An Escape from Politics

On the  political front, India has been busy making waves the world over, with its array of controversial decisions, which are dropped on the civilians like bombshells. Before one can recover from the aftermath of the explosion, another  gets dropped...and then, yet another... dividing the country at an alarming rate, while seeming to unite. For, there is one huge  chunk of the population, which revels in this tremorous atmosphere. To them, every move as connived by the centre, is bold and  a sheer stroke of genius, impelling the country forward to a new stratum of global recognition. To them, it is as though India has found its present-day Chandragupta-Chanakya duo, in the inimitable Modi-Shah team.

Then, there is the other side: the dwindling socialists, who have resigned themselves to the situation, calling it 'the inevitable downside of the spiral'. Their voices are too faint against the sloganeering roar of nationalism, rising from every nook and cranny of the country, beleaguered by crony capitalism. For them, it is an exercise in futility to try to mull over a thousand issues, heaped upon one another. 

Since I tend to lean towards the latter, I too have, at least temporarily, decided to go on sabbatical vis-à-vis talking/ writing/discussing politics, in order to restore my senses and above all, peace of mind. Moreover, the genre of politics, as practised today, lies beyond my cerebral grasp, and, as age advances, I find it harder and harder to wrap my brains around it. 

Anyway, it is after all mid-October, and having called myself an upstate New Yorker for several years, I naturally think of fall,  the cool change,  long solitary walks... 'the daily shrinkage in the stream of comradeship' as the cackling geese head south. I remember myself bending down, overwhelmed by the pageantry of scattered leaves, wanting to pick each one of them...Those were innocent days, when I was happy to be part of this extraordinary vicissitude of Nature... when the silouhette of a red-winged blackbird swinging on  cattails  could give rise to a haiku, and the sight of a hawk perched high on the steeple of a faraway church, could bespeak 'redemption'...

Orange Peel: Catching the sunset

Sitting in the tea-shop, sweating under the droning fan, suffering the company of a mosquito repellent plugged to the power point, I can't help but wonder why...why, nearly two months on, and this little tea-shop, cute as a bug, has not been able to attract a few die-hard tea-lovers. With its unique atmosphere, hand-me-down furniture, and art-studded walls, it really is the perfect place to be: calm and quiet, alive with the aroma of freshly-brewed tea. Sure, we are a bit out of the way, but most beautiful places are. Remember Robert Frost's 'The Road not Taken'?

Sure, we only serve teas and simple snacks, but that is our USP, unique selling proposition. Not wanting to be just another chai-stand, serving the omnipresent, diabetes-inducing chai and cholesterol-laden deep-fried pakodas, we have chosen to be different, in sync with the health pulse of the universal consciousness. 

If anyone wishes to enjoy the magic of this place, while sipping some very unique combinations of teas, and munching on tasty snacks, the best time is at sunset. Very seldom in India, does one have the fortuity and the leisure to be part of such a sprawl of nature,  paired with a serene stretch of sky. So, at the end of the day, even if nobody turns up, I am happy to have the fellowship of a whole kettle of tea, steeped in the tranquility of the twilight hour.

From Dandi March to Plogging: A Revolution in Progress

"PM Modi praises the plogging efforts of Ripudaman," read the headlines. The name immediately struck a chord...Yes, Ripudaman, "the undeclared, yet unanimously accepted leader of the group"... hadn't I thus referred to him in my last blog? 

Apparently, the PM mentioned him and his plogging efforts in his monthly address,  'man ki baat', and since I am not too fond of his endless monologues, I had missed the bouquet of praises  he showered upon this young plogger and his team. So inspired was the PM and his entourage that the sports ministry decided to hold a 'Fit India Plogging Run' event in the capital city to commemorate  the150th birth anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi. And indeed, it's a befitting  tribute to  a leader, who, throughout his life, championed  the cause of hygiene and cleanliness.

For  my mom and every one else in the family, who had recently enjoyed the opportunity to briefly host Ripudaman, and his team, it felt almost surreal to see him hit the headlines.

While the idea of plogging emerged from Sweden a while back, Ripudaman is credited with making it popular in India, and highlighting the need to do something in a hurry in the wake of the mounting litter problem. "I do not wish to be a preacher," he says, adding, "I can only lead by example". And, that he does. In the restaurant, he requests the waiter to remove the tissue box from our table, since it is not needed. He doesn't even want a typed out  bill, for that's a waste of paper too. "Just let me know the damage," he tells the manager. And,  by doing that he is not only saving paper and ink, but also ridding the humanity of its inherent vice of mistrustulness.  

Nicknamed the plog-man of India, on meeting Ripudaman, you realise that this young man doesn't just aspire to make headlines, he is eager to make headway into solving the impending garbage problem the planet faces.