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Showing posts from December, 2013

Politics and me

I am unable to form an opinion on a political party in India. Just when I think one party is good, I hear some bad things about it. Heard lot of stuff in the elections and its results in Delhi. The research showed something and the results are not that at all. If people say AAP won due to social media, then is every auto driver in India net savvy? We believe only what we are fed. As a child, I thought Indira gandhi was such powerful lady Prime Minister. I thought the same about her sons. Wonder who is taint free? Every ideal gets shattered as I grow older. May be there is something wrong with the ideals I look up to. Or it is just times which move and every great man is bad too. I have friends who are not fond of the Father of the Nation. My friends have a completely convent school view of the political parties and for them, all that we have been fed for generations against India and Indians is true. There is a small shop of a book seller which sells old books and fakes. By Fake boo

Mills & Boon

  I  grew up reading books written by English authors. School books n library ones had foreign authors writing in English. There were not too many fiction books for us in English written by Indian authors.  We called all fictional books ' Novels' and all school text books were 'Books'.   I started reading Mills & Boon after my eleventh grade. The authors were UK , USA and Australia based. Read about moors, cold weather with the dark ocean and the hills around. The fog on the sea or the mountains with biting cold is what romance was all about. Men were dark with blue grey eyes n long hair till the nape of the neck. In those books, the guy always took the girl to an isolated log cabin or a castle in the vineyards. In those places, there were hardly any people around. For miles, no one and not even a passing car. This was not a wilderness I knew of in India. In this foreign isolation, the couple was busy fighting or smouldering with passion.   Recently I  read a M

The fine art of gifting

What do I do with the gifts I get? My first memory of a gift is my father getting me a doll from Delhi. Her blue eyes used to open and shut and she had short hair. Next time he got me a black train engine which worked with battery and had a red light on top. It was made of metal and had great finish when I compare it to the China Made toys we get nowadays. Then Dad got me books like The Ugly Duckling by Hans Christian Andersen and some small children's encyclopaedia. I cherished these gifts. My Mom must have bought me all the daily necessities and more,which I have no memory of. The earliest I remember is some relative visiting us in Jharia and giving me money. Relatives did not get gifts, they always gave money to the children. I happily took the cash and my Mother told me to give it back. This scene was happening at the red cemented circular staircase we had at the main entrance of our house. I do not remember the amount or what I would have done with the money. I have no memor