The problem stems from our dread of “society”. What really is society? It’s just a group of people, often most of them who don’t really care about us. And why should we sacrifice our happiness to please them? To me, society comprises of just the people you give a fuck about and who actually care about your happiness. That’s usually a number you can count on your fingers. And for these people, all they want is to see you happy. So it’s really impossible to upset them by following your own path to happiness.
Are you new to blogging, and do you want step-by-step guidance on how to publish and grow your blog? Learn more about our new Blogging for Beginners course and get 50% off through December 10th.
The river was fierce, Deep and dashing. She plunged in, Assured, “So am I.”
Invisible battles did I fight
These dew drops hurt
It was on the weekend Anusha had spent her 14th birthday with Aunt Reshmi that she discovered something new on her body.
She woke up. In a spell of 5 minutes, she recalled what had happened the previous night and with a shudder, jumped out of bed. Two birds sat on one branch of the tree just outside her window chirping. They were conversing, perhaps fighting over who should be in charge of the day’s chores. The ones inside her were unusually quiet today and in no apparent haste to catch up with time. Time herself was sick today. The natural order of things had come to a screeching halt and she too was playing along. And so a final Spring morning was, with great effort, set in motion, treading along at the speed of a snail.
Interspersed with sarcasm (armed with the potential to provoke the eternally-offended) that hit the right notes, it takes subtle (mostly) digs at many political leaders including Kejriwal, “Gujrat ka Lalla” (look away, Modi supporters), Manmohan Singh. Chuckling, I must admit that these added to the fun-factor of reading it. (See, I told you I’m keeping my prejudices away.) Another thing about the book that I found fascinating was that it borrows poems from in Urdu, Hindi, English, Malayalam regularly, and to great effect. The book speaks many languages - seek whatever suits you - but it tells a single story - that of ordinary people who have had their ordinary lives turned upside down for whatever reasons (The Unconsoled).
Trotting sideways, his eyes lit, steady and slow
And as the ball, full of rage, landed meekly,
Yet again distant radios erupted, but although
Welcomed back was Sir Viv, survival was unlikely.
It sprung from within her
Rising up quicker than a rocket ship.
Nandini would live an ordinary life in Pashpur until the events of the sweltering summer of 1975.