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Monday, July 02, 2018

The 4th Annual Poetry festival, San Jose

Please feel free to share with your friends and consider supporting local artists by attending the 4th Annual Poetry festival, San Jose

Sunday, June 17, 2018

Wild child

During one of our family vacations, I saw a huge, gorgeous tree bent at an angle. I wanted to climb it so my father gave me a hand. I was fifteen and it still is one of my fondest memories. An aunty traveling with us said,’ Amitabha da, your daughter is so wild. Who will marry her?’ I think she used the term ‘গেছো’, literally meaning arboreal. He muttered,’ Doesn’t matter.’ For him, climbing trees was more important than learning how to be more marriageable.

I also liked to climb and walk on walls like cats. An elderly neighbor voiced his concern to my mother,’ What if she falls and breaks her legs? Who will marry her then?’ I had to convince Ma that I would be careful and I avoided the front end of the wall so the neighbor could not see me again enjoying my walks on the walls.

They let me grow unpruned.
I might have some disagreeable parts, but I am completely, authentically me. And somewhere, that wild child still lives on and I am grateful for that.

On Father's Day

Most of my life I have seen him in his police uniform. When the front gate cranked and we hear his boots on the concrete passage to our house, we would settle in and become quiet if we were whiling away or chatting with mother. A strict disciplinarian and with very little patience for weakness- that is how we knew him. Now, I get to see the human behind the uniform, who is equally vulnerable like any other. His eyes light up upon receiving the tiniest of gifts. Even though he is not very verbal about his emotions, he emotes through poetry. I get why he wanted us to be strong. The mother nurtures, the father hopes that we can survive on our own. And somehow feels proud to see us do it. Happy Father's Day. This day and every day. My happiness today is a function of everything you did for us. 

Friday, June 08, 2018

Find someone to talk to

We choose our friends. And if from all the people I chose you, I will make sure you feel pampered. I want you to feel good about yourself. Because I hope to be the kind of friend I needed in my hard times. That is why I have the irritating habit of texting my friends to ask how they are doing when I don’t hear from them for too long. Just to make sure they are doing okay.

Sometimes, it won’t be enough, I know. But the world won’t end that day. Don’t give up on life. And if you ever need someone to talk to, I will make sure that I am available for you. I will stand by you. Vent out, crib, have a good cry on my shoulders. Doesn’t matter how long you need to recover, hold my hand. Too much? Okay, let’s dial it down a bit. I can also give you a glass of wine instead of my hand. In extreme cases, seek professional help. Whatever you need. But, please, oh please! Don’t give up on life. There is always someone willing to listen. Someone who cares. Even if you feel alone, you are not.

National Suicide Prevention Lifelines
Canada : 1-800-668-6868
India: +91-22-27546669

Friday, May 11, 2018

Where is my home?

I was discussing with my friend if adapting to the country you live in is bad. Why should it be?

If you are enamored with a place so much that you will accept poor quality of living just to be in it, then you are making a mistake in my humble opinion. But you can be successful in any part of the world. Boundaries are man-made constraints. Even race is a social construct, a weak proxy for genetic diversity.

Then where is my home? Who are my people?
Home is where you feel welcomed and valued. Sometimes, it can be thousands of miles away from the place you were born in. And my people are those who cheer for me, who motivate me to do better, who help me evolve. My home is right here, in my present.

Thursday, May 03, 2018

How to separate editions on Goodreads

I was trying to combine my separate editions of 'Bits and Pieces' on Goodreads into one edition when I checked the box of another book 'Belief'

As a result, two of my works were combined into one. But the Separate Tool was not working for me.
This is because only librarians and staff are able to separate editions.

Post a request to separate the editions in the Librarians Group. To do so, first, join the group by clicking on "Join Group" under the group profile photo.  From there, you can simply post a request by starting a new discussion thread here.  

Tuesday, May 01, 2018

The spirit of poetry

One of the reasons I like going to Poetry Center San José (PCSJ) events is because of this. Last night, it was the grand slam final for the SJ Poetry slam team that will travel to Chicago to compete in the Nationals. In the first round, one of the poets froze midway as he lost his words. Not the first time someone froze in front of a mic. It won't be the last time. But the audience kept snapping their fingers to encourage him to keep trying to remember and start over. Even though he ended up with a considerable time penalty, I believe that every person in the room was rooting for him. Even his competitors. Where else would I find people who don't secretly want you to fail so that they can get your spot? Let me know and I would like to be present in the room so that I can snap my fingers again.