“Now, now, now… people are going to tell you this is fake news. This is propaganda. I am telling you this ladies and gentlemen, never ever, ever ever, ever ever, ever again, fall into the trap of people calling your agenda as fake news. Counter them with these words – pseudo secularism, Italian pariwar, JNU tukde tukde gang- and if nothing works, take a high moral ground and trap them into the whirlpool of whataboutery so that they cannot have the right to question anything in the future.”
My dear readers, today is a very sad day. It is almost shameful. Arnab Goswami, the only able ‘journalist’ (?) who alone can destroy the democracy, the unity and the journalism of the country was attacked. In this horrific crime, India bows its head down as it goes to sleep tonight. Such an attack is the attack on the culture and heritage of the country that Arnab has been a part of its development from his studios.
To describe this attack as merely an attack is the attack on the attacking history of this nation. Over the last few years, ladies and gentlemen, only few attacks in this country has been a failure. While people on other side are making sure that the attack is successful as either a lynching or an imprisonment, the liberals and the left communists have failed to uphold the standard of the attack as Arnab…
Irony takes the lead in the narrative, The submissive confronts the free bird and triumphs. If you find beauty in the brick walls that suffocate you… Would it be tragically wonderful or wonderfully tragic? I desire to fly, but the ropes of fear have tied me to the pit. Perhaps you define fear for me, […]
I woke up from a deep sleep,
wiping the sand from my eyes.
Looking at signals going red and traffic halts.
The sky was dull, as though bearing in a tale.
Such a common sight for a peak hour Friday evening.
But it looked all so unfamiliar.
I did not belong here.
For the first time I felt like an alien in a strange city.
My mind belonged to the wild,
my heart to the sea.
Bearing tides and beasts within me.
FALLEN ANGELS, a film that moved me greatly, brought me to tears and even made me smile. I’ve never doubted the strength that a woman had but this documentary made me realise, we are more than what we will ever know or can gauge.The many lives I have witnessed of the women around have only taught me strength, hope, courage, optimism, kindness and love. I wish I could reach out to each one of these children and their mothers, tell them it is okay to accept their realities, it is okay to be a sex worker, it is okay to cry and weep. These women may not be great personalities but they still inspire me, give me strength.
Please watch the film below.
it isn’t being embedded for some reason. However, please click on the link and watch.
Well articulated, how I wish this could reach Arnab!
I had always admired the man for his stance and praised his courage, but recent times have got me thinking otherwise. How does one expect to relate or appreciate someone who has fought and believes in freedom of speech but never allows a contrary point of view on his show, deeming those with an ideology different from his as incorrect and deserving of his vile rant!
It’s saddening to see the country being fed this sort of journalism every night at prime time and then we ask, why are we so intolerant? Exposure to someone that people idealise, bawling out at everyone with contrary opinions and making that seem right is what influences the minds of the people!
We need to become aware of what the media feeds our minds with. An active filter is highly essential to stay sane.
She looked at herself in the mirror, Cursing her flaws, the freckles on her face, “I should have been lighter,” she thinks, Only imagining the cover girl, she idealises within.
She touches her plump, curvaceous body,
Sucks in her perfect little tummy,
runs her hands down her hips,
tries to pose sexy, with a pout on her lips.
Her stretch marks showing,
Her hair is all curly, messed up in a bun
She looks no less than a super model
But just not the girl she dreams of, not that one.
“More carrot juice,” she says out loud.
Yoga and exercise will do the trick.
I will fit in my skinny jeans, short skirts and fancy dress
And oh gosh! my hair! I hate this mess!
45 minutes have passed
She comments on all the ordinary,
the cellulite, the love handles, dark circles, pointy nose
She smiles one last time and is disappointed at the way her gum shows.
Trying to love the little she can,
examining her bare body, unable to understand.
She picks up the magazine,
The perfect image of her on that cover page
Yet not one single aspect with which she can relate.
What is real, she thinks to herself,
The blush, the long lashes or the fair skin,
The image the world has built for her
Or what she really feels within?
Is she the beauty on that cover page,
The work of make up artists, photographers and talented photoshop skills,
Or is she the woman in the mirror
Trying hard to love herself, love herself, just a little!
Why doesn’t she see the truth,
perfect is perfect only when it’s you!
The wrongs, the rights, the fat and the freckles,
The unique smile, it’s all you, and that’s all that’s true!
The way you dance without a care in the world,
The way you smile at those in need,
Screaming out loud
You need no approval,
For loving all, all that is real.
Being fair, being tall, being thin
It’s not what beauty is made of
Beauty is, what lies within.
This poem is dedicated to every person who at some point has felt insecure, felt not being good enough, or has felt ugly. The media, the beauty industry is selling us a standard of beauty that does not exist, there is no perfect! The epitome of beauty that is shown to us, is only so that we learn to hate ourselves, to find faults so that we resort to their products to reach that standard. In the mad rush to gain more consumers they are selling a fantasy world to us, a world that never existed and will never exist. What exists is you, flesh and bones, happiness and sorrow, love and hate, a package of emotions and expressions, this is what beauty is made of and nothing else!
Everyday I see women doing so much just to lose weight, to look good. I mean there is no harm in wanting to be fit but there is a huge problem if you wish to get there by comparing yourself with something that does not exist and criticise your body. It also makes a person judgemental about another person’s body. It’s a vicious cycle and now someone else has become prey to this flawed standard of beauty. Learn to love yourself and live with it. Only when you accept it and have the courage to live your life loud and clear, wear the clothes you want to wear irrespective of your size, feel free about your body, many others will too. Each day several people we come in contact with, draw inspiration from us and ape our behaviour unknowingly. Lets make them copy something worthwhile!
Its a chain reaction, when someone sees you so comfortable in your skin, wearing whatever the hell you want and living life free, they’re going to want to do the same. Freedom is within and so is beauty!
‘Pieces’ is a photo series, wherein I have tried to aesthetically capture pieces of ones soul in the parts of the face and body. It is a the birth of emotions and stories through incomplete pictures, that ultimately come together to create a whole.
Through this photo series I have tried to capture the many aspects of loneliness – depression, anxiety, fear. The photos seek to look at a not so colourful world, devoid of meaning. A world most people are living in right now. And the truth is, it’s never on the outside, it’s always on the inside and that is what I have captured – the reflections of the mind.
Let it go
As it all withers away.
I’m watching my self
Watching through the gaps,
Secretly, just watching myself breakdown.
I’ve waited long enough,
To meet my own self
Lost somewhere in the abyss of my mind.
Can you look deeply?
Can you see my soul?
The fear of yesterday scares me,
As I hold on to the walls,
Knowing as perfect as it was,
Nightmares don’t come with labels.
Broken down,
Looking into the unknown
I’m waiting to fill that space
Yet I feel your presence,
I see your face.
Let those thoughts gush. A reflection of the mind.
UNCONQUERABLE SPIRITS 