The city haze

One of the nursery rhymes that I got to learn, as far as I remember the first, went like this:

Twinkle twinkle little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

A legacy from the British rule perhaps, but nonetheless the innocence is endearing. I remember my Mom had me recite this rhyme while she recorded it on one of those Tape Recorders that are extinct now: the one's that used magnetic tapes and created a mess when they got entangled! remember?

The little star is no more there in the sky, it's lost somewhere in the city haze. Gone are the times when you could look up into the clear night sky and spot clusters of bright little stars winking at us. How I wish I could go back to my village where the night is still clear and the modernization is yet to eat up the diamonds. Good ol' days (sigh!)...

The great indian vote trick

The Indian Parliamentary election is over and the political parties are busy in post-poll analysis. I did not vote in this election (yeah, yeah irresponsible citizen crap), but so didn't many others. I remember when I turned 18 and got my Voter Card and the general elections were on. My father told me to go to the polling booth early to avoid the rush before he went to cast his vote. When he came back in the evening, I'd still not gone to vote and he scolded me for not voting. So off I went and voted for the first time - the only time.

So why did I not vote after that? Simple: I'd never been in my home constituency whenever the elections took place. Like so many others, I too had moved out to a better place for my education and then for a Job.

Now, does that make me an irresponsible citizen? Maybe it does, but I can live with it.

I'm grown up now (?)

My earliest childhood memory is when I was about 2-3 years old. I remember playing with my toy, an airplane (duh!), in my neighbours house when I accidently tripped and fell on my chin which started to bleed. My neighbour not knowing what to do, clutched my chin in his shirt and rushed to the nearby hospital. I got stitches on my chin and was discharged immediately.

When I reached home, I looked at myself in the mirror and seeing the white bandage under my chin squeaked, "Look mom, I've grown a beard; I am a sardarji !"

My chin still has the stitch marks and looking at it makes me wonder: would I act as nonchalent now if I got hurt; how would I react? hmmm...