A Scoop of Sunshine

There was a wise old man, Who sat under a tree, spick and span. Children played around him, Clustered chirps and cherry blossom swings.

Valentine's day is here, With romantic souls declaring love near and far. "Oh it's love", they say, "The crazy, undying kind, Which cannot be tempered by the rain or wind" Oh silly, silly mind!

There is something about children dancing that makes them essentially so cute. But then, there is something about them dancing to a song that goes, " saree ke fall sa kabhi match kiya re " or " chitiyan kalaiyyan " which makes me want to close my ears and imagine them dancing to something, say, more befitting to a six year old, to start with?

Sara was sitting on the usual arm chair in her room, looking out of the window at the lawn outside. It was a pleasant sunny day, the grass green and sky blue, a lonely bird sang a tune on the branch of a nearby tree.

I had my father's eyes, As blue as the sky. He named me Narin, The sister of Yazdin.

It was early morning, around 4 am and the marriage ceremony was finally over. The bride and the groom were ushered into another room, while the rest of us, the " baraati ", walked downstairs and waited for our vehicles near the entrance gate, which was so well lit up last evening, but now had only few sleepy stray dogs and an artillery of mosquitoes doing the rounds. Yes, the festivities were over.

After being asked about a hundred times about what I thought about the documentary "India's Daughter", I finally had to write this down. All the ruckus about the documentary India's Daughter only reiterates one phrase - Much Ado about Nothing. Now before being bombarded with all sorts of negative comments, let me make one thing clear, my solidarity lies where yours lie too - with the Nation, with the women of the Nation, with the women all over the World and with those good men who fall through the wormhole of generalization.