Oh, dry as dust really.

Last Sunday, we went for Kashmir Files. I barely ever care enough to step out for a movie but the hype and excessive promotion over and above the top around the globe got me there. Before even booking the tickets, our brains had already been conditioned enough that the lacrimal glands were almost prepared to put the best show. Honestly, I could only manage a single tear episode where Krishna failed to recognise his own parents. More out of conditioning and confirming to the amplified tones all over the internet. It was a good watch ,to be extremely precise. Highlighted the plight of Kashmiri Pandits and ventilated their long-pending grievances . More than the movie , I was startled by the crowd composition and reaction. The sloganeering and clamouring that followed appeared so brusque. The whole agenda of the movie was to acknowledge the genocide or exodus or however you would want to put it and empathize with the victims . However the whole screen-drama ended up becoming a...

What a creation right? Come in different shapes, sizes , colours , textures and so and so forth. They never fail to amaze me. Some can be opened and closed right away by just a little effort at the periphery of the door while others with stoppers attached take time.Some are glass transparent while others wood opaque.The best part is their utility. How safe an object as fundamental as a door can make you feel !        Here at our residence we have certain doors that serve us daily . They're a part of us now. There are certain others that we no longer turn to. That don't serve us any purpose now. Behind those doors lie some dusty snippets of past life and some  frivolous objects. For long it has been my theory that if you can go without an object for three months straight,you can go without it for life. Some say six months but I have a shorter range. I came across this T-shirt that I thought I'd never forget and never be bored of . Like always, I kept ...

From the empty corridors of life, To the amplified crossroads .            Grandpa . 86 and counting . While I like sulking in the deserted shadows of vibrant walls ,he prefers keeping company with his sociable group of friends. While I prefer doing sleep yoga ,he goes on long walks just to keep his knees in shape or in place, whichever you find apt. While I limit my time in the Sun afraid of narking the melanin below, he basks right under ,only to end up with temperature ,on the bed next morning. While I complain about daily hitches and hiccups ,he ponders over the possibilities those hiccups could entail. While my cough stems from some undetected neurosis , his is the result of a 60 percent damaged lung. While I wake up in the morning sighing at the monotony, he opens his eyes thanking for adding another day to life . While I fail to ask him how his day was every other day, he has been adding regularly to his series of - taiyari kaisi chal rah...