Seashells

(Long read but you should read) Imparting sex education to children as a compulsion has become a huge deal since digitalization hit us, globally. What it has done to you and i, is beyond providing information at a click.  State board education is a less cared about affair in India. The school I went to was in one of the prominent places of Mumbai. Geography classes have never taken place with a map hanging on the wall. Language was a compulsion. An imposed variant.  A few teachers explained biology with PowerPoint presentations while others chose to skip the chapter. A few days into seventh grade, a woman explained menstruation to around 200 students.   Briefly beginning with good touch or bad touch from the time when the child is in third grade and then proceeding forward according to their age.  Censorship plays a huge role in the upbringing of children. Indian parents switch channels on the television to avoid young ones from watching explicit scenes. Today, the patte

When you share your lipstick stained cigarette with him, or rather them, what do you actually share ? Are you inviting him to have a better view of your cleavage ?  Reminding that you will always have her back ? Asking them to share your vibe, look at the world with you ? Providing them with an opportunity to comment and criticize? Human beings aren't defined by their habits. Smokers are. That night, amidst the rain, she grooved at the Covelong beach festival. They had tried to remain sane but what a borrowed stick containing nicotine could do, the others probably couldn't. The festival had a raw vibe. A night filled with music, french fries and lots of well dressed people. The sea played a huge role, of course. When you share your lipstick stained cigarette with another person, what you actually do is a form of catharsis. You chose to socialize. You seek and you confess.  They say, Cigarettes give you a form of strength, strength before you curl in bed with him. She remembered

When asked to evacuate, we immediately clicked pictures of our grandmother's photos hanging on the wall. Pickles and playing cards were also taken. A pair of clothes, tissues and electronic devices are some of the only essentials we possess. The marble on our kitchen table reflects the waves. So, we're closer to the sea. Extremely closer. Ohh, we can also hear the waves at night, right before bed it cradles you to sleep. W e believed, t he cyclone is like any other high tide. Neighbours called, cops were friendly, foes turned into friends. We held our hearts, joined hands and watched all the possible news channels. Television reporters doing what they were best at! My father looked at the television for once and at me the other. Reminding the choice I had taken. The cyclone skipped Mumbai, our coast, the family and all of us escaped! Nisarga was unlike what we had ever experienced. Ever.  The aftermath was only coconut trees swaying like never before, scattered leaves and lots