Seashells

    Bombay is evolving,  Oh, it is Mumbai now! It already has.  I see little elves walking on the stones that they laid, Trucks dumping earth on the seabed. Decades ago, there was water where I live today. Dad and his friends also grew up on this coast They swam to kill time.    When the sea hit hard, they feared.  When the sea hits hard, we no more fear, Mankind envies concrete jungles.   My children will only hear stories and see pictures. Will they be able to sit by the sea? It is like your favourite season of the year. Gushing winds and stormy days. Roaring waves and conch shelled coasts, Hues of the sun, remains of the day!   How do I vocalize?  Watching coconut trees swaying on full moon nights,  Shoals of fish in the water when looked at closely, Flocks of white migratory birds during December mornings!   My grandfather sailed his way to this city,  Fruits of his labour, we devour today. Legacy gave us houses and th...

When in school, the earliest memory of hanging out with friends began roughly when we were in 6th or 7th grade. The only feasible place was Mcdonalds and the potato they serve. We would take cabs after school to Sobo Central to devour french fries. With time, our obsession for Mcdonalds knew no boundaries. All my favourite people have eaten fries with me, at least once. (Not even exaggerating).    My association with potatoes goes way back. Definitely after we started going to McDonald's during school days but even before high school you know. It was when a friend had hit puberty and started to have prominent acne. How easy was it to nickname her a potato mainly because she had a round face with some serious teenage issues.  Bullying just passes as any other thing during years of schooling but the mark remains etched in your heart. Growing up, I was extremely cautious about my skin colour. Though nobody actually bullied me, my best friends called me "Black beauty". I wond...

(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 ...

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 remembere...

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 ...

My not-so-friendly house, houses a not-so-friendly neighbour next door. She is a woman of character. A woman that burns leaves, lambs and legacies. The house is a place that we inherited with much animosity. The only lovely aspect of the house is the window sill. It has 29 rusted grills (to be precise), wooden doors and overlooks the Arabian sea. I can watch the sunset from my window sill, I can watch the crimson sunset from my window sill, I can hear the waves. I can hear the ocean cry. The filthy water seeps into the arms and drenches the skin of the rocks go sore. The sound of infant conch shells crushing when you walk. The waves that have a certain motion. Today, what I perceive as the sea is something different. I know, a man-made road is going to be built across and spoil what I woke up to everyday. I have been hopping over stones, crossing huge mossy structures. Oh my! (Jeez. My legs are stretching) I like to take pictures. I like to watch the sunset everyda...

The train journey to Rameswaram, the temple town of India began on the 2nd day of 2020. While not much happened when we boarded at night but a book reading seshh and a not-so-interesting fellow cat calling modestly.  When I got up the next day at half past seven in the morning, I was in for a treat. The Pamban bridge is iconic and our Express train was just about to take us to the beautiful Pamban island, across the Palk strait, leading us into an experience I always longed for. For a person from Bombay and a lover of the Bandra-worli sea link, this surely isn't very fascinating.(Not bragging okay!?) But the train took this water baby, who has probably lived off her entire life watching the Arabian sea to an escapade she never preempted! BAMMMM! At Rameswaram, I earned a family, ate 4 idlis for Rs 20 every day, and handled Tamil people without my parents constant assistance.  Talking about Tamil people, I clearly remember the sight when I got down at t...