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Showing posts from 2016

What is Real Indian Pride?

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True when it comes to a nation competing with the world the idea of national pride takes  a new meaning and height. Sports competitions are the best examples of this. Rio Olympics  just concluded and its highlights are still fresh in our mind.  In this case, the national pride we projected are in terms of the medal tally but of course, in that we weren't featured significantly. India is featured very low there. But that cannot be counted against India's national pride because in a competition there will be always excellent, average and poor. An opportunity to realise where one stands in terms of the strength and weakness is a matter of realism. 

But again how do you define pride?  This is the best definition I got for personal pride after a simple search: PRIDE Pride is Personal Responsibility In Delivering Excellence. There is also something confused as pride; arrogance and disregard for others to boost one's self-importance and ego. 


The above definition of PRIDE is applic…

One Indian Girl

We all heard it: Chethan Bhagath's One Indian Girl, broke all records in Amazon's pre-order history thirty minutes after going live on the platform beating Harry Potter and Cursed Child's Day 1. 

Chethan Bhagat is a best-selling Indian author. The banker -turned author's debut novel is 'Five Point Someone', and One Indian Girl is his eighth work; previously he has written  five fiction and two non-fiction.

The book is set to hit stands on first of October.

What makes the current work unique according to him is that it is about females about feminism. This is what he writes in his blog on this:"I wrote on feminism because it isn't an equal world for woman, and most don't realise it. As a writer, I want to highlight issues in society that affect a lot of people. Feminism affects us all." He adds that his desire to write about females has taken a long time because to write in a 'female first person' was a 'huge challenge'.  
In the bo…

A Page From My Writing

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From Long Island Express Highway, Kailas turned north to enter Spring Filed Boulevard.  His visit to his home, he wasn’t sure to call it home, would have impacted who were close to him, had the events happened recently taken another turn.  The Boulevard was chock-a-block with traffic; his laziness didn’t allow him to check the traffic level before entering the Boulevard.  The road ahead stretched in two lines.  A tall advertising vehicle in front prevented him seeing anything beyond its flat back. He switched on his car radio and tuned on to the SyriusXM channel.  The announcer went on and on about all routes busy, he got angry and turned off the channel.

Radicalization of Kerala youths

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How alarming is the theory that 21 people, some say, over 40, were recruited from Kerala to join the IS in Siria and Afganistan? It's a theory so far because the Kerala government has no tangible evidence to prove they were truly the cases of IS recruitment. They could have gone on a pilgrimage and emerge later is a possibility, so we have to wait until the official confirmation comes from the government.  Until then we go one making our own theories and facts. However, the government has started investigating.

My Uncle's Heirloom

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It was a mistake happened in a split second.  The lamp shade, I just removed of a table lamp slipped off my hand; fell onto the floor and crashed in a jingling. How I watched sadly, the shade was turning into a white net of shards. The dust that had gathered on its surface had rendered the lamp a dead, fearsome look.  So I was prompted to give it a facelift.
 I was also earnestly trying to help my aunt in secret.  But, if my aunt got a clue of what I was intending, I was sure, she wouldn't have allowed me. The lamp, my uncle told was his family heirloom, so had lots of sentimental values attached to it more than its material value.  His great uncle got it from Vas co Dagama's yacht; his story went like that. I never believed him. My point was, how could he discard a thing of much sentimental value in the corner of the passageway to gather dust? Only when visitors came, he got my aunt to dust it and display on his table.  The following week, some guests were coming, and my aun…

Freedom in Creative Expression

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Kethan Bhagat, one of the India's bestseller authors, answered in an interview; he writes for changing people's perspective.

He's right. Writers are mainly the people who deal with emotions, and only emotions or feelings can change people's perspectives or views. And how can this be possible for writers, if they aren't allowed creative freedom, and tethered at the end of limited expressions? The individuals and the society as a whole get to with only stale or outdated ideas.

Work - Life Balance

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Now that I'm not working, so, I can write only about how I experienced it while I worked.

Throughout my career life, I lived in Africa, where I'm still living, where conditions of life varied from those at home. I came to Africa, after I got married. When I got married I had to drop my work in India. When I worked in India, my colleagues and myself, stayed together in one house. We cooked and completed cooking and other home chores together, in turn, and life was very balanced. Less responsibilities, more freedom, that was for the spinsters.. But for those among us who were married, didn't seem life as balancing as it was for us, for they were always saddened by missing of their family members-husband and children.

What's Your Favorite Season of the Year

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No doubt, my favorite season of the year is spring.  That is the period in which the nature pauses graciously on its fashion ramp in the most eye-catching make-over.

I fondly remember the Kerala spring, though we hadn't used that word in our common vocabulary, because we weren't that conscious about transitional seasons; we talked only about rainy season and summer. Instead the arrival of spring, we associated with the arrival of Onam, which is a harvest festival. It came as a relief from a three-month's horrendous, South-Western Monsoon. For the three months it poured non-stop, breaking the sky into a constant war zone.The dark cumulus clouds ran amok over our head like maddened elephants, clashing violently forming thunderclouds shrieking with thunders and lightening. It appeared the Monsoon relished a sort of cruel pleasure when it reeked insurmountable havoc in the lives of people, especially the poor and the deprived.  Those who received its worst firing rage were th…

What am I thinking

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What am I thinking about now?

I'm thinking about a tree, I see daily, outside my window. It belongs to the Betula Pendula species, commonly known by the name Silver Birch

It's reminding me of the beauty of a temporal transformation. When I was in Kerala, the facts of seasonal changes weren't something that affected my sense of reality much, because there I never got a chance to experience them in such sharp contrasts. But in South Africa we have all four seasons,from 1 June to 31 August it's winter. So right now it's winter here. After that from 1 September to 30 November it's spring and the summer starts on 1st December and ends by the end of February.

Here, I am watching the tree's transformation, as it happens daily.  I have captured two momentous points in its transformation through two photographs. Already by the beginning of the winter it started losing leaves and would stay in that state until the beginning of September, when the dormant shoots of l…

My Missing Child

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The car screeched into the parking lot at a high speed and stopped haphazardly. Not straightening its position for fellow drivers' convenience, she stepped out of it and walked in the direction of the building close by. The building wasn't causing any interest in her. Not because of its dull quaint appearance, but because it was a police station.

A Post Inspired by the Picture # Friday Refelctions

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I'm joining Friday Reflections on the prompt "Write a post inspired by the picture provided."

I was reaching the end of the tether.  Like the three goats that I have seen in a dream. Three goats, tethered to one piece of  gnarled, dried, old log that was lying flat in a room.  The room was dark but the goats were visible in the light poking in its head around through the door ajar and though many chink on the roof. The goats wore on its body, thick coats of long shinning, sleek silky fur. One nanny goat and two billy goats. Their backward turning hones were in a brownish black shade. With big eyes beaming with innocence, that we find always in children.

Their tether too matched with the colour of their coat; silky white, made by twisting together strands of nylon.  All three were nibbling on things found on the floor, and were walking steadily, making kind of circular motion, so that their ropes never got tangled. It was interesting to watch how could they went on doing…