Skip to main content

The harsh summer

Summer is on us like the harsh light of reality after one wakes from a pleasant dream. In our country, it is the steadiest season, always arriving dot on time, and overstaying its welcome till October-November. Never has summer failed to scorch in India.

Shakespeare rightly called April the cruellest month, though this was not quite what he meant! The 'rudra avatar' of the mighty sun is on full display, burning and scalding everything in its ambit. Birds and animals on the streets are the worst hit, thirsting for water everywhere. Humans have it no better, though the well-off have the option of hiding indoors in AC comfort.

As usual, the man or woman on the street suffers the most, whether it is your door-to-door salesman, or traffic constable, postmen or vegetable vendors. For them, it is really a question of sweating it out for their bread and butter.

And then, we have the infamous power cuts (which have no relation to depletion of political power)! Load shedding literally makes us shed bucketfulls of sweat in the span of two-three hours. And when water dries up in taps, it is really the last straw. Nothing can be worse, you want to cry out!

But we still survive, sweating, toiling, and exhausted, and live to see another harsh summer day. Our only hope is the distant monsoon, more likely than not, to play truant and miss its arrival date by a fortnight or more.

And this year, we have the added heat of the elections to make it really unbearable. Our politicians are really made of different stuff to be able, not only to campaign in this heat, but also carry on full-throated mud-slinging! God give this country a cool-headed and warm-blooded leader who will ensure that the man on the street gets better conditions of living, and all of us get a brighter future.
 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Enough! No more rape!

The recent horrifying, stomach-churning incident in Kolkata is not a one-time aberration. It keeps occuring in our country. And we women are also responsible for this stinking rot in society. Ask yourself these uncomfortable questions. How many of you protest when a girl wearing "revealing clothes" is cat-called?  Did you show your support for our wrestlers protesting against a habitual offender? Did your blood boil when you saw pictures of our sisters in Manipur paraded naked?  When rapists are released from prison or routinely escape punishment, do you raise your voice? How many of you have tolerated violence or even casual sexism in your own home? Do you turn the other way when transgenders are leered at? Do you grin and bear it when the men in your family crack obscene jokes? Do Kathua and Hathras ring a bell? And lastly, how many of you thronged cinema halls to make misogynistic horrors like Animal and Kabir Singh blockbusters? I have asked myself and am distinctly feeli...

All We Imagine as Light- Lyricism on Celluloid

When an Indian film makes it the prestigious Cannes film festival, the world sits up and takes notice! And the lovely ladies swinging on the stage is a recent memory that brings a sense of pride. I had the good fortune to catch this film on screen recently. A review of such work is unnecessary, but still am bursting to say a few words. Right from the scintillating background score, to the events that unfold like pages fluttering in an open book, to the effortless performances, it's a masterpiece all right! The first half romances Mumbai- in the rains, at night, in the bazaars, in dingy rooms, in the local trains. Image source: Wikipedia  The second half shows what light truly is, brilliant sunshine, crashing waves and salty air in a small coastal village in Maharashtra. You can feel the taste of salt, the breeze in your hair and the touch of sand under your feet, the cinematography is so real. Payal Kapadia masters the art of holding back, of showing beauty in the mundane. The hosp...

Of Chinars, Snow-Capped Mountains, and Kahwah - Srinagar

Kashmir - Heaven on Earth , was on my travel destination list from God knows when. Maybe from the time I watched " Kitni khubsurat yeh tasveer hai " from the Hindi film Bemisal? Or maybe those picture-perfect images they showed of the Dal Lake, shikaras, the impossibly green valleys surrounded with white peaks on Doordarshan? Or was it earlier, since the time I watched Shammi Kapoor serenading Sharmila Thakur with " Yeh chand sa roshan chehera " on  a shikara, from the film Kashmir Ki Kali? And who can forget " Yeh haseen vaadiya, yeh khula asmaan " from Roja - the first mainstream film to address the elephant in the room - that of growing terrorism in this beautiful paradise? To me, Kashmir symbolized the ultimate natural heaven, that elusive chimera that remained out of reach for ordinary people like us for more than thirty years. And when something is unreachable, it becomes irresistible. So, for my silver jubilee anniversary,  it was obvious that I wan...