Its therefore more than a personal loss that I feel today. It’s as if I have lost a slice of history – a valuable connection with a celebrated past.
Democracy gives you the right to speak against the government but not against the country. Voices raised in dissent can be tolerated but not voices that wish to destroy the very soil that nurtured them. And if this sounds like emotional drama – so be it. Sentimental patriots are far better for our country than ruthless “intellectuals” spewing hatred without a shred of remorse or sensitivity.
I hate writing about religion. Yet today I am going to tread this dangerous path.
Do we even ponder about the significance of the Independence Day in today’s context, or is it counted as just another in our unending list of holidays? Now, sixty-seven years after that goal has been achieved, is there any noble goal that single-mindedly fires up and motivates the present generation?
Are women employees akin to use and throw commodities – to acknowledge their value only till the time that they are not encumbered by responsibility and discarded the moment they advance in their personal lives? This attitude is as chauvinistic as the other prejudices that abound towards the feminine gender – it is a tad more hypocritical too.
This poem is in memory of the 18 precious lives that were tragically lost in a terrible explosion on INS Sindhurakshak, making this the Indian Navy’s worst ever peace time disaster. It is my humble tribute to the gallant “Sindhurakshaks” and my way of reaching out to the bereaved families and trying to share their pain.
It was the day after Diwali and we were returning to Mumbai from Pune, having just crossed the expressway. As we were about to take a flyover, we saw a policeman gesticulating excitedly – waving at us to pull the car to the side of the road. He seemed to look delighted to have made a suitable catch – one that would prove amply profitable – a great way to add to his Diwali bonanza.
It’s my my “me” time – my daily commute to work – when all I do is watch the world go by. There’s nothing quite like sitting by the window, in that bliss of solitude, feeling the wind on my face and letting my mind wander into its deepest recesses as the train meanders its way on the tracks.