The Red Light

Once upon a time…

What a perfect start to each story. But this story would begin a little differently.

At this moment, she believed a new journey was about to begin. Windows, have always been a source of fascination to her. Just the concept of a window, has always intrigued her since she was a young girl. When she moved away from her folks to a house of her own, she picked the room she lived in now, not because of its size or storage or luxury or comfort or color but because of that one window she saw and fell in love with. After a long day of chirpiness and randomness which comes to her quite naturally, she would wait to spend some time with that window in her room. Nobody knew that she spoke to herself sitting beside it; nobody knew that she spoke to her window about everything while she gazed out it.

It was her best friend.

It showed her the world in broad day light. A world filled with clarity, crowded with everything which seemed right, a world painted in white. And then it would introduce her to the night stars which were far from where she was. A world filled with so much darkness, yet in that grave black sky, the window showed her the distanced lights, giving her hope. She lived in a life of either light or darkness and slowly began to realize that both wanted to own her. There was nothing in between, there was no mid way, is what she believed. And she knew she couldn’t live without this stability. She would tell herself that she would never let go.

After years of living a life wrapped in perfection one night, while gazing at the shiniest star, she couldn't help but notice a twinkling red light on the terrace of a distant building. She began to notice this red light each night from there on. While she continued talking to herself with her head rested on her best friend her eyes would constantly drift towards this light. It intrigued her so much that, she slowly began to stare at it for hours and eventually began to talk to this light, revealing every bit of herself. With each passing night the time they spent together kept increasing. Everything else would become dull when she spoke to this red light. It brought in a rush of a strange joy and she dint understand what it was. She tried looking for it during the day but would always fail and so waited for it to come to her each night.

And then came that one moment when she lost count of the passing hours. As she poured her heart out the night traveled. The red light began to fade and she saw that transition for the first time. She looked up, the sky was breaking into dawn, and there it was, neither white nor black. IT WAS GREY.

Her red light took her where she had never stepped before. She did every possible thing to fight it. She shut her eyes walked away from the window. She tried looking for her light but it was gone. Maybe now, forever.With time things began to hit her and she now knew that life as she knew it, would never be the same. The window in her room reminded her of old memories but she took a deep breath and looked at it hoping it would wait for her to return. She mustered all the courage in her to spread her wings and leaped out the window, in search of light but this time, within her own self.

At this moment, her journey has already begun.

BLACK BEAUTY

It is natural to develop prejudices. It is noble to rise above them. 

(Inspiration: 19 years of receiving and witnessing loose comments)

Ever wondered who exactly came up with the phrase ‘black beauty’? Think about it. 

Maybe it was a black man tired of the discrimination coming his way cause of his skin color. Trying to build up a superiority complex for himself and his clan?
Or maybe a huge hearted white, sun bathing with sun tan lotion rubbed all over. Visualizing a beautiful tan on him?


In a country as diverse as ours, communities survive on ‘stereotypes’ created by the other. It’s a way of classifying and ordering an otherwise anarchic world. In this wealth of comforting pre-judgments, the vein of South - Indians in particular is golden. Replete with the generalizing all four southern states poles apart from each other as ‘ Madarasi’s’, followed by an accent everyone imagines bringing about a perfect imitation.

When we meet someone or merely see someone (in case of our dear countrymen), out of spontaneity immediately jump to a conclusion. The person in question is typical South Indian or Punjabi, Gujurati, Bengali, Bihari etc (in case of amateurs) or Baniya, Sindhi, Iyer etc (in case of experts). Once a collective school of thought is put together, there is just one motto ‘LET THE JOKES BEGIN’.
But my question, ‘Who exactly draws the basic guidelines of typical?’
Is it our over exaggerated experience and intellect or the perception that has managed to flow down several generations? No matter what the era we live in, the perception refuses to evolve. 

Let us highlight on a particular community. 

If you are a shameless believer in the utility of STEREO – TYPES, you would agree that South – Indians are black, weird accented and the sole consumers of coconut products in country. Some of you at this point might be nodding in approval. This simply adds a grin to my face and leaves me stunned. Stunned at the pride we Indians take in being merely two – tones lighter than the other.

Well we are huge hearted people; we haven’t simply used the understated crude irony to cut the oily sheen of sincerity. But we have managed to spread the pangs of racism and prejudice against people from the North Eastern India and Bihar. Chinkies, Non – Marathi’s, Madarasi’s, Bihari’s, Bong’s etc. To create categories and sub-categorists is the order of the day.

We have always learnt one principal in life – The one in majority is the bully. Including people down south. They are masters in out casting anyone from the North, labeling them as PARDESI’S.

It is a give and take game, but till when??? Whichever way you look at it, this is only tip the iceberg of the culture of racism. But in reality it is deep, rooted in India and in our educated minds in particular.
So the next time before you pull off a comment with refferance to somebody’s cultural background even if it is in good spirit, remember you are being party to segementing our “Incrediably Racially Prejudiced INDIA”.

I SET THE CAGED BIRD FREE

I had a beautiful bird,
The bird chose me.
He adored and loved,
Every little aspect of me

I developed strong emotions,
Towards the beautiful bird
His beauty had smitten me,
Every time I look, I wouldn’t utter a word

Now we loved each other,
More than anything and anyone around
I pampered the bird so much,
That it started feeling bound

I caged him with my commitment,
And trust all around
All I could see was his face,
And just listen to his sound

With the passage of some years
My bird was troubled,
With so much love being showered,
The pressure on him was doubled.

Unconsciously I expected too much from the bird,
That his silent plea to be freed was always unheard

The bird broke the cage and flew far away,
I was shattered and destroyed
And for my dearest bird,
I prayed night and day

The world hated him is what he thought,
He quietly slipped in back the cage that I had bought

I thought the bird came back because he loved me,
But something about us was missing,
I always wondered,
What it may be.

My bird’s love for me had faded away,
I still held him back
With a hope to recreate that magic between us,
Which I believed was MEANT to last

My bird hated me now,
Deep down inside
But he still stuck by me for reasons unknown,
But I knew what I had to do

I had to pull myself together,
And give up on the most precious thing to me,
I knew I had to
SET MY CAGED FREE !!!

Look ahead as far as you can see
We’ll live in drama but we’ll die in a comedy

When the world around is grey
I know I can be colorful
When Life happens to me..

My Maa

As a little girl I wore your heels,
And painted my nails the same color as yours,
Stuck a bindi and scribbled your lipstick,
In the best attempt to hide my flaws

Always wished to have your nose
I still love wearing your clothes
In an impossible attempt to be you
I copied your every move and pose

All this was very long ago
Now I am grown up; but yet
The older I get, the more I see
The power of that young woman,
The young woman has on me.