An excellent read.
Insightful and brilliantly crafted knowledge on ancient understanding’s take on menstrual cycle.
“Will the pickle really spoil if I touched it during menstruation?”
“Akka, why do they tell us not to touch anyone, to sit in a separate room and eat from a separate plate when we get our period?
Two thoughts play hide and seek in my mind as I try to answer these questions from young girls. One, that I should help them understand that these restrictions are not because they become impure or polluted during menstruation. Two, that I should never, ever, hurt their religious or cultural sentiments beacuse I have neither the knowledge nor the right to make that judgement. The latter makes it difficult to do the former, and so round and round I go in my explanations, at best being able to tell them that these practises have been in place for ages to…
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Our soul is sacred in Pakistan, but one’s body is not. God is sacred in this nation, but not God’s creation.
It was a shallow love at first romanticizing you;
falling for the idea of falling for someone who had fallen for you.
But then the numb stopped.
Let me keep it pretty straight; you guys have indeed made us proud on reaching semis. So what if you’ll lost it. You’ll lost against Australia and not some minnows. A team now in their seventh appearance in finals. To a team who was playing on its home soil. A team who played simply better than team India.
We can only fathom how gruesome a four month tour can be. What it would have taken for you’ll to win seven matches in a row after being pounded three months prior.
It’s even beyond our limit of imagination how a father chose not to have a quick visit to his new born daughter and rather concentrate on national duty; let alone captaining the side, making strategies to bowl opposition all out, handling Ind-Pak pressure, facing media questions and yet again dodging the desire to take a glimpse of his daughter welcomed almost two months ago.
It’s our ignorance.
We’re so ignorant that we forgot to pelt stones at the organizers when our women Kabaddi players had to go home in auto-rickshaws after winning the world cup. So ignorant, we hadn’t realized in 2008 that our hockey team failed to qualify for Beijing Olympics. Ignorant to think that a result of cricket match cannot always be either burning your effigies or flooding the streets in celebrations. Ignorant to think that just a few weeks ago we out of excitement mentioned, “We don’t care if we win the cup or not as we’ve beaten Pakistan.”
You’ll might not be the defending champions anymore; but you’ll are no less than heroes to us. Taking 70 wickets in 7 matches is no cakewalk for a bowling unit often criticized for not being worthy. We’re sorry for lambasting you’ll for the exit but now realize the defeat was more sour for you’ll. The zest of each member of the squad to be called a World Champion was overlooked by us.
Dhoni, you’ve given us, the very same fans, a lot.
Not only memories to cherish the world champions’ titles, your power-packed sixes to seal off matches, witty one-liners whilst keeping wickets but also a stronger bond between fans and the team. Be assured, we know you’re a man who seldom exhibits emotions but we can understand what you must be going through with all those emotions and expectations of staying defending champions.
We’re ignorant like those uncontrolled adamant kids who want celebrations without ever thinking the hardships and efforts others undergo towards achieving it.
Nevertheless, we’re sorry.
The nation awaits you boys. We are indeed proud of you’ll.
Dhoni – spend time cuddling with your daughter.
Rest of the team (sans Raina) – just rest, roam around with friends and enjoy local street food again.
Raina – get your ass working towards preparations of your marriage on 3rd April.
Great read and awesome insight!!
Nice to be following the author on twitter too.
All the consultants of our hospital gather every afternoon in the doctor’s lounge and eat lunch together in a convivial atmosphere, without – incredible though it may sound – trying to stab or strangulate each other. We have many fruitful discussions on many important matters such as Kejriwal’s latest U-turn, Modi’s latest speech on the coming achche din, the likelihood of Preity Zinta being able to land a husband for herself, and so on.
An important fact to emerge from these daily discussions is that every single male consultant in our hospital is absolutely petrified of his wife. For instance, our spinal surgeon who has 32 sweet teeth once consumed a kilo of laddoos on the occasion of someone’s birthday, and afterwards literally pleaded with tears in his eyes with the rest of us to help him finish his tiffin. His terror of the stony look his wife would give…
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1. You may not realise anything is wrong. You may not bleed, nor feel cramps. In fact, you may be blissfully unaware that there is a problem at all until a scan, when instead of a kicking happy baby, you see a lifeless thing floating asleep, or you see nothing at all.
2. A scan will forever be a hateful thing – rather than excitement at looking at the screen, you will always wish the screen to be turned away from you, expecting a “sorry, there’s no heartbeat”.
3. And while I’m at it, sonographers have the best poker faces in the world. Fact.
4. After the scan, there is a lot of waiting. Waiting for further scans, waiting for tests. Waiting to miscarry naturally or waiting for pills to make you miscarry. Then there is waiting for appointments, waiting for operations to remove tissue. Finally there is waiting for your period to…
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Late last month, on the weekend before Christmas, I took a day in San Francisco, just to get out of Davis for a little while and sketch things on ground that slopes a bit. I didn’t have much of a plan beyond “go to the Ferry Building, have a cannoli, draw loads”. So I did. Here’s my sketch from the early morning Amtrak train, above. It’s not cheap, traveling the Amtrak, but it’s a lovely journey and you get free wifi.
So I got to the San Francisco Ferry Building, where they have the Saturday Farmer’s Market. I like getting here on a Saturday, and finding the little stall inside that sells Italian cannoli filled with chocolate, and sugary messy lemon-filled ‘bombolini’, little doughnuts. After cleaning my face I went outside to draw a panorama, which took about an hour and a quarter. Those sugary treats made me work…
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I was en-route office on my bike which takes me a mere 10 minutes from my home. Half-way, just before I was to pass a flyover for West to East (Borivali, a suburb of Mumbai), I awaited the signal to flash green. I’d just re-adjusted my wallet when the signal permitted & I resumed my journey. Just after reaching the other end of the flyover, I sensed my wallet wasn’t with me.
With theft being out of question since I didn’t halt after the signal and it’d take a Dhoom-style effort for someone to snatch it while on the flyover, the only factual thing was that it must have slipped out of the back pocket within those 2-3 minutes.
Hoping someone must have found it and would be courteously looking for the rightful owner, I parked my bike nearby, walked the entire flyover scanning every square-inch and also wishing that person to notice me searching in vain. After futile results, I proceeded towards my office though not dejected as there wasn’t much cash in it but anticipating the trouble to get a new driving license and all my debit cards.
Within minutes, this certain Avinash calls on my mobile and gracefully mentions that he’d found my wallet and tried coming to my office but couldn’t locate it (I’d my visiting card in the wallet.) After thanking him a million times I asked him to stay wherever he was citing he shouldn’t be taking more efforts and that I’d pick it from him in minutes. After deciding on a landmark, I met him and thanked excessively. I asked if I can take a picture with him for memory sake to which he politely declined mentioning he would had loved to but didn’t want to remember his act of generosity being clicked. Next, I requested him to at-least take the bar of Dairy Milk I got from a shop just before meeting him. He humbly declined that too saying to give it to a poor toddler on his behalf.
Impressed to the core and with no more words to exchange, I forwarded my hand for a thankful handshake. This time he did so, smiled and walked towards the narrow street leading towards the highway.
Indeed, the purest form of humanity still exists. When I mentioned the word Chivalry earlier, I clearly justify it as an act of pure generosity this city can dwell in.
Yabba – Cricket’s most beloved heckler !!
A rabbit seller and cricket barracker named Stephen Harold Gascoigne (image courtesy of espncricinfo) has an entry in the Australian Dictionary of Biography. He got there on the strength of his vocal ability, his wit and his love of the game.
Sydney Morning Herald – 25 Nov 1932 (see image of text below)
Stephen Gascoigne [is] a “Rabbitoh,” and formerly a bottle oh. “I am the original one and only Yabba, famous in every part of the world”, he said. The Englishmen will make contact with “Yabba” tomorrow. Here is his philosophy: – I’ve been barracking for 45 years, and there’s no harm in it. The men who can’t stand up to it oughtn’t be in the game. It’s a free country, free comment. If we do chiak them a bit, we are always ready to applaud them, and as for the man who is going to show he doesn’t like it – well, it is going to be just…
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