Utopia

Dear , Trump-chachaa You do know we adore you, our loyalties are with you. After all, when you attended our do in Houston, did we not ask our NRI brothers to vote for you? And when you came here and spoke so eloquently about   Swami Vivekamunnund and Veerat kooli , did we not cheer you loudly? There was much hugging and hand-pumping, remember? It was all good . Then you had to spoil it by saying India's air is Filthy. I think you come to this hasty conclusion based on our ranking, 179 out of 180, according to some dubious air quality study. That kind of short-sighted evaluation by western “scholars” completely ignore our pre-eminent culture and its inherent wisdom. We know that our air is thick with unbreathable particulate matter. What your tiny Western eyes perceive as air pollution is our 12, 000-year-old tradition of making our air suitable for the smooth take off, comfortable flight and Glitch-free landings of our Pushpaka vimanams. Anyone who has read sage ...

Once again, the Rape buzz is everywhere. Let's try to understand  this unfortunate part of our existence. What it is and How it flourished in our society.?  Starting with the definition,  Let's see what its definition says,  By the way its our irony that we actually have defination for it. Rape culture is an environment or a culture in which rape and sexual violence is normalized due to the societal attitudes and actions about gender and sexuality I'll be talking some direct societal facts, and  No shit around feminism or meninism.  Actually ,The nature of such a culture in India has to be viewed through the lens of Intersectionality. And by the lens of intersectionality, i meant that  The already known fact to us that the Indian patriarchy is Brahmanical in nature and interacts with the systemic biases of society, similarly the rape culture in India also exists within the same setting.  Its a fact and tragedy of our society that, As c...

  Millions of memories will lost their existence during the journey of life. But there are those memories which people don't appear willing to talk about it.   The unpleasant memories    Which    they would prefer not to touch on. It's a fact that, Most things are forgotten over time. Even if we had fought a war in past,  the life and death struggle people went through is now like something from the distant past.  We are so caught up in our everyday lives that events of the past, are  like ancient stars that have burned out and are no longer in orbit of our minds.  There are just too many things we have to think about everyday, Too many things we have to learn. New styles, new information ,new technology ,new terminology...   But still, no matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim,   there are some things we can never asign to Oblivion, memories we can never rub away. They remain with us...

While millions of unfortunate human beings throughout the world suffer from problems of undernutrition and starvation, the Major nutritional disorder in worldwide phenomena is obesity. Where Dieting has become the world wide most popular indoor sport. The sad statistics show that of the millions of people who diet every year, fewer than 10% actually keep the weight off. People follow different diets which make them temporarily thin, but they don't stay thin. The average dieter has a pattern. His clothes become tight. A friend or relative criticizes, “you're too fat”. He feels fat and attractive. Upset, he embarks on a crash diet that will probably last from 60 to 90 days. He loses weight. And 6 months later he has gained it all back! This happens because he does not change his basic eating habits. To get permanent change, you must alter your eating habits and exercise patterns for the rest of your life, not just for a short time. People maintain poor weight control ...

Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing direction. You change direction, but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some menacing dance with death just before dawn . Why?  Because this strom isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you.  This strom is you. Something inside you.   So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step.  There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like crushed bones powder.  You really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic strom. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like thousand razor blades . People will bleed there an...

You know memory is a funny thing.  I don't know whether this happens with you or not,  but when I was in the scene with someone I had hardly paid it any attention. By meaning of  scene I mean the moment. So when I was in the scene I hardly paid it any attention. Attention to the surroundings.  But now only the memories of the surroundings have left. I never stopped to think of it as something that would make a lasting impression, certainly never imagined that after so many years, I would recall these memories in such details. Yes i am talking about those first-time kind of memories with your loved one . I didn't give a damn about the surroundings that day .  Maybe I was thinking about myself. I was thinking about the beautiful person walking next to me. I was thinking about the two of us together ,and then about myself again. I was at that age, that time of life in when every sight, every feeling, every thought came back, like a boomerang, To me....

There was a time whenever the rain happens, it used to bring some pain for me. Running from it going inside and drawing my curtains, but even indoors there was no escape from petrichor (the earthly scent after rain). It filled everything from the ground up. But the only thing the smell of rain brought to mind for me that time was a decaying stink. Shut in behind my curtains, I used to feel a violent loathing for rain. I hate it what the rain had in store for me; I hated the dull, throbbing ache it aroused inside me. I had never hated anything in my life with such intensity. Walking beneath The rain, I could hardly hear what people said to me and they had just as much trouble catching anything I had to say. My whole body felt enveloped in some kind of membrane, cutting off any direct contact between me and the outside world. I couldn't touch “them”, and “they” couldn't touch me.  I was utterly helpless and as long as I remained in that state, “they” were unable to re...