Mumbai, You are magical!

Whether it is the pandemic and the associated anxieties or the less frequent travel; or perhaps age is catching up too soon and the feeling of getting old every moment sometimes dominates your mind; I have never felt like capturing some moments for being so magical that I want to live it again through photgraphs. 

Perhaps it is just the spirit of Mumbai that can have that effect on you. 

And trust me, it is not conventional love. 

I spent 3 hours in travelling 35 kms from one part of Mumbai to the other. 

And another time an hour for covering 10 kms. 

I am running on less than 4 hours of sleep a day. 

I was in a full day, quite an ordinary, self-deteriorating meeting. 

What else? In only capturing a moment on camera, I happened to get myself fined INR 200 for removing the mask to get one click of the landscape and how I merged. 

The Sin and the Instigator

But the feeling was special. 

For the safe hands I felt I was in.

For the freedom it breathes. 

For allowing you to be carefree

In love, at work, or just as you. 

I wish I there were more Urdu poets who stayed in this city to express its story. Or may be there are, task at hand I guess.

Oh Delhi, my first love! you got to learn a lot from Mumbai. I know you have the history and geography and even the politics that keeps you the centre of power. And in all gratitude and bow to the magnificence of the aura, I raise Buts. I feel there is power trip that is making you a bit obnoxious. You may want to learn respect, ethics, consideration, tolerance for fellow beings from the city that is brimming with it. 

Dilliwalas at the Silly Selfie Spot. YKIYK.

I never thought I’ll write a love post for Mumbai before Delhi but sometimes 11 years of commitment is not enough when someone shows you there is really a better calmer and happier alternative that you fail to chose because you are used to some traumas. 

Signing off

A Dehliwala at heart who just got swayed away by Mumbai.

Walking backwards

The backyard where we’ve played in scratching heat. I can recall the endless catch the ball games and tanned faces.

The little corner for conversations, away from the gibber gabber of the adults, two kids shared what they felt of the world, almost every week. The sun can recall it’s rays of the days, then and now. Imagining what we shall be like as we grow old. Everytime I walk at this place, I recall a new incident from the past. That rich are some memories!
Can recall the fests, the feasts, the cleaning days and the waiting days, the late nights, the early mornings and the endless struggle of catching the hidden as I seek my smarter fellows. Trees from this part of the world converse with you, you can’t miss to hear them!

Pure joy!

This is what an over joy-ed face looks like, absolutely unexpected recall of how far have I walked!

Be like Sharma Ji.

You can choose the face of Sharma ji and Hussain at your own imagination. I can’t help but see them alike.

Hussain is a trained hair-dresser, who came from Moradabad to Delhi some years back to try his luck and hands in a salon. With the pace at which Delhi brings new opportunities and challenges, Hussain transitioned to be an Uber driver, feeling the urge to  travel to newer corners of the city and meet new people and impress them with his charming personality.

Hussain, like many others would have not predicted a lockdown so massive that the Uber industry will fail him.

Hussain like many others, was rejected from many jobs in this New India. Some companies were explicit in mentioning the problem in his name. Hussain is not quite a surname they want to risk their company’s faith with.  

Hussain may be like many others, decided to jump from a typical service industry to becoming a Peldaar (the one who picks and transports heavy load of grains and vegetables manually in local mandis). He claims to have picked an average of 170 kgs of load at one time to transport from truck to godown to shop to wherever. To put in perspective, it translates into carrying an average of 3 adult men on his shoulder and walking approximately 6-8 kms in a day. Don’t forget, he isn’t trained to do so, just one day, destiny shifts gears and he got to transform from a barber to a bully.

Hussain, may be like many others, made many friends and well-wishers in Delhi. Incidentally, Om Prakash Sharma, originally from Mathura is one of them. Sharma ji is in courier and transport business, known from his great mind in getting maximum benefits to the customer at the least of the costs. Sharma ji is a true asset to the company as well as customers, always bridging the needs of both.

Sharma ji, definitely not like many others, stood firm for his friend Hussain and argued his case at his Company, one of the many that rejected Hussain for his name. After 6 rounds of interrogation at different levels, compared to 1-2 rounds in a usual case, Hussain finally landed up a job at the Courier Company.

At the risk of sounding plain idiot, can Shakespeare in Today’s India say, What’s there in the name? A rose, by the name of Gulaab (simply because its Urdu) may not even be considered worth smelling by the millions. How would we ever know if Rose and Gulaab smells the same?!

I can hear Kabir Saheb singing in the background for them, telling the world how religion teaches to love and not hate.

“Kabir tahan na jaiiye, jahan jo kul ka het. Sadhupano jane nahi, naam baap ka let

Kabir Soyi peer hai, jo jaane par peed. Jo per peed na jaanta, so kaafir be-peer”

Kabir stay away from those who love only their own kind. They know nothing of true religion, they care only for social identity

Kabir, only she is a true seeker, who feels the pain of others. He who doesn’t know another’s pain, is lost, without real direction.

Sorry Friends, your hands are RED.

As Ambedkar Said, “They are two arms of the same body and one bound to fight for the existence of the other.” Photo and Caption credit @savarnathings

I never thought I am going to write this because one, it felt so ugly to even accept it in your head. And two, I am not sure I can ever do justice with the gravity of the issue. We are all a Bunch of Casteist, Sexist Self-Claimed ‘Good’ People! None of us can wash our hands off the atrocious past of the savarna ancestors, and the legacy that we continue.

I had learnt this mantra in college, and quite adhered to it, that ‘choose your battles’ and not waste your energy arguing with every Tom, Dick and Harry. But it just so happens, that many, quite a few around me have opted out of the anti-caste, feminist battles happening around. It is not particularly strange though, but I am writing to remind all of us, that our hands are RED.

Just By Chance!!! You would believe that just “by chance” you only have Savarna friends – WITHOUT you making a conscious decision. You never bothered to think about caste while making friends. Let me break just a few parts of what all is wrong here. One, that our environment is so sanitized that we hardly realise that we filter much diversity from around us. Second, just in case, thanks to reservations, if you are blessed with diversity, most of us end up ‘unconsciously’ bonding Savarnas with Savarnas. And it is perhaps thanks to the privileges, tastes similarities, snobbish conversations and lifestyles that two Savarnas bond over. We are not hardwired to be inclusive over centuries and species of evolution. If at all, we were only meant to be best fit to survive. So, it isn’t strange that we are all in the soup and our hands are surely RED.

You said it right. We may have read, listened to experiences, sanitized our arguments towards an equal society, especially the young city dwellers in their 20s and 30s. But aren’t we the same bigots who would like to give capital punishment to the rapist, so that WE feel cleaner and whiter? Isn’t our response more filled with anger than guilt? Because we are angry at what someone did but would never want to internalize the innumerable times I did not speak against caste and gender roles very well established in and around us; and let it thrive – what resulted today. Please accept, our hands are RED.

The Hidden Casteists. Every time, you talk about your privileges and baggage of being a Brahmin, a Baniya, a Thakur, a Rajput you are still harassing the universe with that voice of yours. It is always with a head held high that a Savarna talks about even the ills of being a savarna. If not always, I guess most often. I haven’t really met many deeply apologetic Savarnas. Not yet. Every time you keep the dirtiest task for your maid, you just as well are a casteist. Every person whose labour you have taken for granted or may be let’s say – appreciated from far, be it the sweeper, the guard, the sewage cleaner; you are no less a casteist. I remember how my first roommate and I in my first hostel did not really ‘click’ in the first few months; and we decided to do some room swaps. There were people who came to me asking, if that was because of the caste, I ignored. But today, I feel I missed an opportunity to build the bridge just because of my being liberal and adventurous. Every time, you say your parents worked very hard to get you what you have today, you are laughing at the guy who picked your grandfather’s and father’s garbage for all those times and his hardwork. It is hard to accept that our ancestors were lesser humans. And we are running the same legacy. I can count people I personally know who have radically surpassed the casteist living and being. While they are less than the number of average fingers in my hand, not one claims to be have fully acquired what it means to be anti-casteist. It is so deeply rooted that if anyone claims that they are following anti-casteist to the T, they sure haven’t felt it enough. You can try, you can never be able to cross that bridge, fully. Not in this lifetime, not for another half a century. Don’t let that guilt pass off you. Our hands ARE red.

What do we do about this feeling? Just stay guilty, live with guilt, every moment. Well, I can easily classify most in the active and passive categories. The Active ones are involved in protests, helping in build the revolution. Some are heavily writing about it. And while I truly appreciate all who are building the bricks to revolution, helping in breaking the shackles of caste, I know the mettle one needs to be lead through revolutionary ways is only borne in few. But this can be a trap. Sometimes, we see these as moments of outrage so that we can prove to the world and ourselves, how good we are & how horrible rest of the world is. The others are timid ones, like me, often feeling, writing can help. But from all that I have understood so far, I support Dalit for Dalit Writings, Women for Women writings, Simply because there just isn’t enough emotion – humiliation, resentment, helplessness that can be felt secondarily by the ones who have not experienced it first-hand. One can imagine, but please my friends, don’t obsess over how much you know. Your writings are adding to your own happiness to put your emotion on paper and then live past it; than any other help to the society. And yes, with that, I admit and confess, that I am only writing, to flush away the puddle of thoughts I have got myself into, in the last few weeks of caste and gender based conversations. It is more an act to have a sense of relief than anything else. Our Hands are RED.

There are two non-negotiables I have figured out in this exploration. One, as I have repeated, but worth innumerable repetition, is to not let the guilt go away. Feel guilty, every moment, as if your hands are red, of murder, exploitation, and rape that caste privileges are causing. Feel guilty that you are one of the faces of oppression. Always, be apologetic of even having an opinion. Two, is where I think many of us who may not feel best fit to join the revolution head front, please bring yourself to do work of all castes – don’t assume your job in life is to only read illuminating books and do big wonders of changing the world with our half a pound brain cells. Have elements from the work of a Dalit, a Shudra, a Vaishya and a Brahmin. Educate yourself practically. If possible don’t ignore the blatant caste symbols in and around. Help the society, by feeding on to the evolution that Humans are so very capable of. Commit to yourself, that your 2 generations forward would not have to have their hands in deep Red.

You know, What is Beautiful? Surviving, Resistance, Humility

How often do you meet people who open their heart out?

In early first incidences

And you are left to wonder,

How random, How vulnerable, and yet how so powerful!

And when you call them beautiful

They say back not thank you

But Oh no, I am so average.

Your eyes are beautiful.

And what if you also find

That such people are chasing their dreams

Just letting the storm destroy the world

As they stay contend at their basement

Chasing their small dreams

Consciously staying away from the world.

Are there really such people

Left with a mix of humility and courage?

They don’t have the power to change the world

But their Resistance is in not letting world change them

Not succumbing to the Powers of the World

And let yourself evolve within.

That, when gets aligned with a cause greater than their own lives

Is When no one in the world can stop it from becoming a better place.

And yes, it’s rare.

But no, it’s not unreal.

It is what we only treasure,

When we learn how ugly can the others be.

Like one can only treasure peace,

Once they survive a war.

Can’t Thank You DA

Photo Credit: Sudhir, on special request 😀 😛

As the ceremonies of faring me well got closer to a close, one of my elder colleagues, who had also  given his services to army before DA, came to me and said, “Anshul, when I joined my service, I imagined some of things I would like to hear at my farewell. And trust me, what I heard today for you is exactly what I had imagined.”

I do not know what I could have imagined. But that moment for me, can never be fully described. How to live infinite moments of learning and unlearning; moments of fun with perhaps 3-4 generations at DA (By generations I mean set of colleagues); moments of confidence (sometimes over-confidence) and leadership – in one single farewell.

Like Chandler would say, can there be any better place to learn and blossom? I am afraid no. I am sure many of my old colleagues and friends may not fully agree with me. Some of you may ask what inspired me to write this. Well, the thing is, since I move out of DA, a lot of my ex-colleagues reached me out. Some congratulating me for making the exit, some of course in surprise and shock – they thought I shall happily fossilize there, while very few mentioning how you will always miss that place. What triggered me to write this that I somehow became a part of this informal alumini group and the conversations made me almost puke to unconsciousness. This isn’t a response, this is just to put down my own piece of experience, learning and immense gratitude to the place that groomed me. Primarily, so that I don’t forget my amazing time, given the rate at which I am growing old with experiences! 😀

Organising this piece is quite difficult. It took me more than month to make sense of what all I want to write. And here comes my broad classifications: The Story of 3Is and the road less travelled by.

To anyone who has been in DA for a day would know what 3Is stand for. For other curious souls – it stands for Innovation, Incubation and Influence – the three core functions at Development Alternatives. Many of us have heard the legacy of DA, by older (ex) colleagues, also especially if you have got the chance to meet staff at Ministry of Environment, Forest and Climate Change or other development practitioners in the field of environment. What I am writing is my personal account, of what DA was to me, for the 6 years of joy I am forever grateful for!


LIGHT ACROSS THE TUNNEL I think DA can take credit of infusing hope in you in the most of hopeless of the situation. I think the fighter in DA just doesn’t let you believe that there is no way to make things better. When George would say, there is light across the tunnel; and he can see it – we all would believe – not because we saw it. We just believed in Him and his confidence in us. I call this an innovation because in these small and big acts of finding hope and joy, we learnt how to really handle the hopelessness around us in our society, and sometimes even within ourselves.

DUTY BEFORE DEATH: With the set up that DA has made, one is always rewarded more work for good work, which might look like an exploitation. Unless of course, it is duly recognized, which I feel they have been trying well. The system gave me multiple opportunities to work with many across verticals and horizontals in the organisation. It works on the simple principles of volunteering to work, where you might end up working a lot more than your fellow colleagues but with the promise that you will be recognized. What does a young professional need more than opportunity and due feedback with pinch of recognition? And its not always more work, the first principles come straight from doing your work well. Dr Khosla, at one of the times when I travelled with him, never let me hold his bag, was never late for a meeting, will still be sending us late night mails, only because he wasn’t just expecting us to give our full cent but he was contributing more than he was expecting.


ARGUMENTATIVE PROFESSIONAL: I may not be too wrong to say, that Zeenat is one of the best incubators we have at DA or may be beyond that. Incubating young professionals. She is the one person I have had most scoldings from and engaged in most arguments. And yet some of the fondest memories at DA are solely because of her. She has the ingredient of curiosity and argumentation that nurtures the perfect incubation space for a professional. There isn’t anything else needed for growing up together with someone.

ORGANIC GROWTH @ CAGR 11.3% Like Dr Arun explained my transition in his eyes, someone I only got the opportunity to work a few times. He said, for most of the times, as he was listening to me in Saturday meetings or other such meetings, he would not really grasp what I was saying. But he felt that I am very confident and aware of what I am saying, so he would peacefully reflect, he doesn’t need to get it, till I get it well enough! Of course, at later instances, I slowly learnt his language, or he learnt mine, or may be both, and we had smoother exchange. But isn’t this the seed for incubation? Give the sapling enough space to expand and blossom? Trust the sapling!


SEEDS OF OVER-CONFIDENCE: I don’t think there is another organization that will send their young colleagues to share the stage with Steven Stone. Not many organization will send the same young colleague to go present a proposal to the Joint Secretary, MoEF&CC. And guess what? Actually win the proposal, despite the old grey hair gentlemen walking in teams of 5-6 that you can get intimidated from, just by their suited-booted presence. There are innumerable times of not just recognition but also the kind of responsibility and trust the organization puts on you. At that moment, you might feel lost, may be angry and stupid in the room; but it only takes the time to walk in, present and walk out like a champion. Championing one’s own fears and evolving on the way. At TARAgram Yatra 2017, on the two days of sessions hosted at Orchcha, Mayukh and I were chatting in the evening. And I remember this conversation because we were speed racing with time. And wondering – why do I not feel any anxiety to engage 80 odd people for two days; and conduct most of the plenary sessions. And we said this together, we have got embarrassed, ridiculed, shouted at so much at one or the other Saturday or internal meeting that this feels like a piece of cake.

LET’S SAIL & SINK TOGETHER: The second influence is more internal. The amount of how much you can co-learn is tremendous. I think I started off in good hands/company, amongst Mayukh, Kriti, Mandira and Chitrangna percolating their infectious enthusiasm. And how will I ever love Harshini enough for all that I have learnt with her, not forgetting my extremely poor MS Excel and Word Skills to becoming the go-to person in office for presentation & formatting! Of course, life at DA didn’t end me there, it got me into making Kavya’s life sour, just to enjoy the dessert later, making Stella’s life hell and then make it sound like it’s fun. And then ofcourse there are ever so thankful Isha! Some of finest colleagues where we sailed together not just professional but also building personal bonds to keep each other’s boat from sinking. I cannot forget to mention Shivani, Farhan, Shruti, Ria, Reemsha, Tarang, Gazala, Sandhya Mam, Vinod Sir, Vijay Bhaiya, Vaibhav, Tushar N, Chandan, Rupali, Rowena, Sudhir, Mayank, Pratibha, Srijani, Krishna, Deshraj, Omkar.  Not sure if I can ever complete this list, not even trying.


  1. Sometimes, I feel DA picks the vibes of people wrong. In my 6 years, I have seen them hiring people who are perhaps not aligned to the spirit of DA. And DA being DA usually waits for 6 months to tell that person to leave; and most times, take much much longer. Two kind of colleagues have the highest degree of criticism for DA: People with specialization in a particular area/subject; And People who are too confident of what they know/are and do not want to look for change or challenging way of doing things. My two cents here is that it does expect people to diversify and to pick varied skill sets and sometimes themes, beyond your comfort zone. It is exactly this reason why youngsters are more aligned to the ways of DA.
  2. All this spirit of keeping the place young and innovative, came at a cost. The cost is that of consistency in projects, retaining expertise in sectors. And that has led to many times, some very talented colleagues could not really get the kind of projects and opportunities they hoped they will get. On a corollary, a lot many times people have to do things that does not necessarily align to their personal goals but that’s the task at the hands of the organization. But what is life without a spark of change?
  3. Every Senior has some set of favorites issues, things that they are probably good at or have special interest in. It is lucky if that aligns with you. If it doesn’t, sometimes that can be a big decision point for colleagues to feel frustrated. But I guess, keeping an organization and its heads as human as possible, puts biases of such kinds inescapable.

When Pat says judge yourself keeping the constraints in mind. A 95 in 12th Boards Mathematic Examination doesn’t mean you are a 95% in Mathematics in general. It means you did that well, in the constraint of time, whatever challenge was put in front of you. And similarly when he points the trust that he has that I will always abide by my values. It is not the cause but sure helps you know stay strong at your ground.

14 years of school, 3 years of graduation, 2 years of masters and then a job. In each of the previous instances, your time and your part of learning is somewhat fixed. And then comes a job, where, really, your time nor what is the scope of learning – neither of the two is fixed. Specially if you are at DA.

After a lot of exploration on how to look for right answers, the only thing I have learnt is that You know. You just get to know when you must leave. And that is where one transcends from being given a complete plan for the first quarter of life to be left on to the intuitive self.

A lot more can be said, but why not end with the perfect quote in spirit.

“What can an eternity of damnation matter to someone who has felt, if only for a second, the infinity of delight?” _Charles Baudelaire

Can’t Keep Calm because My Family doesn’t Keep Calm!


Some of us are spending much longer time with our family than usual. After I tried to introspect the two worlds – our parents and ours – in a small piece, few weeks back, I had planned to explore those sides with some of my friends.

Stories about habits that stick too strong with your family from the cultural setting – Too Punjabi, Too Bihari, Too Nepali in their blood. Or the idea of introspecting on any ideology or philosophical thought that you differ from your parents, with your parents.

Before we engage with the 4 selected stories in this piece. I want to put in two thoughts in perspective:

  1. The relationship of a child and a parent:

I happened to receive the book Prophet by Khalil Gibran, that started a conversation with a friend, where he pointed out how one of his friends used to following verses by Khalil Gibran to get his way with his parents. The verses are:

“Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.”

It helped my friend of a friend get his way with his parents. Although the parents were devastated, emotionally.

And I do personally feel that there is a karmic connection between a child and their parent. After all, we are the consequences of their choices and action. But that doesn’t oblige us to follow everything they wish for us, because then, what use is evolution?

What it does gives us is an opportunity to engage, build a bridge. And I know, it isn’t going to be smooth. So, Choosing ones’ battles is always a good idea. Some things are perhaps best left undebated. And for those undebated topics, there is always a choice between Kant’s white lie and misleading truth, to keep the calm going.

  1. Why should we engage in stories? Who is a writer?

A line of Goethe’s West-East Divan: “Is one alive when other men are living?” As Milan Kundera writes, that hidden within Goethe’s question is the mystery of writer’s condition: By writing, a man turns into a universe; and it is precisely the nature of the universe to be unique.

But who is a writer?

I have always found writing as a therapy. Anything I write, helps me drive that emotion out of my head, and I can progress further, emotionally. But I am tempted to steal the comprehension by Kundera that feels quite universal in its thought,

“The irresistible proliferation of graphomania among politicians, taxi drivers, child-bearers, lovers, murderers, thieves, prostitutes, officials, doctors and patients show me that everyone without exception bears a potential writer within him/her, so that the entire human species has good reason to go down into the streets and shout, “We are all writiers!”

For everyone is pained by the thought of disappearing, unheard and unseen, into an indifferent universe, and because of that everyone wants, while there is still time, to turn himself into a universe of words.

One morning (and it will be soon), when everyone wakes up as a writer, the age of universal deafness and incomprehension will have arrived.”

So we have only time to write and shout out loud till everyone becomes a writer!

I leave you for your own introspection, I am more of a collator than a writer in the late instances of this page.

Here Comes the Stories from the corners…

So here I present to you the four selected stories. And there is no amount of gratitude enough for Isha (Story Alpha), Ruhi (Story Beta) and Azeemah (Story Gamma) for sharing their parts of life with us. It takes courage, commitment, and comprehension; and I am truly delighted and feel blessed!

Have a good read and I hope to publish few more soon, to keep this place and myself evolving! 😀


For the one who shall never return but never leave.


Thomas Mann wrote a naively entrancing story about death: in that story death is beautiful, as it is beautiful to all those who dream about it when they are very young, when death is still unreal and enchanting, like the bluish voice of distances. And that’s how I lived, believed death will only be one of the many beautiful junctures that one has to pass through.

But there is something more enchanting that I witnessed. And may be C Fuentes has the answer when he says that, when we die, what we lose is not the future but the past.

This post is only a petty attempt to keep traces of the one we once knew so close. One of his true nature, as we were sharing on his first death anniversary, is the urge to be known, the urge to write his heart out; and voice it loud and clear, in his humming style.

These are some words written by Smriti, for the love that shall live through times, in the past and future. Being hopelessly positive of a union in the roots, when the shoot breaks from a tree and grows in a handsome tree beside.

Sketch by Smriti

तुम गए तो सारी शिकायते ही चली गयी

मानो सारे गमं और गिले फिसल गए

वोह मुस्कुरहाते , वोह चेहरे का नूर इन आँखों के आसुहों मैं बेह  गए

फूलों से खुसबू और तितलियों के उड़ने का ढंग चला गया

आज फिर आयी बारिश लेकिन बारिश से मिट्टी की सुगंध चली गयी

वोह बच्चौं की खुशियां

वोह रातों  की सारसरहात

वोह तुम्हारे आने का इंतेजार

वोह जाने का गमं

सभी किसी वक़्त में फिसल गया

जहां ना तुम ना हम

बस एक

गुजरे हुए समय का इंताकाल  हैं


Why you should worry about how you are feeling in these rare Corona times? #notaboutselflove

In no mind and space to write at length. But there is no better way I have yet found, to bear your own self and the world, in what we are consuming as information, conversing with near ones and reflecting our own.

And like Michael J. Sandel says before he begins his class on Political Philosophies of Justice, “Self-knowledge is like lost innocence. However unsettling you may find it, it can never be unthought or unknown. Once familiar turns strange, it can never be the same again.”

Moral pursuit is not solitary pursuit but a public endeavor and so I picked my self to write another piece of reflection in these ugly(-ier) times.

Bull Fights Versus Bharatnatayam*


*Indian-ised version of dog fights versus Opera

If you live in a country where majority of the people prefer bull fights as the means of entertainment over Bharatnatyam, would you justify Government’s act of subsidizing Bull fights over Bharatnatyam?

Take another one if a group of 10,000 or lets just say 10 million Indians for sake of the example, get their delightful happiness by seeing a dozen of Pakistanis stoned to death in a Stadium. Does the collective of 10 million enjoying the brutal murder of a bunch of Pakistanis still make it just?

Last one, if your government decides to increase the tax on rich to 60% of their income, will that be just?

If you agree that these ideas are unjust, we agree here that democracies are good but there are certain moralities which are much sacred and that no democratic government has the right to take that away from the society. Like Shashi Tharoor said in his book, Democracy is the worst form of governance, except from the ones that have been tried so far.

(Just in case you think any of the three acts can be classified as just, I will be happy to engage with you, but this piece will surely not be best suitable!)

The three examples illustrate the right to life and the fact that certain acts are heinous and there are certain pleasures which are of a higher value than the other. The quantity of pleasure being equal, UNO can still not be as good as poetry.

And this was just to home the point that no democratic government, just by virtue of being a democratic government, gets absolute rights over its citizens.


Does five lives matter more than one life?

This is a classic philosophical example. Let me take you through one of the many. If a doctor can save 5 patients who need a transplant, by killing one healthy person who just came for a regular check up to him, would you think saving 5 lives is justified?

If you think this is also unjust then how do you justify saving more lives by putting lives of few Indian migrants at stake? Whos lives are more precious and nobler?

Just a parallel thought, what we call as few is not even close to few. But I shall stand to the rule that even if it is only one, how, on this shameful planet of human beings, can anyone justify saying there was no better way for India to deal with this?


A man in Nashik, Maharashtra, carrying his 85 year old mother back to his village. Happy Mothers Day! 



A 12 year old carrying her 5 year old brother from Delhi.

Today, I felt deeply ashamed that there are AC trains being run at 3-4 times the fares in the same times when our very own fellow citizens are desperately waiting to reach homes. They just don’t have the means and right in front of their very own eyes, you decide to run only AC trains that are unaffordable to them. All they can afford is to be crushed under these trains, and you with your logic can only wonder, what fools, why were they sleeping on the track. You can only be in someone else’s shoe if you remove your own shoe. You can’t wear both.

And our villages are not homogenous. I don’t even want to imagine when they reach their own village, some may face the caste super-structure and harassment that they had escaped by running to cities. But the only hope is perhaps that they do what they would like to do. They will be where they wanted to be.

And I know economics comes to rescue of our conscious, doesn’t it? We are in a dire state and need to revive certain sectors, make certain section of people travel and get back to work, raise the bar, raise the GDP. Markets and capitalism is, like someone said, the only system where taking a small sum from the rich is seen in shock; while people dying of hunger and nature dying of pollution is never a worry. And that’s why I doubt whether there would be any real change after all this is over, to be kind to nature.

And some of us may want to call India a Malthusian catastrophe, explaining how high numbers in population is the cause of trouble in our country. Remind yourself of the fact that more than 80% of India’s wealth is held by less than 10% of Indians. So scarcity of resources, for whom? Thank you Malthus, for the easy escape to conscience for many Indians.

Because the current times are worse than ever I have personally read or lived in the history of our country. Also perhaps because I am watching live media on a daily basis, half consensually. We have now a range of lesser humans, who are not bounded with labour laws. Conversations as I over hear on how to continue to push the labourers to work without pay given for lockdown days; and to bear the pressures of reviving the economy, work in least safe conditions, prevent them from leaving the state because that may harm the ‘economy’ – these are all just mini glimpses.

Let us be a bit ashamed as a collective, as part of the society that failed them. Because privilege is not easily felt. Celebrating mothers’ day is a privilege, not able to feed your child safe and timely meals is the ‘other’ reality. We just happen to be too close to ourselves to count our blessings, or our ancestral unjust conquest, our bourgeoise nature of work or just a matter of luck – but that is rare, trust me.

Poor Homeless Dog Cartoon Illustration Stock Vector - Illustration ...

I was newly introduced to Diogenes as a thinker and I would like to introduce him and more importantly to his minimalistic living. So much so, that people used to call him a dog. Diogenes actually took this as a compliment.

Fawn at who give me anything

Yelp who don’t

Bite with teeth at rascals

Living a life of a Nomad, he had only few belongings. He once saw a boy drinking water from the river through his hands. Watching this, he threw his mug and said, I don’t need the mug anymore as I have learnt today to live without that and quench my thirst.

And that is perhaps a subtle but strong mantra of knowing where we have gone all wrong. Unless we contain our boundaries, our wants – material and aspirational, we will only be extractive and least in sync with our fellows citizens and the planetary boundaries. The hope doesn’t lie in saving the world, or saving the migrants; the hope lies if we as humans can explore morals and justice that we abide to.

And no science can help you here. If they give you a tech advancement, it will come with its own baggage of viruses and social apathy.

And no economics has never helped, it just tried to justify your pleasures and their miseries.

History, well if you learn from it.

Polity, if we could make better human being, we will have better leaders. Our leaders are just a reflection of our society.

And Philosophy, to survive.

Can the earth take one more chance with us?

Corona Cage Survey #1

So here comes the result guys. I had sent you all a bunch of questions, and I received an overwhelming 39 responses!!!  And this is magical, given that all of you are my known ones. And I wasn’t looking for such a big sample or any sample at all!

Plus I am exhausted. Dealing with two qualitative answers of 39 people was not something I was prepared with. So have fun going through some of the collective responses! I could only do, as much, no great insights, just some raw reactions to absorb.

For everyone pinging me for sharing the play list, I have a youtube link where I have added all the songs I received, except the generic ones – all songs, romantic songs, songs of despair, blah, blah!


Click on the link below to get the entire playlist                                            



Lets be a little more #confused in these #Corona times


I write to you,

to tell you of not a story

But some realities I witnessed as I live through them:

Realities much scarier than the Stories of Saturn or Vampires,

Realities much sadder that the painful death of a loved one,

And Realities where many like us, just felt more confused than we already are

I write to you,

Generations far beyond time.



I write to you,

Not to defend myself

But to let you know

That there were moments in our times, where

The loudest voice was not the most compassionate one.

That there were decisions in our times, where

Both the swords and pens picked struggles of only some.

That there was such a time

Where the poor mattered lesser than they any way do

In our middle-class realities.  



And I want to tell you

That whatever they tell you,

In books and documented history

I do not know.

But I want you to know

That there were people around,

Who weren’t quite sure

Of what decisions are we taking, as a country

Of what actions are we allowing, as responsible citizens

Of what consequences are we going to face, as humans



If they tell you that

Our leaders were doing their best-

Choosing the lesser of the two evils.

Which is

Hunger, Death without Dignity

Over letting people die of Coronavirus.




Ask them –

Your country was the fifth largest economy in the world

With a 100+ odd billionaires

The largest of the democracies

You also ran the largest Employment Guarantee programme

Food for all Programme

around the world.

You don’t take a breath

While telling laurels of the fast-paced development,

With IT hubs, and flyovers and metros



You know, when someone said

Where there is will,

One finds a way.

That someone wasn’t wrong.



And if you ask, why there was not enough will?

Or why do I doubt their will?

Maybe they were well intentioned

Good Able Visionary Leaders.

Well, they might just be.

But What I know of Good Leaders is

They care that NO ONE is left behind

They know that the stronger ones can bear pain

But the weakest will perish

Good leaders fail, but they try

They take big risks,

Calculated for least pain for the weakest,

And highest gain for the situation.

They reject anything

That harms the spirit of solidarity and brotherhood.

They build on power of love

Over politics of hate

And not see an opportunity

in this crisis

of furthering their reign,

to states and territories untouched.   



But what did our leaders do?

They tell me they are doing their best.

And they ask me to do my best too.

So far so good.

But they don’t tell me

Why they can’t find a better way

Of fulfilling some basic desires of the poorest

Why they can’t plan transport to their homes?

Why they can’t provide them better shelter and food?

Why they allow people to die of hunger on roads?

And my friend, I don’t even know

How long does it take to die of hunger?

2 days, 4 or 14?

I don’t know.

And perhaps will never know.



They tell me they are doing their best

But they were silent

On why this pandemic

Not united us as humans

But only divided us as Muslims and Non-Muslims




Nowhere else.

It happened only in India.

That people of this country believed

that a part of society

is deliberately, on purpose

Spreading the Virus.

And have found a way

to destroy the country

By Spreading the Virus.

They call them ill intentioned

Enemies of Humanity.


Till yesterday

They were only people

Far from our worlds

Praying differently than us

And how were they otherwise?

We don’t know

We never knew.

We never tried knowing them.

Today, they are enemies.

Not difficult to imagine.



Only in India

People believe,

Stories of Muslims

Conspiring in their own Spit



And Only in India

The media feels like a conspiracy

Against the democracy

Because they let people know

what they want them to know

But not let people question

what they have been told

It is a special power

What ancestors used to call

Black Magic

Only in India.



And if these stories of the commoners that you read

Tell you that they sympathized

Or Empathized

With the struggles of the weak

And that I am over-reacting

Because pain comes differently

To different classes.


That’s the rule of society.



Tell them.

That I don’t want to know

The logic of how we suffer differently.

What I am worried about

Is that people around me,

are convinced.

That the suffering

to our fellows, the weaker ones

cannot be prevented,

cannot be resolved.

And that they suffer,

Like we suffer.

Just different proportions.

There isn’t anything extraordinary

In their sufferings.



Remind them

To not kill the emotional being in them

Because logic has its own ways

To convince you

Of what it wants



It is by killing emotions

That a Murderer is born

A Rapist is born

And A Terrorist is born.



Tell them

I was not romanticizing

That India can pull all out of poverty

May be not

May be never.



I was only hoping

That people don’t kill

The emotional being in them.



And if they did get a chance

to define the new normal

Which I think they did.



Let that not be

Being okay with a sight of

Even more gruesome poverty

and Helplessness.



Let that be

In saluting and acknowledging

The big sacrifices the weak make

To let you be the Strong one.

To let you be the privileged.

And they don’t make this choice.

You do.

And I can’t even tell you 

what you can do to pay back

Because you can’t

What you can do is

to respect them, respect the dignity  of labour

give them their due share of compensation for work

and build a bridge. 



I must tell you,

That there were always

Some voices

Some confused voices,

Not ready to swallow

Every pain killer

that the Leaders offer.

Every sleeping pill

that the Media gave.



And you can find them

In old

And in Present

Because I believe

They shall survive

And they shall be living

Just to tell you

And to confuse you.




Cheers to the Spirits of living together, Long Live the Spirit! Photo Credit: Hindu Business Line

#Corona Newsletter #2 – BUILD A BRIDGE


There isn’t a lack of inspiration around us. If you look at what art is to the world, people have called it freedom of expression, a therapy for others, a way to live in fantasy world with unrealistic expectations. A well-established rule of art is that everything you can imagine is for real!

But what is important is timing of all the ingredients to nurture the artist in You.

To feel something, to have the time to put that down, and then to have the motivation, like an audience for what you did.

So while the earth is facing unprecedented unpredictable Corona times, I don’t know what will it be like to have an Earth without Corona, as the time lapses. What I do know is that EARTH without ART is EH.

And that I felt is preventable, and this piece is just a glimpse of how true my feelings were. Let me take you through some exemplary writings of my friends in these lockdown times.

The theme that everyone reflected strings around Building a Bridge. Someone has said,

“So many people

Become Songs and Poetry

But will never know.

Our World is full of the Ghosts

Of Unspoken words and memories”

I felt helpless with social media exposing contradictions everyday:

  • How does one deal with visuals of tired and hungry people, helplessly walking miles on the land where no one welcomes them, cares for them; and rather blame them? Hunger deaths are just a collateral in the war against Corona Virus
  • In Contrast, we have “celebratory” images of personal victories… of taking care of one’s “self”; images of food, workouts, yoga, flowers, songs.

But like Frida Kahlo has said,

“Nothing is absolute,

Everything changes

Everything moves

Everything revolutionise

All flies and goes”


So this post is only about Building a Bridge. These are a collection of writings about

  • Times of contractions
  • Times of Tests and Personal Struggles
  • Times of being lost, Sink in reflections

It is an attempt to Sail and Sink together,

Happy Reading! 😀


A friend had once said, that we should do the most important thing first. So I should first thank you all!!! Thank you Apurva, Garima, Harsha, Ipshita, Isha, Rinikee, Ruhi, Stella, Suhani, Tuman, Vaibhav and Vinay. This is precious!!!

And thank you everyone who wished to send and still hope for more time, I shall see what I can do! 😀


We have Song of Despair, highlighting the beauty that is nature, and tragedy that is human!


The next entry is a special one. It tries to express a feeling of someone who is suffering from Corona Virus. Someone who is perhaps facing a sense of seclusion, a sense of solitude and a sense of helplessness to be left to die alone. I think this one deserves a very special warmth.


Now we have an entry that doesn’t tell you anything, but perhaps confuses you. That is its soul purpose. To just ask questions and let you reflect whether you agree, disagree, ever though about it, want to think about it now? Have fun!


And here is a beautiful sketch of the Two very different worlds in which we co-exist. Not harmoniously but rather, one being a conscious parasite to the other.


And here comes a beautiful poem, remembering our them and now times. It goes on to look at why Humans and the earth is facing this? And what shall we make out of it? Will this time ever pass? I get amazed at how much talent I have around me, unknowingly!



Now comes a story of a storyteller. There isn’t much of a story, you have to just manage with whatever we could get, some cynicism is now on the plate! (:


And ofcourse, we have people who picked sorrow, who picked reflections and then some who picked confusion. But like in the world, so did I have people around me giving us message of hope. Here is a small and sweet one to begin with:


There is also a poet, who decided to put through her hope to everyone, to let the world know, that she expects the world to move beyond, do better that it is doing. She said, this is her first ever attempt to poetry. Can you believe it? I can’t.


And then we have a heartfelt submission that goes into deeper questions of you outer and inner self. I don’t think I can attempt to summarise a poet’s expression. Try yourself!


And here is a submission with all the love for the medical and care giving staff, working bravely, tirelessly across the world. It also has anger towards those misbehaving with them. I feel both emotions are genuine given the way our media reports them. We are nothing but puppets in the hands of information givers! Forgive her, Oh Lord, for she knows not all that she says!


We also had an entry from a young artist, who with her story, shared the love and friendship a child shares with a tree. It is odd that such stories are forgotten and unrelatable as we get older. What is really the force getting us away from being us? Do you know?


And here is last but precious entry that worked tireless to dig into different realms of the world and find the best expression to his emotions!



I have to tell you all, that I enjoyed immensely in working on this. It just doesn’t give me art goals but it help me feel you all, so much better.

My love for all the ones who could send me and all the ones who will now be reminded with these posts and get inspired for the next round! 😀