as the detective and she is of the view that human life everywhere the same as in her
village of St. Mary Mead.
Most
of the good reads have Hercule Poirot, the Belgian as the detective. He is described
as short, with his head the shape of an egg, moustache always well-trimmed and
shining, and with good manners. He is shown as obsessed about neatness and
order, be it solving the case or his attire.
What
I still remember from childhood is that reading was mostly an accompaniment to
meals as these books were so un-put-downable. Even now there is this
fascination for reading a Poirot with a hot mug of steaming coffee and
something really good to eat. Enjoy your reading, mon ami!
This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on IndiBlogger for the launch of the #Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
The Ibis Trilogy
The
Ibis Trilogy written by Amitav Ghosh consists of the novels Sea of Poppies (2008), River of Smoke (2011) and Flood of Fire (2015). Constructed on an epic scale, this
trilogy shows the interconnected lives of people across India, China and
Mauritius, all united by the factor that they were colonies of the British
empire. The fates of these people are connected to the trade of opium, which
was produced in India as a commercial crop much to the ruin of the Indian
economy and extensively sold in China causing addiction among the Chinese
population.
The first book of the trilogy,
Sea of Poppies
begins with the life of Deeti or Kabutri-ki-ma, whose husband works in an opium
factory and is addicted to opium. When her husband dies and she is tormented by
her husband’s brother (who happens to be Kabutri’s father), she runs away with
Kalua, a man from a lower caste. To escape from persecution, they join a group
of people who are transported to Mauritius as girmitiyas on the ship Ibis. The
other people whose lives become interlinked during the journey are Zachary Reid, Miss Paulette Lambert, Jodu, Ah
Fatt and Neel. The first book criticises the British introduction of opium as a
compulsory crop in the place of food crops ruining the Indian farmers.
The second book River of
Smoke describes the girmitayas’ life on the island of Mauritius and their
adventures. The British and the Indian traders earn fortunes by bringing opium
to China until the Chinese government takes steps to prevent the large-scale
influx of opium. The government takes preventive steps against opium addiction
and they seize and burn the imported opium. The traders become discontented at
this and have to flee for their lives. Neel and Ah Fatt escapes from the ship Ibis
along with a few lascars. Mr. Bahram, the Parsi trader who happens to be Ah
Fatt’s father appoints him as his munshi. This book is set mostly in Canton
against the background of the First Opium War and shows how the Chinese cannot
live without opium.
The third book Flood of
Fire spans across British India, China and Mauritius, where Deeti and her
descendants have established themselves as settlers in the plantation. In the
midst of the First Opium War,a ship Hind
sails from India to China with Zachary Reid in search of Paulette and with Shireen
Modi who wants to get back her dead husband’s wealth. However, Zachary Reid
forgets Pauline and has an affair with Mrs. Burnham, who becomes a likeable
character as opposed to the first book where she creates all kinds of problems
for Pauline. This book depicts Zachary’s initiation into the ways of the world.
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