From now on, I’ll post a quotation every Sunday. That way, if I don’t post anything in the whole week, at least there will be a post every Sunday.

Source: tumblr

If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking.

Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood


Quotation Sunday

Posted in Poetry

Where has Summer gone?

It’s been such a long while

Since I felt the warm rays of the sun.

Been a long time since the last Summer. 

Where has it gone, mother?

It’s too cold in here.

Snow is no more romantic or beautiful.

We are all bruised over by the Winter.

When will Summer come, mother?

Source: Google images

So many people have gone away
In search of the lost Summer.   

But they never came back    

Do you know what happened to them, mother?

Now I’m scared to search for Summer too

But how long am I supposed to sit around?

Doesn’t seem Winter will leave by itself,

What do you think, mother?

I don’t remember you.

Father says the Winter took you away too.                     

If I can bring Summer back,

Will you come back too, Mother?

I wrote this poem a few months ago in view of the present political scenario and the spread of terrorism across the world.

Posted in Writeups

The Rants of a Feminist

Feminists in the Indian society are still looked at with a skeptical eye, like we are not real, or worse, we are real… and dangerous. They ask, “Why are you a feminist? Isn’t the society good enough for you?” Because being vocal about your rights and pointing out the inequality still rampant in the 21st century society is being ungrateful. You are trying to break the age old hierarchy that your ancestors built in the society. Basically, feminists are regarded as a bunch of men hating, crazy women. And men, if they voice themselves as feminists, well either they are only trying to get into the good books of women or they are women.
Feminists are questioned, 

Why are you a feminist?

I think shouldn’t the question be the other way round?​

Why are you not a feminist?

There are still households in India where girls don’t get the equivalent education like their brothers, where the birth of a girl is the saddest thing that could happen to a family, where more money is spent on a girl’s wedding than on her studies, where the girl has no say over when she gets married and to who. And you dare to ask why am I a feminist? Why should I be not? And all the examples I’ve cited, I didn’t take them down from a book or I’m not speaking of only rural households. I’ve seen them happen, right here, among people I know. I have a sister, cousin sort of. She got married off at the age of 24 or 25 (which is way too young, in my opinion, especially if it’s not with her consent). She had a baby girl last year and when we reached the hospital, we couldn’t see either family happy. Neither the girl’s nor the boy’s. The girl’s mother, in fact, went as far and commented, at least she’s fair. 

Thank God, right???

And no, they aren’t some less educated or underprivileged people. Well educated and rich, yet the best thing they could say about their first grandchild is about her complexion. Why? Because she’s a girl.

Once I was in a public bus with two of my friends while coming back from college. A man was constantly trying to touch me although there was enough space in the bus for him to stand. When I shouted at him for that, my two friends standing right beside me pretended they didn’t hear any of the commotion. Why? I don’t know. Maybe because shouting at the man for his inappropriate acts would be shameful to us and not to him.

That is why feminism is needed, my friend. 

People make big statements like, “Mera Bharat Mahan” (My India is great) but dare someone ask, what is the mahanta. They will hurl abuses at you, calling you unpatriotic and a traitor. And good gracious, if you are a Muslim, you’ll soon be branded as a terrorist and threatened to be deported off to Pakistan. Because a Muslim pointing out the loopholes of the country, they must be a Pakistani in disguise.

 Now, you must be thinking if my rant is on feminism, why am I bringing such political issues in the article. But well, isn’t that what a feminist is about? Upholding rights of an individual? How can I fight for the rights of women but deny the rights of a person who is of a different religion or sexual orientation or is differently abled? What kind of a feminist will I be? That won’t be feminism anymore. That is pseudo feminism. My sister taught me that to be a feminist, you have to inclusive. You cannot laugh at ‘retard jokes’ or at the LGBTQ community and then declare yourself as a feminist.

Moving over to media, agree with it or not, but media plays a huge role in shaping the society. From the kind of shows and movies being shown to the kind of issues making headlines, they tell you a lot about the society. Our Indian television has been in a coma since decades. The same saas-bahu drama has been going on, on every channel, at any time. No, there isn’t just one drama being telecasted but all the dramas are basically the same. The serial will revolve around a sati savitri abla naari (a simpleton woman) who worships her husband as the God and her entire life revolves around her family and the kitchen. If Indian television isn’t the biggest agent of patriarchy, then what is?

Then, of course, some big personalities will come around every now and then, and make comments without thinking if they make sense or not. A renowned Bollywood actress said a year or two back that she stands for gender equality but she is not a feminist.She said she’d prefer if she is looked at as a role model, not a feminist. Of course! You are standing for gender equality. You ran the campaign of Beti Bachao Beti Padhao (Save the girl, educate the girl). How can you be a feminist, those men hating crazy women?

So, you see, it is not easy to be a feminist in a society where people pull a Gandhari and pretend to be blind to the real issues, where people don’t even know what feminism actually is and is not even interested to know it. But. But. Don’t shy away. If you’re a feminist (and you should be), then voice it. Say it. Out loud.

I am a feminist. And proud.

Don’t let the patriarchs shush you. Stand up for your right, for her right, for his right. Don’t let them tell you girls can’t go out alone, boys can’t cry. Don’t let them shame you when you shame them for their sexist comments or acts. You are a feminist and oh, should you be proud!

Posted in Poetry

The Rusted Soul

Her eyes had this inexplicable sadness

The kind of sadness that only eyes of an ancient soul could reflect. 

She wrapped herself in aloofness like it was a Pashmina shawl.

Apologies danced around the tip of her tongue

like a ballerina on a stage,

It almost seemed like she was sorry for her existence. 

People came to her and cried out their grief

Because oh how well she listened.

Her soul was starting to rust

Like someone’s first bicycle long forgotten in the rain.

But none could see her misery,

None realised despite that strong facade,

She needed a hand in helping her sew her torn heart back together. 

Posted in Writeups

My Kinda Superpower

Ever since I can remember, I was always so fascinated with superpowers. Power Puff Girls, Shakalaka boom boom, Karishma ka Karishma, Shararaat, Sabrina, Spiderman. Be it magic or robotic powers or superpowers in normal humans, they always allured me. For the longest time, I wished to be like Matilda, focussing my sight on an object willing it to move, until my eyes started to hurt. And oh! how long I waited for my Hogwarts letter or wandered into different cupboards with the hope it would take me away to a beautiful faraway land with mysterious creatures. 

Until one fine day when I finally realised I have got a superpower too; I just didn’t see it until then. My love for reading. What more of a power could one ask for? From time travelling to the 1800s and to the 2050s and the flying across cities, countries, even worlds without any tax, this was my superpower! I have seen the times of Shakespeare and also the times of Rabindranath Tagore or Lakshminath Bezbaruah. I have seen the cruelty of the Nazis through both the Jews’ side (through Ellie Weasel) and the Germans’ side (through Liesel). I’ve also seen the different perceptions of love. And people who cannot handle same sex or interracial love seem so funny to me because oh how undefinable love is, if only you read. It’s so beautiful. The power of reading. You get into people’s minds, people of different time periods, different cultures, having totally different mindsets and lifestyles. You are teleported back into time. You touch the words on your page (or screen) and imagine how many countless nights and mugs of coffee were spent over these words. You can almost see the writer on a chair, biting on his pen (or his nails if he didn’t have a pen but a mouse) because he can see it but he just can’t find the right words to describe it. You also learn to agree to disagree. You don’t always have to agree with what the characters in a book say or think but you see from where their opinion stems from.

So, you see, I may not have the superpower of reading minds, or seeing the future, or flying but I’ve got something that lets me do almost all of that and even more. This superpower resides in a trunk full of ‘Tinkle‘s and childhood books and in a cupboard full of novels. And I’m happy with my kind of  superpower. 

Many people, myself among them, feel better at the mere sight of a book.

Jane Smiley, Thirteen Ways of Looking at the Novel

Posted in Writeups

“The future has been at war but it’s coming home so soon”

The power of these lines! Have you ever been at a point in your life where the future’s all cloudy? Hell, sometimes it’s not even visible. Struggling with the present, pushing back the past into your own little closets take up so much energy that you are too drained to even try to look at the future. Yet, after all this, when you can see that simmering light at the end of this long dark tunnel, that’s when you know this fight has been worth it. And darling, please please keep fighting because the future that you want might not be near but it is coming home, one day. 

The title is quoted from one of Neil Hilborn‘s slam poetry.

Posted in Writeups


For me, the most difficult part of writing is the beginning. How to start it? Once I get a start, it starts flowing relatively easily (maybe?) But I guess, that is not only with writing for me.That is just for everything. Any work, assignment, relationship, anything. How to approach it? What if it’s not right? What if I mess things up? What if I’m left with worse than what I started with? This attitude has had made me miss out on a l​ot of things in life. Friendships, opportunities, fun and so much. But can I say I’m working on it? Eh… not really. It has become me. I’ve kind of grown used to it. Listening to people talk and knowing that I could be good friends with them but still keep quiet and lose on a potential friend. See an opportunity like anchoring and knowing that I can do good but still not step forward.

Honestly, I’ve no reason for this rant. I wasn’t actually planning on a rant. I only wanted to start my blog (for the 4th time now). But I guess with that username, the blog fits, right? Babblings. Oh yes, another reason for that username; I like this word. You see, “Babbling, bumbling band of babboons”. I guess, the first post would be incomplete without at least one reference from one of my fandoms. Hmm… fangirl problems.

Good luck reading my blog(s?) and making sense of my incoherent thoughts.

P.S. The sketch is not mine. I found it on Google. So if it is yours, all you have to do is ask me to take it down or give you your due credits, and I’ll be glad to do so. 🙂