June 5th, 2019 Today marks the end of the month long fasting for Muslims called Ramzan or Ramadan, the festival of Eid. No, I am not very familiar with the tenets of Islam. (And, in all honesty, I am just as ignorant about most things Hinduism...
April 28th, 2019 Writing is the only thing that keep us writers sane. With every high point in life comes a low. And, right after every low comes a high. After yesterday’s excitement, I feel lonely and miserable today. There is no reason to feel so. And yet,...
April 6th, 2019 was when I boarded a flight to Ranchi - a town I had only heard about until then. I was setting out for a new teaching assignment with a non-profit school, and I had absolutely zero idea about what to expect. I spoke...
“The best place to find God is in a garden. You can dig for him there.”
- George Bernard Shaw
My earliest fondest memories of a garden are from some twenty years ago. This garden, next to a nondescript one-bedroom house in a College staff quarters, was the result of its owner’s relentless hard work, proudly ramped up the aesthetic quotient of its otherwise grey surroundings, and ultimately came to be the neighbour’s pride. Maintaining the garden wasn’t easy, but in fact, painstaking work. Just the act of watering all the plants and trees each day would take at least an hour. In-depth knowledge of the individual growing patterns, flowering seasons, watering and manuring needs were critical and required thorough planning and thought. It needed extensive care and hands-on maintenance that was not just time-consuming but also required the owners, my parents, to be vigilant and attentive.