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Weird times we live in . Everything has a price, everyone is on sale. Values, morals, principles, characters, relationships, spines - you can buy anything if you have the means. What does love or any close relationship mean in such times? Transaction, calculated risk, give and take? Imtiaz Ali's film, Main Vaapas Aaunga gives you something else. It gives you the idea of a love that survives distance, loss of contact, loss of hope. A love that was once born in hearts full of innocence and ideals of a better world. When the tsunami of hatred and divisive forces tore a nation into two, even then that love, that idea of pure human connection survived. Beyond the unspeakable horrors of India's partition. Beyond appearances, beyond lived reality, the love endured. Human connection is like that - pure,eternal. The film is at once heartbreaking and poignant, and full of hope for jaded souls like us. Those of us who saw a different India had a chance to glimpse that love in spurts. If ...

Who said you need to be alone to feel lonely? The most painful, excruciating loneliness emerges when you are in a crowd of people. When you want to feel, but are numb. When you try to blend in, but jut out like an outsider. And being in a close relationship is no guarantee against loneliness. If anything, it sharpens the feeling. Together, but Lonely How many times have you felt isolated within your own family? That you don't fit in? That no one really gets you?  Modern families are fraught with isolation and loneliness, not in a small measure due to s0ocial media. When we are glued to our devices, who looks around? Maybe you shed a tear silently, or sigh in frustration. Who notices? With people chasing individual goals more than shared ones, each person is an island.  And then there are identity issues, gender gaps, generational gaps. Young people feel walled in their world of diminishing opportunities, shrinking friendships and fluid identity. How can parents understand them...

I feel, Therefore, I am I bleed, I weep When your skin burns, I feel singed Your home blows up, I feel bereaved Your child goes hungry to sleep, how can I digest dinner? Your limbs torn, eyes gouged, body lying bloodied I sleep in my room, dreaming of wars fought elsewhere When I wake up, my clothes drip blood My soul burns, limbs hurt Has the war come home when I was asleep? #War #SayNoToWar #HumanityFirst #PeaceOnEarth

We humans have managed to make our lives so complicated that unless we take a breather every now and then, its impossible to keep our sanity. City life keeps piling on stress and chronic anxiety till we sigh - its time for a break! I spent a couple of days away from the city's drill with my family in a seaside town - Bakkhali, situated about 135 kms away from Kolkata.  Luckily, we had planned the trip in such a manner, we could avoid the noisy Holi crowd in Kolkata and spend the festival of colours amid the splendour of nature and the sea. Slightly offbeat, very soothing Situated in South 24 Parganas, Bakkhali isn't as famous as the beach towns of Digha or Mandarmani. The reason maybe the receding and tame waves of the sea here. The beach is moon-shaped, undulating, and the waters follow the movement of the tides rather diligently. So, one day you will find the waves lapping at your feet on entering the beach, while on others, you have to walk a mile through the sands to wet y...

 A man bonds with his son over a plate of chhole bhature from a street-side stall. He jokes his wife/son's mother can cook mostly all dishes except this particular favourite. of theirs So it is a given that father and son will have it outside. For that matter, some things taste better from roadside stalls, like momos, chowmein, chaat etc. That man is the father of a boy who has been an accomplice in a gang-rape. Son has learnt from childhood - for change of taste in food or sex, you sample it outside. When you don't get it readily, you snatch it. No qualms, no guilt. Women outside are ready meat for satisfying your cravings. The survivor is questioned about discrepancies in her statement. She says brokenly - yes there have been discrepancies. She doesn't recognize herself anymore, though outwardly she's the same. She used to love flowers, now she associates them with that terrible night. Her students who were like her children are now asking to be invited to the "e...

Now seems to be the worst of times to be alive in. Is anything going well at all in the world? All kinds of wrong people are in the news for all the stupid reasons. Stupidity, greed and selfishness have reached incredible heights. Like a needle in a haystack, positive news is almost invisible. Thankfully, its not non-existent. So, I will focus on what warmed my battered heart a bit: People aren't stopping protesting against atrocities. The Grammy, Bafta and Emmy awards are strewn with A-listers displaying their resistance to injustice and xenophobia.  More and more people are coming out of the stigma of mental illness, owning their vulnerabilities and their demons Common people are rebuilding forests, restoring greenery and fighting for their need for a healthy environment   A teenage boy in Australia swims two hours without a life jacket, fighting strong waves, steeling himself to bring help to his stranded family A Hindu gym owner in India calls himself Mohd. Deepak and...

Part growing-up story, part metaphysical exploration of the human-nature relationship, Amrita Mahale’s Real Life wows with its clarity, poetry and depth. An absolutely engrossing read, the book is unputdownable from start to finish. Lucid language, poetic metaphors and evocative storytelling elevates what is an extremely topical story.  Told from the perspectives of three millenials - Mansi, Bhaskar and Tara, the novel spans out in interconnected segments. You are first drawn into Mansi’s life as voiced from her perspective, then into Bhaskar’s and then Tara’s. Primarily though, this is the story of Tara, the feisty and brilliant scholar on a mission to study the dhole or wild dog habitating the upper mountains. A fierce animal lover, zealous researcher and a maverick of sorts, she's the one who takes up the path least trod.  Real Life centres around the themes of friendship, individuality, love and boundaries. Tara’s childhood friendship with Mansi is the basis of the story, ...

It's that time of the year again. When yearly round-ups are done diligently. Lists made, everyone sits down and assesses hits and misses. You tick off the "achieved goals" from your list. Make resolutions to fulfil the ones not yet surmounted. But I am doing something different. I am taking stock of my setbacks, my disappointments, the let-downs this year. I have absolutely zero expectations from the next year. Why? Because its useless to expect anything that I can't control. And since any chance of better days seems very unlikely, I am collecting the bits of my sanity to somehow trudge along the rest of my time on this planet. Why am I being such a kill-joy, you may ask? Well, not out of choice, certainly. What the world and my country, the air I breathe, the people I mix with, have become, all contribute to my rock-bottom expectations.  1. I am terrified, scared of what my country and its people have become. This wasn't the country I grew up in. It seems as if l...

Warning - This piece needs to be taken with a pinch of salt! Wedding season is here again in India! Large, lavish, in-your-face glossy weddings that wipe out a large chunk of a family's savings. Usually a four-day affair, weddings or "shaadis" in India have no less paraphernalia than shooting a small film or organizing a rock concert.  Mehendi, Sangeet, Bachelor parties, Haldi ceremony, pre-nuptials to post-nuptial events, Indian weddings these days follow the Punjabi template popularized by Bollywood. With a lot of song, dance, glitter and DJ music, and sulking and bitchy relatives to boot. There have been recent additions to the razzmatazz. Now a professionally shot pre-wedding session of the couple has become something of a must. One can't really expect an Insta-crazy generation to let go of this golden opportunity to pose in various outfits against stunning back-drops. Its a legit opportunity to flex, after all. This takes care of the social media views, and the o...

An Excerpt from the story "Half-Cup Moon" Pihu squirmed in her seat. Her “better-half” Akash was behaving obnoxiously, literally like a high-on-hormones teenager. Watching him flirt shamelessly with the resident hottie Chandni, Pihu was bubbling with indignation. How did things get this bad? There was a time Akash wouldn’t look at anyone except her. Nikki smiled sympathetically across the table. She was aware of the tension between Pihu and Akash, but she was wary of coming across as patronizing towards her friend. Pihu smiled wanly and looked the other way. The room felt stuffy, smoke-filled and claustrophobic. She needed a break. Nursing her drink, she made way to the balcony. It was quiet and secluded here. The party was in full swing, with groovy music, drinks flowing freely, and spicy starters being passed around. Couples were either dancing or cozying up in corners. From the bay windows she could observe Farhan and Diti sharing a smoke, and later a kiss. L...

Prolific writer-activist-thinker Arundhati Roy's memoir, an ode to her mother's formidable personality, is cleverly titled, Mother Mary Comes to Me. Below the title is a picture of young Roy nonchalantly smoking a bidi. Irreverence, thy name is Arundhati Roy! At 372 pages, it is a tome, a sweeping saga that recollects both her mother's remarkable life, as well as her own. Is it a Memoir? Yes and no. Though the book title refers to their mother-daughter relationship, the book - at several junctures treats each one of them as independent and exclusive from one another. In fact, for a good part, her mother finds no mention at all, and the reader is engrossed reading about Roy's exploits and struggles through Architecture College, early attempts to find her vocation and calling, her dabbling with cinema, acting, scriptwriting; her romantic liaisons with the luscious JC, Sanjay, Pradeep et al. A life as extraordinary and unapologetic as Arundhati's mesmerizes in itself. ...

Festivals are happy times, right? Time for merriment, revelry, celebration, enjoying yourself... Wrong! Studies show festivals call for a steady spike in stress levels. Cortisol shoots up, starting with preparation for festivals, and remains high throughout, in the quest to do everything perfectly, "at least during the festival". Guess who bears the brunt of this? Yes, its the one who takes emotional labour for everyone she cares for - the woman of the house. She wants everything to be perfect, so works her ass off tidying and cleaning things. Then she wants her family to be fed well, so spends hours toiling away making delicacies in the kitchen. Rangoli to be painted - there she is with the brush. Festoons to be hung up - she's balancing herself on a stool. Furniture rearranged, flowers put up, puja room decorated? Yes, only one person who signs up for all this. Then there's the stress of the whole family at home, stepping on each other's toes. She has to appease...

That Pujo feeling! Kaash phul swaying, clear skies with a smattering of clouds and crowds everywhere....Pandals being constructed, idols given finishing touches! Last- minute frenzied shopping, beauty parlour visits, et al. This year, Ma Durga arrives early at the end of September. Which means hot, sticky days and muggy nights with intermittent drizzles. Fashion therefore, has to prioritize comfort above everything else. And we women know how the pressure to look good often makes us squeeze into uncomfortable outfits. So do we say goodbye to traditional flowing wear? Of course, not! With a little bit of imagination, traditional wear can be the best bet in heat and humidity. Let's see which sarees are hot this season: Source - Dora by Phoenix Cotton, mul and linen sarees with quirky prints or floral design. Think soft fabric that doesn't make you break out in a sweat. Painted with florals or eclectic motifs. Or printed with quirky symbols like the yellow taxi or the Howrah bridg...

Just returned from a solo trip to Shantiniketan! My first trip without family or friends! I had gone for a couple of days to attend a literature festival at a resort on the outskirts of Shantiniketan.  Since it's almost sharatkaal, the kaash phul was in full bloom along the roadside! It had just rained, leaving everything verdant all around with different shades of green! I started out from Bolpur station to my resort in a toto, passing fields and stretches of green. The resort - Raktakorobi Karugram was in quite a remote area, and there was no mobile network in my room, so my first reaction was, "Where have I landed?"  Thankfully wi-fi solved the problem a bit. The atmosphere was of calm and solitude, and gave a feeling of peace. My next day passed in the festival, making new acquaintances, talking about my book, and networking with like-minded people. It was an exhilarating feeling, listening to interesting discussions, as well as being appreciated and feted for my talk...

A curious phenomenon has taken place over the years. Technology has advanced in leaps, modern medicine has become far more effective, we can control pain and disease far better, mental health is getting due attention, there are more avenues for creativity and entertainment.  Yet.... We are no longer able to be really happy. We are a chronically unhappy people. Forever dissatisfied, never content. Always thinking about the past or the future, never enjoying the moment. Think about it. When was the last time you were really, truly, wholly happy? Blissful, joyful? You slog hard at office, get that deserved raise/promotion, party hard to celebrate, and yet at the end of the day, a hollowness creeps in. An emptiness, a feeling of futility. You have a grand wedding - its the stuff Instagram dreams are made of. Your sweetheart looks like a million bucks with the latest designer lehenga, you yourself are spruced up, your family and friends are beaming, the event is going on swimmingly. Yet...