Wordsmith at work

  The Nobel laureate poet Rabindranath Tagore, in his poem "Where the Mind is Without Fear…," envisages an India that is free in all senses of the word. I dream of the India that Tagore envisages, but my reality is a little different. What I see today is not quite what the great poet envisaged. While I live in a shining, better India that can boast of rapid strides in medicine, technology, sport, and communication, I’m also witness to a battered and bruised country, whose children are victims of injustice, hatred, violence, and prejudice. I watch debates and slinging matches on TV, politicians playing the blame game, and read and hear reports of horrendous crimes against women and children, and I’m deeply saddened. I’m deeply disappointed that we don’t take preservation of this beautiful landscape called India seriously. Spitting seems to be our birthright. Why are there paan stains on roads, walls, and everywhere? We seem to lack a civic sense. There is more litter than sand...

Life is an endless cycle of to-do lists, and in the bargain we tend to leave rest behind, don’t take it seriously, or treat it as a luxury or feel guilty about that break. What we fail to realize is that rest is imperative . It is as essential as the food we need to sustain ourselves. Without rest, we risk burnout or functioning like zombies. Rest pumps fresh energy into us, rejuvenating us so we’re happy and productive. The many faces of rest. Physical rest—taking  a break from intense physical activity, slowing down, and getting enough sleep amounts to physical rest. Mental rest—it's  the quiet when you give yourself permission not to make decisions for a while or solve problems or keep all your tabs running. Social rest— Sometimes  we need to step away from conversations, social gatherings, and simply enjoying your own company. Digital rest— When  screen time is reduced to a bare minimum, as we break free from incessant scrolling, reacting, replying, or sharing, w...

Where words fail, friendship speaks in silence. You hold my hand And walk with me, Through valleys deep And over mountains steep. Just your presence It's like the sweet fragrance. Of a flower so beautiful. You understand; you care. You know my heart's desires. That's all that matters. Not the incessant chatter. Our friendship Spans distance and time. The silence is not jarring. It's really quite becoming Of two friends who need no words, But simply know That each is there For the other. It's a silence. More precious Than silver or gold. It's as warm as the morning sun. Not icy cold. For where words fail, Friendship speaks in silence.

    As a schoolgirl, I received feedback from my teachers on classwork and homework. It was either an appreciation of the work or that there was room for improvement. I took the feedback very seriously, as my parents did, and acted upon it accordingly. “Keep it up” meant I was to continue producing work of the same quality or even better, and "could do better’ and “room for improvement” meant I had to still get my act together. I appreciate the dedication of my teachers, who so painstakingly read and corrected my work and gave me feedback on it. (I have preserved an answer paper marked by a favourite teacher and proudly display the picture.) Well, the concept of judgement or criticism never occurred to me. Whatever they said was Gospel truth. The feedback continued in college and even when I was training to be a teacher during our practical lessons. All remarks, whether it was school, college, or the B.Ed., were made with that dreaded red ink pen. Today, feedback has t...