Nekhbet

These days, my journey to my place of work has expanded. I get into a bus, a metro a bus and then a metro. There might be a simpler way of arriving at the destination, but I tried this route and am now comfortable. We need not get out of our comfortable zone unless necessary. This long journey provides me time to be with my thoughts. My overthinking and imaginary ass sometimes overgrows its boundaries. But at other times, contributes to very self-satisfactory blogs such as these.  On one such journey, in the metro, seats emptied at a stop. And the people standing, started to walk around and shift to get into the chair. This made me chuckle because it reminded me of the musical chair game we play. And there was music, the rumbling of the metro on the track outside, the swirling of air conditioners, and the chatter of people inside and this music is stopped when the beeps of the door sound, indicating the opening and closing.  But the chuckle didn't last long because I got philosophi

Growing up I wasn't a picky eater. But I did have a palette of choice - spicy and tangy. Before the 'foreign' greens like broccoli and bok choy took over, my childhood vegetables were what which was quick and easy to make for a working mother. I grew up eating plants with animal names such as  muyalcheviyan meaning rabbit's ears. Greens have been powdered and spiced, for example,  karivepilapodi  to eat along with hot rice, as taste enhancers in the form of curry leaves, bay and coriander. Also in the regular curry and poriyal forms were various types of spinaches ranging from palak to arakerai. As Samwise says in Lord of the Rings, they were boiled and mashed and stuck in a stew.  Why greens? What did they do to me? I went out to dinner with my colleagues on a weekend, at a Punjabi restaurant. We ordered the regular which was sarson ka saag and makke de roti. The roti was soft and flaky. Dipping those in the dark green saag with garlic tadka and into my mouth. It w

Tottering through the strath, it is all but a daze. Maybe it is a phase, but I am scared. Thinking I am unprepared. Possibly, it may pass, but give me a chance to bypass This Tottering through the strath

Anger boiled inside Her. Stormed into the court, She. Proved innocent, She that of her husband's. Furious Kannagi cursed. And the Maanagar burnt To ashes. Late was She. Frenzied, She swore. Dead was Pandya Raja. Furious Kannagi cursed. And the Koodal burnt To ashes. Rose a tyrant Raja, in the kingdom here. Drunk with power, ignored he, the just. Kannagi rose. And the kingdom burnt To ashes.

As a researcher, the mind gets trained to look at things logically and critically. How do the academic settings have superstition then? The generation of students who come before you set up the tradition and practice for others. These legacies get carried on. The lunch and dinner break walks aren't complete without me touching the big, green entrance gate. Why do I do it? It is believed that whoever touches the gate, gets selected for their post-doctoral fellowship outside the country. My greedy mind is carrying around this belief. I have even shared it with my juniors who I am sure will carry the practice forward. Another belief floating around is that if you feed the campus dogs, you will go outside the country for your PhD. I was a strict follower of this rule. I used to feed the dogs sugar-packed glucose biscuits. Unfortunately, I was afraid they would have diabetes and stopped that. Now I am stuck here. I do not have any personal experience, but the sports people on the campus

Everytime, Bright beam pets the plethora of green Black tar covers itself in purple, yellow, red and orange Beast roams and wings spread Blue turns grey, orange and pink Everytime, Paper pinned on the notice board Pods open for fluffy whites on the road Pay! says the code Perfect candid  I miss you.