The husband lunged from above me to hold the handle and applied brake to the scooter. He was just in time else I would have hit another two-wheeler. There were equally angry honks from behind me. But I looked into the scooty mirror to check that my hair is in place. I smiled at the other drivers who looked menacingly at me and the husband.
It was the 23rd day of my scooty training by the husband. As someone who hates to step out of the house in the evenings after work, he had shown remarkable patience. He was trying to teach me to ride a scooty. Sounds simple, but it was far from it. I was in my late thirties, mildly over-weight (that’s what the BMI checking folks said) and never learnt to ride even a bicycle. My only tryst with driving was when I rode my tricycle with my two year old sister inside the one room kitchen apartment of my parents. And here I was trying to ride the scooty with no concept or idea of any kind of driving. In short, I was driving my husband nuts. I did not know when to accelerate, or when to slow down, when to brake or how to handle the numerous bumpers on the Indian road. To top it, I was not even riding in a straight line, I hated honking, and forgot to put the indicators. Or when my husband screamed, I would take my eyes off the road to look down at the handle bar for the switches. After the 23rd day, he finally gave up saying he has no patience anymore to teach me. Even a cow would have learnt to ride a scooty by now. It led to a big, lets say disagreement, fueling my desire to learn to ride. Continue reading
Hello friends! Atlast I hear a sigh of relief, elation and a bit of sadness. Let us talk about this fabulous week we had.
If we were having coffee, I would tell you that I had such a fabulous week writing for the ‘Write Tribe Festival of Words’. It was 7 continuous days of writing based on prompts. There was this whole group of people who became friends during this period. We egged each other on, gave suggestions and did everything to support each other. A bit similar to the April A to Z with fewer number of days. Continue reading
Pride and Prejudice is one of my favourite comfort books. It never fails to give me a good laugh. I like all the characters in the book. My favourite is, of course, Mr. Darcy. It was my ardent desire to know what goes inside that arrogant head of his, which led me to this interview.
I reached for the interview at Pemberly a bit late. It was not my mistake. I got lost in its lovely gardens and water fountains. Mr. Butler showed me into Mr. Darcy’s study. It was grand. The walls lined with leather bound books. Some were first editions. Mr. Darcy sat behind a large table. It was dark and masculine. But, there were some pretty curios and photo frames on his desk. This was most certainly, a touch from Elizabeth. Continue reading
Monday starts post a lazy weekend with not a single significant activity done by me. I just planted two new pots on my window sill. But, every moment this weekend I spent thinking and working on my blog and blog posts. And I must thank Corinne @ WriteTribe for this.
Over the weekend, I have been reading up on ‘parallax’ website designing. You can see this on the Write Tribe website itself. I am seeing this design being used on many websites – corporate as well as personal. The advantage being, it should load faster and will be easy to navigate on a mobile phone. Right now, I am checking out youtube videos for the same. Something to think about during my spare times. Have you tried this design? I do not see any disadvantages. Let me know if any.
I love the Saturday Story prompts on the Write Tribe group where she gives a prompt to write flash fiction in five sentences. It is liberating to write out lines without thinking about perfection, relevance, grammar, logic and no frills like setting up a blog post. Just dash five lines and read others’ stories. It has been a good writing exercise and brought back my story telling mojo. I even woke up in the middle of my sleep to jot down some lines which I could use later. Most of the group members came up with multiple stories. Continue reading
A Muslim friend of mine, raved and ranted about the killing of 16-year-old Junaid in Delhi. He forwarded a message which was spewing with hatred and accused all Hindus of being the killers. This was not an illiterate or impulsive youth. This is a perfectly sane, educated, middle-aged family man who is also a Doctor. Where did this hate come from? We have spent years together sitting on the same bench as classmates and never hated each other.
There was no way I could think of comforting him. But, it showed his deep insecurities living in a country in which he and his ancestors were born. He was worrying about a future for his children who belong to this country. Where should he go? Who will comfort his fears? When did it become ‘them’ and ‘us’? Weren’t we the same? Continue reading