MIND'S EYE

Water I have never been a water baby and did not grow up to be an aqua adult. In fact I despise water. And all those talks about how rains are romantic, oceans are therapeutic and fountains are fantastic make me nauseous. I hate water because it is so wet. I hate it because it is high headed, obnoxious and highly discriminatory. Yes, I agree that water is essential and necessary but that does not make it adorable. And don't tell me that human body is seventy percent made of water because i don't agree. It is unfair to label every liquid as water. I can't invite my insight to compare the vicious water with my gentle cup of morning coffee. Water is the major cause of natural disasters and I have experienced it too closely to overlook. Our earth's surface is two thirds of water but nature is not supposed to follow democracy and allow it to rule the earth. For the poor, the water is their Lord, and their livelihood is completely dependant on floods and draughts and ever...

The Dress If shopping is an art, it is very clear that I have acquired no mastery over it and I have met no master ever. Although I can guarantee you that all the clothes of my size in this shopping complex have my handprint on them and many have had the privilege of knowing me closely inside the fitting room. Whenever I walk into an apparel store, I feel as if I have entered a chamber full of cheerful kids. Some shy ones are sitting peacefully in corners and the bold ones are hanging around in bunches. Their personalities have incorporated all colors of nature and every fabric face seems like a slice of life, unique and exuberant. As I examine every collection carefully, I find it so easy to notice their flaws and so difficult to find something exemplary. Everything that I touch seems to be calling out 'pick me, pick me'! Like they are infant orphans, waiting to be adopted by some foster parents who will care for them for the rest of their lives. They are tired of being dis...

Travel As a child, Gulliver's travels was my favorite book. This fascination never outgrew me and s oon developed into an incurable passion and preoccupation . I always liked to hear travel stories of family, friends, relatives and sometimes strangers too. Their stories made me look at same places from different perspectives and sometimes they seemed so divergent that it convinced me that every place had a multi personality disorder. I loved how people carried souvenirs from different places and stored them as reminders of their incredible holidays.  As if their hearts were Like these gorgeous gardens and they kept adding exotic plants to make it more beautiful and worthwhile. Memories are so much like jewels in our crown that we carry both in our head and heart. Sometimes I wonder if these travellers leave their imprints engraved on these destinations too or not. What if every place changes with every traveller as every traveller transforms a little from every place. ...

Broken I like broken earthen pots! They can be found at random rural places, cornered near trash bins or systematically placed in museums. Sometimes we ignore them and at other times we study them carefully  but what really intrigues me is that they are never pitied upon. Unlike living beings, who always attract sympathy or pity when they seem to be broken. For me, a broken pot is representative of the highest form of humility and unpretentiousness. It no longer needs to pretend to be a vessel that is bound to carry something all the time inside it. No need to fulfill any expectations or carry forward an age old belief of what it is supposed to be doing. Inside a lab, people can examine about the stories that it carries I the chambers its heart. Outside the streets, children can break it into smaller pieces and play outdoor games with more enthusiasm than any world cup match. Sometimes, it can be thrown outside of town in some far away ground where it melts away into its moth...

Recipe  As I sat looking into the mirror ,some thoughts started clouding my mind sky and my heart started pouring different notions and impressions. I felt I am just like a bag of rice which can be found in every indian kitchen, nothing extra ordinary but indispensable. I can be made into a variety of dishes, from the innocent steamed rice to the mean biriyani. Whatever suits the weather or the appetite of my beholder, I fit perfectly into its role. I am amused at my versatility and proud of my adaptive nature. I can go on and on about my potential to enhance every other flavour but tonight my mind is fixed on you. Have I ever told you how much your pure, sweet and nutrimental nature reminds me of milk. You seem perfectly synonymous with the word 'essential' and that's what you are. You can turn any simple ingredient into a gourmet and God have mercy on those lactose intolerant types whose gut cannot digest the heavenly properties you posses. I cannot express in words ho...