Imagine India

On the anniversary of our independence, I could not help but feel proud to be born of the greatest nation. Unashamedly, I recounted the ideologies which makes our nation great. But as I read on, in BBC news, I came across Mukul Kesavan's article. He tells me why India is great without any reservations made for ideologies. I would not do it justice by quoting a few words.

Continuing to read, I chanced upon Kuldeep Nayyar's wish for soft borders like the EU. This is a step which I would like to see taken. Save for the last 60 years, we were one people who fought for independence - our toil in blood did not have distinctions in class or religion. I dream of celebrating this historic day together with our brothers and sisters across that white line. It is only a matter of hours that separates our festivities celebrating that same historic event.
India, Pakistan, Bangladesh - all owe it to each other to take care of one another for they are siblings born of one mother. India is in a position to do just that.

So that brings me to this white space now, inspired by the silent tears on reading and reflecting on those articles this morning. I would like to wind up by not following the wisdom I proclaimed earlier:

"If India didn't exist, no-one would have the imagination to invent it." - Mukul Kesavan @ BBC news.

Midsummer night's dream

Can't sleep tonight. I have around 30 unposted pieces and here is the next one, which will hopefully reverse that trend.

Summer vacations of my childhood were of a quality that evokes the smell of raw mangoes, the scorching terrace baking in the noon sun, eating lunch with my grandfather, salvaging cupboards and shelves for old books, reading from morning till night through meals and groans from other dining table attendees, bouncing a rubber ball off the garage wall for hours, relief from the heat by lying down on the cool mosaic floor, shuttling between the yard and the kitchen with eggs fresh from the chicken coop, green chillies, moringa drumsticks or a coconut from the store room, helping my appoo fix the black coconut sheller blade to shell a coconut, picking off the pink chaambaka, trying to scale the mango tree and jump onto the first floor balcony, shredding the coconut with a chirava for my ammachi, waiting for my kunjamma to return with library books, reciting the rosary in the powercut darkness diffused by the weak emergency light, playing with candles and heated compass points, try to block out the newsreaders voice blaring from the TV at 7 pm sharp, welcome telephone queries from friends relieving the monotone of the precessing ceiling fan from the reign of jambavan (a very well known eon in our household), the noisy rain drumming rhythms on any surface it meets - much like my fingers (much to the annoyance of family elders), a telephone ringing couple of doors down the road, the gentle screeches of the insect nation singing me lullaby as I drift into a heavy slumber...sweet dreams.