The Debater

 "@Minnu" Mirnalini found herself tagged in a post by her friend Riddhi. She scrolled up and read the post, a little puzzled as to why she had been tagged. It was about a top actress who had recently been in the news for showing sympathy for some group of people and sitting in protest with them over some government policy. The actress was shooting a much hyped movie and boycott that movie hashtags were spreading through the Internet. Mrinalini gathered all this as she scrolled news channels, still puzzled about how it mattered to her. 

Just a House

Ritu returned from work and opened the door of her house. She felt the door of the opposite house open behind her. She turned back. There was no one there. The house had all the tell-tale signs of shifting - discarded papers, clothes, some small broken furniture pieces, some tapes... oh, this and that.

She turned around and memories flashed, of hopping over for a chit-chat once in a while. As she stared, it felt a little surrealistic--not seeing the lady of the house, Sneha, smile and welcome her in for a cup of tea. But Sneha's words rang in her ears, for it always circled back to the same things. The litany about her various ailments, the difficulty of managing her mother-in-law in the old age, how burdened her husband was... As if on cue, the husband joining them, complaining about the ineffective association, the problem with water or electricity or parking.

The Servant of God - Through Padma Shri Muthukannammal's Eyes

Every story has two sides to it. But sometimes, one voice gets lost in the clamour for change. 

Change is inevitable. Change can be good. But for some, the change means losing their very livelihood.

Srikant and I with Muthukannammal

This can be the story of any individual, industry, or profession.

Today, I write about the Devadasis.

I am not the first to write about it, but this may be the first time you hear of it. So, I write. 

Not the whole story, for who can know what the whole story was? But I write of one woman, and only as she narrated it to me.

The View

Sundar unpacked his bags and looked out the window of the modest accommodation he had been allotted in the village. The fields spread out for miles around, intersected by roads carrying speeding cars. Very few commuters turned into the village itself but played touch-and-go with the cafe on the main road. A branch of a popular chain, this particular outlet was not very profitable but was sustainable and surviving because of some travelers who preferred its hygienic interiors to some of the more seedy messes nearby. But those messes, in fact, made more money because the local populace thronged there.

Tiger = Maya

From the moment we head towards the forests begins the excitement of seeking an elusive pleasure, seeing the predator, the king of that particular jungle. There could be a myriad of other animals, easy to spot, but it is that shy tiger, leopard, or lion that has our whole heart. Always, our heart seeks that which is not easily available. We run after money, jewels, fancy cars, or other luxury items, seeking validation for our existence in these material things. Similarly, as a visitor to the jungles, our heart seeks only a glimpse of the tiger to make us feel the trip was a success.

The Stoic Hills

The mighty mountains
Silent and still
Unwavering in the
Temperamental wind

Between the Rock and a Soft Place

During my Kanchipuram trip with my cousins, I heard the two ladies discussing a trip to Coimbatore and Pollachi. They talked about when the husbands would be free and how many days they could travel.

"Hey, why am I not part of this planning?" I asked, puzzled at this whole plan I was ignorant about.

"Of course, you are part of it. Nothing is finalized yet," they said.